The Ghost Bell

Stella will do it!

It’s something I’ve heard over and over and over. Not that I can really blame my classmates. I usually will do it. Whatever it is. 

But this new dare . . . knocking on the door of Felix Arnspiger’s tomb? It feels different. Darker.

“C’mon, Stella,” my best friend, Grace, says. “Ignore it this time. The graveyard is creepy, and you’ve heard the ghost stories about that tomb.”

Oh, I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. Felix Arnspiger died more than 100 years ago, and his crypt is known all over Chicago and the surrounding areas for being haunted. Legend has it that if you knock on its door, the cold hands of his ghost will grab you.

A shudder rolls through me just thinking about it. 

“I have to do it,” I tell Grace, pulling my sneakers on. We’re going to walk down to the coffee shop for a hot chocolate. “I can’t go back to how things were last year.”

“Seriously?” Grace asks, annoyed. “No one even remembers that.”

I remember it, I think, but stay quiet. Truth is, I’m not actually fearless. Not even close. But ever since Emily Wang’s sleepover in fifth grade last year, I’ve had to pretend that nothing frightens me. 

It was late, and dark, and all the girls were taking turns trying to scare each other. At first it was fun. Just some silly old stories about a yellow ribbon, a haunted farmhouse, and a ghost that took teeth. Then someone told one about a clown and suddenly . . .

I. Was. Terrified. 

When everyone else started falling asleep, I just stared at the ceiling, my heart racing. It got so bad I finally texted my mom to pick me up, making me the only one who didn’t spend the night. Even though nobody called me a chicken to my face, I heard the whispers and saw the smirks. 

So a few weeks later, at recess, when Manny Garcia dared someone to run into the creepy cornfield at the edge of our school’s playground, I volunteered. I just wanted to prove to everyone that I was brave. And I did it! Before long, I was taking every dare thrown my way, and everyone expected me to.

“Well, I don’t think you should mess around with that tomb,” Grace says, opening the front door. I follow her out into the chilly air. With only a couple weeks left until Halloween, the leaves are falling fast. “We could be doing a monster movie marathon but noooo. Now we’ll be freezing our butts off in a graveyard. Besides, you can’t be the one who takes every dare forever, Stell.”

I shrug like it’s not a big deal, even though I agree with her. I don’t want to keep doing this. But it’s hard to say no! Middle school is difficult enough. Braces, zits . . . puberty! I don’t need everyone thinking I’m the biggest chicken in our grade on top of all that.

So the next afternoon, I find myself in the graveyard, standing in front of Felix Arnspiger’s terrifying tomb. 

“Hurry up, it’s freezing!” Sarah Davis hisses, arms folded over her chest. 

I exchange a look with Grace. She shakes her head as if to say, just get it over with.

Taking a calming breath, I head down the cement steps toward the thick metal door of Felix Arnspiger’s tomb. It’s built into the side of a hill, and with each step, the air grows colder. Thicker.

Looking back at the group huddled around the top of the stairs, my throat tightens. 

I lift a shaking hand to knock on the door of the tomb—just like the legend says—but something stops me. A ringing sound. 

“What’s that?” Sarah asks, her eyes widening. 

“I . . . I don’t know,” I answer. My heart is pounding in my chest and my hands have gone clammy. I put an ear to the frigid tomb door. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

The ringing grows louder. Suddenly, there’s a shout. It’s Manny Garcia. He points at the crypt door. “It’s coming from inside the tomb! It’s him! It’s Arnspiger!” 

Everyone scatters. I sprint back up the steps, missing one and banging my shin against the cold concrete. Grace is the only one left at the top when I get there. She holds out a hand and pulls me to the grass above.

Then we run.

When we finally get to my house, Grace and I dive under a blanket on the sofa, teeth chattering. 

“What was that?” Grace asks, still panting. 

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Whatever it was, it was scary.”

Grace fishes her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans. “Felix Arnspiger,” she repeats as her fingers tap the screen.

I wrinkle my nose, not sure I want to think about this anymore. 

“This says he died in 1919,” Grace starts, scrolling on her phone. “There’s all the ghost story stuff, blah blah blah.” 

Suddenly she gasps. “Whoa.”

“Whoa what?” I ask. 

She looks up, her face pale. “This says Felix Arnspiger was afraid of being buried alive, so he had a mechanism installed inside his tomb, just in case.”

A chill washes over me. “What kind of mechanism?”

“A bell.”

Three days later, I finally get up the courage to go back to the graveyard, but this time to the office just inside the front gate. I just can’t shake the memory of that ringing. 

Janet, the woman at the front desk, has a lot to say about Felix Arnspiger. 

“It wasn’t just a bell,” she tells me. “It was bells, whistles, and a whole system to make sure the tomb never ran out of fresh air! Arnspiger had it installed so that if he did wake up in the tomb, he’d be able to breathe.”

Wow. 

Janet laughs. “Can you imagine what they said about him back then? Tombs were supposed to be elegant and fancy, a sign of how important you were to your family and your town. Not rigged with a bunch of strange things like Arnspiger’s was.”

A familiar sense of unease washes over me. “Do you think people made fun of him?”

“Oh, I’m sure they did. But Arnspiger must’ve decided to ignore them and just do what he wanted. Not a surprise since he was an immigrant.” Janet pauses thoughtfully. “You have to be tough to start a whole new life in a new country.”

I thank her and leave the office. When I get outside, my feet carry me back to Arnspiger’s tomb. I can’t stop thinking about him, about how people must have teased him and called him names for doing what he did to his tomb. Maybe they didn’t say it to his face, but he knew what they were thinking. And it probably hurt. 

No, it definitely hurt.

And there’s still the mystery of the ringing bell. Felix Arnspiger has been dead for more than 100 years. What’s left in the tomb? Only bones and dust. So what was that noise? 

At the top of the tomb steps, I listen. At first, there’s nothing. Just the wind rattling the half-bare branches.

But then . . . I hear it again. The haunting ding ding. 

I freeze.  

Suddenly, on a nearby path, I see a man on a bike speed past. 

Could that have been it? A bike bell? No. My classmates were here, standing in this very spot. They would have seen the cyclist, right?

Unless they were all so focused on watching me knock on the door of the crypt that they didn’t notice. 

I stare at the tomb, conflicted. Part of me is happy that I might have solved the mystery, but the other part of me sorta liked the idea that Arnspiger himself was ringing the bell—not because he was trapped in there and still alive—but because his spirit was trying to send me a message. Now that I know so much about him, I realize we aren’t all that different. I have fears, and so did he. 

“Was it you, Felix?” I whisper, as I slowly walk down toward the tomb door. There may not be anyone to watch me test the legend this time, but that’s OK. This isn’t for them. It’s for me.

I lift a hand and rap on the icy metal of the tomb door. 

Knock.

Knock.

Knock. 

Holding my breath, I wait for Arnspiger’s cold hands to grab me or for the bell to start ringing. 

That’s when I feel it.

The presence. 

I gasp. It isn’t a cold hand. It isn’t anything frightening at all! Instead, it’s warm and comforting, surrounding me. Like a fuzzy blanket, or the smell of freshly baked cookies, or a hug when you’re feeling down. I think it’s Felix Arnspiger’s way of telling me I don’t have anything to prove.

At school the next week, I’m ready when Emily Wang calls out, “Stella!  We have a great dare for you.” 

A bunch of kids immediately crowd around Grace and me in the hallway.  I can feel Grace tensing up. 

Sarah Davis leans close and says, “On Halloween night, we want you
to—”

I stop her, shaking my head. 

“Actually, I already have plans on Halloween,” I say. “With Grace.”

Grace’s eyes light up. 

“But don’t you even want to hear the dare?” Manny Garcia asks.

I take a deep breath, thinking about the tomb with its ringing bell and of Felix Arnspiger, unafraid of what people would say. 

“No.” I look at Manny, then Emily and Sarah. “I’m done with the dares.”

I don’t wait for them to respond. Instead, I wave and turn around, walking down the hall with Grace at my side. 

“So what are we doing for Halloween?” Grace whispers. 

“Monster movie marathon?” I ask.

Grace smiles brightly, and so do I.