Halloween horror in Indiana
“The Bells of Lost Valley” It was supposed to be a dare. Just a dumb Halloween dare. Mara and Jesse had snuck into the Lost Valley Cemetery after midnight, flashlights flickering, breath fogging in the cold October air. The graveyard sat on the edge of the woods, where the town’s streetlights gave up and the trees leaned in like eavesdroppers. Everyone in Lost Valley knew the stories—about the bells. Back in the 1800s, they said, people were so afraid of being buried alive they installed bells above graves, with strings tied to the corpses’ fingers. If someone woke up underground, they could ring for help. But the bells hadn’t rung in over a century. Until tonight. They were halfway through the overgrown rows when Jesse stopped. “Did you hear that?” Mara froze. A soft ting-ting-ting echoed through the mist. Faint. Metallic. Rhythmic. “Wind,” she whispered, though the air was still. They followed the sound, weaving between leaning headstones and sunken plots. The bell was louder...
