The Doors of Liverty Bell Ch.1

"At first glance, one might look upon the rain as a constant reminder of the Earth being wiped clean, and the sinful ways of the beings who thrive within it become clear. At second glance, one might look upon the rain as a way to replenish the once lost nourishment that it takes to inhabit the Earth. At one's last glance, they might think of rain as just....rain."

    Scripted on a long and forgotten plaque, it's once golden glimmer residing to a dull and distasteful bronze, speckled with dots of olive green. Though no one person may be able to answer the question "Why is that useless jumble of words written upon that plaque?", they cannot answer the root question of all of existence. "How do useless words amongst the world mean anything? Why should anyone believe the spoken or written word of another?" For all the people asking the question, they themselves may not be able to distinguish libel and slander, from the truth.

    Within this town where this plaque lay, there stands a building known as "Liverty Bell", the platform that carries the door in which the plaque is prescribed. During it's long existence of many, many years, the building has not served a direct purpose. Long ago, when this town of Devernson first began, the radius of the town itself was limited. Small families moved over in small carriages and settled in squares of property, building themselves small plantations of wheat fields, and various spices and squashes along their back yards. As the town grew into a larger city, the population attracted many businessmen men and huge deals to be made. Soon enough, the humble farmers of Devernson where replaced with the men in wonderful suits.

    Among these men, there was an old man that the town knew as Richard Liverty. He himself was a simple, old-timer, who is the just of his life had only accomplished running a small farm, and crafting doors. If you ask any citizen of Devernson, they shall tell you that this man was a lunatic, one of those old guys who would yell at little children to leave his lawn. He shut himself in his small cottage on the brink of town borders, and stay there, building contraptions of all sorts. Eventually, nobody ever saw him, and the only way anyone knew he actually existed, was a small contract for a bit of land in the center of town. A once tall, beautiful building, made of redish-orange brick, and standing an amazing 6 stories, which was very tall at the time. It's pavement surrounding it was a wonderous variety of cobblestone, and the windows were polished to a shimmer. Over all of these features, only one stood out. The beautiful door in the front, a mahagony door, in the center lye a golden plaque, and surrounding that plaque, was stained glass that read "Welcome to Liverty Bell, enjoy the carrilons". The building itself held an enormous carrilon that chimed at four-forty five each and every day, and visitors from all around the land would come to here it ring, but that was 90 years ago.....

November 35th, 2009

    "Grandfather, isn't that a pretty sidewalk? Look at the stone!" said a young girl, an yearly age of 12, her name was Emily Bracket. She wore dark blue jeans, and a red sweatshirt, as well as a yellow rain coat. As she looked down and poked at the cobblestone, the rain pinged upon her hood. Next to her stood her grandfather, Jonathan Bracket. He himself wore a raincoat, and blue jeans. His short grey hair failed in comparison to his grandaughter's dark brown hair. He was a war veteran, and many a time told his stories to his children, but Emily was the only family member who actually took them to heart.

    "Why yes it is dear, I used to walk by this building so many times as a child. On my way to school I wouldn't pay any attention to it, but after school, when the bells chimed, I would stop and stare for minutes at a time." He relied, smiling "But that was so long ago.....Well, nobody goes in there anymore sadly, I don't know why, but it really doesn't matter." He explained, rubbing his head.

    "Who used to go in there? It looks all dirty and run down." She said, puzzled. She was correct, the once wonderous windows and brick had been worn down, cracks in the windows revealed cobwebs and dust flying in the air. The brick was now an ugly brownish black.

    "Well, there was an old man, about my age when he was here. He used to make doors, and my pa dun' told me he was a maniac. When he bought the land he made that beautiful door in the front, then he went in and never came out. I think when I was about your age, rumors went around that the landlord found him unconsious from exaustion or something, and took him the the hospital downtown. The thing is, when he woke up he lunged at a nurse and almost managed to strangle her. All he said was 'Put me back, put me back, the bell the calling for me, the doors won't stop creaking until I return!'. Soon after he was sent to some asylum outside of town, and died there. Some say that they here the constant banging of nails and screws being put into making doors. But that is a.........." He paused, and grabbed his grand daughter's arm, and began to walk away from that building. For he knew, that the rumors, and tales, were not a lie.

October 15th, 1936

    "Hey Rich, I dare you to go into Old Liverty's place, you won't last 5 minutes. You will run out yelling that the old ghost has tried to get you, and run home in tears. I bet you 10 dollars!" said a small boy, age 12. His long black hair soaked from the downpour of the drizzle. Next to him stand another boy, the same age, he had short brown hair, he said to his friend.

    "You're on, besides it is all just a rumor"

If only he knew....