Speaker 1: Hey guys, it's EJ. This is the usual part of
the show where I thank you for listening. I encourage
you to follow the show on x or on Facebook
to share the show, and I let you know what
to expect in the next few months. Then I hand
a show off to Igor, followed by a thunderclap and
the theme music. But this episode isn't that, because what
I'm about to share is different. You see, most of
the stories you hear on this show are the true additional, short, scary,
suspenseful stories that are a product of my imagination. They
are written by me by simply asking what if over
and over, sprinkling in a touch of this and that
with a twist, and taking them to their natural creepy conclusion.
This episode isn't one of those. I'm going to share
with you a bit of lore, an urban legend, if
you will, from my part of the world, in a
tale titled the Bell Tower. A few weeks ago, I
was doing some errands and I found myself cruising through
the older part of the city. It's gone through many stages.
It started off as farmland hundreds of years ago, transitioned
to residential of mostly Polish and Eastern European at the
turn of the previous century. Factories and stores soon followed,
and today it's a multicultural potpourri, unfortunately, all of whom
are down on our luck. Lots of abandoned buildings, boarded
up windows, closed stores and factories, Homes that have seen
better days, peeling paint, porches just hanging on, abandon overgrown
lots dotted with garbage and debris. I found myself looking
at a large abandoned lot just like the one described,
except this one did have one structure on it way
in the corner, a bell tower that extended seven stories high.
It appeared it was maybe once part of a church
and is the only remaining structure made of fieldstone and mortar.
The spire still looked sturdy and strong, with two entrances
on the bottom, the original steel exterior door appearing locked
and secured, and a doorway that I imagine once connected it
to the church itself blocked now by red brick, the
bell tower itself boarded by slats of wood. I could
still see an errant pigeon or two intermittently flying in
and out and around. I found myself parked there, wondering
why it wasn't taken down with the rest of the church.
Why had they left it? How long has it been
standing there? Idle nature had reclaimed the lot. Trees and
shrubs here and there dotted the area with tall grass.
As my mind pondered all these questions, I lost all
sense of time and my surroundings. A rap at my
window brought me back to my senses. A fairly imposing
older gentleman stood, there you lost or trying to score? Now,
I'm if you're just lost, go straight till you get
the broadway, then turn left, keep going until you get
to the throughway. You'll find yourself home. No, I'm if
you're trying to score, you're on the wrong block. Keep
on going. You won't find that stuff in our neighborhood.
I I was just coming back from some errands. I
found myself looking at at that Saint Tony's, sorry, Saint
Anthony's bell tower. Yeah, what's the story? What happened to
the church and why did they leave the tower? Back
about eighty five, the church closed, The tendons started to
drop and such, and it became expensive to keep up,
so they came through and closed it and tore it down. No,
that that was after Okay, when they closed it, they
had a big seren news crews, politicians and church folk
from all over, and they deconsecrated it. What does that mean,
you know, made it no longer hollowed ground, not a
religious place, no longer sacred, not a safe spot here
on earth. About a week later, it all started, noises
coming from the church at all hours, screaming, yelling, and banging,
the sounds of windows breaking. People reported seeing shadows against
the windows, and when the cops showed up, no one
was there, all the windows intact and no signs of
anyone breaking in. It went on like that the whole summer.
Then about the end of October. I know that night
in October the fire. The whole church went up in flames.
Every fire engine in the city came. It took them
all night and into the morning to put it out.
It burned so hot like the devil himself was fanning
the flames. No one was hurt, but nothing was left.
They rode it up as some squatters starting a fire
to keep warmer shooting up. The only thing left, though,
was is the tower. The bells still chime, Yeah, they
do that. They are a timer or something. No one disabled.
No electricity was turned off long ago. No one exactly
knows why they chime, not for certain anyway, What's that's
supposed to mean? You? Uh got some time? Sure, but
come on, I got something to show you. A few
minutes later, I found myself down the street in his garage,
a small one car detached wooden one that served as
a workshop, storage area, and man cave with an old
refrigerator on the back wall, a tool bench along the
right and yard tools along the left, oil stain in
the middle of the cement. I watched as he rummaged
through the old wooden boxes stacked next to a small
console TV. I watched as he rummaged through some old
wooden boxes stacked next to a small console TV that
was sitting atop a dresser missing all of its drawers.
Sitting beside the TV was an honest to goodness eighties
boombox fleet with tape deck and a VCR perched on
the first set of slats of the dresser where a
drawer should be. What exactly are you looking for the
rest of the story. You need to see it to
believe it all right. Back in eighty nine, a girl
went missing, Jenny Stratton. It was in all the papers
on the news for weeks, local neighborhood girl, nice kid
by all accounts, good grades, good family, no problems. Well
it seems some of her friends dared here to go
up to the tower and ring Saint Tony's bell, and
not just go up the tower and ring it, but
go up at midnight, just making the whole dare worse
walking up those creaky steps all alone, nothing but a
flash light and whatever moonlight that came through the slats
at the top of the tower to guide your way.
Nightmare kind of scenario. Right, Kids are cruel that way.
You remember what it was like being that young peer
pressure at that age, wanted to be cool and fit in.
Her friends nagged her for week's pestered and joked. She
finally gave into our there our nagging and pestering. I'm
not proud of it. That Friday night in October we
all snuck out, all eight of us. Tommy Ortiz even
brought his family camcorder so she could take it up
to the tower with her document the whole thing. We
cheered and jeered her all the way to the lot
and watched like chickens from the sidewalk as she crossed
the lot to the tower. I remember how scared she looked.
Back Then what was the church entrance was boarded up.
She kicked out the bottom board easy enough, and we
watched as she crawled on in. We waited two minutes,
five minutes, then ten minutes. It felt like forever before
we heard the bell ring. We let out a cheer,
which was stupid. Not only did the bell ringing alert
the adults something was up, but our cheering didn't help.
Lights went on in every house on the block. Parents
came out, and we all scattered and ran back home,
trying not to get caught. Man did I catch hell
from my old man? We didn't know until that morning
the cops came to all of our homes what happened.
He stopped his search, but didn't turn to face me.
Shoulders slumped, and he let out a big exhal Jenny.
She never came home. We all told them what had happened,
our dumb dare to ring the tower bell. They searched
every inch of the tower and found nothing. Jenny was
never seen again. Four weeks months they put up posters
of her news cruise came, did stories to try and
help her. Face was even on the back of milk cartens.
For a few years, nothing and the bell ringing. A month,
maybe after Jenny disappeared, the bell rang. Cops came, people's
hopes got up, investigated. Nothing. It happened every week or
so at random times, morning, afternoon, middle of the night.
Cops came, people's hopes got up. Cops investigated, and nothing.
They blamed it on punk kids. They bricked up the
entrance safety hazard and all here it is, and he
turned to face me. I watched as he produced an
old VHS tape from the bottom of a wooden crate
marked Jenny cream Ale that first spring. This was found
in a lot a few yards from the tower. Well,
not this specifically, this is a copy, don't ask. This
is what Jenny filmed from inside the tower the night
she disappeared. He turned and walked towards the TV and
VCR and placed the tape in the machine. Then he
pressed play contact