The Tower and the Dell

The hollow bell of the distant tower peals across the land with a regular pounding tone.

The first of these resounding knells broke through the gossip and laughter of the lowly dell’s inhabitants. They, at the breaking sound, broke from their conversations and pleasantries and arguments and dealmakings, and all the noise below the hill, all tongues under the shadow of that tower, ceased, falling away as the toll crept on.

The distant tower stands amid the ruins long forgotten.

When time is spent, and whatever count of pealing, rolling, hollow tones is made complete, they slowly, as frightened mice might creep from out their hideaways to scurry within shadows, return unto the business that was paused. The lovemakers resume again amores, the dressmakers return unto their stitchings, the drunkards get another drink, the tellar counts, the farmer tills the ground, and not a word or note is made of the haunting tones that made the valley silent as a grave.

Alone upon a hill, with fallen stones littering the ground, a solitary tower stands, its shadow falling far into the dell.