The Bell

by Peter Young

This piece was a joke between its author and Sydney Breyer (5/4/1997-10/7/2015)
who immediately loved the idea. He wrote this piece in memory of her.

I awoke to the vision of a Bell,

A vision which buried itself deep in my mind.

I rose from my bed in my skin,

And reached for the furs at my side.

Throwing on my furs, I grabbed my coins and sword

And marched from my chamber,

Clinging to this vision of a Bell.

 

I left the Kingdom of Bica and Ross,

Listening to the roaring screams

Of the peoples in the coliseum nearby,

As the Raiders of the Mount defeated

The lions that dare to challenge them.

As the winds blew across the land,

I pulled some wool over my head,

And threw my hands underneath my furs.

I headed across the land,

Determined to find the Bell.

 

After a tenth-hour’s travel, I reached the Chapel of the Mount,

Listening to the Bell that rang high above my head.

But this was not the Bell for which I left my home.

I grabbed my furs and coins and continued on my path.

 

I began to pass the Hall of the King,

Guarded by his dear friend Miller,

And tiptoed past the roaring beasts and

Their sirens which came from inside the hall.

These were men and beasts,

Of which I did not wish to fight.

 

I continued on my path further,

My stomach growling in pain

As I continued to search for the Bell.

The path was silent as I reached the twins,

Cunningham and McCready, both resting,

So silent, waiting for the night that was

So soon to dawn over me.

 

I made sure the twins did not hear me,

As I passed through the gates to leave the Mount.

Shortly after the Gates of the Mount, I saw a sea –

A water so thick and dark, a man could walk across it.

I dared not cross at first, for the metal beasts –

Eyes glowing and voices growling at me –

Came flying at me, hoping to strike me dead.

I waited for my moment to cross this dark sea,

A sign of a white man telling me to cross.

 

I waited another tenth-hour for the sign of the White Man,

And when I crossed the sea, I held my sword in hand,

Praying to God that the metal beasts did not end me.

 

I did cross. The metal beasts did not get to me, nor my soul.

I survived them and made it across to the State of Streets.

I crossed the many streets of the State searching for the Bell,

And at last I did find it.

At last I had won.

 

I found the Bell, for which I had been searching.

And I crawled inside to the Merchant,

And begged for his finest meal.

The Merchant looked at me with his finest grin,

And stretched out his arm for my coins.

I caught my breath and plopped them in his hand,

Thankful that I had arrived.

 

He disappeared into his cavernous kitchen for a sixth-hour,

And returned with his finest meal in hand.

He sat me down at the Merchant’s table,

And told me to gorge myself and to be merry.

As my stomach growled one final time,

I grabbed the food in front of me,

Cried tears of utter joy and bliss,

And bit down, praying to God,

Thankful that I had found the Bell.