Bellamy dropped the final shovel of dirt and pressed down hard with his feet, then he stood back and admired his work. The grave was perfect, just like all the rest. He had been the groundskeeper for the Greenwood Cemetery for years, and he had learned a lot on the job. The final step was to attach the string he had carefully run from the finger of the dead girl to the bell mounted on the headstone. He considered it a stupid safety measure, no one had ever been buried alive as of yet, but the panic was too widespread.
The second he placed the string, he heard the soft tinkle. He still held the string in his hand and was certain no one had pulled on it. But where was the sound coming from? Bellamy stood up slowly, his aged knees crackling, and listened.
Tink. Tink.
A chill creeped up his spine at the thought that someone was still alive. How was that possible? He moved to the older side of the cemetery, following the bell, dragging his shovel behind him. His gnarled, overworked hands started to shake as he got closer to the sound.
Tink. Tink. Tink. Tink.
The bell grew more aggressive with each step Bellamy took, and he ran towards it, terrified that someone could be dying in a grave he had dug.
TINK. TINK. TINK.
It was right over his shoulder. He turned, shaking all over.
The sound stopped the instant he turned towards the gravestone.
"It ain't possible," he whispered, his blood freezing.
It was the grave of a baby, a stillborn. And it was over 200 years old...
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