More Bones by Arielle North Olson

and screamed in horror.
    There, inside the rusty helmet, was . . . nothing . . . absolutely nothing. Yet still that empty suit of armor was flexing its fingers and moving its feet.
    The judge choked out his verdict. “I order you to be hanged at dawn.” But the peasants objected.
    â€œThat didn’t kill him before,” one cried. “Take him to the blacksmith’s forge. Turn him into . . .” and here he faltered.
    â€œA bell,” said the judge. “If he’s a bell, he can do no harm.”
    But it was almost as if the blacksmith had been sentenced as well. When he hammered the armor, it groaned and writhed. When he thrust it into the smelting furnace, it shrieked and reached out to grab the blacksmith with fingers of hot metal. Lightning streaked out of the furnace, and thunder almost deafened him.
    The blacksmith thought he was losing the battle, until suddenly he remembered the hermit’s advice. He grabbed a clove of garlic, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed on it. Then he spat at the molten metal, once, twice, thrice. His spit sizzled and turned into steam. But he finally subdued the armor and made it into a bell.
    The bell was hung in the marketplace, so the peasants could see that the dreaded armor would no longer stalk them at night.
    But the very first time the bell was rung, it cracked and spit out a shower of sparks. The peasants backed away, whispering to one another. Was the ghost trying to slip out the crack? Or would it haunt the bell forever? No one knows . . . except for the baron.

The Gruesome Test
    JAPAN
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Suitors came from all over Japan to woo a beautiful maiden. First they fell in love with her—then they ran away. Some were heard screaming as they raced down the road.
    Suspicious neighbors spread rumors. They suspected that the maiden might actually be a goblin or a fox-woman. Her parents were mystified. Why did their lovely daughter terrify young men? She was gentle, happy, and hardworking. She didn’t complain when helping her mother around the house and never wasted a single grain of rice when she cooked their meals.
    What more could parents desire? Grandchildren. That’s why the couple wanted their daughter to marry. Besides, the aging father needed a strong son-in-law to help him grow rice—and he needed him soon.
    Arranged marriages had been the tradition for as many generations as anyone could remember. But long ago the father had decided to let his beloved daughter choose a husband for herself. One spring he began to regret his decision. He sat beneath a flowering cherry tree, watching pink petals fall to the ground. Would his daughter’s youth fade away as quickly as the delicate flowers? Just as he was losing hope that she would ever marry, a soldier came striding up to the house.
    â€œMay I court your daughter?” asked the bold young man.
    The father liked his broad shoulders and muscular arms, good for planting rice. “Come right in,” he said, and he happily introduced the young man to his daughter.
    The maiden moved gracefully about the room, serving the soldier tea and rice. She seemed shy, speaking softly and lowering her eyes. The young man seemed smitten. When the meal was over, she accompanied him to the door and quietly invited him to come back.
    â€œBut not until midnight,” she whispered, “and knock lightly so you do not awaken my parents.”
    He was surprised, but not half as surprised as he was when he returned that night. The moment he entered the house, she made a very strange request.
    â€œYou must promise on your honor,” she whispered, “that you will submit to a test of your love for me. And promise that you will never tell a living soul what that test is.”
    The young man couldn’t imagine what the maiden had in mind—but he agreed to remain silent. “On my honor, I will never tell.”
    â€œThen wait here,” she said. She slid open the paper