🌙 Chapter Seven: A Song Unsung
The next afternoon, Rita, Kyle, Georgia, and Lane huddled around a small table at The Crown Diner, their heads close together over a crumpled newspaper.
“I found it in the archives,” Rita whispered, tapping a finger on the headline:
‘Carillon Foundation Announces Budget Cuts: Music Program on Hold’
Kyle let out a low whistle. “So they did stop the music on purpose.”
Georgia frowned, stirring her soda absentmindedly. “But why? The Carillon’s part of the town’s history. People love the bells.”
Lane leaned back, his arms crossed. “Yeah, but if they think it saves money...”
Rita’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t add up. Mr. Binks believes the ghost is real. He rings that bell like his life depends on it. But if the Carillon Foundation shut down the music... maybe the ghost needs the bells to stay at rest. Maybe the bells were more than just music.”
Kyle’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait—you’re saying the ghost is mad because the music stopped? That’s why we keep hearing those weird sounds?”
“Or,” Georgia added, “maybe the sounds we hear are the ghost trying to play the bells. Like... a warning.”
A chill ran down Rita’s spine. What if the old bell ringer, Mr. Halloway, was still trying to finish the songs he’d started? What if the unfinished music was keeping him here?
Lane snapped his fingers. “Didn’t Mr. Binks say something about the air feeling heavy? Like something’s waiting?”
Rita nodded, her mind racing. “We need to get back into the tower. If the Foundation isn’t playing the bells, maybe we can find a way to turn them back on. Or... at least figure out how they work.”
Georgia hesitated. “Isn’t that... I don’t know... illegal?”
Kyle grinned. “It’s only illegal if we get caught.”
Lane rolled his eyes. “Famous last words.”
Rita folded the paper, her resolve hardening. The Carillon wasn’t just an old tower with rusty bells. It was the heartbeat of the town. If the Foundation wanted to silence it, they’d have to get through her and her friends first.
As they left the diner, the wind shifted, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible sound—the distant echo of a bell’s chime. Soft. Faint. Almost like a sigh.
Rita stopped in her tracks.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
They all turned toward the tower, its silhouette dark against the dusky sky.
And just for a moment, it seemed as if the tower itself was listening.
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