Bells are ringing, each toll like a death knell to my spirit.
It’s traditional for the town bells to sound when there is good news to celebrate. The fleet returns, and the pealing began when the first sail was sighted.
I knew before the last of the fleet docked in port that one ship was lost.
Late one night, during a savage storm, I dreamt a ship’s bell rang out until it was swallowed by the sea.
Sailor superstition says that a sinking ship’s bell tolls for each lost soul. That night my love drowned, taken to a watery grave.
Thin spiral notebook 