Somewhere in this part of the cemetery. I knew he wasn’t dead.
Damn disease, sometimes it doesn’t kill, just makes someone seem that way. That’s the reason for the bells. Someone might hear them and be able to dig them up before suffocation.
But I hear the ringing. He’s alive, if I can get to him! I’m coming baby!
I stop midstride. Surrounded by gravestones, the sounds of ringing bells deafen me from all around. Brass instruments ring from nearly all of the headstones.
Oh God, I’ve lost his bell!
From: Friday Flash Fiction