The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Entry:

Beneath the chapel's broken stone,
where winter roots have grown,
a silver bell begins to move
although it hangs alone.

No living hand has pulled its rope.
No wind has crossed the grave.
Yet three times through the midnight fog
it calls beneath the nave.

The villagers extinguish lamps.
The children know the sign.
No footsteps cross the frozen road
after the final chime.

For something underneath the hill
remembers breath and heat,
and dreams of veins beneath the skin
and hearts that still can beat.

It does not speak of paradise.
It does not speak of hell.
It only waits beneath the earth
and listens to the bell.

Once it had a human name.

Once sunlight touched its eyes.

Once someone wept beside its bed
and watched its body die.

But death can change what memory keeps.

And hunger changes more.

A lover may return at night
without being the one from before.

So lock the window.

Guard the flame.

Let morning find you still.

Because some dead forget their graves,

but never lose their will.

And somewhere underneath the snow,

where ancient shadows dwell,

two red eyes open in the dark

when rings the buried bell.