CREEPYPASTA

Everytime A Bell Rings

When Elizabeth Ackerly ran into the alleyway, she turned and pressed against the wall. Red and blue lights flew past, shining into the alleyway for only a brief moment. She had been chased over and over again for most of her life, off on a bad foot, as most would kindly put it.

You see, Carrington didn't have many citizens. Located in Elkhart county, Indiana, this town was only comprised of about 7,000 citizens. Elizabeth was the kind of person they all disliked. She was a thief, and had been imprisoned multiple times in her life. Only twenty-five years old, almost all of it was in and out of custody.

The second great war had only ended a year earlier. This was 1946. Where most people celebrated a victory, she just continued living. Filthy cloths covering her, including a brown coat her mother had given her - God rest her soul, everything she owned was either taken, or given to her.

But her thieving was not why she was wanted. Coating her was a thin blanket of snow, but that was not matched by the town as a whole. In fact, around her, was a thick sheet of snow and ice, covering anything and everything. It was cold. It was desperate. The desperate and the freezing do drastic things to get by.

No, this time she had gone too far, at least in sight of witnesses. Placing a small bloody knife in a pocket on the inside of her coat, she covered her face with her hands in disbelief, as another police vehicle, on the search for her, drove past. Houses sat all along the street. Potential witnesses that could have seen her flee into the alleyway. The paranoia began to eat at her.

She wouldn't say she regretted it, but she definitely regretted being seen. She never said she was a saint, not even as Christmas Eve touched into Christmas day. He was in her face. He had assaulted her. If there is one thing you should know, it's that you don't make many friends living that life. When you live in and out of apartments, sometimes outside, your plans don't always work out. Some of of your victims might not like getting mugged. Some might be extremely violent. Even on Christmas Eve.

There were dozens of ways they would recognize her, though. Her long blonde hair, her pale skin and blue eyes, her clothes, and even possibly her height, to name a few. She couldn't find any plausible way out in her head.

There was one thing that never came to mind, though - at least not in any suitable manner. The odd sound of ringing bells. Light, piercing bells, sounding just like the kind that come attached in bulk to a single string for decoration. She couldn't see anyone around her, nor could she hear footsteps. The world around her, in fact, seemed still.

The second she pulled her hands from her face, a blinding flash of light came in front of her, causing her to put them back in place. Though she could hardly make sense of the situation, the light only made her think of one thing.

They found me.

Oddly, instead of the typical "hands up!", all she heard was something she could only relate to a flag violently blowing in the wind. Instead of the cold handcuffs being thrown on her wrists, she only felt warm.

When she pulled her hands away from her face, she saw him. Standing in front of her, was a man well over seven feet tall, covered in a shining white robe. Behind him, two wings, each full of white feathers. When she tried to find his face, all she could find was the skull of a bird on his shoulders.

"Elizabeth Ackerly, thou are visited by the father's angel!" the man said, only feeding her fear.

She would have pulled the knife out of her coat and tried to defend herself, but she was forced to believe him. Not only had he appeared, and not only did his form certainly fit the cliche, but the snow, which should have been falling without a care, was still. Simply floating in place in the air. There was no wind, no sound, and no livelihood in the neighborhood around her.

"Why are you 'ere?" she asked, her heart beating furiously in shock. She couldn't comprehend what was happening, but she had to speak.

"Thou art chosen, by none other than thy king. I have been tasked with delivering the chance of a better life to thou, but first, your story must be given."

"Why story? Why do ya' want my story?"

"To fill the pages, child. Doth thou have the ability to speak thy own past?"

She wasn't about to disobey the will of the angel, especially not in this circumstance. Not all thieves are idiots.

"... Well, I was born in the Big Apple. New York, yeah? I didn't 'ave much help, you know. I was thrown into this world, and fought to survive. Bad upbringin', that sort've story. Made my way down 'ere with some friends, that aren't friends anymore."

"What of yourself now? What do you see when you look around you in this moment?"

She thought hard, but couldn't contain herself. Holding in the perfect balance of fear and regret, she spilled herself out to the angel.

"I've made a mistake! Please, forgive me!" she said, with a tear spawning from each eye, falling on her pale cheeks.

The angel raised his finger to her lips. His touch was warm and brought calm into her soul.

"You've put yourself into a bad situation, child. You will be gifted by thy grace, a chance of redemption. They will not know your face, nor your ability, young one.'"

Taking his finger from her lips, the angel bent to the ground. He grabbed two hands of snow, and brought himself back up. With his right hand, he threw the snow on her face, like a fine powder.

When the snow cleared from her face, there was a new one in its place. He showed her the new face by spreading his now empty hand, opening a small white circular portal, which stunningly allowed a perfect reflection on the other side.

Her blonde hair was replaced with flowing cherry red hair, her cheeks were now rosy, and her skin tone was a more healthy shade, yet still pale. The jawline itself had been reshaped, now a more defined point. Her clothes were no longer dirty, and she could feel that the weight of the knife was gone from her coat's pocket.

"Doth thou desire where the bright portal leads, or where the dark portal leads?" he asked, seemingly rhetorically.

"It's... beautiful. You did this for me?" she questioned.

Without responding, the angel took the snow in his left hand, and raised his right hand. The snow began to glow a bright right, causing her to squint her eyes. The pain eventually grew, to which she shut them fully. When she reopened them, the angel was holding a black book.

The book was of great size, and appeared to be made of some sort of black leather, sewn together with a light red thread. A chain linked around the book twice, in the shape of an "X". Beneath the chain, a deep red design glowed, but what it fully looked like, was impossible to guess.

"This book has the power of both your guilt, and your pleasure. It contains the essence of both malevolence and benevolence. You must use it wisely. Your new start must be used wisely, I might add."

In another great flash, he was gone. The book simply fell straight to the ground. Looking around, she saw the snow fall in front of her. Everything seemed normal. The sound of automobiles and voices of others were heard once more. She heard the rattle of chains, which drew her back to the book. The chains were unraveled, and loosely sitting in the snow around the book.

She walked over and picked it up within both hands at once. It was about a third the size of her body, and weighed about twenty pounds. The red design was that of the Ouroboros, and within the Ouroboros, a crude representation of the brain.

Unsure of how to feel about any of this, she, still filled with adrenaline, carefully walked out of the alleyway