The Belltower

The stone belltower, set apart a little from the town, housed a small room at the top where the bell hung on its beam. Havlov, on his knees, stared at the tower. He was a little out of breath yet he could still clearly focus and make out the spare decoration and weather-stains on its exterior. If he leant forward he could also see into its mouth.

Aloft, the room lay muffled in dust. A bell-rope dropped from the beam through a round hole in the floorboards. The walls were open to the sky, slats pointing sharply groundwards (to let the sound out, Havlov thought) such that even if one wished, it was quite impossible to see more than a narrow strip of green near the tower base. Would the dust tremble if the bell was rung, he wondered? And the noise? If he were to stay here he'd need some muslin to put in his ears. The room was bare except for a small wooden box nailed to the floor in one corner, which he opened. It contained one large spanner. Havlov could see the nut it was meant to turn on the beam end. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. All sounds were distant - a farmer hailing; a cart down below; a little wind in the treetops.

The room welcomed no man; it wasn't made for him. One of those few rooms - H. realised - where no man had any business. It was for a thing - a bell. Elsewhere, dwellings always had the stamp of someone: the chosen wallhangings, the photographs. Even a functional room - a signal box - that also had the stamp of man: the curved wooden chair with padded armrests and the nearby stove and coffee-pot. This room saw no purpose in his being there.  

And at last he felt comfortable. The place suited him for it was something he was familiar with. Being unwelcome tracked his life. Here was the same, but he'd not to respond nor to fight his corner. It ignored him but how could he get angry with it, like he had with people (and anyway, why shouldn't they have ignored him)? Yes he'd stay. He'd stay. More - he'd never retrace his steps down the ladder. He'd already drawn it up. The trapdoor was shut now. He'd rest. Here.