If you ring it loud enough…

If You Ring It Loud Enough...

If you ring it loud enough, he will come.
The long bell drone rattling off every stone wall will creep its way up the stairs, in a manner that would happen nowhere else in the world except for a castle with air so thick it slows sound down so much that you can follow it.
Past oddly placed curtains
Past stained glass windows of dead saints (or demons in surgery, upon close inspection)
Past suits of armour that look old, but not unworn
Past cabinets of trophies and medals, each with bites and chunks missing
Past the intricately detailed rug, so thick that it mutes footsteps
Past a small triangular window looking out onto the garden, overgrown yet neat in its own fashionable aesthetic – like someone has placed those broken twigs at precisely the correct angle for maximum impact, and perhaps a strip of red cloth hanging off a branch (from someone’s cloak perhaps?)
Past a blank wall with a strange outline on it
Past the candleholder with a hinge on it
Past a muffled warbled high pitched note
Past the doorway to a guest bedroom, with a four-post bed, rich blue blankets with a silver trim
Past the portrait with no eyes
Past the coat rack which is too far inside to be of any use to anyone who enters through the front door, with the trench-style jacket hanging on the left side, with the large bulge in the pocket closest to the wall
Past the crushed petals on the floor
Past the moving shadows with no light source
Past the contemporary pastel shelf, out of place, but remember, they are still people living here
Past the old chair covered in a large white sheet
Past the wind chill
Past the draught
Past the dark
Past the water drips
Past the neck-hairs standing on edge
Past the figure in the corner that isn’t there the second time
Past the blade that still shines
Past the clock with no hands but still ticks and tocks
Past the fallen stones chipped from the wall
Past the blood stain
Past the empty frame, crooked
Past the empty soul, crooked
Past the bell that is still ringing
But then nothing
If you ring it loud enough, he will come.

– Scott Sandwich


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Filed under Poems & Poetry

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