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The Debt of Hollow Bells

fantasy◐ Mature
5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep

Maren laughed, sharp and scared. "I bury the dead. I don't take orders from them." The polite voice sighed. "You misunderstand. I am not dead. I am the thing that makes your bells work. Stop feeding me names, and I will stop. But then so will they."

Maren wasn't ready to lose the gift. "What do you want to keep it going?" she asked. "A name a year," the voice said. "Living, not dead. One person who won't be missed." She thought of the power, and of all the dead she could still help. Then she thought of who she would have to hand over. The price was a living life, and she had to decide.

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Maren couldn't do it. She would not trade a living person to keep her gift, no matter how many dead it helped. "No deal," she said, and dropped her hand. The voice didn't argue. It simply left, and took the bells with it. She kept her soul and lost her trade, and decided, walking home, that the trade had never been worth the price.

LW
Lin Wei
7 votes · future 1 of 1