Chapter 2 – The Bell Tower Curse

Anna stood frozen in the empty classroom, staring at the wall where the words had burned themselves into the plaster.

GET OUT BEFORE THE NEXT BELL.

They had been carved there—dark, jagged, impossible—and now, just as suddenly, they were gone. Only the faint cracks and peeling paint remained. No proof. No evidence.

Her pulse thudded so loud she thought it would shake the windows. The silence pressed on her ears until she almost screamed just to hear her own voice.

She backed toward the door. The knob felt like ice against her palm. For a moment, she thought it wouldn’t turn, that she was trapped. Then, with a reluctant squeal, it gave way.

The hallway outside yawned before her—long, dim, and suffocating. The flickering bulbs above buzzed like insects, shadows twitching with every sputter of light.

Anna pressed her back against the wall, trying to breathe slowly. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real.

But deep down, she knew it was.

She walked quickly, footsteps echoing far louder than they should have in the empty corridor. Each step sounded like it belonged to someone else, someone following just behind.

When she dared to glance over her shoulder, the hallway stretched long and empty. Yet the prickling at the back of her neck refused to fade.

Halfway down the corridor, she stopped.

There.

Just ahead, where she knew there had never been anything but bare wall, a door now waited.

It was massive, ancient compared to the rest of the school’s doors. Thick wood, swollen with age, marked with scratches too deep to be accidental. The handle was iron, rusted to a dull red, like dried blood.

Anna’s breath caught. She had passed this hallway twice earlier in the day. This door had not existed.

A cold ripple ran through her chest. She should turn around. She should leave. Yet something deeper than fear tugged at her, urging her forward.

The closer she came, the more her skin prickled. The air around the door pulsed faintly, like a living heartbeat.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle. It was slick, almost wet.

The hinges shrieked as the door opened.

A narrow spiral staircase revealed itself, winding upward into shadow. Dust fell like ash from the rafters.

Anna knew where it led. Everyone did.

The bell tower.

Her stomach turned to ice.

Every student at Ravenswood whispered about the bell tower curse. How the bells never rang unless someone was about to die. How, once the toll began, the sound followed you until you were dragged to the top.

And still, she climbed.

The first step groaned beneath her weight, echoing up the narrow shaft. The smell of damp stone and old wood closed around her, suffocating.

The whispering started again.

Not from below. Not from above. From inside the walls.

It was soft, at first. Urgent. Then sharper, layered—many voices speaking over one another, until the words tangled into a roar that made no sense.

She clutched the railing, forcing her shaking legs upward.

Then, it began.

DONG.

The sound of the bell slammed through the tower, rattling the walls, vibrating in her ribs.

Anna gasped, stumbling on the steps. Dust rained from above, drifting across her face like snow.

The whispers swelled, desperate, shrieking.

DONG.

The second toll shook the staircase. She gripped the rail until her knuckles whitened, ears ringing with the thunder of it.

Her heart hammered wildly. Get out before the next bell.

She tried to stop. Tried to turn back. But her body wouldn’t listen. Her legs carried her higher, as though invisible hands were pushing her forward.

DONG.

The third toll nearly split her skull. Her vision blurred, the narrow stairwell twisting like a snake. The whispers were louder now—so many voices layered together, chanting in some unknown tongue.

She wanted to cover her ears, to scream, to shut it all out. But her hands refused to let go of the railing.

Step after step. Higher. Higher.

At last, she reached the top landing.

A heavy wooden door stood ajar, blackness seeping through the crack.

Anna froze.

The whispers stopped.

The silence was worse.

And then, she saw them.

Two eyes.

Not glowing. Not human. Just there. Too wide, too dark, too perfectly still. They floated in the shadow beyond the door, watching her.

Her breath caught, a strangled sound breaking in her throat.

The fourth toll roared through the tower.