Posted in Short Stories

The Tapping Of The Windless Chime

Once, many years ago, I laid awake in my bed tossing and turning, wishing for a way to end my sorrowful lack of much needed sleep. As I laid there awake that night, hoping that my mind would stop racing about the events of that day and that I would fall into a peaceful slumber, I heard a sound which resembled that of a chime. It sounded once with a melodious and unique sound and then again, making me wonder what would be causing such a noise in the midst of this already torturous night. Arising from my bed and flinging on my robe and slippers and pulling my night cap over my ears, I ran to inspect the cause of such a sound. As I searched my entire house, from kitchen to parlor, my muscles began to tense as if some peril were upon me. And there it was again, clanging and clinking with its high, metallic pitch which sounded like a wind chime with no wind. Again and again it played until I ran the house rampant trying to discover the source of the music, but alas! It was nowhere to be found. And so I retired to my master bedroom and for the rest of the night, I listened to the faint and yet extremely audible clanging of the wind chime with no wind.

When the morning light finally began to slip into my bedroom windows and the carpet of my room began to warm from the sun’s natural light, the windless chime ceased and all was silent except for the maid busying herself with her daily duties and the house cook preparing me my breakfast. That morning before breakfast, I pulled my maid aside and asked her if she had heard anything the night before, but she told me that all had been peaceful and quiet. My cook told me the same thing as I ate my cheese omelet.

So there I was, wondering whether or not I was tortured by some unknown nightmare which befell me in my unknown sleep or if I was haunted by the deathly madness of insanity. Whatever the reason of such a mysterious sound, I decided to put it behind me and to continue with my daily routine like it was any other normal day. But the events of last night raced through my mind as if they were a horse trying to win a derby of madness. By the end of the day, the only thing that I could think of was the tapping of the windless chime.

On that night, there was no sound in the house except for the occasional wolf’s howl (for I lived in the mountains) and my sleep was getting on quite peacefully until the old grandfathers clock struck twelve o’clock and once more the windless chime clanged and clinked until my eyes were opened and my eyebrows scrunched in terrible fury. If ever a man was tortured, it was I. Laying there all alone that night, wishing that the windless chime would cease its eternal yammering of tasteless and unchanging music.

And so it was night after night, listening to the infernal sound of the windless chime. My exhaustion grew greater by the day and my horrible anger grew more every night until one night when the old grandfathers clock once more struck twelve o’clock and again the windless chime resumed. Yes, I can say with the utmost certainty that on the night of May Fourth, the tension that had been building up within me ever since the windless chime had began its beastly tapping burst from within me and I yelled and screamed like a mad man suffering from some absurd mental illness. Every word I said dripped with murderous bitterness, the likes of which I have never seen in myself or anyone else for that matter.

On the following morning, my maid and cook were shy to approach me because of my actions the night before. Even the people I worked with who did not even know of the experiences that I had been experiencing as of late avoided me with caution. But there was one who did not avoid me with dignified fear. She was an angel for a man who had lost his sanity, and I had truly lost my sanity. She did not know what my wrong doings were and she did not ask for she knew something many people do not. She knew that everyone was insane in their own little way and that is what makes everyone unique.

I do not know why the windless chime arrived so abruptly that first night on the first of April and I do not know why it ceased the day after I met Her. But after the many speculations I have made and the research I have conducted, I believe that sometimes insanity is the very catalyst for love to blossom. For after the tapping of the windless chime, I met someone with long flowing chestnut hair and emerald green eyes. Her skin was smooth with a few freckles sprinkled on. She had a smile which caused you to smile even if you were insane like me. And I believe that even though I am still just as insane as I was before I met Her, I know that we are all insane which makes us all sane.

Even if I could have avoided those many torturous nights of listening to the tapping of the windless chime mock me with its dull and harmonious tapping, I wouldn’t. I would not trade one torturous night for all the treasure in the world. For that insanity led me to the fantastic Leesa Brown, and that is truly a happy ending to an otherwise unhappy story.

Thee End Of This Story Called “The Tapping Of The Windless Chime”

(however, I am working on another fictional story which might entertain you as much as this one might have, but I make you no promises)


I'm a writer, filmmaker, and Human. I think...

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