Posted in friday fictioneers


The following story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll



Kelvin M. Knight

He purchased this ornate clock because it reminded him of church. The look and feel of this wood was identical to the pews, whose ornate carvings reached out to the heavens. Those heavens where bells clanged in practice for Sunday morning, whereupon heaven would ripple across this village.

He swayed in eager anticipation. Such harmonies. Such humility. From these bell ringers and the congregation. Humbleness was the bedrock of Christianity here – starting with those Benedictine monks and finishing Lord knows where.

The time, the place, didn’t matter, nothing did, as long as these bells kept chiming in his soul.

(99 words)

If you want to read other FridayFictioneers’ stories also based on this prompt, please click the blue frog button below.

Happy reading and commenting!


First and foremost I am a reader, then a storyteller. My reading tastes are eclectic. My writing can focus around the intimacy of closed settings and may tend towards characters who might be hiding something from themselves.

32 thoughts on “THESE BELLS

  1. Lovely story, Kelvin. I find your narrator’s point of view entirely believable – and very beautiful. You’ve constructed this story really well, drawing us in and lifting us up. “I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help”.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The first line opens so direct and with a simplicity that walked us right in….
    and the last line filled me with a sense of – hmm – let’s see – a sense of being moved with the character – nicely developed

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Love the carving on the clock, taking us directly inside the church, the heart of the narrator’s existence. I can read it two ways, as a hymn of appreciation by someone devout, for their weekly village devotions, their faith, community,and the music that calls them to service; or, as a recollection, a wistful memory of an earlier, simpler time, a less diverse time, perhaps, by someone who has moved on from the village and regards the clock as a momento.

    The mention of the Benedictines made me wonder whether the narrator had joined the order.

    Lovely, like church bells. There is nothing like good music in a sacred space meant to release it to the heavens.

    (I must admit I could not help thinking of the Midsomer Murders episode about the bell ringers. )

    Liked by 2 people

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