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Death Bell

Death Bell Kathryn Stripling Byer Appalachian Heritage, Volume 32, Number 2, Spring 2004, pp. 47-51 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2004.0093 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/434567/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 19:29 GMT from JHU Libraries FICTION Death Bell_________________________ Kathryn Stripling Byer THEY SAY ONCE THE CLAPPER STRIKES inside your skull, there's no way you can bargain with death. Someone you love will die; you can't stop it, and there's no way to know who it will be but to wait. So she leaned against the kitchen counter and waited, her skull clanging away all sense from her thoughts, stunning all natural feeling from her extremities. She stood looking down at the dustpan she'd dropped, her fingers clinging now to the edges of the counter top, afraid she'd be spun around yet again, as if her body were the bell-rope that might stir the clapper back to life. But the echoes subsided, so slowly she hardly believed they were leaving her still alive, still standing. She moved her head to the right, and there was the shelf with her blue willow plates stacked the way they'd been stacked before death rang her skull. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Kathryn Stripling Byer Appalachian Heritage, Volume 32, Number 2, Spring 2004, pp. 47-51 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2004.0093 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/434567/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 19:29 GMT from JHU Libraries FICTION Death Bell_________________________ Kathryn Stripling Byer THEY SAY ONCE THE CLAPPER STRIKES inside your skull, there's no way you can bargain with death. Someone you love will die; you can't stop it, and there's no way to know who it will be but to wait. So she leaned against the kitchen counter and waited, her skull clanging away all sense from her thoughts, stunning all natural feeling from her extremities. She stood looking down at the dustpan she'd dropped, her fingers clinging now to the edges of the counter top, afraid she'd be spun around yet again, as if her body were the bell-rope that might stir the clapper back to life. But the echoes subsided, so slowly she hardly believed they were leaving her still alive, still standing. She moved her head to the right, and there was the shelf with her blue willow plates stacked the way they'd been stacked before death rang her skull.

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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