Hello again dear listeners. I know it’s been some time since I released a new episode of The Skylark Bell, but I believe you’ll feel it was worth the wait as you listen to this strange, uncanny tale I cooked up after a solo train ride to Inverness while visiting Scotland earlier this year.

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: I Met Him on the Train - A Special Episode written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Hello again dear listeners. I know it’s been some time since I released a new episode of The Skylark Bell, but I believe you’ll feel it was worth the wait as you listen to this strange, uncanny tale I cooked up.

I found myself once again staying with my dear little friend Russell the cat this week, and he once again worked his magic. I wrote this story over the course of 2 days, pulling inspiration from a recent trip to Scotland where I set off on my own on a 3 hour long train ride each way from Stirling to Inverness. Russell kept me company into the night and in the early morning hours as I followed the winding path of the story that came spinning out of me. It started as a title: I Met Him on the Train... then I had to sort out the details. Who did I meet? What did they do? Why was it important? What happens next? And after that? And finally, how does the story end?

All those questions will be answered... well, sort of, if you’ve listened this far into the podcast, you know I’m not one to wrap things up with a tidy little bow, I much prefer to leave room for interpretation, and imagination.

Before we dive into the story, I’d one again like to thank Lauren and Rachel for the use of their apartment over the course of this week. The opportunity to house and cat sit for them gave me the calm and space I needed to write.

And now, at last, it is my pleasure to invite you to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink, or perhaps, if it is also warm where you are, turn on a fan and grab an ice cold lemonade, and let’s get started.

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I met him on the train

It was a Tuesday morning, and I was running late. The trains had been delayed due to flooding on the tracks after days and days of torrential downpours.

I didn’t notice him at first, and in fairness, when I eventually did, there was nothing much to notice. He was quite an ordinary man, not memorable in any particular way. I had headphones on and was staring out the window as the train barrelled North. I admired the landscape stretching out in a blur of greens, browns, and yellows as the sun rose over the Scottish Highlands. His presence came to my attention at a quaint little station about halfway between Glasgow and Inverness when I heard him say “G’day,” while my playlist was between songs. I turned from the window to glance at the seat across from me. 

Average height from what I could tell with him sitting down. Non-descript features, civilian clothes in neutral colours. Everything about him was... the word generic comes to mind. Never in a million years would I have guessed... well, that will come later.

Our gazes crossed paths, and he held fast, staring into my eyes in a way that made it impossible for me to look away. His facial expression, like the rest of him, was completely neutral. I felt a mounting desire to get up and change seats but found myself paralysed by his unwavering stare. Finally, he blinked, smiled a plastic sort of smile, and the spell was broken. Oddly enough, he now looked somewhat friendly and approachable, but with an undercurrent of something terribly, terribly wrong that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Lovely day we’re having after all that rain, don’t you think?” he asked. 

Something was off. Had his lips moved? I couldn’t tell if I’d heard him with my ears or if the words had somehow miraculously been channelled directly into my brain. I nodded silently, still locked firmly in my seat by some invisible force, whether from an outside source or a mechanism inside my body I couldn’t tell.

“Wonderful town, Inverness, I think you’ll quite enjoy it,” he mentioned, casually. Again, I couldn’t tell if his lips had moved. Perhaps he was a ventriloquist? I acquiesced with a single nod. 

“Lovely town, Inverness...” he mused, letting the thought trail off as he turned his head to look out the window. I noticed his movements were mechanical in nature, not quite human. The spell broken entirely now, I blinked, and also turned to look out the window. The view outside seemed tinged with an indigo tone that hadn’t been there before, as though someone had painted over the window with a thin layer of watercolour.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me, “How did you know I was going to Inverness?” I asked, turning to look back at him. I stared in shock at the empty seat across from me. My eyes scanned the train car, both in front and behind me, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Had I dreamt him? Yes, that must be it, I must have dozed off with my head leaning on the window, lulled by the steady movement of the train, and had one of those strange dreams brought on by weeks of insomnia and a diet comprised mostly of chips and curry. 

I chuckled sheepishly and turned my gaze back to the outside world. The train was immobilised at a small-town station. I let my eyes travel from left to right at the people waiting on the platform, first noting a middle-aged woman with mass of red hair cascading down her shoulders, her coral sundress was blowing in the breeze. Next to her stood a tall man in shorts and a hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder, the two looked like they’d struck up a friendly conversation, both flashing shy smiles at one another. My gaze travelled the empty space between them and landed on the third and last person standing on the platform. My stomach churned as I saw the man who, only moments before, had been sitting across from me. I felt the cognitive dissonance shake me to my core as I watched him stand patiently waiting to get on the train. The train doors hadn’t opened yet, he couldn’t have gotten off the train and onto the platform in the time since I’d last seen him in his seat.

The long signal tone sounded and the doors to the train cars slid open. The man in the hoodie and woman in the coral sundress entered the car behind me, and the impossible man climbed into mine. I watched, fixated, stunned silent, shaken, as he made his way down the aisle and slid into the seat across from mine. 

“G’day,” he said with a nod. He seemed completely normal. So normal it felt abnormal. His tone was normal, his face was normal, his smile was normal... not a sign of the strangeness the previous iteration of him had been drenched in. He also didn’t have that strange hold on me, and I found myself able to respond to him and, thankfully, move. I shifted in my seat and nodded a greeting back at him.

“Are you traveling for work or for pleasure?” he asked in a friendly, casual tone.

“I’m taking the day to explore Inverness,” I replied, reeling at the impossibility of the situation. 

“Wonderful town, Inverness, I think you’ll quite enjoy it,” he commented, striking fear in my heart as I recognised the words his doppelganger had uttered before suddenly vanishing only a short while ago.

“There’s a bookstore there,” he carried on conversationally, as though nothing was amiss... but so, so much was amiss. “It’s called...” his voice trailed off and his eyes lifted toward the roof of the train car as he scanned his memory, “...Peakey’s... Peakey’s Book Shop. It’s slightly off the beaten path, but you should take the time to find it.” 

He paused briefly before carrying on, “Would you like to know the secret to writing a great story?” he asked. I provided an uncertain nod in response. It was uncanny that he should ask me that, I’d been suffering from writer’s block for months, and looming deadlines from my publisher had caused an endless string of sleepless nights. If this strange man on the train had the secret to breaking the curse, I was willing to listen. 

“Enduring curiosity,” he replied, his mouth curling into a knowing smile. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes; the surreal conversation was over. 

We didn’t speak the rest of the way. The train eventually pulled into the station at Inverness and we both got off. I had every intention of following him out of the station to see where he’d go, but he disappeared into the crowd like a plume of smoke dissipates into the wind.

I walked out of the station and marvelled at the architecture of the buildings across the street. I had put together an itinerary, but decided to cast it aside in favour of getting lost in the streets and maybe stopping somewhere for lunch if it suited my fancy. 

I pushed through crowds of tourists, my eyes scanning for a way out of the madness. “I wonder where this goes?” I said out loud as I veered into a narrow alleyway between two stone buildings. I got to the end of the alleyway and gasped at the view. A joyful smile immediately spread across my face; I had forgotten how much I loved exploring a new city on my own. 

Spread out in front of me was a river with three bridges stretching across it, each with their own architectural style. At the far end, on my side of the river, I saw a castle mostly covered in scaffolding. I had read it was under renovation and had no plans to waste my time trying to get a good view through the construction fence, so I forged ahead and walked across the bridge closest to me.

The view from the opposing shoreline was lovely. I noticed a series of old buildings and church steeples peeking out from the lush green of the treeline that stretched along the river on the other side. That was one advantage to all the rain we’d had, vegetation was flourishing. I walked along the road that ran parallel to the river until I came to a pedestrian bridge and crossed back toward Inverness. Once back on the other side I decided on a whim to walk toward one of the churches, and discovered a small graveyard tucked away behind it after following a narrow winding trail forged between a stone wall and a row of shrubs. I’d always liked a quiet walk through a graveyard, exploring the inscriptions on the gravestones, wondering about the lives lead by the people buried there. I spent more time in the graveyard than I should have, and my shoes and socks took on water as the overgrown grass was drenched from recent downpours.

At the very back of the graveyard, I noticed a tall, slim gravestone with a tangled mass of vines on top. Intrigued, I gingerly made my way over to it. I was surprised to discover, upon closer inspection, that the tangled mass of vines was, in reality, a large bird’s nest. I stood on my tippy toes to try and see the contents, but it was too high for me to get a good view. I sighed and took a step back to look at the gravestone, and noticed a faint series of letters mostly covered by a layer of moss. I gently ran my hand over the stone and watched as the moss crumbled to the ground. I gave the stone a series of quick wipes with my palm and squinted to read the inscription. My brow furrowed in concentration as I tried to decipher the name engraved on the stone, but time and the elements had rendered it illegible. Beneath it, however, were the words Lived a life of enduring curiosity, and underneath that: 1905-1974. Enduring curiosity: The same words the man on the train had said to me. I shuddered involuntarily at the memory of him and his doppelganger.

A cold drop of rain landed on my cheek, startling me back to the present moment. I looked up at the sky and noticed a band of dark clouds had rolled in while I was busy inspecting the gravestone. I turned and began walking away when a loud screech made me turn on my heel in shock. The bird was huge, I’d never seen one like it. I stared in awe as it landed in the nest, pulling its massive wingspan closed as it curled up and all but disappeared behind the tangle of branches and dry grass. Its colouring was mostly grey and black, and its size imposing, but its most striking feature was its eyes, which were the colour of garnet stone.

I shivered and scurried out of the graveyard, exiting through a different gate than the one I had come through on the way in. The rainfall was gaining momentum now, and I turned to look down each end of the small, deserted street I found myself on, desperately looking for shelter. To the left I saw an easel on the pavement with an arrow pointing toward a green door. Whatever business it was, I’d find a reason to be in it if it got me out of the rain. I half jogged down the street to the door and quickly pulled it open. The smell of old books hit me immediately, and I took a step back through the still open door, braving the rain to read the sign above it: Peakey’s Book Store.

Discomfort set it immediately. The man on the train had told me about this place, and there was something wrong with the man on the train. I took a few steps into the bookstore and stopped to get my bearings. Row upon row of floor-to-ceiling shelving lined the tiny, cramped shop, every shelf filled to the brim with books, and piles of overstock books on the floor next to them. At the center of the store a metal spiral staircase extended to a second-storey mezzanine, also lined edge to edge with books, and also with droves of books stacked on the floor. I checked the signage, the books appeared to be divided by Fiction, Non-Fiction, and Children’s Books. I decided to check the children’s books first, hoping to find a vintage copy of Alice in Wonderland with original illustrations. I scanned the 3 bookcases in the section from top to bottom, but though there were many copies, I didn’t find quite the edition I was looking for. Next, I wandered to a series of shelves labeled Fiction and found they were sorted by author name. I looked for Daphne DuMaurier, one of my favourites, but the three books of hers they had were ones I already owned. 

I carried on perusing the store, row by row, shelf by shelf, pile by pile... Not looking for anything in particular, but rather enjoying the warmth of the shop and the endless possibilities within the pages of each and every book. I was also keeping an eye on the weather through the store’s only window, which provided a narrow glimpse of the outside world.

I wasn’t sure how much time I’d spent in the shop, but eventually it looked like the sky was clearing and I decided it was time to head out. I gingerly made my way around the piles of books on the floor and was about to leave when a small book haphazardly placed on top of the checkout counter caught my eye. I picked it up and read the title out loud: “I Met Him on the Train”. It was a relatively small book, hardcover with a dustjacket that featured a view of the Scottish Highlands through a train window. I turned the book over in my hands, noting there was no author listed anywhere on the cover. My curiosity aroused; I cracked the book open to the first page...

                  I met him on the train

It was a Tuesday morning, and I was running late. The trains had been delayed due to flooding on the tracks after days and days of torrential downpours.

I didn’t notice him at first, and in fairness, when I eventually did, there was nothing much to notice. He was quite an ordinary man, not memorable in any particular way. I had headphones on and was staring out the window as the train barrelled North. I admired the landscape stretching out in a blur of greens, browns, and yellows as the sun rose over the Scottish Highlands. His presence came to my attention at a quaint little station about halfway between Glasgow and Inverness when I heard him say “G’day,” while my playlist was between songs. I turned from the window to glance at the seat across from me. 

Average height from what I could tell with him sitting down. Non-descript features, civilian clothes in neutral colours. Everything about him was... the word generic comes to mind. Never in a million years would I have guessed... well, that will come later.

Our gazes crossed paths, and he held fast, staring into my eyes in a way that made it impossible for me to look away. His facial expression, like the rest of him, was completely neutral. I felt a mounting desire to get up and change seats but found myself paralysed by his unwavering stare. Finally, he blinked, smiled a plastic sort of smile, and the spell was broken. Oddly enough, he now looked somewhat friendly and approachable, but with an undercurrent of something terribly, terribly wrong that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Lovely day we’re having after all that rain, don’t you think?” he asked. 

I slammed the book closed, my heart racing. What in the world? How could this book in a tiny second-hand bookstore on a quiet street in Northern Scotland be describing the exact series of events that had transpired earlier in the day? I worked to regain control of my functions, and with still-shaking hands reopened the book. I scanned through the pages, and sure enough, the rest of my journey was described in detail. Meeting the first man’s doppelganger, walking the streets of Inverness, crossing the first bridge, coming back across the river and exploring the graveyard, the large bird with the garnet eyes, and finally, finding the bookstore. 

I tentatively turned the page.

I’m not sure how much time I spent in the shop, but eventually it looked like the sky was clearing and I decided it was time to head out. I gingerly made my way around the piles of books on the floor and was about to leave when a small book at the end of the checkout counter caught my eye. I picked it up and read the title out loud: “I Met Him on the Train”. It was a relatively small book, hardcover with a dustjacket that featured a view of the Scottish Highlands through a train window. I turned the book over in my hands, noting there was no author listed anywhere on the cover. My curiosity aroused; I cracked the book open to the first page and was shocked to find my own story written and bound within its pages. 

I slammed the book closed, my heart racing. After a few minutes of working to regain control of my functions, and with still-shaking hands, I reopened the book. I scanned through the pages, and sure enough, the rest of my journey was described in detail. I carried on reading, finally reaching the point where the book crossed into the future.

Again, the racing heart. Did I want to know what would happen next? I stared at the last paragraph for a solid minute before turning the page.

I glanced up from the book’s pages, troubled and more than a little uneasy. Suddenly, I came to a realisation that sent me reeling. Every patron in the bookstore looked like the man from the train...

My brow furrowed in confusion. What?? I had noticed a woman with a little boy in the children’s books when I first came in, and I had crossed paths with a young couple as I came down the stairs just a few minutes ago, what was this book talking about?! 

Every fiber in my body was begging me not to look up, but the process was unstoppable. I slowly lifted my head and tore my gaze from the book’s inexplicable pages. At the back of the store, I saw a man climbing a ladder to reach for a book on one of the top shelves; from the back he was wearing ordinary clothes and looked to be of average height. I glanced at the second-floor mezzanine and saw a man sifting through a series of war books. I could see his profile and felt a mounting sense of dread rise from the pit of my stomach. My breath caught in my throat as I scanned the remainder of the bookshop. The man crouched on the floor sifting through a pile of paperbacks, the man in the children’s section holding an antique book up to the light, the man walking up the stairs in the most ordinary way... all of them identical, and all with the same unsettling mechanical movements and neutral facial expression as the first man from the train.

 “Wonderful town, Inverness, I trust you’ve enjoyed it?” came a voice from behind me. I recognized it instantly and had to fight the urge to run. I slowly turned to face the man from the train. The second one, the one who made casual conversation and moved in a human way, the one who had life in his eyes. He was standing behind the checkout counter with a receipt pad in his hand, a gleam in his eye and a smile only slightly teasing the corner of his mouth.

“I... I’d like to purchase this book,” I stuttered, stumbling over my words. I felt the room spin, the endless supply of books melding into a blur of paper, dust, and typeface.

He nodded and leaned on the counter to write up my receipt. I leaned on the counter to catch my balance. The man folded the receipt in half, then straightened his body and extended his arm across the counter to hand it to me.  I gingerly took the paper from his grasp as I reached my other hand into my pocket to grab my wallet. I unfolded the receipt to check the total, but was instead greeted with a short, two-word message: Enduring Curiosity. Confused, I looked back up at the man, but he was gone. I turned to scan the bookstore, only to find it completely deserted save for the endless assortment of books lining its walls and piled on its floor. 

I slipped his receipt into the book and tucked it under my jacket for safekeeping, I didn’t trust the Scottish weather to behave for very long, and I didn’t want the book getting wet. I stepped out onto the street and saw a handful of people milling about, to my great relief each one appeared to be an individual. A woman carrying a bin full of books bustled past me and entered the bookstore, I heard someone inside greet her, it was not the man from the train. 

I shook my head and carried on down the street, meandering through the heart of Inverness. I wandered into a place called Victorian Market, which contained a food hall. I circled every booth and settled on one that was serving Cullen Skink, a traditional Scottish chowder which I hadn’t had an opportunity to try yet. It was wonderful. I meandered through the market’s various shops and restaurants, then carried on exploring until I found a small bakery tucked at the end of a narrow side street. I selected two delectable pastries that would serve as my lunch. I sat on a park bench to savour my dessert and take in the view, then eventually made my way to the station to catch the last train back to Glasgow. 

I sat in the same seat I had sat in on the way to Inverness and stared out the window, listening to music as the landscape outside went scurrying by in a blur of green, brown, and yellow as the sun set on the Highlands. I was sitting backwards this time, always a strange sensation. The train stopped at several small towns, the same ones it had stopped at on the way North. Between two songs I heard someone say, “Good evening.” I looked up to see the man from the train, once again sitting across from me. I felt no shock this time, I simply smiled at him. “Lovely town, Inverness...” he mused, looking out the window.

“Indeed, it is, a place filled with enduring curiosity,” I said. He didn’t turn to look back at me, but his reflection in the window gave me a glimpse of the smile teasing the corner of his mouth. I turned to look out the window myself, wondering what was behind the mountains in the distance, wondering what would happen tomorrow, wondering whether the man on the train would disappear again in a moment.

The man did not disappear from the train, he got off a few stops before mine like an ordinary person. We didn’t speak or make eye contact again before he left. I scanned the platform after he got off, curious to see which direction he would go, if anyone would be there to greet him, or if his doppelganger would then climb into my train car and take his place, but he vanished into the crowd like a plume of smoke dissipates into the wind, and his replacement never came.

As the train neared Glasgow, I pulled the small, strange, book from inside my jacket. “I met him on the train,” I whispered as I ran my finger over the letters in the title. I gently cracked the book open, only to find every page completely blank. 

My story was, as of yet, unwritten... but I now knew the secret to writing a great story: Enduring curiosity. I pulled a pen from my bag and got started:

I met him on the train...

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Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed I Met Him on the Train, an original story written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. 

If you enjoyed this episode, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my  music, and so much more. It’s the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast.  

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 4

NOTE: If you have not listened to Volumes 1, 2 and 3 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first three installments, otherwise the story won't make much sense.

Over Thanksgiving I spent a few days house- and cat-sitting for a friend. The moment I met Russell the cat I was completely charmed by the milky cloudiness of his eyes. What fascinated me most was that he appeared to be able to see just fine... to the point where sometimes he appeared to be seeing things that I myself couldn’t see. I found myself inspired and fully credit Russell with breaking through my writer’s block.

This story is available in written form in its entirety exclusively to Patreon Supporters, visit the link below to join.

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Man with a Storm in His Eyes - A Skylark Special Miniseries written exclusively for The Skylark Bell podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Before I begin, if you haven’t listened to the first three installments of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volumes 1, 2 and 3, otherwise this episode won’t make much sense. 

In last week’s episode, Marie broke the sisters’ one rule and brewed a cup of the forbidden tea for herself, but she was interrupted by their early return. Disgraced and embarrassed, she returned home... only for the twins to appear outside her window a few days later.

Today we conclude this wild and eerie tale... fair warning, the ending made me cry the first time I re-read the story in its entirety.

Lastly, I’d like to thank Lauren and Rachel for the use of their apartment over the Thanksgiving holiday. The opportunity to house and cat sit for them gave me the calm and space I needed to to start writing, and in the end, their cat, Russell, provided the inspiration for the story I wanted to write. The spark has grown into a flame, and there are more stories to come in the future, so stay tuned.

But for now, it’s time to get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink... perhaps a handkerchief, just in case… and let’s read the conclusion of The Man with a Storm in His Eyes.

The spell broken, I shook my head and scurried down the stairs and out the front door to collect the book they had left behind. I ran my hand over the smoothness of its cover, and noted the leather was embossed with a collection of odd symbols. I clutched the book to my chest and hurried back up to my flat as quickly as my fuzzy slippers would allow, completely oblivious to the neighbours gawking at the sight of me outside in the cold wearing only a short frilly nighty. 

I threw myself onto the sofa and placed the book on my lap, puzzling over the symbols on the cover before unbuckling its leather strap and cracking it open. I flipped through the book haphazardly and was met with page upon page of tight cursive handwriting. Every so often I would land on a carefully drawn illustration with labels and notations. About halfway through the book I found a folded piece of paper tucked between the pages. I gingerly pulled it out, the ornate handwriting was different than the one filling up the pages of the book. I squinted in concentration as I began to read:

Dearest Marie,

You must have endless questions about the goings on at 51 Dimly Court. We did not mean for you to get pulled into the vortex of our stormy existence, and I apologise for our poor handling of the situation the day you left. 

Winifred and I have decided to share with you the story that is neither ours, nor Russell’s, nor even little Jones’. The story is our mother’s. Her name was Fiona Merriwell, and she was what many would, for better or worse, call... a witch.  

Our mother grew up in the “old world”, a time and culture filled with mystique and superstition. It would be easy to brush aside these traditions as hogwash, but as you now know, there was truth to at least some of it. 

Our maternal grandmother was a gifted seer and would warn people of things to come, or describe things that had happened long before any of them were born. Our mother was always envious of this gift, but her talents lay elsewhere. She was an expert healer and could create concoctions to heal most ailments common in her time. Her one wish, however, was to find a way to recreate her mother’s capabilities using her knowledge of plants, herbs, tinctures, and the like. She made it her life mission... and it cost not only her, but several of us dearly. 

The teas in the canisters were created by her, and she was the last one to brew a cup, until you came along, of course... but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Our mother raised us on her own after our father passed away. She worked odd jobs and kept herself busy making salves and teas to sell at local markets. Behind the scenes, however, she continued to work on her plan to create a tea that would allow her to see through veils of time, and she eventually succeeded, but things did not go as planned. 

She had just finished perfecting a recipe one day when there was a knock at the door. A young man, sharply dressed in a grey wool suit, stood on our front steps, he was selling top-of-the-line cookware. Our mother, always willing to indulge young entrepreneurs, invited him in and put the kettle on. She was fully intending to simply listen to his presentation, but as their conversation wore on an idea crossed her mind. The young man mentioned that his brother had recently passed away, and that he missed his him terribly, and wished he could see him again, if only for a moment. The gears in our mother’s mind began turning; if she served her tea to the young man and it was effective, it might provide him with an opportunity to see his brother again, and if it failed, he would be none-the-wiser and would simply have enjoyed a nice cup of tea, no harm done.

I must say at this point that our mother was neither conniving nor cruel, she was entirely under the impression that the effects of the tea would be temporary, there was no way for her to know her spontaneous decision and, ironically, lack of foresight would change the course of all our lives.

And so it was that Russell J. Holcomb, luxury cookware salesman, came to sit at our kitchen table and drink the tea our mother had aptly named Violet Storm. He remained in our kitchen for a few hours, demonstrating his goods. Winifred and I came home our jobs at the hospital partway through his sales pitch and sat at the table listening to him, enthralled. Russell was very charismatic; he would certainly have had a successful career in sales if he had never had the misfortune of knocking on our door. Winifred was especially taken with him; she would later tell me it was his smile that won her over so quickly. Little did she know we would only rarely ever see that smile again.

We were there when the tea began to take effect. I remember it so clearly because, unfortunately for Russell, there was a storm brewing outside. Winifred and I had rushed home from work due to the dark, threatening clouds hovering in the sky above. We would later learn that stormy weather exacerbates the effects of this specific tea... but once again, I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Russell was just finishing a demonstration that involved cooking an omelet, he slid it onto a plate and placed it on the table for us to see. It was then that he stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. His eyes darted back and forth as a mist began to rise in them. He started to shake and pointed at something behind us. The three of us turned in unison, but there was nothing there. Our mother crouched next to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked if he was okay. Through rapid breaths Russell explained that he could see other people, dozens of other people, all semi-transparent, moving throughout the kitchen. Walking, cooking, sitting at the table... he could even see different furniture, and he could see grass on the ground as well as different versions of the kitchen floor, layer upon layer upon layer of the past all visible at once. He let out a scream that still echoes in my mind to this day, then squeezed his eyes shut and clutched his head in his hands shouting, “Make it stop! Please! Make them go away! Make it all go away!”

Distraught, our mother wrapped a dishtowel around his eyes and tied it at the back of his head, then lead him to the sofa to lay down and wait until the effect of the tea wore off. Once the storm passed the effects did diminish considerably, but the clouds never left Russell’s eyes, and he never stopped seeing relics of the past all around him at all times. 

Our mother settled him in the empty flat upstairs, no one had lived there for years, and it didn’t have much of a past to speak of, or see. The outside world was far too overwhelming for Russell, so he remained in the upstairs flat from that day forward. Because he had no family to speak of, Russell decided it was best to leave him flagged as a missing person to the outside world, it seemed simpler than trying to explain the reality of what had happened. The four of us agreed to never speak of that day’s events, and our mother immediately set to work trying to create a remedy.

Days turned into weeks and months. Winifred spent a lot of time upstairs keeping Russell company, and the two fell deeply in love. One day our mother announced she had come up with a remedy, a tea she called Black Moon. She brewed a pot, and Winifred volunteered to bring it up to Russell, promising to report back if it had any noticeable effects. But as Winifred was climbing the stairs to the apartment, a shadow of doubt came over her... What if this new concoction made Russell worse? Her heart ached at the thought of involuntarily harming him in any way, so she sat on the top stair outside his door and slowly drank the cup of tea herself to see how it would affect her before giving any to Russell. 

Russell never did drink any Black Moon tea, because within a short period of time Winifred came crashing down the stairs screaming and waving her arms in the air as though swatting away a swarm of bees. Unlike Russell, her eyes never clouded over, instead they turned into two deep, dark, inky pools. We came to discover that Winifred was now plagued with incessant visions of the future: Buildings being torn down, new ones being erected, wars, unrest, and the cacophony of centuries of living beyond anything she’d ever known... Her condition worsened during the new moon when the sky was at its darkest. On these nights, her existence became nearly unbearable. Layers of the future would wrap around her like a snake wraps its body around its prey, squeezing the air out of its lungs, and effectively crushing it. On these nights,Winnifred would wear a blindfold, which helped to alleviate some of the stress of her condition. 

I paused my reading then, thinking back to Christmas Eve dinner with Russell, and his odd behaviour as the storm rolled in. He must have been suffering through a similar experience, a ramping up of the effects of his condition... My heart ached for him, for Winifred who was similarly afflicted, for Florence who was tasked with caring for them both, and for Jones the cat who had now joined their ranks. I heaved a sigh, then dove back into the letter.

In our mother’s mind, the tea she had concocted to view the future would have cancelled out the tea Russell had ingested which gave him visions of the past, but after seeing what happened to Winifred, we didn’t dare let him drink any. It became difficult for Russell and Winifred to be in the same room, they were essentially living on different plains now, he in the past, she in the future, with only a bridge of present between them so small they could never stand on it long enough to truly be in one another’s company. Heartbroken, Winnifred stopped going upstairs to visit, and only rarely ever spoke.

Our mother, devastated by the tragedy she had inadvertently unleashed on our family, made one last attempt at setting things straight. She poured over her craft for several months, studying herbs and tinctures used by our ancestors. Some ingredients she foraged for herself, others she sourced locally or from overseas, until finally one day she came to us with the resulting Golden Sunset tea. This tea, she was certain, would fix both Winifred and Russell’s conditions, but she insisted she would drink a cup first to ensure there were no unexpected results. As you may have guessed, the results were, indeed, unexpected, and very tragic.

The last entry in our mother’s book was written moments after she drank the Golden Sunset tea. She detailed a scene from the future, of a young woman living in our flat, and a cat named Jones with glowing amber eyes. She said this woman would be instrumental to the future of our family history as she would carry on guarding the tea until she reached the age of 93. That is where the diary ends, there were no details beyond that.

After drinking her tea and writing in her diary, our mother walked out our front door and stood on the stoop. Winifred and I stood at the window, watching her back as she stared at the world outside, motionless. Perhaps a few minutes went by, perhaps a few hours, neither one of us could tell, but eventually our mother exclaimed “It’s all so beautiful!”, then she fell to the ground. Shaken out of our reverie we ran to her, but she was already gone. Presumably, whatever it was the tea caused her to see, it was more than the human mind and body could take.

In the decades that followed I continued to care for Mr. Holcomb and Winifred. Winifred would provide guidance on future events and occurrences, which is how we knew you were planning on drinking the tea, and that we were going to arrive just in time to stop you. We tried to change the course of history and arrive in time to also prevent Jones from drinking the tea, but as with every other time we’ve attempted to change the future, we failed.

From what Winifred has shared, and she only shares things she feels are absolutely necessary, I am to make you the beneficiary of our estate upon our passing, which, Winifred has assured me, is much farther away than anyone would ever dream. Perhaps our mother’s longevity tea worked better than her other ones.

 I wish you all the best Marie. We shall not see you again after today, but from what I can gather, someday in the distant future, you will once again see us. 

Take care,

Florence

I refolded the letter and placed it back between the pages of the book, then closed the cover, re-buckled the strap, and placed the book on the coffee table in front of me. There would be ample time to sift through its pages down the road, right now I needed to process the events of the past week.

I carried on with my life over the next few days. Those days turned into weeks, months, years, and before I knew it nearly three decades had gone by. In that time, I earned a nursing degree and used some of the knowledge from Fiona’s diary to help patients. I married and divorced, had two children whose careers eventually took them to opposite ends of the country, adopted and went through the heartache of saying goodbye to 3 different cats, all with glowing amber eyes, and... well... I grew older. 

Not nearly as old as the twins however, who died within days of one another at the ripe old age of 103. 

It was on a Wednesday afternoon a couple of weeks after the twins’ passing that my postman Gordy placed a small package on the stoop outside my front door. I happened to be looking out the window when he came and waved to him as he carried on to my neighbour’s house. He smiled and waved back; he was always such a pleasant young man. I reached into my post box and pulled out a small stack of letters, then bent down to pick up the package. I felt my stomach tighten when I saw the return address for the solicitor’s office on the parcel. I knew this day would come, this wasn’t a surprise per se, and I had only briefly met the sisters on two occasions nearly 30 years ago, yet I still felt the sting of tears in my eyes. 

Inside the package was a letter from the solicitor detailing the legal intricacies of the estate and the steps I needed to take to finalise things. The only other item in the box was an old antique key. I recognized it immediately as the key Florence had left for me that fateful day all those years ago. I placed the key in my palm and closed my fingers around it. If I focused enough, I could almost feel a low electrical pulse emanating from it.

My first time stepping back through the front door of 51 Dimly court was surreal. Everything was exactly the same as it had been the last time I was there. Every trinket, every book, every curtain and pillow and blanket, even down to the plush towel and robe set I had used after taking a bath that Boxing Day afternoon three decades ago. I walked through the flat in wonder, gently tracing my finger along the edges of the sisters’ belongings, the items strewn atop their dressers and vanities. Winifred’s copy of The House on the Strand was still on her nightstand, I understood the significance now, with her experiencing time differently than the rest of us. 

I stood at the bottom of the stairway to Russel’s flat for a long time staring at the off-center number 7 on the door. I’d read his obituary years ago, I’d lost track of how long it had been exactly, but I remembered it said he had passed peacefully in his sleep with his loved ones, presumably Winifred and Florence, by his side. Eventually I made my way up the stairs and let myself into Russell’s flat, which was also frozen in time. I stepped into his office, noting his satchel was still on the desk. I peered inside and saw a collection of marketing materials for cookware. This was the bag he was carrying the day he disappeared, that fateful day he met Fiona Merriwell and her enchanted, or cursed depending on how one views these things, collection of teas.

I stepped into the little kitchen; bright sunshine was streaming through the window. I smiled as I remembered sitting at the table sharing a meal with Russell, telling stories, and laughing together. He was a lovely man, lovely and lonely. His fate was not one anyone would have been envious of, unable to leave the confines of his apartment, destined to pine away for an impossible love just within his reach but never attainable... my heart ached for him.

I lived on in the flat for forty more years, keeping everything the same as it had always been. I eventually retired from my decades-long career as head nurse at a care home, and before I knew it found myself older than the twins were when I first met them. I surprised myself gravitating toward some of Florence’s dresses and coats. Winifred’s wardrobe, however, remained too gothic for my taste. As time wore on, I became rather uninterested in the outside world, preferring to focus on my own private little secret world inside the sisters’ flat. I never stopped thinking of it as the sisters’ flat. My children rarely visited and would only stay in town long enough for a meal, always at a fancy restaurant of course, before returning to their busy lives, and I was okay with that because they were happy.

And now we’ve come to today. 

Today is my 93rd birthday. I am celebrating alone, and rather enjoying my own company. I finished my cup of tea 15 minutes ago; I can feel its effect taking hold. I see a warm glow around everything in the flat, as though every object has been wrapped in goldleaf and the setting sun is shining through the window, even though in reality today the sky is grey and loaded with a mass of storm clouds. 

I walk to the sitting room and lower my tired body into a chair by the window, turning to face the inside of the room. I watch as the past fades into view. I see Florence and Winifred as children with their mother reading stories by the fireplace, the same fireplace in which the contents of the tea canisters and Fiona’s diary are burning right now. I see young Russell looking dapper in his grey wool suit with his satchel strapped over his shoulder, he’s coming in to do a presentation of the luxury cookware he is selling, and Fiona is guiding him toward the kitchen. I see all the events Florence described in her letter unfold before my eyes.

Eventually I see myself walking into the flat for the first time, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other waiting for Winifred to speak through the garish red lipstick streaked across her mouth. I marvel at my youth, how naïve and innocent I was then. I watch the entire Christmas holiday unfold, cooking for Mr. Holcomb, rushing outside to rescue Jones, cuddling with him on the sofa, staring into his beautiful golden eyes. Then the fateful night when he drank the tea...

Layers of past begin to pile atop one another in rapid succession now, and I see events flash before me. First, I watch the twins grow old and eventually disappear altogether. Then I see myself, older, but still young by my current standards, returning to the flat after several decades away. I watch myself age at a breakneck pace and eventually see myself, dressed the way I am dressed right now, walk into the room. I gasp as I catch of glimpse of my eyes, now turned into two glowing orbs filled with a swirling mass of mauve, gold, coral, and burnt orange. Now I understand why Fiona named this tea Golden Sunset. I watch as I gingerly lower myself into the chair I am sitting in at this very moment. 

That’s when things truly take off, when past, present and future finally collide.

In a flash of amber, coral, and lilac everything sets off at lightning speed. I see the future, I see what happens to me, what happens in the decades and centuries beyond this moment in time. I see the people who lived here before the twins, before Fiona, and those who will live here after. I see the field that was here before the apartment building, and the structure that will be built after its demolition decades from now. 

I turn to look out the window, the view is breathtaking. I can see everything that has come before and everything yet to come, all awash in a swirl sunset colours. It’s chaotic, it’s heartbreaking, it’s electric, it’s inspiring, it’s... life...

...and it’s all so beautiful.

Thank you so much for listening, I truly hope you enjoyed The Man with a Storm in His Eyes. 

It has been my pleasure to write and record this story for you, and I am very much looking forward to doing it again. Stay tuned for more spooky and unusual tales in the future!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon. Patreon supporters get early access to ad-free podcast episodes, digital downloads of my music, and so much more. It’s the first place I share my creations. However, if you prefer not to subscribe, but would like to make a one-time contribution, you can do so via your podcast platform. Any and all financial support is greatly appreciated.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, composer, and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

In today’s episode we read the chapter 37 – Here’s the Plan – in which Magpie and Farfalla finally come face to face.

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

Official Merch Shops: http://www.melissaoliveri.com/store

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 37 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla creates a time loop to ensure she and Marius will meet in her youth, regardless of the heartbreak and chaos doing so will cause.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 37 – Here’s the Plan – in which Magpie and Farfalla finally come face to face.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

I’ve done this so many times now it has practically become routine. That’s why I was so surprised when she walked in the door.

We stood facing one another for a moment, like we were frozen in time. I don’t think either one of us quite knew what to do. The story had played out the same way so many times. So many lifetimes. What now?

~~~~~~

Magpie and Farfalla stand face to face. Even the air seems to stop moving for a moment. Finally, Magpie speaks, breaking the eerie stillness.

“I know how to behead the Ouroboros,” she says. 

Farfalla’s brow arches and she looks at Magpie, quizzically. At the very least, this should be entertaining. “Continue,” she says.

Magpie glances into the other room, and sees her older self in the rocking chair, eyes trained on the situation at hand despite being feeble and mere minutes from passing away. “I know the exact moment your time loop opens and closes,” she says, meeting Farfalla eye to eye.

Farfalla snickers. “I don’t have time for this nonsense...” she says, waving a hand at Magpie nonchalantly despite the fact that the girl’s words substantially increased her heart rate.

“Aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of the heartbreak, the loss, the grief, the pain? Tired of the same story over and over? The predictable lifetimes one after the other? It’s not natural! We’re not supposed to know how it ends; we’re not supposed to know everything that will happen along the way!” Magpie is now shouting. From the corner of her eye, she sees an ever so small, proud smile creep up the corner of her older self’s mouth.

Now it’s Farfalla’s turn to shout. “Know what’s not natural?! The love of your life disappearing in a snowstorm, or being centuries away from your child, or... how about this... being locked in a tree for all eternity! You want to talk to me about things that are not natural?!” at this she lets out a bitter laugh that chills Magpie to her core.

“What if I could change all that?” asks Magpie softly.

Farfalla sinks into a dining chair, folds her arms on the table, then leans her head on it and closes her eyes. “Then I would never see Marius again...” she whispers, almost like she is talking to herself. A single tear falls down her cheek, hidden from Magpie’s view by Farfalla’s thick mass of red hair.

Magpie takes advantage of the moment to scurry toward her older self in the next room. “I’m going to fix this,” she says softly. The old woman nods and mouths the words Thank You. Magpie gives her hand a squeeze, causing a light electrical current to pass between them. Magpie walks back into the kitchen and sits down across the table from Farfalla.

Farfalla sizes her up for a moment. Perhaps all these lifetimes she had misjudged Magpie. There is strength and courage emanating from the girl before her. Yet she is not hard, she is not bitter or angry. If anything, her expression is one of empathy. Farfalla is surprised to feel a sense of admiration rise in her.

“Elisabeth was my great-great-grandmother,” says Magpie. She pulls a photograph from her pocket and slides it across the table.

Tears immediately spring to Farfalla’s eyes. She looks at the photograph; an old woman in a rocking chair, knitting. Elisabeth. Elisabeth who lived an entire lifetime without her. Farfalla looks back at the girl in front of her, studying her face. She’s never taken the time to notice before, stopping only at the resemblance between them, but if she looks closely, she can see echoes of Elisabeth around her cheekbones and her upturned nose. Farfalla feels her strength and resolution fade, and finally she gives in and begins to weep. “All these years, all these lifetimes...” she says, clearly running through every painful moment in her mind, every love, every loss, “I have made your life, our lives, so hard, so unbearable... I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry,” the words come out muffled between heaving sobs, “all this time, lost... all those lifetimes... I was just so lonely, and so hurt. I wanted someone else to hurt! It was wrong, I was wrong,” she whispers. Magpie isn’t sure whether Farfalla is addressing her or the photograph of Elisabeth, but at this point it doesn’t much matter, she knows she can capitalize on Farfalla’s feeling of regret.

Magpie reaches across the table and takes Farfalla’s hand. “I think I know how to fix it. All of it,” she says, “but I’m going to need your help.”

“Whatever you need, whatever I can do,” says Farfalla, finally lifting her head up. She wipes aggressively at the tears on her cheeks, a newfound look of acceptance on her face.

A moan from the next room grasps Magpie’s attention. “I have to be with her right now. Once she is gone, we will sit down together and make our plan, okay?” Farfalla nods, and Magpie walks into the small room with the sketches on the walls. She points at the sketch of the two of them coming face to face at The Early Bird diner and laughs. “Remember that look of surprise on your face when you saw me?” she asks the old woman. A weak smile stretches across Old Magpie’s lips, and she nods faintly. Magpie continues, pointing to a sketch of her and Lucas having a picnic at the library, “Remember this day? You sent a bird to give me the feather key!” she says. The old woman shakes her head and, with a considerable effort, lifts her hand slightly to point at Farfalla.

“I’m afraid she’s right, that was my doing,” says Farfalla from the doorway. She steps hesitantly into the room and leans in to look at the sketch. “Even at this young age, his love for you is evident,” she says, wistfully. 

Magpie places her hand on Farfalla’s shoulder. “I know you love him too,” she says gently. 

Farfalla turns toward her and nods.  “I did love him, yet I hurt him most of all,” she says, her voice filled with regret. “But we’re going to change all that. Tonight,” says Farfalla, giving them a hopeful look before stepping out of the room.

The old woman motions for Magpie to lean closer and whispers “Plan.... dangerous...” 

Magpie nods. “I know, but I can’t let Lucas end up at that convent in Brighthaven. I can’t let you, us, spend all those decades alone in this tiny little house. I can’t let Grandma Gemma die without ever knowing what happened to Lucas... I can’t let things keep happening. Not when I have knowledge of them and a chance to stop it,” she says.

“If you fail... you will die, we will die” says the old woman, tears springing in her eyes.

“I won’t fail,” says Magpie with a confidence she isn’t feeling. She has studied every memory, analyzed the time loops from every angle, and she truly feels like she has a chance. But her older self is right, there is a chance her plan could fail, and if it does, she will not survive.

Magpie sits on the floor, holding her older self’s hand. She can feel the electrical current between them weaken, and eventually it is gone. She wraps the green shawl around the old woman’s shoulders and runs a hand through her hair before stepping out of the room and closing the door. She walks to the dining room where Farfalla is sitting and regains her seat at the table. She takes a pen and paper and expertly draws a series of lines and points, then adds a few handwritten notes. Her task completed, she slides the page across the table to Farfalla, who looks down at it with great interest.

“Okay, this is the plan...”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 38 – Skye Dive – in which Magpie and Farfalla’s plan is set in motion.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. Leaving a rating or a review on your preferred podcast platform is incredibly helpful in helping the podcast gain visibility so others can find and enjoy the story of The Skylark Bell, it’s a quick, easy, and free way to support my work. If you’d like to support me further, you can also subscribe to Patreon, where you’ll get early access to ad-free episodes as well as digital downloads of my music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! And be sure to follow me on social media for updates, I love to connect with listeners... Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

When we left them last season, Magpie and Lucas had just learned of Farfalla’s passing, and had ventured to her tiny house to gather her things. As they were about to leave, an gust of wind slammed the bedroom door closed, and they heard footsteps inside the empty room. When they eventually re-entered the room they found it just as empty as they’d left it, with one startling exception: A sketch left on the seat of the rocking chair. On the back of the sketch were 4 words that made their blood run cold – I am not Farfalla. We were left with more questions than answers after a roller coaster of a first season which saw Magpie finding the mythical Skylark Bell and ending the silence at Meadow Lane.

Now, we rejoin Magpie and Lucas two years after The Great Silence as it has come to be known.

In today’s episode we read chapter 1 – Suitcase to Scotland – where the pair prepare for a journey to Scotland to claim a centuries old house left to Magpie from her great-great-grandfather James Carnifex.

Brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

Melissa on Instagram: @the.mop.pod

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

All music by Cannelle - http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 1of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

When we left them last season, Magpie and Lucas had just learned of Farfalla’s passing, and had ventured to her tiny house to gather her things. As they were about to leave, an gust of wind slammed the bedroom door closed, and they heard footsteps inside the empty room. When they eventually re-entered the room they found it just as empty as they’d left it, with one startling exception: A sketch left on the seat of the rocking chair. On the back of the sketch were 4 words that made their blood run cold – I am not Farfalla. We were left with more questions than answers after a roller coaster of a first season which saw Magpie finding the mythical Skylark Bell and ending the silence at Meadow Lane.

Now, we rejoin Magpie and Lucas two years after The Great Silence as it has come to be known.

In today’s episode we read chapter 1 – Suitcase to Scotland – where the pair prepare for a journey to Scotland to claim a centuries old house left to Magpie from her great-great-grandfather James Carnifex.

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

“Magpie, you won’t be able to lift this suitcase!” Mrs. Phaeton exclaims, pushing on the top with all her might while Magpie quickly latches to clasps.

“I’m not sure what the weather will be like in Scotland, I hear it can get really cold, so I packed a few sweaters.” Replies Magpie, blushing.  She heaves the suitcase off the bed and lets it slam to the floor before rolling it to the doorway.

“How about this,” says Mrs. Phaeton, “let’s take a few of these things out and if you still think you need them, I’ll mail them to you in a care package after I get back. Deal?”

Magpie, still struggling to push the heavy load across the room, nods her head.  On cue, the clasps snap open and the contents of the suitcase spill onto the floor.  “Is that a can of soup?!” exclaims Mrs. Phaeton.

“Well, I… uh… I’m going to miss that soup, it’s my favourite! They don’t have it in Scotland, I looked it up.”  Stammers Magpie, looking sheepishly at the floor.  Silence hangs in the room for a moment before the sound of laughter erupts from Mrs. Phaeton’s throat “A year is a long time!” exclaims Magpie joining in her mother’s laughter.

“I will mail you some soup, my darling.” Says Mrs. Phaeton, embracing Magpie and kissing her forehead.  “Now, let’s make this suitcase more manageable! …Magpie?”

Magpie sits on the edge of the bed, her unseeing eyes staring out her bedroom window at Meadow Lane.  “Magpie!” says Mrs. Phaeton, her tone suddenly containing a small amount of panic.  Magpie shakes her head and focuses her gaze on her mother’s worried face.  She still occasionally has visions, but they occur less frequently than they did two years ago when the mysterious silence hanging over Meadow Lane started spreading to the entire town.  A few months after the incident she finally found the courage to tell her mother and Lucas about her visions, and they both made it very clear that they believed every word. “What did you see this time, honey?” inquires Mrs. Phaeton, her tone softening.

“It was strange, it was a house kind of like meadow lane, but it wasn’t.  There was an ocean behind it where the apple orchard is, I could smell the salt water!  The house was similar but made of stone instead of wood…” her voice trails off

“Well, maybe this one time it was just your imagination.”  Says Mrs. Phaeton, kneeling by the suitcase to rearrange its contents.

“Yeah, I bet you’re right,” says Magpie, sliding off the bed to the floor.  She picks up a half dozen sweaters and stares at them thoughtfully.  A smile teases the corner of her mouth “I guess I don’t need all these sweaters,” she admits.

“They do sell sweaters in Scotland, Magpie, rather nice ones in fact!” Says Mrs. Phaeton, giggling.   

Warm sunlight shines through window, filtering through the dust in the air.  “Look at that, it’s like the dust particles are little stars, suspended in time!” says Magpie.  She feels a shiver run through her and a familiar tugging at the back of her mind, like there is a message she can’t quite decipher.

“That settles it, you have way too much imagination!” smiles Mrs. Phaeton. “Now let’s get this baby packed up and ready to fly!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Magpie and her mom have finished packing and their suitcases are neatly lined up by the front door. Magpie can still picture herself coming through that heavy wood door for the first time, nearly 2 years ago, when she and her mom moved into the old farmhouse, it feels like she’s lived an entire lifetime since then. She hears echoes from the past in her mind - dinner dates with her mom where they told stories and laughed into the night, Scarlet’s soft meow as she followed Magpie around the house on velvet feet, Lucas’ footsteps on the old creaky stairs as they went up to explore the secret attic… So much has happened, it’s thrilling and a little scary to think about what the future might hold.

“All set?” asks Mrs. Phaeton, bringing Magpie back to the present by laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, it’s time.” Says Magpie, grabbing her suitcase and walking out the door. 

“Hi Lucas!” says Mrs. Phaeton seeing him walk up their driveway GRAVEL with a small duffle bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Good morning! Wow, Magpie, that’s quite the suitcase!” he exclaims, laughing.

“You’re going to be very grateful for one of my sweaters or an extra pair of socks one of these days, since you clearly haven’t packed enough of your own!” she says, giggling and giving him a friendly push.

“Grandma Gemma says hi, and wishes everyone safe travels,” says Lucas, “She wishes she could be here to see us off, but she’s volunteering at the convent over in Brighthaven this morning.”

“That’s so sweet of her, what a wonderful lady,” says Mrs. Phaeton, smiling.

“It’s so amazing she can do that, given that only a couple of years ago…” Magpie leaves the thought unfinished as she places the last suitcase into the back of the car. She steps back and closes the trunk with a thud. Mrs. Phaeton and Lucas nod in agreement, it is amazing the transformation that took place in Grandma Starling, at almost exactly the same time Magpie found and rang the Skylark Bell. 

The thought makes Magpie glance toward Meadow Lane, now surrounded by lush green grass, young apple trees starting to bloom in the orchard behind the house. Magpie, Lucas and Mrs. Phaeton. have spent a lot of time there over the past two years, slowly repairing the house and cleaning up the Shearwater family’s belongings that still remained there. Mrs. Phaeton plans to use the house as an art studio and gallery, and perhaps even turn it into a B&B or artist’s retreat in the future.

Magpie sees a flicker in one of the upstairs windows and blinks hard before squinting to try and get a clearer look. “Did you see that?!” she asks, surprised.

“See what?” asks her mom, turning to look toward Meadow Lane.

“I thought… Never mind, it was probably just a reflection...” She says, not entirely convinced.

Lucas steps closer to Magpie and leans in. “I saw it too” he whispers so only she can hear. He steps back and they exchange a knowing look.

“Alright everyone, it’s time!” says Mrs. Phaeton cheerfully as they all climb into the car. They head down the long driveway and turn onto the road, heading full steam toward their future. 

In the second story window at Meadow Lane, the same window where The Skylark Bell still hangs, gently swaying in the breeze, a woman watches them disappear around the bend, her icy blue eyes twinkling as her perfectly shaped mouth forms into a twisted smile.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 2, Birds of a Feather Fly Together, in which Magpie has an eerie premonition as they fly across the ocean toward their destination.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a donation via my podcast provider or my subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more!

Thank you

In today’s episode we will hear a quick recap of Season 1 as we prepare to read the first chapter of season 2, Wingspan, next week.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: A special episode of The Skylark Bell. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In today’s episode we will hear a quick recap of Season 1 as we prepare to read the first chapter of season 2, Wingspan, next week.

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… we’re getting started.

Margaret Phaeton, better known as Magpie, lived in the city with her mother until the day they moved into the old farmhouse on the outskirts of Pocket. The day they moved in she met her next door neighbour, Lucas. That was also the first time she laid eyes on the mysterious abandoned house at Meadow Lane. 

It took some time for Lucas to open up about Meadow Lane, but he eventually told Magpie the stories handed down through generations about a mysterious silence hanging over the farm, and that no one who set foot there ever spoke or heard again. 

Magpie found herself fascinated with the place, and began to notice connections between her mysterious visions and the house at Meadow Lane. One day she encountered an old woman named Farfalla, who was rumoured to have been the last resident of Meadow Lane, and, by some accounts, the one responsible for cursing it with the silence.

Over time Magpie put more and more of the pieces of this odd puzzle together until she finally realized the silence at Meadow Lane was spreading to the entire town. Farfalla sat down with Magpie at The Early Bird diner and told her the unbelievable history of the house at Meadow Lane and the mythical Skylark Bell. Farfalla told Magpie the only way to end the silence was to find the bell, hidden within the confines of the house at Meadow Lane, and ring it loud and clear. 

Magpie successfully swallowed her fears and braved the silence at Meadow Lane in search of the bell. She was successful in her quest and did indeed end the silence, but the celebrations were short-lived as she and Lucas learned of Farfalla’s passing the following day.

As Magpie and Lucas were gathering Farfalla’s things from her tiny house around the corner from Tuffeto’s bakery, they heard impossible footsteps behind the closed door of an empty room. When they re-entered the room they found a sketch that hadn’t been there earlier. On the back of the sketch were four words that turned everything they thought they knew about Meadow Lane upside down. I AM NOT FARFALLA.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we begin the second season of The Skylark Bell by reading chapter 1 of Wingspan, where we will reconnect with Magpie and Lucas 2 years after the events at Meadow Lane as they prepare to travel overseas to claim a house handed down to Magpie by her great-great-grandfather James Carnifex.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a donation via my podcast provider or my subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more!

Thank you

In this Holiday special edition of the podcast, we will read a bonus chapter of The Skylark Bell called A Strange New Year – which contains a bit of foreshadowing of what the future has in store for Magpie and Lucas.

So grab your fizzy drinks and party attire -  The countdown is on!

Music: Nightbridge and A Strange New Year by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

Melissa on Instagram: @the.mop.pod

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

All music by Cannelle - http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings productions presents, a special presentation of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In this Holiday special edition of the podcast, we will read a bonus chapter of The Skylark Bell called A Strange New Year – which contains a bit of foreshadowing of what the future has in store for Magpie and Lucas.

So grab your fizzy drinks and party attire -  The countdown is on!

“Eight!  Seven!  Six!  Five! Four!” counts the crowd, their shouts bouncing off the worn stones covering the cottage walls.

“Three!  Two!  One!” says Lucas, the sparkler hissing in his hand casting flickers of light on his gray eyes, *HISSING* “Happy New Year!” he whispers, gently pushing strands of silver hair from Magpie’s face before laying a New Year’s kiss on her cheek.

“Gosh, 2049… Would you ever have thought we’d be here right now?” Says Magpie, leaning back to gauge Lucas’ expression.

It feels like only yesterday they were making their way across the ocean, leaving the town of Pocket behind and coming to Scotland to claim a house that once belonged to Magpie’s ancestors. Little did they know then, all that the future, and the past, had in store for them… 

“Here and now have totally different meanings than they used to!” Exclaims Lucas before grabbing Magpie’s hand and leading her to the improvised dance floor in the middle of the room.  *SCOT MUSIC* They spin and sway as a band of local musicians fills the air with Scottish folk music. Lucas notices that Magpie moves more slowly now, her pace has changed, her face has changed, her smile has changed - it’s sadder now, nostalgic… yet in her eyes he still sees a spark of the Magpie he once knew, and his heart breaks.

Thank you so much for listening. I hope the past year was kind to you, and look forward to what the new year will bring.    

Be sure to tune in next month as we continue the story of The Skylark Bell with season 2 - Wingspan.

Before I go I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and as always, Cannelle for the dark, moody music that sets the tone.

If you enjoyed this story, please leaving a rating and a review. Your support is tremendously appreciated. Thank you.

This week you can officially stream and purchase the soundtrack to The Skylark Bell podcast with Songs from The Skylark Bell by Cannelle.

The soundtrack is available for purchase on Bandcamp http://www.cannellemusic.bandcamp.com and iTunes, as well as streaming on Apple Music, Amazon Music, Spotify, and more. The Bandcamp exclusive version contains 2 bonus songs.

Current Patreon subscribers and subscribers who sign up before December 31st 2021 receive a digital copy, as well as a limited edition signed CD* containing the 2 bonus songs included with their membership. http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

More information available at http://www.theskylarkbell.com and http://www.cannellemusic.com

*CD not available to addresses in Australia and NZ due to shipping costs

In this Thanksgiving special edition of the podcast, we will hear a story called The Moonlight Parade, which was inspired by a real-life friendship between a horse and a girl.You definitely want to get cozy for this nostalgic, heartwarming story. 

Music: Nightbridge and Night by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings productions presents, a special presentation of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In this Thanksgiving special edition of the podcast, we will hear a story called The Moonlight Parade, which was inspired by a real-life friendship between a horse and a girl.

You definitely want to get cozy for this nostalgic, heartwarming story. So grab a blanket and a warm drink, we’re getting started.

Many years ago, in a place like many places, with fields and trees and the occasional house, was a farm with many horses.  The horses raced around the fields; tall, short, old, young, light, dark.  

One of those horses, rather young and rather dark, was very special.  She was special because she was kind, gentle and smart.

Nearby lived a girl, rather young and rather tall.  Every day she would ride her bike down the dirt road, wind blowing her hair into tangles, just to see the horse.  The girl was also kind, gentle and smart.  

They would stand in the fields for hours.  The girl would talk and the horse would listen, the girl would sing and the horse would doze off, and sometimes the girl would lean on the horse and they would just stand in silence.

At dusk, when all the other horses would run across the fields like their wild ancestors, the horse would shield the girl from their pounding hooves, and they would both watch the parade as the moon came up.  

Day after day, night after night, the girl and the horse would stand and watch the moonlight parade.

Over time, the girl started coming every other day, then once a week, then the visits became fewer and fewer until the girl stopped visiting at all.  

She had grown up and moved to a place like many places, with tall buildings and cars and the occasional tree.

The horse grew up too, and became a mom.  She taught her foals to be kind, gentle and smart, and all of them grew up to be very special horses.  

But at dusk, when the other horses started their parade, she would watch and wonder what happened to the girl.

Far away, in a small city house, the girl had also become a mom.  She taught her baby to be kind gentle and smart.  

She kept busy every day, but at dusk she would look out her tiny window at the rising moon and remember the field, the parade and the horse.  Night after night she thought of the horse and wished she could stand with her and talk, and sleep, and sing.

Many years later, on a warm and sunny day, the girl came back to the place with the fields and the trees… and the horse.  The girl had grown older, her hair was getting grey and she spoke more quietly, but that day she had a sparkle in her eye.  

The girl walked to the field and called the horse’s name.  The horse had grown older, her mane was tangled and she walked more slowly, but when she heard the girl’s voice she also got a sparkle in her eye. 

They spent some time standing very close.  The girl talked and the hose listened, then she sang a little song and it was time to go. 

They both felt very sad, and as the girl walked away the horse whinnied a loud, proud and heavy-hearted goodbye.

Years went by and the horse thought of the girl and the girl thought of the horse.

One night, the horse was very tired and lay down to sleep.  

But as the moon started to come up, and the horses started their parade of pounding hooves, the horse lifted her head, shook her mane, and got up to join them.  She ran and ran in the field with the other horses.  

As the moon rose higher and higher she ran faster and faster, so fast she lifted into the night sky and raced into the girl’s dream.  

The girl was very happy to see the horse, young and proud, running like the wind.  She dreamed they were standing in the field and, just before she woke, the horse whinnied one last goodbye.

The next day, the girl gathered her family and drove to the place with the fields and trees.  Things had changed a lot since she had been there as a child; the dirt road had been paved, the bikes had rusted, some of the houses were gone and others had been built.  

But the biggest change of all was that the horse was no longer in the field.  

In her place was a foal, rather dark and rather tall, and very kind, gentle and smart.  

The girl had brought her son, and the foal looked at the boy, and the boy looked at the foal.  

They walked to the field and stood together.  The boy talked and the foal listened, the boy sang and the foal dozed off, then the boy leaned on the foal and they stood in silence.

At dusk, as the moon started to rise, the foal stood guard as the other horses started their parade.

The girl stood watching, and for just a brief moment she saw the horse; running and jumping and kicking her feet in the air, and the girl smiled.  

The horse stopped and looked at the girl, then her loud whinny echoed through the fields as she faded away, 

and the moonlight parade continued…

Thank you so much for listening. I wish all of you a safe and happy Thanksgiving holiday.    Be sure to tune in next month where we will once again find Magpie and Lucas for a holiday special edition called A Strange New Year.

Before I go I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling publishing for this heartwarming story about life, loss, and friendship. 

If you enjoyed this story, please consider supporting the podcast via Patreon, Paypal contribution, or by leaving a rating and a review. Your support is tremendously appreciated.

In this holiday special edition of the podcast, you get a little behind the scenes information about the Skylark Bell creator in the form of a pre-recorded Q+A.

Hear about the strange way the story first came about, and the process behind writing the book, and eventually creating the podcast.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings productions presents a special presentation of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In this holiday special edition of the podcast, you get a little behind the scenes information about the Skylark Bell creator in the form of a pre-recorded Q+A.

Hear about the strange way the story first came about, and the process behind writing the book, and eventually creating the podcast.

 If you haven’t already, go grab a blanket and a warm drink… here we go.

Q - How did you come up with the premise of The Skylark Bell?

A – The title for the book actually came to me in a dream. I sometimes dream letters, words, and or sentences. I keep a notepad and pencil in my nightstand drawer so I can jot things down in the middle of the night. In this instance, I dreamed the words “Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell”. I didn’t know what it meant, but I filed it away for future use.

Q – When did you start writing the story of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell.

A – I believe it was sometime in 2010 or 2011. I distinctly remember sitting in my car on my lunch break with a yellow legal pad and a pen coming up with ideas for the story and character outlines. My first idea was that there would be no sound on Meadow Lane. I thought that was original. I also found the idea of stepping into a space where there is no sound very unnerving.

Q – What took so long to share the book?

A – My first draft of the book was completed in the summer of 2014. I was pleased with myself for finishing it, but I was quite unhappy with the ending. I put the book on a shelf and forgot about it for several years. Finally in 2019 when I started a Patreon account for my music I thought it might be fun for my patrons if I shared the story of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell one chapter at a time. I started posting one or two chapters per month, and the book began to make the rounds that way.

Q – What made you turn the book into a podcast?

A – In the summer of 2020, my friend Amy from the Collected Sounds and Volsteadland podcasts approached me with the idea of turning my book into a podcast. She was starting a podcast of her own and had done quite a bit of research on it, and she offered to help me get started. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it. I had never really listened to a podcast before. I told her I’d think about it. And I did. I thought about it a lot. I thought “Ooooo I could compose intro music for it” and “Oooo I could compose background music for it” and “Oh! I could include sound effects!” and the more I thought about the more excited I got, so I went for it!

Q – How did you decide on the format, frequency of episodes, length of episodes, etc?

A – In my preparation phase, which lasted about 6 months, I realized a lot of things. One, I had to change the ending of the book to something much better than what I had originally written. That was the first thing I did, only after that was done did I fully commit to doing a podcast. Second, I realized my episodes would have to be somewhat similar in length, so I adjusted my chapters to have similar word counts. Third – After I recorded a few chapters for practice I quickly realized that each chapter needed to end on a bit of a cliffhanger. The first few fell flat – so I re-wrote most of the chapter endings. Once all my chapters were ready, I began to think about how I was going to fill up an entire year with 26 chapters. This is where Fantôme Friday comes it.  I decided that on the last Friday of each month I would pause reading of the Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead tell a true ghost story. Well, they aren’t really all ghost stories, but they are definitely supernatural in nature!

Q – Are all the Fantôme Friday episodes true stories?

A – Absolutely! I did my best to write the Fantôme Friday stories in an honest way without embellishing or taking too much creative freedom. The majority of the episodes cover things I experienced first-hand, and the others came to me from people I trust implicitly.

Q – Where did you come up with the idea to include an original song with each Fantôme Friday episode?

A – I am equal parts author and musician. Music is a huge part of my life. For my music endeavours, I go by the stage name Cannelle. When I realized what a huge undertaking the podcast was going to be – sidenote, I didn’t realize how much work would be involved when I started out – I grew concerned that my music would fall by the wayside, and that didn’t seem fair to the people who have been supporting my music on Patreon and on social media, particularly Instagram. My initial plan was to use existing songs and recordings to go with the Fantôme Friday episodes. I got this idea in my head because the first Fantôme Friday is about Jack’s Room, and I already had a song written about that. That is the only Fantôme Friday for which I had a song that fit. I found myself having to compose a new song each month. I’ll be honest, some months were easier than others! But the wonderful thing is doing that helped me keep my music and my writing closely intertwined, and in doing so I ended up creating a soundtrack for the podcast called Songs from The Skylark Bell!

Q – How do you think being a musician affects how you approach the podcast?

A – I am very in tune to how sounds make people feel. I felt it was important for the spoken intro and outro to have a different feel than the story itself. That’s why there is no background music for the intro and outro, but while I am reading the story there is subtle, low, rumbling music in the background. Interesting fact, that background music just a loop of the intro music but with all the high-pitched instruments muted.

Q – Tell us more about the intro music, was it written specifically for the podcast?

A – Well, yes and no. As I was sitting at the piano trying to come up with something new, I started playing the bridge to an original song of mine called Night. Suddenly the light came on, I’d been looking for something a little creepy, but still nice, with a theatrical edge to it – the bridge to this song fit the bill perfectly! I plugged my Roland keyboard into my laptop and began recording. I started out with piano then added a bunch of low choir sounds and strings. Then the fun began. If you listen carefully you’ll notice the only percussion in the song is the sound of a heartbeat. There is also a swooshing sound that was added by my sun using a “rain” sound effect on my keyboard. At the end of the song we hear bells and birds, which are intricately woven into the story of Meadow Lane.

Q – Speaking of the story – what can we expect in future seasons?

A – I always knew the story of The Skylark Bell was going to be a trilogy. Book 2 is titled Wingspan and is completely written. That is what season 2 will consist of. We’ll reconnect with Magpie and Lucas about two years after the end of Book 1. They have finished high school and are heading to Scotland to claim a house left to Magpie by her great-great-grandfather James Carnifex. Of course mysterious occurrences and visions and clues are all part of the story. 

Q – Will we get an answer to the question on everyone’s lips after the season 1 cliffhanger – Who is Farfalla?!

A – Yes! I don’t want to give too much away, but about 1/3 of the way through book two that question will be answered.

Q – You mentioned The Skylark Bell is a trilogy, what will the third book be about?

A – The third book starts out as a bit of a prequel, and follows Farfalla’s timeline. Part of it takes place at Meadow Lane, and part of it takes place in Scotland. I don’t want to give too much away, but all three books are very tightly intertwined, and all major characters make appearances in all three books. 

Q – Are there plans to publish the story in book form?

A – Yes! This is something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. I am waiting to complete the third book, then will revise all three books to ensure there are no errors or omissions I the story, then I will send the books for publication. I am hoping to have at least one of the books available by the summer of 2022 in both printed and e-book format as well as an audiobook version.

Q – Are there plans for any other physical or digital merchandise related to The Skyarl Bell?

A – Yes. The soundtrack is currently available on Bandcamp. You can visit www. Theskylarkbell . com for more information on that. I also offer goodies to Patreon patrons such as ornaments and bookmarks. I am hoping to put together an online shop in the near future where anyone can purchase The Skylark Bell merch, and eventually the books!

Q – As we wrap up this conversation, tell us where fans can get more information about the podcast and the music.

A – The website is a great resource. You can go to www . Melissa oliveri . com to learn about everything I do. There are separate pages for my music as Cannelle, as well as The Skylark Bell podcast, and all social media links, music website links, and podcast platform links are there. You can also sign up for The Skylark Chronicles, my montly newsletter for the podcast. There is also a separate newsletter for my music for those who are interested.

Thank you so much for listening. I wish all of you a safe and happy holiday season.

Be sure to stay tuned in a couple of weeks when we’ll once again find Magpie and Lucas for a holiday special edition called A Strange New Year.

If you have any comments or questions following this episode, I invite you to reach out via the form on my website which can be found at www . theskylarkbell . com

You can also reach out via social media if you prefer, links to Instagram, facebook, and twitter can also be found on the website.

As always, leaving a rating or a review is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

This episode is dedicated to my husband, Tony, on our 15th wedding anniversary.

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

This Fantome Friday special episode, The Wedding Dress, allows the dress itself to tell you her story as she is passed down through the decades. Be sure to listen all the way through for a new song by Cannelle, also titled The Wedding Dress, composed exclusively for this episode (http://www.cannellemusic.com)

Find all information about Amy's podcasts, Collected Sounds and Volsteadland, here: http://www.blog.collectedsounds.com/welcome/

Music: Nightbridge and The Wedding Dress by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

This Fantome Friday special episode, The Wedding Dress, allows the dress itself to tell you her story as she is passed down through the decades. I was inspired to write this as my husband and I recently celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. 

Before I begin, I’d like to let you know about my friend Amy. She is the one who planted the seed for this podcast and helped me learn the ropes. Her podcasts Collected Sounds and Volsteadland are both fantastic, and she offers podcast production services to people who are looking to start their own podcast. The last episode of season 1 of Volsteadland, which traces the history of infamous Minneapolis mobster Kid Cann, is out now. If you recall, I had an encounter with the long-departed Kid Cann which I recounted in my fantome Friday episode called The Bootlegers.  Check the episode description for links to A my’s podcasts.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started… 

I remember all my parts. I remember when I was a bolt of lace, a bolt of satin, a drawstring bag of pearls, a string of elastic, a spool of thread... I remember how it felt when the woman brought all my parts together and began to cut and stitch. I remember how dedicated she was, how much love she poured into her craft; her steady hand cutting into the fabric, her foot pumping the pedal of the now antique sewing machine. I remember how she pinned my cutout parts on the dress form, stepping back to evaluate her work. Then at the end when she hand-sewed the pearls to my bodice and the satin-covered buttons in a row down my back. 

I started out as satin, pearls, and thread, and I became a wedding dress. 

I remember the look of satisfaction on her face when, at last, her work was done. 

Then came the girl.

Her eyes lit up when she saw me. We became fast friends. With only minor adjustments she donned me on her wedding day. She carried carnations, the soft apricot coloured kind, sprinkled with baby’s breath. My train trailed behind her down the aisle, sweeping up the rose petals that had been dropped by a pair of flower girls in matching baby blue dresses.

After the wedding I was lovingly wrapped in tissue paper and put away in a fancy box. At first, I listened in on their lives... family gatherings, laughter, tears, the arrival of first a dog, then children. After a while I tuned out, giving in to the feeling of loneliness and abandonment that had been nagging at me for some time.

Finally, one day, I felt the box move. I waited, perfectly still, as the lid of the box was slowly lifted off, and the tissue paper carefully peeled back. There, peeking down at me, was a young woman with long dark hair. I recognized her right away, she looked very much like her mother. She gingerly lifted me out of the box and held me up. Next to her stood her mother. She looked much different than her wedding day. Strands of silver decorated her hair, and the corners of her eyes creased when she smiled, but she was just as beautiful as the last time we were together. 

I was carted off to the seamstress. My sleeves were removed, and my neckline lowered. A few of my missing pearls were replaced, and my hem was shorted so it would no longer trail on the ground when the bride walked the aisle. When the big day came, the girl had her long dark hair pinned up in a fancy twist, and she carried white and pink lilies. A long lace veil trailed down her back, laying delicately against my row of satin-covered buttons. Once the wedding was over, back into the box I went. I knew the drill now. I spent the first few weeks reminiscing about the two weddings, and wondering what would happen next. 

The box moved again. Had it been years already? This time, a man was staring back at me. . I recognized him from the wedding. His eyes looked sad. I felt his tears fall and soak into my satin. I could feel his heavy heart. He put the lid back on the box and I felt myself being carried away. 

The next time the lid was removed I was in a shop. An older woman, her gray hair curled on top of her head, scrutinized every inch of my fabric through her tiny glasses. She wore a name tag that read “Vera’s Vintage” with the name “Vera” spelled out underneath. The woman carefully placed me on a mannequin and carried me to the window. What joy it was to bask in the daylight, to watch people on the street walking back and forth, colourful shopping bags in hand. It amazed me how different everyone looked; clothed in bright patterns, women with short hair, men with long hair... even the cars came in all different colours! The world had changed completely since I had last been out of the box. One day, a young blonde woman with a pixie cut and large hoop earrings stopped in front of the window to look at me. I heard the chime of the doorbell as she entered the shop. 

Next thing I knew I was being removed from the mannequin and packed into yet another box that in turn was placed into a paper bag which the blonde woman happily carried on her arm as she left the shop. She wasted no time taking me out of the box and getting to work. The first thing she did was cut me down to nearly half my length. She used the fabric from the bottom part of my skirt to make sleeves and add to the neckline. She added some feathers to the cuffs and the bottom of my now much shorter hem. When she was finally finished, she put me on and stepped in front of a mirror. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I was unrecognizable! I instantly wondered, what would the woman think, the very first one, who collected my parts and put me together?

This time there was no aisle to walk down. The wedding was outside with only a handful of people. The blonde woman did not carry flowers. This time, I got to attend the reception. There was live music and laugher, food and drink. I got a stain on my sleeve from a stray cherry that fell off the black forest cake. After the wedding I was placed on a hanger and tucked to the back of a long closet. I watched as the other clothes came and went over the years. First the short dresses gave way to long dresses, then to dresses with shoulder pads and wild, angular patters. Then one day the woman grabbed all the clothes and tucked them into a suitcase. Packed her shoes in a box, gathered her jewelry, books, and trinkets, and walked out the door. I stayed at the back of the closet, left behind once again. What happened?

Eventually, the man from the wedding came by and brought me outside. He slipped my hanger onto a clothing rack where I got to blow in the soft summer breeze. People came and went, leaving with various household items, books, trinkets. The things the woman had left behind. The man seemed happy to that the items were leaving with other people. Finally, a woman with chin-length black hair took me off the rack. She gave the man some money, then placed me delicately on the back seat of her car and we drove away. I found myself brought, once again, to a seamstress. The woman with the black hair asked to have a wide blue sash added to my waist, with a large bow at the back. The feather trim was removed from my cuffs and hem, and lace added to my hemline, so I found myself once again to be a full-length dress, though sheer on the bottom half.

This time, the wedding was quite large. Standing in front of the woman with the black hair was another woman, in a finely tailored white suit, its lapels made of a satin similar to mine. They looked incredibly happy. I was left hanging on the back of a dressing room door while they went to the reception, a plastic bag draped over me, and eventually I was tucked to the back of yet another closet when they got home. I wondered then, in those long stretches of time when I was not needed, whatever became of my missing parts? The parts that had been cut off, refashioned, discarded? I tried to see if perhaps I could feel them, those parts of me, somewhere out there in the world... but no.

Several years later, the woman who had donned the white suit pulled me off the hanger and shoved me roughly into a plastic bag. I heard muffled conversation about sparking joy as I felt myself being carted off yet again. I eventually ended up dumped out on a table with piles and piles of other clothes. After going through some kind of sorting system I got strung up onto a rather uncomfortable, wobbly hanger and placed on a rack, tightly sandwiched between another wedding dress and a peach-coloured party dress. I spent weeks and weeks on that rack, watching the seasons change through the window at the end of the huge, cluttered space. Winter gave way to spring, then summer, and finally the leaves started to change colour. 

That’s when the girl with the bright orange hair showed up.

She unhooked my hanger from the rack and waved excitedly to her friend. They giggled and turned me over in their hands. I wondered if they would see my cherry stain and hang me back up. Abandon me. But no. They carried me to the checkout counter, where I once again got shoved unceremoniously into a bag, and took me home.

That very night, the most bewildering thing occurred. The girl with the orange hair took a bottle of red liquid, drizzled it onto my neckline and let it trickle down. I ended up with streaks of red down my front and back. I was slipped onto another hanger and hung up to dry. That evening, the girl put me on, laced up some tall black boots, put on some ghastly makeup, and we went outside. Over and over, she rang doorbells and was given candy. A strange ceremony indeed! No flowers, no guests... I was left very confused at the end of the night as I sat in a pile on the floor next to her boots and a handful of stray candy wrappers.

The girl eventually rolled me up into a ball and shoved me on the floor in the back corner of her closet. A few years later I was pulled from my hiding space by a woman with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. The room that had housed the girl with the orange hair looked completely different. Her posters had been taken down and replaced with paintings of mountains and lakes. The small bed with its bedding haphazardly strewn on top had been replaced with a larger, perfectly made bed. As I was walked through the house, I saw photos on the walls of the woman who was carrying me, a man I’d never seen, and the girl with the orange hair looking far more grown up than the last time I’d seen her. 

The woman with the auburn hair took me outside and placed me in the center of a circle made of bricks. She added other items alongside me; more clothing, pieces of cardboard, sticks, wood... then walked away. I waited patiently as the day wore on, wondering what this strange assortment of objects was going to lead to. My answer came with the night, and the strike of a match. Within a matter of minutes, I could feel my fabric singe as flames melted my lace and licked at my frayed edges. I felt myself disintegrate as I burned, lifting into the night sky in a cloud of ash. I felt myself fall back to the ground, landing on the wildflowers, mixing with the dirt. 

How fitting that I should once again find myself in scattered pieces.

I started out as satin, pearls, and thread, and I became a wedding dress. 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for a very special episode featuring a pre-recorded Q&A that will cover everything about The Skylark Bell, from its unusual origins to where the story is headed and more.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this story as well as the use of the music composed and performed by Cannelle.

If you enjoy listening to this podcast, please consider leaving a rating or a review. If you’d like to make a financial contribution to support my work – you can visit my website http://www.theskylarkbell.com for more information, or simply reach out via the contact form there if you have any questions. I'm

Thank you.

This Fantome Friday episode is called The Piano, The Ofrenda, and celebrates the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, Day of the Dead. At our house, the Ofrenda is situated on top of the piano, where I serenade the departed before going to bed. I like to think they come visit, in miniature form, and sit next to the marigolds and candles to listen. This story was inspired by this very special night.

Music: Nightbridge and The Blue Dress by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host,   Melissa Oliveri.  

This Fantome Friday episode is called The Piano, The Ofrenda, and celebrates the beautiful tradition of Dia de Muertos, Day of the Dead. At our house, the Ofrenda is situated on top of the piano, where I serenade the departed before going to bed. I like to think they come visit, in miniature form, and sit next to the marigolds and candles to listen. This story was inspired by this very special night.

So get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

The girl takes a seat at the piano, taking care to spread the skirt of her blue dress evenly across the bench. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, then sets her gaze on the Ofrenda she has set up on top of the piano. A sugar skull stares back at her with flowering eyes. Captivating. She smiles, and the skull grins back with even teeth.

The girl lets her fingers hover over the keyboard. Waiting.

This is where I come in. She has set everything up perfectly. Tea lights flicker atop the piano, casting light on the bouquet of marigolds, the plate of cookies whose fragrance fills the room, the small glass of red wine set there for good measure, and our photographs.

I take my place, stretching my hands over the keys, noting that they are all perfectly aligned like the teeth on the grinning sugar skull.

The girl was going to start with C minor. But not tonight. Tonight, we start with D minor 7. More nostalgic, more haunting. I’m in a mood, you see.

I can feel her close her eyes as we play. I can feel the candlelight bouncing off the plumpness of the flesh on her face. She is glowing. I can feel her muscles tense and release as she gives in to the inspiration, the muse: Me. We play a swirl of notes that echo from the room’s ceilings.

The piano is surrounded by plants, some 10 feet tall with leaves larger than my outstretched hand, others set on stools, their blooms slowly falling apart, petal by petal, very apropos for the night, and others yet, the smaller ones, strewn between the pieces that together comprise the Ofrenda.

From between the lush leaves, I see the others, like long-lost explorers climbing out from a thick jungle, making their way toward the light. They daintily walk to the edge of the piano and take a seat, their legs dangling toward the keys. The little girl sits on the end, away from the others. They all know each other, she is alone. She lets her feet swing back and forth, her heels banging soundlessly against the wood of the piano.

I end the song with a flourish, leaving the girl’s arm hanging in midair, her hand stretched out like she is waiting to catch something. This is where we part. I let her catch her breath as I make my way toward the others and take a seat next to my father.

There we stay, the lot of us, all in a row, laughing and crying with her as she serenades us. Sometimes it’s like she sees us, just for a flicker of a moment, when the light is just so...

We will have to leave again soon, before night ends. She will have grown a year older when we see her next. Then again the year after that, and the year after that, until one day she joins us. The light of the candles will shine on her photograph, and she will venture out of the darkness from between the leaves and take a seat at the edge of the piano, her feet dangling toward the keys, and we will smile and cry as we listen to the music – together once again.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for another fictional story inspired by real life events.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for the use of the music composed and performed by Cannelle.

If you enjoy listening to this podcast, please consider supporting The Skylark Bell in one of the following ways:  Become a Patreon subscriber for as little as $1/month and gain early access to podcast episodes, MP3 downloads of music from the podcast, and much more. Or consider making a financial contribution through the button on my website www. The skylark bell .com

Another great, and free, way to support me is to leave a rating and a review on your preferred podcast platform to help the Skylark Bell gain visibility so others can find and enjoy the stories.

Any one or a combination of these things is incredibly helpful and very much appreciated. 

Thank you.

Welcome to this Halloween special edition of the Skylark Bell podcast! In today’s episode you will hear a series of stories from my time working the overnight shift at a Convent tending to the aging and ill nuns who lived on the third floor. The building was ripe with history, and there were multiple inexplicable events over the two years I worked there in my late teens.

Music: Nightbridge and Les Soeurs by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriFULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Welcome to this Halloween special edition of the Skylark Bell podcast! In today’s episode you will hear a series of stories from my time working the overnight shift at a Convent tending to the aging and ill nuns who lived on the third floor. The building was ripe with history, and there were multiple inexplicable events over the two years I worked there in my late teens.

This is a spooky one so prepare yourselves! Get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink. 

Now, let’s get started…

It was the late 1990s. I had Bjork and PJ Harvey on repeat in my discman as I rode the bus from my apartment in the old town part of Quebec City down to the Convent where I worked in one of the first ring suburbs. The convent was established over 100 years prior by an order of nuns who were based in old Quebec.

My aunt had been working at the convent as a caretaker for years, and got me a job there when I moved to town after high school. I worked the overnight shift from midnight to 8am. The bus would drop me off on the main road across from a large field behind which was a hospital. I would walk across the field and across the street from the hospital to the convent, then ring a bell by the massive front doors and wait for one of the nuns to let me in. I always dreaded the walk from the bus stop to the convent, for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which were the time of night, and the fact that on multiple occasions I had overheard orderlies from the nearby asylum telling each other disturbing stories about things that had happened during their shifts.

My first few shifts, I was always relieved to be let into the solid wooden doors and stone walls of the convent. I thought I was safe once I was inside…

I started out working alongside the other nursing assistant who worked the nightshift. She showed me the ropes. The most challenging part of the job was staying awake past 4am. Despite doing this job for 2 years my biological clock never truly adjusted to going to bed when everyone else was getting up for the day.

The nuns were in varying states of physical and mental autonomy, ranging from being sound of mind but needing help to get out of bed and into their wheelchair, to being physically mobile, but suffering from the ravages of Alzheimers. 

My first few shifts alone were uneventful. I don’t recall when the first strange occurrence happened, but I know it was a full moon. Over time I realized the full moon definitely had an effect on the nuns – whether they had restless sleep or vivid dreams. One night a heard a nun calling for me down the hallway. The rooms on the third floor of the convent were equipped with call buttons similar to what is found in a hospital, but for some reason she was calling me by shouting. It must have been 2 or 3am, not quite halfway through my shift. I walked into her room, immediately noting that the curtain across from her bed was drawn – this was strange because we always close all the curtains when we put the nuns to bed, and this nun is physically unable to get out of her bed. I choked down a growing sense of unease and asked her what was wrong. She told me “The Holy Father is dead”. By this point in my time at the convent I had learned to try and keep things casual and ask follow-up questions that might alleviate confusion, so I asked her “really? Well, who told you that?”. Her response sends shivers down my spine to this day. She turned to look at me, her wide eyes illuminated by the light of the moon coming through the window that should have had a curtain pulled over it, pointed a bony hand toward the corner of the room and said “the two nuns standing over there”. At this point I want to grab my bag, my discman, my Bjork CD and skedaddle out of there, but there’s no way I can just leave these nuns unattended, they are relying on me for the safety and well being. I offer to get her a glass of water, close the curtain and get her settled back into bed. The rest of the night was uneventful, as were my next several shifts.

The next time something unusual happened was probably around the same time of night, and was a somewhat similar situation, but with a different nun. This time, rather than calling for me, I could hear a nun singing hymns, rather loudly for the time of night. Afraid she would wake up the other nuns in the surrounding rooms, I went to her and asked what she was doing. She told me “I was trying to sleep, but the nun in my room keeps singing.” In fairness, this nun did suffer from the terrible disease that is Alzheimers, so some confusion and occasional odd behaviour was to be expected. Still, hearing something like that is disconcerting. I asked her to politely tell the nun in her room that it was the middle of the night and to stop singing. The nun nodded and looked toward the darkness at the foot of her bed and repeated my words out loud. Next thing I know, she’s nodding off to sleep as if nothing happened.

The call system is set up so the nuns have a handheld button attached to the rails of their hospital-style beds that they can push if they need something. When that button is pushed it triggers a red light in the office that corresponds to the room number of the person who pushed the button. The system also emits a beeping sound in the patient’s room. The only way to turn off the call button is to go to the room and push an off button located on the wall high above the head of the bed. 

Several weeks after the singing nun incident, I was alone in the office working in my sketchbook to pass the time when I saw the call light for that same nun light up. I immediately got up and walked to her room. The first thing I noticed when walking in the door was that her alarm was turned off. This was puzzling because there is no way this nun could reach the off switch, and I always worked the night shift alone. I didn’t have time to think about it though, because she immediately turned her head to the side to look at me and in a shaky voice simply said “I’m scared”. Well, now I was scared too. I stayed with her until she fell asleep then returned to the office and stayed there with all the lights on until morning came.

One of my tasks at the convent was to walk down the long, wide stairway from the third floor to the basement kitchen to gather breakfast food for the nuns when they woke. I typically would go down there between 4 and 5am before any of the nuns got up. There was nothing specifically creepy about the stairway or the dining area and kitchen, but I always felt tremendously uncomfortable there and always dreaded this part of the job.

One weekend I was covering a daytime shift for one of the other nursing assistants. As I was slowly helping one of the nuns take a walk around their garden she began to tell me stories of her time at the convent, how she became a nun, her family, her childhood, etc. At the very back of the expansive garden was a small stone shrine with religious artefacts. Nearby were two small rectangular grave markers, the kind that sit flush to the ground. They were too worn and faded to read the inscriptions on them. The nun stopped at the shrine, then glanced down at the gravestones before she proceeded to tell me a story that made my blood run cold.

Apparently, decades prior two nuns were working in the kitchen in the early morning hours when an intruder broke into the convent and attacked them. The nuns did not survive and were buried on site in the garden.

Why did I always feel so uncomfortable in that basement kitchen? Who were the invisible nuns disrupting the nuns in my care in the middle of the night? Who turned off the call button in Sister Cecile’s room that night?

I will never get answers to my questions. These events happened over two decades ago now, and the convent has since been torn down and replaced with condos. The chapel that was attached to it has been converted into a gym for the condo residents. The only thing left from my time there is the garden and the shrine. I wonder sometimes, when the moon is full, if the residents of the condo building find their curtains open to let the moonlight in, and if they hear a woman singing hymns, or the clicking of block heels walking down the hall, or the beeping of call bell that somehow turned itself off… All sounds that are burned in my memory, forever.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next month for a Thanksgiving special edition where I will read The Moonlight Parade, and original, nostalgic story about life and love and loss and renewal. 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you enjoy this special edition of the podcast, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by becoming a Patreon subscriber, just go to www . the skylark bell . com for more information. Thank you.

In today’s episode, Grandma’s Goodbye, we will hear a story shared by a friend who experienced two real-life hauntings that lasted just long enough for their beloved grandmothers to say goodbye.

Music: Nightbridge and Song for a Loved One by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

On Fantôme Friday we recount a real-life supernatural, or at the very least unusual and unexplained experience.

In today’s episode, Grandma’s Goodbye, we will hear a story shared by a friend who experienced two real-life hauntings that lasted just long enough for their beloved grandmothers to say goodbye.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

The first incident occurred when I was very young, too young to remember it myself. This is the story as recounted to me by my parents.

I was about 2 years old. My parents and I had travelled from Minneapolis to a small town a couple of hours south for my grandmother’s funeral. It was a long drive back at night, and when we finally got home my parents put me in my crib and went to sleep in their room. Several hours later, they were wakened by the sound of my talking and laughing.  They came to my room to check on me, and found me standing in my crib, wide awake, chatting away. When they asked what I was doing, I told them a lady had come into the room and that she was talking with me and being funny. My parents looked at one another quizzically, then told me it was time for bed.  The following night, the same incident happened again. This time I told them the lady had come to say goodbye. That was the last any of us ever heard of the lady, presumably my grandmother, visiting me.

I remember the second incident as if it were yesterday. It happened many years later while I was on tour in Rotterdam, Netherlands, with my band. After the show, we all returned to our hotel. My bandmates decided to head back out for a nightcap, and I remained in the hotel room alone. I brushed my teeth and hopped into bed, stretching out on my back, then looked around our room in the century-old hotel, noting the heavy baroque style furniture and bedding. Being alone there was a welcome break after that night’s show and several weeks of touring in crowded van.

A short while later, I began to feel a strange sensation like someone was watching me. It wasn’t enough for me to get up and leave the room or get the chills, but it was enough for me to take notice and feel slightly uncomfortable.

Suddenly, I felt the bed sink near my feet, as if someone had just sat down on it. Before I had a chance to register what was happening, the window shutters began opening and closing and the chandelier over my bed started swinging back and forth. It took a moment for the realization that something supernatural was happening to wash over me.

Out of nowhere, I felt a deep chill run through my entire body, then everything stopped.

I remained perfectly still on the bed, taking a moment to come to my senses and concluded I had just had a ghost experience. I didn’t feel scared, or threatened, it may seem strange to say, but it felt like a “good ghost”. The entire experience felt surreal. One of my bandmates came back to the room a short while later and I told him about what I’d just experienced. The next day we were in the van driving to what was then Yugoslavia, and I told the rest of my bandmates what happened. They were all surprised, but everyone believed me, knowing I wasn’t the type to make this kind of story up.

We played our show that night, and the next day was my mother’s birthday so I called home to wish her a happy birthday. My brother answered the phone and informed me that our parents had flown out East to see my father’s family because our grandmother had died. 

It didn’t dawn on me right away, but several minutes after I hung up the phone, I got an inkling that perhaps her passing was connected to my experience. When my parents returned, I asked what happened and what time my grandmother had died. I did the math, and with the time zone difference my experience occurred right around the time that she passed away. 

Some would be understandably uncomfortable with an experience like this, but in a sense, I consider myself lucky. Somehow, someway that none of us quite understand… yet… both my grandmothers found a way to come and say goodbye.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join us on in two weeks for an EXTRA spooky Halloween special bonus episode!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

If you enjoy these Fantôme Friday episodes, please consider supporting The Skylark Bell in one of the following ways:  Become a Patreon subscriber for as little as $1/month and gain early access to podcast episodes, MP3 downloads of music from the podcast, and much more. Or consider contributing to my tip jar via PayPal. Another great, and free!, way to support me is to leave a rating and a review on your preferred podcast platform to help the Skylark Bell gain visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. 

Any one or a combination of these things is incredibly helpful and very much appreciated. You can find all necessary information on my website at www.theskylarkbell.com

Thank you.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 36 – Time Loops -  in which Farfalla devises a plan to preserve what little time she had with Marius, no matter the cost.

This week's podcast partner is Something, Rather Than Nothing: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/something-rather-than-nothing/id1473313040

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

Official Merch Shops: http://www.melissaoliveri.com/store

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 36 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla made a failed attempt to reconnect with Marius.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 36 – Time Loops -  in which Farfalla devises a plan to preserve what little time she had with Marius, no matter the cost.

Today’s podcast partner is Something, Rather Than Nothing. Host Ken Volante does a phenomenal job of bringing art philosophy to the forefront and finding unique perspectives through his roster of guests. You can find an interview with me on the Something Rather Than Nothing podcast on my website, just check the link in the shownotes. 

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

After Marius disappeared, I stood in the same spot for ages. 

I couldn’t believe what I’d done in a moment of blind rage. I wasn’t even sure exactly where I’d sent him. Eventually my legs grew tired and gave out from under me. I crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, and lay there, scratching at the forest floor with my fingernails, asking the earth why it must be this way. She didn’t provide an answer, but I think I may have felt her shrug. Even the earth doesn’t know …or doesn’t care.

What was it all for then, gaining this power, these abilities? Talking to trees, controlling the behaviour of animals, hypnotizing people with my voice so they do my bidding, being able to transform objects so they appear as other objects, moving through time and space… what was it all for if I am only to end up alone again and again?

I am tired of the vanishings. I am tired of heartbreak. I am tired of being hurt and angry. I just want love, and joy, and hope. I miss hope most of all. With half of me trapped inside a tree, there is no end in sight to this misery, no hope of ever returning to my real life. No hope of ever holding those I love most in my arms. All I have left are the joyful memories of my youth. My time with Marius, my time with Elisabeth. 

The memory of those times is what I must focus on.

I don’t know how much time I spent there, my face pressed against the soil and fallen leaves, but at one point a thought entered my mind. I started thinking about the bell. The night the bell was granted its powers was the night the entire druid tribe was massacred, the bell was in my hands when I awoke on the beach in 1700s Scotland and found myself centuries away from my beloved Elisabeth, the bell was in my hands when I was thrown off the cliff and went even farther back in time, the bell was in the window at Meadow Lane when Marius disappeared during the terrible winter of 1925… and just now, smashing the bell to the ground sent Marius… I don’t even know where! 

But every time it’s the bell, the bell, the bell! 

~~~~~~

Farfalla sits up and wipes the tears from her eyes with the back of her soiled hand. She wipes her palms on her dress and picks up the Skylark Bell. She stares at it for a long time, analyzing. The more she thinks about it, the more she realises the bell is to blame for all her troubles.

Farfalla tucks the bell back into her pocket and expertly navigates her way through the forest. She reaches the fields, turns, and marches decisively toward the cliff. The tall grass sways on either side of her as she forges a path through the field, her eyes staring straight ahead. Once she steps out of the grass, she feels the wind lift off the ocean and whip her hair up. Farfalla begins to run. She races full speed on the slick dewy grass straight toward the edge of the cliff without hesitation. She stops at the very last moment, her toes practically hanging off the edge, and abruptly swings her arm back as far as it will go. She heaves a deep breath, and with all her might, she channels her heartbreak and devastation into the bell as she catapults it above her head and over the edge of the cliff. The sun reflects off its silver metallic surface as it spins through the void as if in slow motion, cutting through the air on its way down. Farfalla watches its descent with a strange mix of satisfaction, disdain, fear, and uncertainty. She should never have created that cursed object in the first place, even if it means she and Marius would have never met! The bell has caused too much heartache for too many people. She watches as the bell hits the sea, breaking through the surface of the water with a violence she didn’t expect. Farfalla feels a strange sensation, like a ripple in the air surrounding her and in the ground beneath her feet. The sensation is vaguely familiar, and she digs through her mind to recall where and when she felt this way before, but the memory is too distant to resurface, and she can feel a dizzying darkness closing in.

What Farfalla fails to realise, is that the bell hitting the water both closes and opens her time loop. It sends her younger self flying off the boat and into the sea, causing her to wake on the beach in 1700s Pòcaid. From there she is eventually thrown off the cliff, where that bell is lost until Shelta finds it and gives it to Marius. In the meantime, Farfalla creates the original Skylark Bell at the druid encampment where she eventually finds half of herself locked inside a tree while the other half throws the bell off the cliff. At this point the loop repeats itself.

~~~~~~

An ocean away and trapped in her own time loop, Magpie has come to a realisation. As the story repeats itself, remnants of previous iterations, and even pieces of Farfalla’s time loop, are present in her mind in the form of memories. At first, they are vague, almost like a dream or psychic vision, but as she lives through the cycle over and over, they become more and more concrete until finally she can recall her entire life before having lived it. At long last, Magpie is now fully aware of the time loop, and she has a plan to close it once and for all.

Magpie’s sneakers scrape against the gravel road as she races toward town. Today is the day. Tomorrow morning, she and Lucas will go to The Early Bird where Mrs. Kestrel will inform them that Farfalla passed away the night before. That’s tonight. 

Magpie woke up this morning with the memory of the woman, the real Farfalla, appearing in her room just before she took her last breath. She remembers Farfalla burning the letter Old Magpie had written to try and stop her younger self and Lucas from going to Scotland. She then recalls grabbing Farfalla’s arm and using Farfalla as a conduit to time travel a few paces into the future to try and warn her younger self by scribbling I. Am. Not. Farfalla. on the back of a sketch. She remembers failing. She remembers dying. But today will be different...

The dust settles behind her as Magpie turns the corner toward Farfalla’s little house with the blackberry bushes and bird feeders. This is her first time coming here... again. Luckily, she knows her way around. Despite being a teenager, she’s lived here for decades, multiple times. Magpie walks up the steps with an air confidence she’s not entirely sure she feels on the inside and lets herself in the house.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 37 – Here’s the Plan – in which Farfalla and Magpie finally come face-to-face.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon or Ko-Fi, where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! You can also find The Skylark Bell exclusive merch on my website, www.theskylarkbell.com. Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

In today’s special edition Fantome Friday episode, we will hear an unsettling fictional short story titled My Mother’s Ring written by Erin Lunde. You can learn more about the author of this story at www.erinlunde.com and support her work here: www.patreon.com/erinlunde

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In today’s special edition Fantome Friday episode, we will hear an unsettling fictional short story titled My Mother’s Ring written by Erin Lunde.

The author of this story, Erin Lunde,  writes and reads in Minneapolis, Minnesota where she lives with her three children and husband. She writes flash fiction, poetry, and wishes she could sleep more.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

When I first see it, I shudder. The knuckles are wrinkled and gnarly. The skin is gray. The middle finger tilts too far to the right and nudges the ring finger like a baby girl hangs on her mother’s leg, irritating, but not so much that it can’t be ignored. An amber ring sparkles on the ring finger. The skin is puffy around it, keeping it in place.

I remember getting my amber ring around Christmas years ago. My mother tapped the jewelry case in the antique store. Matching amber rings nestled among turquoise and silver. “There are three,” she said to my sister and me.

Amber was my grandmother’s name. My mother collected the gemstone in jewelry whenever she found it. I wear my ring with pride. My sister puts hers on but hides her hand in her pocket. 

Now I watch as the amber in the ring reflects the light. The lamp here, next to my bed, shines with warmth. The ring is cold. I pull at it to see if I can finally free it from that crooked finger. No luck.

My sister is seven years older than me. I learned everything from her, sometimes while out in the open but often from behind closed doors. I learned to paint my nails and stuff my bra from spying on her from the hall. She didn’t speak to me much. She didn’t offer to help me with anything. At best, she ignored me. At worst, she ridiculed me. “You look like a bag lady,” she said once. I was in third grade. I still wore whatever clothes our mother put out for me.

Often, my sister ignored my mother, too. At mealtimes, our mother would sit with us and prod my sister. “How are you feeling about history?” or, “How about the game next week?” or, “How is Ryan?” To which my sister snarled, “It’s none of your business.” Each word poked at my mother. Words like artillery fire, shrapnel flying.

My mother’s favorite time to cry was while washing dishes. She seemed to think the running water covered the sound. “Don’t worry,” I said more than once. “I won’t be like her.” More than once my mother responded by flicking dishwater at me and scowling. “You’re right.”

I was in high school when my sister achieved her second DUI. My mother answered the phone. “Yes?” she clutched the receiver. “Yes, yes, OK,” she said. Then, walking through the living room where I was finishing my homework on that Friday night, my mother said without looking at me, “Your sister needs me. I’ll be back later.”

“OK. Can I go out?”

My mother flipped her coat around her shoulders. She looked at me then. “No.”

I slumped. I finished my algebra.

My sister came home that night, wet from rain. My mother helped her out of her coat and ushered her off to a hot shower and bed. I didn’t hear her speak from the moment she walked through the door until she left the next morning. My mother, practically hand-feeding her bacon and eggs and pouring her coffee after coffee, murmured to her how much she understood her pain. She pet my sister on the shoulder and arm. My sister downed the hot coffee and shoved herself away from the table. She unstuck herself from my mother and left us in silence.

I see the ring gleaming on pale skin now. I’ve grown so old. There are dark spots all over my hands and face. My hair is thinning. My kids are adults, but none of them has given me grandchildren. Grandchildren might keep me young. But looking at this splotchy skin now, I know where I’m headed.

My mother effectively abandoned me when my sister was no longer in the house. She dropped me off at my high school graduation and drove away to help my sister move into yet another new apartment. I was valedictorian and gave a speech. I had no family in the audience.

And yet I loved her. My mother told me time and time again that my sister was special. That my sister needed to be challenged, that she was just difficult sometimes. Even now, as a grown woman, my sister is sullen and needy. She asks and she always receives.

She never wore that amber ring. I didn’t see it on her finger after the day we got it. I’ve never taken mine off. My mother wore hers. She did not mention mine when she saw it, but she did ask my sister where hers was. “I’ve lost it,” my sister replied. She sniffed and turned away.

My mother deflated. This was only a week or so after we’d gotten it. She shook her head then and said, “Maybe your sister can give you hers.” But I was never asked for it. My sister hardly spoke to me.

Just last week I learned my mother bought my sister a house. Just last week I learned that my mother paid for my sister’s divorce a few years ago. Just last week I learned that my sister has never done a thing for herself her whole life.

Enough is enough, I guess.

Now I’m tired and ready to go to sleep. I pull at the ring on that tilted finger one more time, but it still won’t budge. I’ll try again tomorrow. I lift the hand and place it back in the box. I wrap the gauze around it and close the lid, watching the light dance on the ring. “Nighty night,” I say, and tuck my mother’s hand back under my bed.

Thank you so much for listening.  

If you enjoyed this short story, be sure to visit Erin Lunde’s website at www.erinlunde.com or find her on Patreon at www.patreon.com/erinlunde - both links are available in the episode description.

Be sure to tune in next week for another Fantôme Friday episode where we tell the true story of Grandma’s Goodbye, where the recently departed pay a visit to their loved ones to say goodbye.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

Thank you.

In today’s episode, The Harlequin, we hear about a series of eerie premonitions that seem to indicate that a death has just occurred.

Music: Nightbridge and Kaleidoscope by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Fantôme Friday episodes are bonus episodes that feature a real-life supernatural, or at the very least unusual and unexplained experience.

In today’s episode, The Harlequin, we hear about a series of eerie premonitions that seem to indicate that a death has just occurred.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

The minute my hand touched the door handle of The Harlequin nightclub I knew something was wrong. “Someone died”. The thought popped into my mind, unbidden. I have no idea where it came from, but it was clear as day. I pulled on the handle only to find the door to be locked tight. It was a Tuesday night in January, typically not a busy time for the bar to be open, but it was always open none-the-less. I was standing outside in the frigid Quebec City winter with a handful of friends now wondering what we should do. After a brief discussion we decided to trek through the snow to a different nearby bar.

We enjoyed a few drinks on the main floor, chatting and laughing, but the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach stayed with me the entire night. As we were about to leave, I decided to head to the lower level where a friend of mine was DJing. He was between songs, so I went to say hello and asked if he knew why the Harlequin club was closed. He got a sad look on his face and told me one of our mutual friends who worked there had passed away suddenly the night before. 

I can still recall the ringing in my ears. A swirl of thoughts entered my mind… then a specific memory came back to haunt me. Two nights prior I had been at the bar, it was very busy, and he was racing to keep up with orders. I had just gotten a new job and was excited to share the good news because he knew I was struggling at my previous job. I shouted to him over the sound of music and loud chatter, and he grinned at me and congratulated me – he then held up a finger and said “give me a minute!”. I waited a brief moment, but he was so busy, and it was so loud, and I needed to get home… so I left. I distinctly remember thinking “I’ll see him tomorrow.” But for him, there was no tomorrow.

My next thoughts flew to two events that had occurred within a week of each other about two years before when I was still living at home with my parents. We lived out in the country, and one night we were driving home from town down the long, dark country road. It was about a 30 minute drive and I was sitting quietly in the back seat. We were going to stop at a family friend’s house to grab my house key which I had left there after going on a horse ride with her the day before. As we were nearing the turn to go to her house I had a sudden thought of “Someone has died”. Out of nowhere. I sat up in the back seat and looked out the window at the pitch black fields and forests all around. Where had that thought come from?

I shook off the eerie feeling the thought had brought on as we pulled up to our friend’s house. My parents told me to run to the back door and grab the key while they waited in the car, since it was so late and we all wanted to get home. I knocked on the door and the tearful woman opened it and handed me my key. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me her husband had just died. His body was still out in the field and she was waiting for the authorities to come. 

Of course, I was shaken, not only by the news (her husband was a lovely man) but by the fact that I had a premonition about it just a few minutes prior.

About one week later as I was riding the bus to school I suddenly had the same thought. I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach and hoping against hope that it was a coincidence, that I was imagining things. The rest of the bus ride felt interminable. Finally I got to school and went to my first class of the day, theatre. The teacher was a funny, expressive, kind man and I always looked forward to his class. On this day, however, I walked in to his room to find him very somber and quiet. Once all the students had arrived he sat us in a circle and informed us that the father of one of our classmates had passed away suddenly the night before.

Three premonitions about three sudden deaths.

There was only one other somewhat similar instance, where I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car going through a busy intersection, and as we waited at the red light I saw a man walking on the sidewalk and out of the blue thought “He’s going to die”. He was a younger man. I didn’t know him. I have no idea what happened to him, perhaps he’s no in his 50s or 60s and living a happy life. But based on my other three experiences I’m not so sure.

I often wonder, if I was with someone and out of nowhere a similar thought came to me… 

Would I tell them? Should I tell them?

What would you do?

Thank you so much for listening.  This concludes our regular monthly Fantôme Friday episodes for Season 1 of The Skylark Bell podcast. But don’t despair, we have some extra spooky episodes lined up for next month. 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you enjoy Fantome Friday, please consider supporting my work by either becoming a Patreon subscriber, contributing to my tip jar, or leaving a rating and a review. Any on or a combination of these things is incredibly helpful and very much appreciated. You can find all necessary information on our website at www.theskylarkbell.com

Thank you.

This episode somewhat serves as both an Epilogue to Season 1 and Prologue to Season 2. It hints at things to come in The Skylark Bell - Wingspan.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents an introduction to The Skylark Bell - Wingspan.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas were left completely shocked by the discovery of a note, presumably from Farfalla herself, that read simply I. Am. Not. Farfalla.

Today’s episode serves as both an epilogue to the original story and a prologue for Wingspan. This short episode will hint at things to come in Season 2.  

So get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

A gust of wind slams the door just as I enter the room.  I remember that door slam. I was on the other side of the door then. I remember the door slamming and the footsteps echoing inside the empty room behind it, and how the impossibility of those footsteps had made my heart race. My heart is racing now too. I hope this works. I don’t have much time. I should have done this sooner, I just didn’t know, not until she walked into the room... How naïve we were back then, to think it was over. How innocent, to believe it was Farfalla who had set off the chain of events that lead to the silence at Meadow Lane, the silence that nearly spread to the entire town. How misguided we were to think The Skylark Bell was the solution… We had no idea, no idea at all, that the Skylark Bell was responsible for it all… 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Fantôme Friday #8, The Harlequin, where a series of eerie premonitions seem to indicate that a death has just occurred. Be sure to subscribe, you don’t want to miss a thing!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

If you enjoyed the story, and would like to support my work, you can become a Patreon Subscriber to get early access to episodes, MP3 downloads of the original music from the podcast, and so much more!

Simply go the www.theksylarkbell.com for more information. Thank you.

This chapter concludes Season 1 of The Skylark Bell podcast. Fair warning, this season ends on a massive cliffhanger!

Please stay tuned for holiday specials between now and the beginning of Season 2 - Wingspan, in January. Thank you for your support throughout this first season, and I'll see you on the other side!

In today’s episode we end this part of our adventure with the final chapter of season 1, Chapter 26 – Legacy, where Magpie and Lucas make a discovery while packing up Farfalla’s things that will leave you on the edge of your seat.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 26 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas found out that Farfalla had passed away, and left Magpie a package with letters and the deed to Meadow Lane and a house in Scotland. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 26 – where Magpie and Lucas make an incredible discovery while packing up Farfalla’s things.

So get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

The porch of the house is adorned with birdhouses of every shape and size, interspersed with flower pots containing blooms of every colour imaginable.  Magpie sighs deeply.  “I can’t believe I was afraid of her at first,” she says, “she had such a hard life, and all she wanted was to surround herself with love, beauty and happiness!”  Lucas gives her an understanding squeeze on the shoulder, and they let themselves in the front door.

Upon entering, they are surprised to find the house is mostly bare, with minimal living room furniture and only a few books in the built-in bookcase.  Some plates and cups, along with a few pantry items and the necessary pots, pans and utensils are the only items to be found in the kitchen.  An open box of canning jars sits on a small round table in the corner that serves as a dining area.

Toward the back of the house there is a bedroom with only a bed, nightstand and dresser.  They find no perfume bottles, makeup, jewelry, or anything else that would make the room feel inhabited.  Perplexed, they exit the bedroom and stand in the dark hallway facing a closed door, beyond which is the only space they have not yet explored.

Magpie reaches out and carefully turns the doorknob.  The door swings open and they both gasp at the sight before them.  The walls of the room are covered in sketches and notes, each one carefully pinned into the plaster.  In the center of the room is a white rocking chair, on the back of which is a green knitted shawl.  Magpie recognizes it as the one from her vision of her Great-Grandmother Elizabeth, she must have given it to Farfalla at some point.  She walks into the room and sits in the chair; from this vantage point she can see that the sketches are in chronological order, starting with, then Farfalla and Marius in the orchard, then the Skylark Bell followed by the snowstorm and Meadow Lane falling apart… Magpie’s gaze follows the sequence.  She sees a sketch of her first encounter with Farfalla at the diner, then of the blackbird dropping a blackberry into her lap on the lawn of the library.  There are a few more sketches of Magpie, some with her mother, some with Lucas, another with Farfalla herself.  

“Lucas, do you know what this is?” she asks, amazed.  The room remains silent.  She turns, looking for Lucas, and finds him standing in front of one of the sketches, his back turned to her.  She approaches cautiously, already knowing what she will find.

“It was her, that night,” he says, stepping back.  Magpie can see a sketch, practically identical to her own, of young Lucas sitting in the ditch beside the wreckage of a car, Farfalla standing behind him.  “But how can that be?  What could she possibly have been doing out there so late at night?”

“There are a lot of things I still don’t quite understand, but I think she somehow knew the role you had to play in this story, and was, in some way, able to bring you comfort in a time of great need,” says Magpie.  She grabs his hand and they stand side by side for a while, looking at the sketch. Magpie replays the events of the past few months in her mind, and recalls her conversation with Farfalla at the diner, the impossible conversation that happened after Farfalla had died… “So many unanswered questions…” she muses, “but I guess I’m okay with that, for now.”  

“Speaking of unanswered questions,” says Lucas, “there’s one more thing.” He reaches into his pocket.  “While I was waiting for you to meet me at the driveway earlier, this blackbird landed on the road and dropped something at my feet.  I can’t explain it, but I think it came from Farfalla.”  He opens his palm and in it sits a small, silver ring in the shape of a curled feather.  It is identical to the one in Magpie’s sketchbook.  Suddenly everything about her sketch makes sense, she had drawn the orchard where Marius proposed to Farfalla, and then sketched this ring in the margin.

“This must be Farfalla’s engagement ring!” she says.

“Everything finds its way, in time” he whispers, tucking it somberly into her palm.

Magpie’s hand closes over the ring. She thinks about Farfalla keeping it all these years, about the love she must have felt for Marius, and the heartache when he disappeared. She recalls walking through the house at Meadow Lane, the pieces of the Shearwater Family’s life that had been left behind to slowly disintegrate. She hands the ring back to Lucas “I’m not sure why, but I think Farfalla wanted you to have this, you should keep it”. Lucas somberly takes the ring and tucks it into his pocket.

Through the open window, a cool fall breeze blows into the room, ruffling the sketches on the surrounding walls. Lucas reaches for the green shawl and wraps it around Magpie’s shoulders.  “It’s time” he says, simply.  She nods quietly, and they circle the room together, carefully taking down each sketch and collecting them in a box. 

A few mintues later they are standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by empty walls. For a moment Magpie’s heart feels heavy.  A cloud passes in front of the sun and the whole room is washed gray. Magpie turns toward Lucas, who smiles warmly at her.  He’s been by her side this entire time.  There is still so much she needs to tell him… but there will be a different time for that.  Right now, it’s time to step back and enjoy the sights and sounds of the world outside this little house. The cloud moves along and sunlight once again filters through the window.  The feeling in the room immediately shifts, the heaviness lifting and giving way to a palpable sense of peace.

Lucas grabs the box, and he and Magpie step out of the room into the hallway. As they turn to leave, a gust of wind blows through the window, causing the door of the small room to slam shut. A moment later footsteps echo in the empty room behind the door.  Startled, Magpie and Lucas stare at one another wide-eyed. 

“Did you hear that?!” whispers Magpie, “those were definintely footsteps!” she says, her voice shaking. Lucas nods, putting a finger to his lips. He leans forward, reaching for the doorknob.  Just then, the door swings open on its own, revealing the empty room once again. Magpie and Lucas glance at each other uneasily before stepping through the doorway. 

“Lucas, look!” exclaims Magpie, pointing to a sheet of paper laying on the seat of the rocking chair. “This wasn’t there before!” she says, pulling the shawl more tightly around her shoulders as a sudden chill runs through her.  Taking a few steps into the room she reaches for the paper and holds it up. “It’s another sketch!” she says excitedly. “It’s Meadow Lane, with a full-blooming orchard behind the house, birds flying high above and horses prancing in the meadow.  I can even see the Skylark Bell hanging in the upstairs window! And on the front lawn there’s the Shearwater family all lined up like they’re posing for a photograph!”

Magpie has been so busy studying the sketch it takes her a moment to realize Lucas has gone completely silent.  She looks over the paper at him, her eyebrows furrowed.  “Lucas, what’s wrong?” she asks.  

Lucas is standing completely still his arm stretch out pointing to the back of the sketch , the colour has drained from his face and his eyes are open wide.  Magpie flips the paper over.  Scrawled on the back of the page are four words that make her blood run cold...

“I AM NOT FARFALLA”

Thank you so much for listening.  This concludes Season 1 of the Skylark Bell Podcast.  But don’t leave just yet, there are surprises in store to tide us over until we return for Season 2 with Wingspan, the next book in the Skylark Series. So be sure to subscribe, you don’t want to miss a thing!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

If you enjoyed the story, and would like to support my work, you can become a Patreon Subscriber to get early access to episodes, MP3 downloads of the original music from the podcast, and so much more!

You can also donate to my tip jar via paypal. All links are available on the website www.theskylarkbell.com

You can also leave a rating and a review on your preferred podcast platform. It doesn’t cost anything, and it helps give the podcast visibility so other people can discover and enjoy it.

As always, I thank you for listening. This has been a wonderful year, and I look forward to sharing many more stories with you. Stay tuned over the next few weeks, I’ve got lots of surprises in store. 

Thank you.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 25 – My Dearest Magpie - where Magpie and Lucas get some shocking news about Farfalla.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 25 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In the last chapter of our story, Magpie and Lucas learned more about Farfalla and her connection to Mrs. Starling, but there are still many questions to be answered.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 25 – My Dearest Magpie - where Magpie and Lucas get some shocking news.

So get settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

It’s late morning and Magpie is meeting Lucas at the bottom of his driveway. 

“I can’t wait to bring this photo to Farfalla!,” says Magpie, bounding with energy despite the lack of sleep. She still can’t believe everything that happened the night before; from trekking through the house at Meadow Lane, to finding and ringing the Skylark Bell, to then learning about the friendship between Farfalla and Grandma Starling…

“I hope it brings her peace,” he says quietly, grasping Magpie’s hand.  She smiles up at him and they start walking. They head straight to the diner, figuring Farfalla should just be finishing up her breakfast around this time, but upon entering they find her usual booth completely empty.

“Has Farfalla left already?” Magpie asks the young waitress scurrying by.  The young woman stops in her tracks, a strange look washing over her face.

“Let me get the owner, stay right there,” she says, nervously.  Lucas and Magpie give one another a puzzled look.  

A moment later, a petite, well-dressed woman walks toward them, a somber look on her face.  “Hi, Ms. Kestrel,” says Lucas.

She gives Lucas a small nod before stating, “I am told you are looking for Farfalla.”

“Yes, we were wondering if she’s already been by today,” says Magpie, trying to ignore the mounting sense of dread she is feeling.

“I truly regret that you are finding out this way, but Farfalla passed away last night. I became worried when she didn’t come for her usual breakfast this morning, so I sent my husband to check on her.  He found her in her chair, like she was having the most restful nap, a green shawl on her knees…”  The woman’s voice trails off.

“But... but I…” begins Magpie.  The lump in her throat prevents her from saying anything more as tears of sadness and confusion spill down her cheeks.  She just spoke with Farfalla yesterday, in this very diner!

“I’m so sorry, Magpie,” says Lucas, pulling her into his embrace.

“Did you say Magpie?” asks Mrs. Kestrel, “I have something for you!”  She hurries into the back office and returns with a small package.  “This box was on Farfalla’s dining room table with an envelope on it that said ‘For Magpie’, I believe these things are for you,” she says, somberly handing her the items before quietly walking away.

Lucas and Magpie carry the package across the street to the gardens at the library and sit in the grass staring at it for a moment. Magpie inhales deeply before carefully opening the envelope addressed to her.  Inside, scrawled in impecable cursive handwriting, is a letter from Farfalla.

My dearest Magpie,

How Lucky I am to have finally laid eyes upon you.  I had a vision last night, I know my time has finally come.  Such a strange expression, my time has come… as if this time belongs to me.            

Before I go, there are things you must know…

There was never any harm meant to the people of this town when Meadow Lane was silenced. Perhaps a shattered heart that couldn’t bear to hear a joyous sound willed it to be silent, but that heart was not mine. Regardless, that silence spread further than anyone could ever have imagined, and that is regrettable.

I trust that I provided you instructions on what you must do. If I recall correctly, we were both successful. I hope I was also able to tell you about our family, Meadow Lane, the Skylark Bell… and Marius, but perhaps there wasn’t time for all that. There will be, don’t worry.

It is marvelous to watch Lucas, I have seen him grow from a scared little boy by the side of the road into a marvelous young man.  I see the way he looks at you, the way someone special looked at me all those years ago. Cherish that feeling, help it grow, like the orchard and the flowers at Meadow Lane.  The forest, the land and the house all belong to you now, the deed is in the package I have left for you.  

I have also included a letter from Charlotte Carnifex that my sister Paloma had kept, and my personal notebook.  I believe you will find these items to be of great interest.

Wherever you may end up, fill your life with joy, love, and the sound of laughter, and music. The sound of a thousand birds, and the sound of one ringing bell, then everything will find its way in time.

 With love,

Farfalla

Magpie carefully folds the letter, tucks it back into its envelope, and opens the package.  As promised, she finds the deed to Meadow Lane, a notebook, and some old, yellowing letters with foreign stamps.  Magpie pulls out the notebook and gasps. 

“Magpie, what is it?” Asks Lucas.  

The worn, fragile sketchbook is bound in blue leather, with a gold hummingbird etched on the cover. “I have a sketchbook just liked this!” Says Magpie, stunned. Had Farfalla sent Magpie a matching notebook as a birthday gift all that time ago - long before Magpie and her mother had any inkling they would be moving to Pocket? And if so, how did she know where to send it? Had she known who they were and where they lived all this time? Why hadn’t she reached out before?

Magpie lets the questions swirl in her mind for a moment, then opens the notebook   Inside, she sees a series of sketches and notes, very similar to her own, dating back decades. Between the pages she finds a photograph of Marius, similar to the one hanging on the wall in Lucas’ kitchen, but in much better condition.  She stares at it for a moment, once again noting the uncanny resemblance to Lucas.  Tucking the photo back into the notebook, she picks up the stack of letters, flipping through them gently.  One, in particular, catches her attention.  It is post-marked much later than the others and is in a smaller envelope.  Magpie opens the envelope and unfolds the letter; unlike the others, it is not dated and the handwriting is far messier, like its author was hurried or had a shaking hand. Magpie begins to read out loud:

Paloma,

This is of the utmost importance. I am very ill, and fear I do not have much time left. There is a property on a remote island in North West Scotland, in a small village called Pocaid, that has been in my husband Edward’s family for centuries.  It should have been passed down to our son, James, but sadly that day never came.  I have left instructions and the necessary paperwork with our counsel in Edinburgh. Please pass this information along to his daughter Elizabeth, whom I will never have had the joy of meeting – one of the greatest regrets of my life.

I must rest now.  

With all my love, all my hopes, and all my best wishes; I bid you farwell

Charlotte

“This is incredible!” says Magpie, her mind reeling as she folds up the letter.  “First Meadow Lane, and now a centuries-old property in Scotland?!”

“Looks like you’ve got some traveling to do!” says Lucas playfully.  “Just promise me you’ll come back,” he adds, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he looks her in the eye.

“I wouldn’t ever want to go anywhere without my tour guide,” she says, winking at him.  They sit quietly for a moment and Magpie thinks about the first time Lucas walked with her into town.  It has only been a few months but it feels like a lifetime ago. Time could be weird like that sometimes.

Magpie peers into the empty box and is about to place all the items back inside when a glint of metal catches her eye.  At the bottom of the box is a house key with a small tag attached that reads ‘Home’.  Magpie fishes it out and holds it in her palm for a moment.  She leans her head on Lucas’ shoulder as they sit in silence, watching the birds flutter through the garden. He pulls away just enough to lay a gentle kiss on her cheek before standing and reaching down to grab her hands and help her up.  She takes one last long look at the garden before turning back to Lucas.  “We should go to her house and pack up her things.” She says.  He nods and they gather their things before walking solemnly down the cross-street toward the tiny house surrounded by blackberry bushes.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 26 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell - Legacy – where Magpie and Lucas discover the final piece of the puzzle as they gather Farfalla’s things.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review. Either one, or both, are greatly appreciated. Thank you.

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual, and unexplained, experience. In today’s episode we will recount the story of The Bridge, where an eerie premonition about a tragic event played a part in saving our lives.

Music: Nightbridge and Nightbridge (Acoustic) by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual, and unexplained, experience. In today’s episode we will recount the story of The Bridge, where an eerie premonition about a tragic event played a part in saving our lives.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, we’re getting started…

In July of 2007 I was at my house in Montreal packing my things and getting it ready to sell so I could move to Minneapolis. 

My husband had flown back to Minneapolis a few days prior, and I was going to meet him the following week. One day we were talking on the phone while I was taking a break from packing, and he was driving to an appointment on the other side of the city. We chatted about everything and nothing, what he had for breakfast, whether I should pack all the spatulas and wooden spoons, what we would do for my belated birthday when I flew home to Minneapolis… We were on a tight timeline to pack up and list the house, so I started winding up the conversation with my husband.

Out of the blue, as I was about to hang up, my husband said, “will you stay on the phone with me, I’m crossing this bridge, and something feels a bit weird”. Of course, I said yes, and we kept chatting until he was all the way across the bridge that spans the Mississippi river. Once my husband made it to the other side, we wrapped up our conversation and we each went about our day.

About a week after that phone call, I was back in Minneapolis. My husband threw me a surprise birthday party at our new house, and a few days later we got a puppy. Everything in our lives was great, it was an exciting time filled with new beginnings and experiences. 

A few weeks after my return, my husband got word that some friends of his who play in a band were on tour and stopping in Duluth, MN, which is about two and half hours away from our house. We were excited to see them and watch the show. We planned to leave around dinner time so we’d arrive in Duluth shortly before the show would begin. 

On a whim, my husband suggested we leave early, and spend a little time walking around town before the show. As we backed out of our driveway he said, “I think I’m going to take a different route today.” I was still relatively new to the city so I didn’t question his choice, but if seemed to me the route he was now taking was a bit of a detour that would take longer. But since we were leaving a bit early, I figured it didn’t matter much.

We drove to Duluth and met up with his friends, had some dinner, watched the show, then started driving home late at night. As we were driving home my phone rang – I was surprised to see my aunt in Montreal’s number on the caller ID because it was the middle of the night. I answered and she was in a panic asking if I was okay. I told her we were fine and that we were driving home from a show. She proceeded to tell me that the I35W bridge had collapsed, and several people had died. 

The next morning when we got home, we got more information on the news. The bridge collapsed at rush hour, right around the time we would have been crossing it had my husband not decided to take a different route based on a gut feeling. 13 people died in the crash, and nearly 150 more were injured. A school bus full of children was on the bridge when it fell, luckily, they were rescued and survived.

My husband and I both counted our lucky stars that he listened to that little voice in his head that told him to leave early and take a different route. It was until several weeks later that we recalled our phone conversation nearly a month before the bridge collapse, that day we were on the phone while I was still in Montreal and he was driving over that very bridge, when he said something felt “weird” and he didn’t want us to hang up until he’d made it to the other side. 

Never in our wildest dreams could we have imagined in that moment what the future would hold for that bridge and the unfortunate souls who happened to be on it the day it fell into the Mississippi.

Ever since that day, any time one of us has a strange feeling about something, we always listen to our gut… to that little voice that sent us on a lifesaving detour all those years ago.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 25 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell – My Dearest Magpie – Where Magpie and Lucas get some shocking news about Farfalla.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you enjoy these Fantome Friday episodes, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are greatly appreciated. Thank you.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 24 – Everything Finds its Way in Time - where Magpie and Lucas learn about the curious connection between Farfalla and Lucas’ Grandmother, Mrs. Starling.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 24 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie successfully found the Skylark Bell, bringing sound and life back to Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 24 – Everything Finds its Way in Time - where Magpie and Lucas learn about the curious connection between Farfalla and Lucas’ Grandmother, Mrs. Starling.

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

Magpie bursts through the front door of her house, **DOOR OPENING** races to the sunroom and grabs her surprised mother by the arm.  Mrs. Phaeton, standing at her easel and working on a brightly coloured landscape, drops her paintbrush on the floor, spattering paint in a long, red streak.  “What on earth…?!  Magpie, what is this about?!” she asks.

“There’s no time to explain right now, we need to get to Lucas’ house, come on!” shouts Magpie, pulling her bewildered mother out of the old farmhouse.  They race up the driveway to Lucas’ house **GRAVEL RUNNING** and Magpie starts feverishly knocking on the door. **KNOCKING** She hears rapid footsteps approaching from the other side **FOOTSTEPS** and stares at Lucas’ exhausted, confused face as he swings the door open. **DOOR OPEN**

She doesn’t give him a moment to breathe before launching into a jumble of information.  “Lucas!  I found your grandmother!  Then I ran into Farfalla, and she’s my great-great-grandmother, and she was in love with Marius but ended up marrying James Carnifex!  She told me the silence was spreading to the whole town so I went to Meadow Lane and found the Skylark Bell and…”  

“Whoa, whoa, Magpie, slow down!” he says, gesturing for her to come in.

The living room is lit with candles, and in their glow she can see Lucas’ grandmother sitting on the couch.

“Grandma,” he says calmly, “this is my friend, Magpie, and her mom, Mrs. Phaeton.”

The old woman smiles at them, then focuses on Magpie and pats the empty space next to her on the couch.

Lucas leans over to whisper in Magpie’s ear, “It’s the strangest thing, about an hour ago everything changed, it’s like a fog lifted completely from her mind and she’s back to her old self again!”

Magpie walks over and settles into the couch next to Lucas’ grandmother.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she says sweetly, something flickers in her eyes as they rest on Magpie for a moment.  She slowly lifts her arms and cups Magpie’s face in her hands, studying it, before softly adding, “time does have a way of repeating itself.” 

“What do you mean?” asks Magpie, confused, and more than a little concerned that Lucas’ grandmother isn’t quite back to her old self like Lucas thinks she is.

“You look a lot like Farfalla did, many years ago” Lucas’ grandmother says, smiling fondly at the memory. ““I still remember the day she came back to town...” she adds, reminiscing. “When Farfalla first returned, she had been gone so long it was like she didn’t remember anyone. She seemed completely lost, but somehow, she connected with me, and we forged a kind of kinship. I did all the talking, of course, but she was always happy to hear my stories.”

Magpie is staring at the floor, her brow furrowed.  “You said when Farfalla returned to town – How long had she been gone? And where had she been all that time?”

“Oh, she had been gone for nearly 30 years if my memory serves me right. She was very secretive when she came back. I’d heard the rumours that she had died at sea, and I tried to get her to tell me where she’d been, but she kept her past under lock and key. For years we would meet once a month or so, and in all that time I never really learned anything about her” Mrs Starling takes a wistful breath filled with quiet regret.

“If she never spoke, what did the two of you do when you got together?” asks Lucas, a little perplexed. 

Mrs. Starling smiles “I taught her how to knit, and shared my mother’s recipes with her, that’s how she got so good at making blackberry jam! We mostly would just enjoy each other’s company, and I learned to just leave it at that.  She only ever told me one thing, almost 10 years after her return…” says Mrs. Starling with an air of mystery.

Magpie, Lucas, and Mrs. Phaeton lean in a little more closely as Mrs. Starling takes a pause, lost in a moment that happened long ago. 

“What was it?!” asks Lucas, unable to contain his curiousity any longer

“It was the year my son, your father, was born, ” she says, looking up at Lucas with a warm smile, “My life got busy, and I hadn’t seen Farfalla for several months.  One day I ran into her on my way to the general store.  She looked very upset, and when I asked her what was wrong, she whipped out a small notebook and quickly scrawled some words that I will never forget.”

Mrs Starling’s captive audience leans in, waiting on the edge of their seats to hear what she will say next. Finally, to everyone’s relief, Mrs Phaeton breaks the silence “What did she write?!” she asks, unable to contain herself any longer. 

“She simply wrote ‘Marius is gone, my heart is broken’. I had heard about the love story between her and Marius, and about him disappearing in a snowstorm, but to my knowledge he had never been found, so it was strange that she would be so upset by it nearly half a century later...” Mrs. Starling heaves a long sigh. “She walked away silently after that, and after that day we never really connected again.” She adds, wistfully.

Silence echoes in the small living room as Magpie, Lucas and Mrs. Phaeton absorb the story.

Mrs. Starling takes a breath and resumes, “A few years later, I lost my husband, and eventually my son and his wife in that car accident…” she glances at Lucas who looks down at the floor. “I thought of Farfalla often in those times, all the pain and loss she had suffered. I took in Lucas, and he brought joy and light back into my life.” This time Lucas looks back up at his grandmother and winks at her. “I just wish there was something that could bring joy and light back into hers…” she says, her voice full of regret.

Suddenly, Magpie remembers the photo in her jacket.  “I found this on the mantle at Meadow Lane,” she says, carefully pulling it out of her pocket, “it was too dark for me to see, but I felt an urge to take it with me.”  She gingerly holds up the photograph, it is clearly visible now.  A handsome young man with dark wavy hair stands next to a girl with long curls down to the middle of her back.  They are looking at one another, smiling, love emanating from their eyes.  

“Look, there’s an inscription on the back!” says Lucas, grabbing the photo out of Magpie’s hand “it says: My heart is yours, and yours is mine. All will find their way in time.”

“That’s what Farfalla said to me at the diner.  She told me to find the Skylark Bell and that everything would find its way in time,” says Magpie in amazement.  

“There’s something else, too” adds Lucas “in a different language, I’m not sure what it means.” He shows Magpie, whose eyes widen immediately.

“Those are the words that were carved into the Skylark Bell!” she exclaims! 

“It looks like Gaelic, but I don’t know enough to translate.” Says Mrs. Phaeton, peeking over Lucas’ shoulder.

Lucas flips the photograph over in his hand, and immediately freezes in shock. “It… they… that photo, Marius and Farfalla… Magpie, they look just like you and me!” he stutters, turning to look at her, “How is that possible?!” He asks, his eyes wide.

“That, my darlings, is a question for another time,” says Mrs. Phaeton.  “It’s already sunrise!” Through the window, the first splash of colour hits the sky.  “Let’s get some rest, it’s been a long night.”

“Tomorrow we can visit Farfalla and bring her this photograph,” says Magpie, “I bet she’ll have some answers.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for the 7th installment of Fantome Friday where we will hear the story of The Bridge – in which a premonition foretells a major tragic event, that potentially saved our lives. Then, the following week, we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 25 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell – My Dearest Magpie – where Magpie and Lucas get some shocking news about Farfalla.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they’re both greatly appreciated.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 23 – will Magpie find the Skylark Bell in time? There’s only one way to find out!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 23 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie was cautiously making her way through the house at Meadow Lane looking for the Skylark Bell. We left off with her standing just outside the door to what had once been Farfalla’s room.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 23 – will Magpie find the Skylark Bell in time? There’s only one way to find out!

So get settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

Magpie instinctively anticipates a squeak as she pushes the door, but of course she remains enveloped in thick, oppressive silence as it swings open.  Through the dusty window, she can see the blurry sky turning yellow, orange, purple and pink.  Sunset already?!  Her gaze sweeps across the room.  An ornate bed takes up most of the space.  She can see shreds of tulle hanging from the canopy above.  Next to the bed is a rocking chair with a teddy bear sitting on it, its smile almost disturbing in the dusty, broken room.  Magpie suddenly recalls Farfalla’s words; “You must find the Skylark Bell!”  She starts looking around the room.  First, she peeks under the bed, but save for decades of dust finds nothing.  She gently opens the closet and pushes a few crumbling dresses out of the way, no luck.  She checks the drawers in the nightstand, then looks behind the rocking chair, all to no avail.  Tucked away in the corner is a small vanity.  Magpie gently sits on the stool in front of it, and looks into the large, round mirror.  In a sudden flash, she is hit with a vision.

She is shocked to see herself in the mirror!  But something is different; her hair is falling in ringlets down to the middle of her back and there are large fabric bows in it.  She is wearing a long dress with many layers and worn brown leather shoes with a low heel.  Looking at herself in the mirror she sees stains on her cheeks, like she has been crying.  The room around her is the same as the room in the old house at Meadow Lane, but there is a lantern burning on the night stand, the dust is gone, the windows and mirrors are not broken, the linens and dresses in the closet are intact… it’s like she’s traveled back in time!  She hears a voice call from downstairs, “Farfalla, it is time to go!”  Of course!  The vision is not of herself going back in time, it is a vision of Farfalla in her youth!  They look so alike that if someone were to put them side by side it would be very difficult to tell them apart.  She watches Farfalla get up from the stool and turn her back to the vanity.  In the mirror, Magpie’s eye catches a quick gleam of light reflecting off something as Farfalla moves a floorboard under the handmade rug in the center of the room.  

The vision fades away sharply and Magpie, surrounded once again by the dusty, tired atmosphere of the old house, sits completely still on the stool, trying to understand what she has just seen.  Her mind is racing, thoughts swirling around, creating confusion.  The sunset is fading fast and she knows her time has almost run out.  She closes her eyes to think; Farfalla put something under the floorboards just before leaving the house, it had to be the Skylark Bell!  

Magpie quickly pulls back the frayed pieces of fabric that were once part of the rug and scurries on her hands and knees to inspect the floorboards.  They all look the same at first, but then she notices one of them has a small notch carved into one side.  She slips her finger in the notch and gently lifts up the board.  Underneath she finds a small wooden box with a feather carved into the top.  Unable to hold back her excitement she fumbles around trying to open it, but to her dismay she notices there is a keyhole on the front.  

Completely discouraged she sits in the center of the room, exhaustion and frustration taking over, tears threatening to spill over the edge of her lower eyelids.  She can’t risk damaging the bell by smashing the box open and she doesn’t have the strength, or the necessary tools, to pry it open.  After all her efforts, it can’t end like this!  She feels despair wash over her.  

Out of nowhere, a small white feather drifts slowly back and forth from the ceiling.  She watches it, mesmerized, as it floats through the air, rocking like a small boat from side to side, slowly making its way down, and disappearing just before it comes within her reach.  Something about the feather stirs her memory… Of course!  The silver feather-shaped key from the picnic basket, it must have been from Farfalla! She reaches around her neck and feels for the fine, silver chain.  Her fingers find it instantly and she gently pulls it over her head.  Relief washes over her when she finds the key still looped around it.  She slips the key into the lock, noting that it matches the feather etched into the top of the box.  The key turns smoothly despite its age and she feels a slight pressure where she normally would have heard a ‘click’.  Ever so gently, she raises the cover of the box and there, still shining brightly despite its decades beneath the floor, lays the Skylark Bell.

She carefully pulls the bell out of the box and holds it up.  It truly is a stunning work of art.  A lark, head turned toward its back, clutches a large blackberry in its beak.  It sits surrounded by an ornate vine that twists through its wings and between its feet before looping down to the small silver bell hanging below.  The bell is etched with a string of flying birds all around, spiraling into infinity, and some words in a language that Magpie doesn’t recognize:  Chan eil clag an speur a ’bualadh ach airson crios an Eilein Sgitheanaich (The skylark bell rings only for the belle of Skye).

Reminding herself time is of the essence, Magpie picks herself up off the floor and walks to the window.  At the top of the window frame she finds a small, ornate hook drilled into the wood.  Magpie pushes the window open as best she can and slips the skylark’s beak onto the hook.  She delicately removes her hands from the bell and takes a step back.  She waits a moment, it feels like an eternity, and nothing happens.  The entire house, the land around it, and the bell remain perfectly still.  Magpie’s heart sinks.  

Behind Magpie, outside her line of sight, a mist forms behind the glass of the vanity mirror. Slowly, the face of a woman fades into view, she is looking out of the mirror toward the window, her long red hair cascading down her shoulders. Behind her, a silent ocean roars as it pushes its waves over a rocky, unforgiving beach. The woman smiles, her eyes an almost impossible, almost mystical shade of blue, and ever so softly she starts to sing a sad, strange song. ***

At first Magpie seems oblivious to the singing. After a moment she takes notice and leans her head to the side, trying to hear better. The sound slowly crescendos, and wraps around her like a soft blanket.  Magpie instantly feels relaxed and almost… hypnotized… like her mind is drifting from her body and giving in to the sweet melody. 

Out of nowhere, Magpie feels an ever so slight breeze ruffle her hair, instantly bringing her back to reality.  Outside the window, a scattering of birds suddenly lifts into the sky, casting a quick shadow across the field.  The singing fades away as the wind picks up, bending the tall grass around the house.  **WIND** Magpie stares, fascinated, as the bell starts rocking back and forth, like a feather.  A bird calls loudly from a fencepost in the meadow **BIRD** and the Skylark Bell begins to ring.  **BELL** And ring.  **BELL** And ring. **BELL** Its ringing echoes through the house, through the fields and the clearing, down the dirt road, over the pine river bridge, and cloaks the town in rich, bright sound.

Magpie rushes out of the house, racing through the lush, green grass to the road. **GRASS FOOTSTEPS**  Behind her, in the last few remnants of daylight, Meadow Lane no longer looks foreboding or somber, it looks hopeful for what the morning will bring.  

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 24 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell – where Magpie learns that Lucas’ grandmother, Gemma Starling, was a friend of Farfalla’s, decades ago.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. If you're enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. Thank you.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 22 – where Magpie finally goes into the house on Meadow Lane to find the mythical Skylark Bell.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 22 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie learned about her family ties to both Meadow Lane and Charlotte Carnifex, and was sent on a mission to save the town of Pocket from the ever-growing silence.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 22 – where Magpie finally goes into the house on Meadow Lane to find the mythical Skylark Bell.

So get cozy… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

The dust from the road behind her settles as Magpie reaches the bottom of Meadow Lane.  She stares at the small grey house in the field of silent grass, and pushes a growing sense of dread to the back of her mind.  Inhaling deeply, she puts her head down and takes a few steps up the lane.  Instantly, she can no longer hear the birds, the wind, or her footsteps.  She stops in her tracks and stays perfectly still, her body frozen in fear.  She feels panic rising in her chest and is on the verge of bolting back toward the road when something inspires her to look back up at the house.  She slowly lifts her head and fixes her gaze on the weathered structure.  For the first time, she doesn’t see it as broken and scary, but rather, sad and lonely.  Magpie knows that feeling only too well… with renewed courage, she takes a step. 

Making her way up the lane, Magpie imagines what the fields must have looked like when the grass was vibrant green and swaying in the wind.  What the forest sounded like, filled with songbirds and crinkling leaves.  She pauses at the front steps to the house, takes a deep breath, which makes no sound, and walks up.  On the front porch she pushes one of the rocking chairs to see if it will creak, but even though it has been outside for decades it just moves back and forth silently.  She turns to face the front door when, suddenly, she sees the reflection of a flock of birds in a shard broken window!  She jerks her head around quickly, but the sky overhead is silent and empty.  Though she can’t hear it, she feels her heart beating faster and harder.  Her shaking hand pushes the door and it swings open soundlessly, the darkness beyond beconing as she takes a hesitant step into the house.

Inside, the house on Meadow Lane is surprisingly unassuming.  The peeling wallpaper is orned with faded vines and flowers, and large wooden beams overhead support the second floor.  Across from the front door there is a small kitchen with a long counter and large rustic sink.  Nearby, in the dining area, sits a heavy wooden dining table.  Magpie takes a moment to feel around for a light switch before realising the house was abandonned before being fitted with electricity.  It’s like it has been frozen in time.  She takes a few steps closer to the table to have a look.  Under a thick layer of dust she can see plates and cups laid out on it, like the house is waiting for someone to return.  Magpie’s heart is instantly filled with sadness.  The early evening sun barely filters through the dirty, broken glass of the windows, but it is enough for her to see the remnants of a fireplace just beyond the dining room.  She feels drawn to it and makes her way around a massive antique buffet, still housing a few chipped porcelaine plates.  In the fireplace, a small pile of ashes sits behind a tarnished brass screen; a poker, broom and shovel rest on the floor nearby.  Her gaze travels up the blackened bricks to the mantle.  On the heavy wooden shelf she finds an old photograph, but she can’t see very well in the fading light.  On impulse, she slips it out of its frame and into the inside pocket of her jacket.  

Magpie looks at her reflection in the dirty mirror above the fireplace. Trying to give herself confidence, she says, “Well, I guess it’s time to head upstairs!”  But although she can see her mouth moving in her reflection, not a sound comes out of it and the room remains silent.  It’s like she doesn’t even exist.  She briefly thinks this is how ghosts must feel, then chases the thought away with a shudder.

She makes her way to the staircase, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before heading up.  The stairs feel surprisingly solid under her feet, but the banister wobbles back and forth silently.  On the landing, the light is slightly brighter.  She makes her way to the room on the left, and discovers it is the primary bedroom.  It contains a fairly large bed, a dresser with a hairbrush and empty perfume bottle strewn on top, a few remnants of old linens in a large wooden wardrobe, and a night table with an open drawer in which there sits an old book.  She picks up the book to take a closer look (the skye lark belle?) but it immediately begins disintegrating in her hand.  She gently puts it down and steps back into the hall.  

Recognizing that time is of the essence, Magpie focuses on finding Farfalla’s room.  Out of the corner of her eye she catches a slight, quick movement nearby, and whips around.  She sees a little white shape at the end of the hall. The shape stands up and saunters on velvet feet through the doorway behind it. Magpie feels a pinch in her heart as recognition sets in… Scarlet. Scarlet has come to guide her one last time.  Magpie walks cautiously down the long hallway to the very last door.  Squinting in the fading light, she sees something carved into the wood of the door.  She steps closer and traces the outline of the carving with her finger; it is a swallow, its wings stretched out in flight.  This has to be Farfalla’s room! She takes a deep breath, wondering what she will find inside…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 23 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell – will Magpie find the bell in time to save the town of Pocket from the silence’s growing reach? Be sure to subscribe so you can find out! 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual, and unexplained, experience. In today’s episode we will recount a very frightening experience at a childhood home near the end of the cul-de-sac on Edgar Street.

Music: Nightbridge and The Lady in the Room by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

We moved into the house on Edgar Street in 1989 or 1990 when I was 9 years old.

I’ve always had a great imagination, perhaps this story could be chalked up to that, but… well, I’ll let you decide.

Edgar street is located in a small city in Ontario, Canada. One end of it abuts the main highway through town, and the opposite side ends in a cul-de-sac. There is only one street intersecting Edgar Street, but it doesn’t go through, causing the two streets to form a T shape with Edgar as the top part. With these geographical characteristics, Edgar Street is rather quiet, with only people who live there, or their guests, ever driving on it. 

Our house is second last to the cul-de-sac. The cul-de-sac itself doesn’t have any houses on it, instead it is surrounded by a playground with a large grassy area that stretches nearly the length of a football field back to a winding creek. On either side are of the grassy area are fields with apple trees, rose bushes, tall grass, and dirt paths where neighbourhood kids ride their bikes. There are several kids on our block, and we love hanging out on the playground and exploring the abandoned barn behind the houses across the street from me, or catching whirly bugs and frogs down by the creek.

The house itself is a two-story house, with two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, living room, kitchen and bathroom on the main floor, and a family room and bedroom in the basement. My bedroom is located upstairs at the front of the house. The ceiling slopes and there is a dormer window looking out at the street. Across the hall from my room is my parents’ room, whose windows look out at our backyard and the fields and creek beyond. Outside my bedroom door, there is a short hallway that leads to the stairway going downstairs on the right, and the bathroom on the left at the top of the stairs.

I don’t remember at which point I started seeing the women, but I remember what they looked like very vividly. At night, there would be an old woman in the hallway between my bedroom and the bathroom – which was rather problematic. She wore a long dark cloak type garment and would stand with her back to me as I peeked out my bedroom door. Then, when I would step out into the hallway, she would turn, her face completely covered with deep wrinkles, and she would smile. This is the scariest part – when she would smile, her loose, rotten teeth would fall out to the floor one by one. I would run back to my bed and hide under the covers. Thankfully she never left her spot in the hallway at the top of the stairs to follow me into my room, but I spent many a night holding my bladder because I didn’t want to encounter her.

In stark contrast, there was a completely different character in my parents’ room who I dubbed “The white lady”. I would only see her if I was outside playing in our backyard, whether I was running through a sprinkler in the summer, or making an obstacle course for my dog out of the mounds of snow that would fall in the winter months. I would look up at my parents’ bedroom window on the second floor, and she would be looking down at me with a gentle smile. She wore a long white dress and had pretty long hair. In my memory, she kind of glowed a bit, and there was no colour to her. I was never afraid of the white lady, and often wished it was her in the hallway at night rather than the old lady with the rotting teeth.

These encounters happened several times over the two years or so that we lived in that house. I never talked about it with anyone, unsure of whether I was actually seeing these things or whether I was dreaming or imagining them. 

Looking back I’m inclined to think it wasn’t real, however… one thing gives me pause.

After a couple of years, my parents decided it was time to sell the house on Edgar Street. We listed the house for sale, and once it sold we bought a house out in the country. From my very first night in the new house I stopped using a nightlight, despite it being much darker in the country than in the city without streetlights to brighten the night, and I never again saw either the kind woman in white, or the old woman with the rotting teeth. I often wonder, if perhaps they are still each at their post, one in the window, one in the hallway, of the house on Edgar Street.

This week's podcast partner is Paranormal Exposed: https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

The Skylark Bell on Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/theskylarkbell

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

Official Merch Shops: http://www.melissaoliveri.com/store

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 35 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla finally saw Lucas, known to her as Marius, her long-lost love, and began devising a plan to reunite.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 35 – Roadblocks – in which Farfalla learns there are limits to Dealan-dè’s powers.

Today’s podcast partner is The Activity Continues, which started out as a recap of the television show The Dead Files, but has expanded into other areas of the wild and wonderful unexplained phenomena. You may recognize their name as they are also members of the Boopod Network and have participated in collaborations which The Skylark Bell was part of in the past. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to their podcast.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to warn myself.

I feel an endless stream of frustration every time I try. Some unknown force prevents me from appearing face to face with myself. The best I can do is project myself into mirrors. I have tried time and time again to shout my warning and have failed every time. Finally, I watched in horror as my younger self sang the song of the Oak Tree while dancing around her bedroom, with the Skylark Bell ringing outside her window, effectively sending Marius back in time. Or, as it turns out, forward in time. I let out a cry then. It was like living through his loss again. 

Once I came to terms with the fact that the only time I would ever spend with Marius were those short years in my youth, I put everything in place to ensure the events would happen exactly as I remembered. 

First, I arranged for Magpie to come into possession of the feather key that opens the box where I hid the Skylark Bell at Meadow Lane. I disguised the key as a blackberry to entice a blackbird, then commanded the bird to drop the berry into Magpie’s lap. I knew the spell wouldn’t last long, by the time Magpie got home the key would have returned to its rightful form, ready to be found.

Next, I ensured Marius came into possession of the Feather Ring so he could use it to propose to me in the apple orchard behind Meadow Lane. It pained me to remove the ring from the chain around my neck where I have kept it all these years, but it was what needed to be done. This time I called upon a crow to drop the ring at his feet while he was standing alone by the side of the road. Sure enough, he picked it up and tucked it into his pocket.

Finally, I came to the last point on the timeline. Magpie in her old age, preparing to warn her younger self not to go to Scotland with Marius, or Lucas as she calls him. I intervened and burned her letter. If Marius never goes to Carnifex House, he will never travel to 1920’s Pocket and he and I will never meet. I admit I was surprised when she grabbed my arm and time traveled a few paces into the future in one last, desperate attempt to warn her younger self, but of course her attempt failed, and her time ran out.

Despite having my plan in place, I still went back to Carnifex House regularly, hoping to see him again. For years I checked, and all I ever found was her. There she was, pining away for him… well at least for the first year. Then she gave up on him and eventually married the caretaker’s son, the one whose friend I made vanish all those years ago. I had no interest in them, so I entertained myself by visiting some old childhood friends. More specifically, I went to The Aviary School Finishing School for Girls of Distinction and paid a visit to Sadie Rhodes and Priscilla Ponceroy. I did manage to spot my younger self in the dark hallway and gave her a wink. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to myself, but even that brief moment of proximity nearly did me in. I’m not sure what balance of nature is thrown off by our paths crossing, but it has an effect of nearly unbearable physical pain on me.

I continued entertaining myself by spooking people who were unkind to their children or treated others unfairly. I would give them unsettling experiences, make them question what is real and what is imagined… I had an especially delicious bout with Agnes Sutherland! It only lasted a few weeks. I visited at night and made my face visible through her second story bedroom window. Just long enough for her to wonder if she had truly seen what she thought she saw. After a string of sleepless nights, she effectively lost her mind. Don’t worry, it was a temporary situation. But that’ll teach her to take my belongings and throw me in the back of a cart!

I also paid a few visits to younger Magpie. I find a certain thrill in making the girl uneasy. At first, I made an appearance in the window at Meadow Lane, waiting for her to catch a fleeting glimpse of me before disappearing. Then, to my delight, I discovered that I am capable of not only imparting visions on her, but also inserting myself into those visions. I followed her to London and appeared to her on a cobblestone street. There, I told her that the silence at Meadow Lane had not even begun. Oh, you should have seen the scared, confused look on her face! It was positively delightful!  Now, now, don’t get cross with me, I was just having a little harmless fun!

Anyway, I eventually lost interest in playing the role of the avenger, and settled into a humble routine in the forest, occasionally checking on the inhabitants of Carnifex House through the years. Frannie turned into a beautiful, independent young lady. She became passionate about writing and literature. She married a local man named Preston Maxwell, and they moved into Carnifex House after Donald and Isabella passed on. I visited her one night as she slept and saw a book on her nightstand. I just about fell over when I saw its cover: The Skye La rk Belle, by Frances Annabelle Maxwell. All those years of Mama reading the book to me, and I’d never thought to make note of the author. Frannie, the little girl who was indirectly responsible for my being thrown off a cliff, had written my favourite childhood story. Only it wasn’t a story at all, it was a biography, I just didn’t know it at the time.

Felix grew up and moved to the mainland, excited to get away from the tragedy and strange occurrences that hang over Carnifex House. He became a successful businessman, then married and had a son, George Archibald. James’ uncle, who must have, at some point, returned to live out his days on the island, then passed the property down to James. Poor, sweet James.

Finally, one day, Marius returned. I saw him stumble into the house. I’m not sure how I missed his arrival, he would have appeared under the arch in the forest, but perhaps after all those years I finally let my guard down somewhat. Finally gave up hope. Of course, he went straight to her, but I smiled knowing he would find her now nearly twice his age.

A few weeks later they ventured into the woods. They talked about their plan as they walked. She would go back in time to prevent him from ever going for a ride that fateful day, and everything would be made right. I giggled inwardly at their naivety. There’s no way I will ever let that happen. Despite his disappearance, the time I spent with Marius in my youth was the most beautiful time in my life. I will not let anything alter the past, nor the future I envision for us now. I watched as she stepped under the arch, then I sang the song of the Oak Tree and sent her on a wild goose chase through time. I was quite pleased with myself that day!

I figure I will give him a couple of days to decompress before coming to him. 

Finally, at long last, we will be together.

~~~~~~

Farfalla watches from afar as Marius winds his way through the woods. She pulls her last acorn from the Ancient Oak out of her pocket and directs a squirrel to drop it at his feet. As expected, he stops in his tracks and takes a moment to bend and take it into his palm. He tucks it in his pocket before moving on, just as he did with the feather ring all those years ago. Farfalla assumes her position under the arch, quivering with excitement, and waits for him to round the bend. She takes a deep, nervous breath. She is certain he will recognize her, being trapped in the Ancient Oak has caused her body to remain frozen in time, the years having no effect on her outward appearance. Farfalla feels her heart pounding, she and Marius are mere moments away from being reunited and fulfilling their destiny together. He will shout with joy when he sees her and spin her in his arms like he did that night in the apple orchard when he asked her to marry him. They will hold each other, and laugh, and cry, and tell stories of their years apart. They will celebrate the holidays with music and dancing like they did at Meadow Lane. They will go for rides on horseback and race through the fields, the wind whipping their hair across their joyful faces…

Farfalla peeks over her shoulder. Marius is taking an awfully long time, perhaps he has made a wrong turn. She begins softly humming the song of the Oak Tree, both to pass the time, and to help guide him. Within minutes, she hears his boots scraping the dirt path behind her. She feels Marius’ gaze land on her back and a smile stretches across her face.

“Magpie! I knew you’d come back!”

The words, the name, pierce through her chest like a dagger made of ice. She feels her entire body stiffen, her fingers curl into fists. Of course, he is expecting her, hoping for her! What a fool she was ever thinking he would hope for anyone other than his precious Magpie! From the beginning it was always about Magpie! Did she, Farfalla, ever mean anything to him at all, or was she simply a convenient replacement when he could no longer have the real thing?! What a fool she’d been, all these years, thinking he was ever in love with her.

Farfalla spins on her heel, rage boiling from her toes to the top of her head. She stares him straight in the eye, shouting the thought straight from her mind to his: I. Am. Not. Magpie! She continues her singing, but somehow it turns into a high-pitched, chaotic whistling sound. She watches as recognition washes over his face. “Farfalla?” he whispers. Immediately Farfalla corrects him in her mind. Dealan-dè. Farfalla is no more. There is only Dealan-dè now. In a blind rage, she grabs the Skylark Bell from the folds of her robe and holds it high above her head. She somehow simultaneously continues to sing while letting out a shriek as she violently throws the bell to the ground, causing a blinding flash of light. The earth heaves under her feet, she can feel the motion in the air around her.

Once the movement subsides, she opens her eyes to look around. 

Marius is gone.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 36 – Time Loops – in which Farfalla devises a plan to preserve the time in her youth when she and Marius were together, no matter the cost.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. Leaving a rating or a review on your preferred podcast platform is incredibly helpful in helping the podcast gain visibility so others can find and enjoy the story of The Skylark Bell, it’s a quick, easy, and free way to support my work. If you’d like to support me further, you can also subscribe to Patreon, where you’ll get early access to ad-free episodes as well as digital downloads of my music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! And be sure to follow me on social media for updates, I love to connect with listeners... Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

In our last episode, Magpie heard the story of Meadow Lane straight from Farfalla herself, and learned of the devastation caused by the terrible winter of 1925, and how Marius’ disappearance lead to the silence that fell upon the farm.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 21 – Where Magpie learns only she can stop the silence from spreading to the entire town. 

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 21 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

 In our last episode, Magpie heard the story of Meadow Lane straight from Farfalla herself, and learned of the devastation caused by the terrible winter of 1925, and how Marius’ disappearance lead to the silence that fell upon the farm.

 In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 21 – Where Magpie learns only she can stop the silence from spreading to the entire town. 

 So get cozy… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started

Devasted at the tragic loss of her fiance, her home, and all the beautiful sights and sounds she had grown up with, Farfalla’s family moved out of town, hoping for a fresh start.  Farfalla remained, working as a gardener for various families and businesses. Eventually, the silence at Meadow Lane was discovered, and, out of fear, the residence of Pocket shunned Farfalla, shutting her out completely, hardly ever speaking to her. One day, she ran into James Carnifex, who was in town on business. He explained that he and his mother had moved to England several years prior, but that he never felt at home there, and always wanted to return to Pocket.  They agreed to meet the next day for tea.  Then again the day after that… After a brief courting period, he and Farfalla married; soon after which they had a child, Elisabeth.  Farfalla thought she had found happiness again in their small house around the corner from the bakery.  She sold blackberry jam at the market and knitted scarves, gloves and shawls to sell at the general store.  Farfalla fell into a humble life with a comfortable routine, an managed to put her tragic past behind her. But tragedy has a way of catching up. 

When Elisabeth was two years old, James and Farfalla got word that one of James’ relatives had passed away, leaving James his property on a remote Scottish island.  Farfalla brought Elisabeth to stay with her sister, Paloma, who would watch Elisabeth at her apartment in the city while she and James sailed to Scotland to settle their affairs. 

Elisabeth lived happily with Paloma, who was only too happy to pay the doting aunt.  One day, several weeks later, Paloma received an unexpected letter in the mail:

18th October, 1932

Dear Ms Shearwater,

My son James and I had not spoken for several years, and I was unaware of his marriage to your sister until recent tragic events. 

My family and I left Pocket years ago, and I made a promise to myself that I would keep James away from   the tragedy that hangs over the town. My persistance lead to our falling out, and he distanced himself       from me completely. And now, I see even an ocean cannot spare me from the tragedy that hangs over Pocket.

I regret to inform you that James and your sister are presumed to have passed away, their boat never having made the crossing to the remote Scottish island they were travelling to.  Though no bodies have been recovered, wreckage of the boat was found on the shore.  My heart is shattered, this is a great loss for all involved. All I ever wanted to do was protect him, and it drove him away, to the very place I was protecting him from.

I apologize for the delay in getting this information to you.  As I said, I was unaware of my son’s marriage, and took quite some time find your contact information.  

Please accept my most sincere condolences,

Charlotte Carnifex

James and Farfalla were gone, and had not left instructions or funds behind for their daughter’s care. Needing to find the means to provide for her young neice, Paloma moved to the city to find work, and proceeded to raise Elizabeth as her own.  

Elizabeth grew up and wed a kind man who owned a shoe repair shop in the city. They eventually welcomed a daughter, Lillian. Elizabeth lived a very happy life with her husband in the hustle and bustle of the big city, working in an upscale department store helping ladies choose the perfect new shade of lipstick, or gloves to match their outfits. The years flew by, a swirl of birthdays, celebrations, weddings, funerals… then came the day when Lilian left home to go to art school. Having lost her husband a few years prior, Elizabeth felt quite alone as she rattled around the large, echoing spaces of her apartment. 

Around that same time, Elizabeth received a strange letter in the mail from a woman claiming to be her mother.  Paloma, the woman who had raised her from early childhood, had passed away many years prior, but had mentioned to Elizabeth once that her parents, James and Farfalla, had perished while attempting to reach a remote Scottish island by boat. Though she knew the chances of this letter being true were very slim, Elizabeth, perhaps out of a sharp bout of loneliness, decided to write back.  This sparked a chain of correspondence that would last years, and lead to a beautiful long-distance friendship between Elizabeth and Farfalla. Though she cherished the newfound camaraderie with the author of these letters, Elizabeth never told her daughter about them. It didn’t matter to her whether or not the author of the letters truly was her mother, the letters came at a time in her life when she needed them most.  They were private, special moments that she kept entirely to herself. 

After several years, Elizabeth’s letters stopped coming, and Farfalla eventually learned that Elizabeth had passed away. 

After that, I just kept quietly to myself, going about my daily business here in Pocket.” Says Farfalla, a faraway look in her eye.

“My Grandmother’s name was Lilian, and my Great-Grandmother’s name was Elizabeth… and the people who built my house were Edward and Charlotte Carnifex, and their son’s name was James…” says Magpie, finally putting all the pieces together. “But wait, where were you all those years? What happened with the boat?! And how did you find Elizabeth again after all that time?” Asks Magpie, a multitude of questions swirling in her head.  

 “Those are things for a different time” says Farfalla quietly, leaning back in her seat.  Telling her story has surely taken a lot of effort, but Magpie can’t help but think that there’s something more… She sits for a moment, letting it all sink in.  Could it be true?  Could she really be a descendant of the last resident of Meadow Lane?

“You get the visions, I presume,” adds Farfalla, a sly smile teasing the corner of her mouth.

Magpie sits straight up, like a bolt of lightening has hit her.  After a brief moment of stunned silence she whispers, “I’ve seen Marius by the pond.”  She swallows the lump in her throat before adding, “I’ve never told anyone about the visions, how could you know?”

“We have far more in common than you think,” replies Farfalla, a mysterious twinkle in her eye.  “There will be plenty of time later to sort out these things, but right now we have important matters to attend to.  Something was sparked when you arrived in Pocket, the silence at Meadow Lane has started to spread.  I’m sure you have noticed some sounds disappear, the residents have noticed too, you can seen the fear in their eyes!  There is much more to this than just silence, and there is only one way to stop it.  You must go to Meadow Lane and find the Skylark Bell, then ring it, loud and clear, to break the silence before it reaches any further.  Then…” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “…then everything will find its way, in time.”

“But… but… none of this makes any sense!  How is it even possible?!  I can’t… I mean… I’m just me… I’m not special, I’m just… I’m just… scared,” admits Magpie, the weight of the responsibility she has just been given finally becoming clear.

Farfalla gently takes both of Magpie’s hands in hers, looks deeply into her eyes and in a firm voice reiterates, “You are the only one who can stop the silence from spreading. Everyone in Pocket is depending on you, and I know for a fact that you will succeed, now fly, sweet bird!”

With that, Farfalla folds her arms, gently closes her eyes, and falls back into silence.  The conversation is over.

Magpie sneaks out of the diner, unnoticed, and races toward Meadow Lane.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for our 6th installment of Fantome Friday where we will tell the story of The House on Edgar Street

Then, the following week, we will pursue our adventure and read Chapter 22 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell – This is how Ghosts must feel. will Magpie succeed in ringing the Skylark Bell and ending the silence at Meadow Lane once and for all?

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today's episode, Magpie finally learns more about the history of Meadow Lane, Farfalla, Marius, and the terrible winter of 1925 - straight from Farfalla herself!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 20 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie had a very unsettling encounter with Lucas’ Grandmother, and realized the silence appears to be spreading from Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 20 – Where Magpie finally learns the truth about what sparked the silence at Meadow Lane.

So get cozy… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started!

Farfalla sits silently in the same booth she sits in every morning, but it’s now well past lunchtime.  Her usual order of blackberry waffles and sweet orange tea lays before her, but today something is different.  She sits, looking out the window, her untouched food cooling on the table.  No one has bothered to come around and take the plate away. 

Around her there is a tremendous amount of activity; the people of Pocket have convened at the diner.  Mr. Bunting is talking loudly and pacing across the dirty restaurant floor while Mr. Tuffetto and his wife sit silently looking out the window.  The rude waitress is leaning in the kitchen doorway looking pale, and the cook is sitting on one of the red counter stools, fidgeting with a pen.  The librarian, the postmaster, even people from the surrounding farms, fill every chair and booth in the restaurant.

Magpie enters the diner, wondering what all the commotion is about.  She can hear bits of hushed conversation “The silence… all of us… started when she got here…” and notices several of the peole in the diner glaring at her.  She glances toward the back of the room, and her gaze lands on Farfalla.  Farfalla gestures for Magpie to come sit in her booth.  Magpie looks around, but no one else seems to have noticed the old woman.  She does her best to ignore the chill at the back of her neck and slowly makes her way to the back of the diner. 

Magpie slips into booth across from Farfalla, who stares silently at Magpie for what feels like an interminable amount of time before, to Magpie’s tremendous surprise, she opens her mouth to speak.  

“I am happy you have returned to Pocket,” she says calmly.  Her voice doesn’t sound anything like Magpie would have imagined; not at all old and shaky, as one would expect from a woman who hasn’t spoken in decades, but rather soft, whispery and almost childlike.  Magpie looks self-consciously around the restaurant to see if anyone else has heard or noticed that Farfalla is speaking, but no one seems to even see them there.  

Magpie clears her throat nervously.  “I’m sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else, I’m new here,” she replies. 

“Ah, so you are… this time” Farfalla says, pressing her lips together, “There is much I need to tell you.”  She takes a deep breath before launching into the incredible story of what happened to the town and its people nearly a century ago.  

Farfalla’s grandparents settled near Pocket before the town even existed.  With a small orchard, winding creek and rolling fields all around, Meadow Lane was the nicest parcel of land in the area.  Farfalla’s family built a small but comfortable house at the top of the long, sloping hill.  It was warm and inviting, and with windows on each side it let in the bright orange, yellow, pink and purple light of each sunrise and sunset.  For years her family enjoyed the sights and sounds of birds, wildlife, sunshine, stars, wind, children, music... 

As a child, Farfalla spent all her time outdoors, learning the language of the skylarks and singing to them in the forest.  It was said that Farfalla had the most beautiful voice anyone had ever heard, and that she could even hypnotize animals with it. The Skylarks would reply and together they would share their most closely held secrets.  She ran like the wind through the tall grass, her lungs filling with the fragrant scent of wild roses and apple blossoms.  Most days, Farfalla would stop at Mirror Pond to take in the reflection of the sky, the clouds, the birds overhead, the wind in her wild red hair and her bright blue eyes.  When that first drop of rain would hit the pond those images would all swirl together, making her feel like she was intricately woven into the fabric of nature around her. 

The summer Farfalla turned 18 was the summer she met Marius Corbeau.  The stories said that Marius had come from Europe a few years prior and had simply appeard in Pocket one day on the back of his striking horse. Farfalla first laid eyes on him while perched on a tree branch in the blossoming orchard.  The sound of hooves on the dirt path made her look down from the tree and there she saw him:  Dark, wavy hair, cool gray eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief but somehow still soft enough to put her at ease, sitting tall in the saddle on a large, black horse with a white mane and tail. She’d never seen anything like either of them before.  She climbed down from the tree as he hopped to the ground.  Their eyes met and a cluster of butterflies took flight in her stomach.  They made brief introductions and walked through the orchard, talking and laughing like old friends within minutes.  Marius came to visit her every day.  They would sit together on Cormorant’s back and gallop through the vast fields and forests, her fiery red hair flowing in the wind. They would picnic by the river, pick apples from the orchard, and watch the sunset from the bridge, their love blossoming as the weeks went by.

That autumn, Farfalla’s family hosted a celebration at the farm with nearly every resident of Pocket in attendance.  The people sang, danced, ate and celebrated well into the night. At the peak of the party, Marius asked Farfalla to come outside with him for a breath of fresh air.  Once there, he handed her a lantern and lead her to the apple orchard behind the house. It was there, by the light of the moon, in the place where they first laid eyes on one another, that he asked her to be his wife.  Farfalla was only too eager to accept, she thought her heart was going to burst with joy.  Because Marius hadn’t yet asked Mr. Shearwater for Farfalla’s hand in marriage, they kept their engagement a secret and agreed to wed the following spring.  Life on Meadow Lane could not have been more perfect… until winter came.

When Christmas came, Marius gifted Farfalla a bell. He explained that the bell had come from Scotland and that it was very old, and said to harbour some mystical powers. The bell was etched with Scottish Gaelic words, which neither of them could read, and flying birds spiraling around.  Marius had spent weeks working on the beautifully carved wooden skylark that the bell was attached to.  Farfalla cherished that bell more than anything.  It hung in her window where the breeze would make it chime as she and the skylarks sang along.

It was a long, harsh winter.  The wind was relentless and the cold only seemed to get deeper and deeper as the weeks went by.  There was a tragic fire at the farm by the creek which took a life, sending the entire population of Pocket reeling.  People were starting to panic, they were running out of food, running out of firewood, and there were reports of some families nearly freezing to death. The residents of Pocket held an emergency town hall meeting. They were getting desperate, everyone was running out of wood to heat their homes and the farm on Meadow Lane was the only one in the area with any mature trees left.  The villagers decided the orchard needed to be cut down for firewood or none of them would survive the winter. This broke Farfalla’s heart.  She had such fond memories of dancing among the apple blossoms every spring, and picking crisp, sweet apples every fall, and of course it was among those very trees that she had first laid eyes on Marius…

One stormy night, as the snow was acumulating higher than anyone had ever seen, Farfalla heard a loud knock at the door. So as not to let in the cold, Mr. Shearwater spoke with the person outside for a brief moment through a crack in the door.  Glancing back at Farfalla, he grabbed his coat and boots before letting himself out and closing the door behind him. Farfalla waited for what felt like an eternity before her father came in, stomping the snow off his boots. He slowly took off his coat and took a seat at the dining room table where she was nervously waiting.  It was there, in a soft, quiet voice, that he delivered the devastating news:  Marius had gone missing. 

Night after night she sat by the door, waiting for Marius to come to her, hoping she would at least get word from one of the townspeople that he had been found and brought home safely, but no one ever came.

Tree by tree the orchard behind the house vanished, the wood from its trees burned in the fireplaces of the surrounding homes. Soon thereafter, the animals moved away, and the birds were silenced.  Eventually, the wind disappeared, the crops died and the house started falling apart; and then the people left too.  Farfalla was devastated.  By the time her family left Meadow Lane they weren’t even speaking to one another, and all sound was gone from the land.  She hid the skylark bell in the house and shut the door behind her, never to return…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 21 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie will learn what must be done to save the town of Pocket and its residents.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 19 – A Starling in the Flowerbed - Where Lucas finds himself in a vulnerable position and asks Magpie for help, and Magpie comes to a chilling realization about the silence at Meadow Lane.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 19 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie discovered a sketch in her notebook that she did not recall drawing. The sketch protrayed Faralla by the side of the road with Lucas after his parents’ accident.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 19 – A Starling in the Flowerbed - Where Lucas finds himself in a vulnerable position and asks Magpie for help.

So get cozy… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started!

Magpie wakes up to the smell of her mom cooking breakfast. “Good morning, sunshine!” says her mom, cheerfully setting the table, “I’ve got all your favourites today!”

“Wow, what inspired all this?!” asks Magpie, surprised.  

“The Gallery in Europe, the one where I sent that canvas a few weeks ago, they just got back to me and are thrilled to feature the entire collection!”  Magpie’s mom rushes on, telling her about the details of the upcoming art exhibit.

“Mom, that’s great news!” Magpie says excitedly, digging into her breakfast.

“I thought we could have a celebratory dinner tonight, maybe invite Lucas and his Grandmother?  He seems like a very nice young man” says her mother, a twinkle in her eye 

“I would love that!” says Magpie, blushing lightly.  “Hey mom, I’m sorry to skip out on you so fast, especially after this amazing breakfast and your exciting news, but I have to head into town this morning.  Do you need me to buy anything for tonight’s dinner while I’m there?” she asks, heading to the front closet to grab a jacket.

“No need, I’ve got everything planned out,” answers Mrs. Phaeton.  “See you later!”

Outside, the cool breeze scatters a few leaves at Magpie’s feet.  She breathes in the crisp air as she walks toward Lucas’ driveway. In the distance, she sees him leaning against a fencepost near the dirt road.

“Hi Lucas!” she calls, waving at her friend.

“Hey” he answers softly, kicking at the dirt with his sneaker.

Magpie immediately senses that something is wrong.  “What’s going on?” she asks, concerned.

“It’s my grandma.”  He pauses for a moment, staring hard at Magpie like he is trying to decide whether or not to continue.  His lips tighten and he takes a deep breath.  “She does strange things sometimes… Sometimes she... She goes outside, in the middle of the night…”  Magpie can tell what he is about to confess is difficult for him.  He stops to clear his throat before pressing on, “She goes out in the middle of the night to pick flowers out of peoples gardens.  When I catch her and ask her what she’s doing, she says that she’s getting ready for the wedding. Then when I ask her what wedding, she just laughs and tells me to stop being so silly…” Magpie can hear the exasperation in Lucas’ voice.  He pauses a moment to see how Magpie will react, and she stays perfectly still, meeting his gaze. “My Grandmother’s not crazy, Magpie, really!  It’s just that… She just… I don’t know.  These last few months she just hasn’t been herself…” his voice trails off.

So this is why Lucas gets so uncomfortable when Magpie asks about his grandmother; he’s protecting her, and himself.  If she’s deemed unfit to care for him, who knows what would happen!  Where would Lucas go? Who would take care of him?  Magpie puts a comforting hand on Lucas’ shoulder.  “Lucas, where is she now?” she asks, with all the calm she can muster.

“Well, she went out again last night, but this time she didn’t come home.  She’s never been gone this long and I’m really worried about her!  I don’t want to leave the house in case she comes back…”  he says softly.

Magpie forces herself to appear confident, though Lucas is visibly shaken.  “I was just heading into town, I’ll look around for your grandma while you stay here in case she comes back, ok?  Tell me what she looks like.”

“Thanks, Magpie, you’re a good friend,” he says, forcing a smile before launching into a brief description.

Magpie gives him a hug before turning and walking toward Pocket. 

As she nears Main Street, Magpie senses something in the air, a nervous energy, like there is something very, very wrong.  Perplexed, she looks around and realises there are no people in the street.  Where is everyone?  She walks by the park and sees the swings blowing in the breeze – suddenly it hits her, they aren’t making any sound!  Magpie thinks back to her walk into town and realises she hadn’t heard a bird chirping or leaves rustling.  She hastens her step and is about a block away from the diner when she sees a woman sitting in the flowerbed of a nearby house, her head bowed down toward the ground.  Magpie immediately recognizes the description Lucas gave of his grandmother and takes a few tentative steps toward her.

“Hello, ma’am?  Excuse me?” says Magpie, a little unnerved.  The woman remains immobile and, for a moment, Magpie wonders if she is sleeping.

Suddenly, the woman whips her head up, her face twisted with rage. “It’s coming!  The silence!  It has been growing since the day you arrived and it will silence all of us.  It’s all YOUR FAULT!  YOU brought this upon us!” she shouts, pointing a pale, withered, shaky finger at Magpie.  Magpie, terrified, takes a step backward and trips on a tree root that sends her crashing to the ground.

The woman stares back down at the ground for a moment.  When she looks up again her face has changed completely. In a soft, sweet voice she says, “Hello, dear!  Are you looking to buy some flowers today?  I have daisies, pansies, brown eyed susans… I’m afraid I can’t share these though, I need them for the wedding. At long last, the wedding…”

Magpie, completely overwhelmed, is unsure what to do.  But, recalling the worried look in Lucas’ eyes, her heart softens.  They’ve grown very close over the summer, and his trust compels her to try and help his grandmother.

“I… umm… I am a friend of Lucas, and he’s very worried about you.  He’d like for you to come home right away,” she manages to spit out as she scrambles to her feet.

“Oh Marius, always looking out for his grandmother,” says the woman, smiling.  She pulls herself out of the flower bed, bits of grass and dirt falling from the skirt of her dress, and starts walking down the road, mumbling about lilies and frangipani.

Marius??  Clearly the woman isn’t in her right mind, but why would she confuse Lucas and Marius?!  Magpie follows the old woman from a distance, tracing back the steps she took to get here and walking back toward home.  At last she sees Lucas, who walks to his grandmother, and takes her by the hand as they make their way back up the long tree-lined driveway to their house.  Once they are out of sight, Magpie thinks back and realises the old woman’s footsteps didn’t make any noise as she shuffled down the gravel road…

Perplexed, and more than a little concerned, Magpie squares her shoulders and turns on her heel, heading right back into town with determination.  It is time to get some answers.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 20 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where the residents of Pocket are in a panic as the silence starts spreading from Meadow Lane, and Magpie learns something that will alter everything she knows about Pocket, Meadow Lane, and herself!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

This bonus chapter was written and added to the first book after books 2 and 3 were completed. It introduces some new characters which will tie in to the story as we work through the next 2 books.

In this bonus chapter Magpie and Lucas gather around the fire with the Bunting brothers and Sydney Finch to tell unsettling stories. 

Make yourself a s'more, join us by the crackling fire, and enjoy!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: A bonus episode of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In today’s episode we read a bonus Chapter called Disappearances - where Magpie, Lucas, the Bunting brothers, and Sydney Finch sit by the fire and tell tales of the house at Meadow Lane.

So get settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

“I could’ve sworn it was right here!” says Lucas, his finger flipping through the books on the bookshelf. He and Magpie have returned to the library to look for the mysterious book about The Skye Lark Belle. 

“I’ll go ask the librarian, maybe she can help,” says Magpie, walking over to the front desk. She returns a few minutes later, a look of confusion on her face.

“What did she say?” asks Lucas.

“She said she’s never heard of it, but she checked the system and the card files just in case, but there is no book with that title, or any variation of that title, in this library,” replies Magpie.

“But, we both saw it, right here on the shelf!” says Lucas.

“That wasn’t the first time I saw it, either…” says Magpie, surprising herself at the confession.

“What do you mean?” asks Lucas, turning toward her, surprised.

“I saw it in a dream, a few weeks ago,” says Magpie, staring at the ground, afraid of Lucas’ reaction,.

“That’s amazing! What was the dream about?” asks Lucas, genuinely interested, and not a hint of disbelief in his voice. Magpie proceeds to tell him about the terrifying dream, leaving nothing out. They sit in silence for a while once she is finished.

“Hey! I thought I saw you two walking in here!” booms a voice nearby, making both Lucas and Magpie jump. Bo Bunting saunters over, completely oblivious to the stern look from the librarian his loud call has earned him.

“Bo!” whispers Lucas, hoping to lead by example, “Magpie and I were just doing a bit of research for…”

“…for my mom, she’s doing a series of paintings based on Pocket and we thought we’d look into some of its history,” Magpie cuts in. Lucas gives her a wink, and she feels a warmth wash through her.

“Billy and Sydney Finch are at Mirror Pond, they’re playing some kind of nerdy nature bingo game or something, I was just about to go join them, would you like to come?” asks Bo.

Magpie and Lucas look at each other, there’s nothing left for them here in the library, they might as well get out and have some fun. The trio exit the library and walk down the gravel road toward Mirror Pond. As they pass by Meadow Lane, Bo, who has been chatting the entire time, becomes unusually quiet.

“I wonder how old that tree is,” says Magpie tentatively, nodding toward the huge oak tree in the front field of Meadow Lane.

“My guess is its probably as old as my family’s store!” says Bo, though he doesn’t actually turn to look toward the tree. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say somehting more, hesitates for a moment, then closes it again.

“Over here!” comes a voice a little further ahead. Magpie looks toward the pond and sees Sydney Finch waving her arm at her, the row of colourful bracelets still on her arm. Magpie looks down at her wrist, the turquoise bracelet Sydney gave her still wrapped around it.

The sun is just starting to set in the sky as they take a seat on an old log near the pond. 

“We brought everything we need to make some s’mores!” says Billy, holding up a bag of marshmallows and a pack of graham crackers. He and Bo get to work starting a campfire while Lucas and Sydney unpack the ingredients. Magpie wanders toward some nearby bushes to find sticks for them to roast the marshmallows on. In the distance she can see Meadow Lane. She stops to stare at the house for a moment. Perhaps it’s just a trick of the light with the setting sun, but she could’ve sworn she saw a woman in the upstairs window staring out at her. Magpie shudders and hurries up to finish her task before returning to the circle. By now the campfire is crackling, spreading its warm orange glow around. Magpie hands out the sticks while Lucas circles around with the bag of marshmallows.

“Okay,” says Billy, “now it’s time for spooky stories! Who’s going to go first?” he asks, looking around the circle.

“I have one, it was told to me by my Tota,” says Sydney, and she proceeds to tell the story about a shape-shifting deer woman who lives deep in the forest who lures unsuspecting people into her enchanted realm and they are never seen or heard from again. Magpie feels a chill go down her spine, for some reason the story has affected her far more than it should, she feels a strange sense of foreboding. 

“Speaking of people never being seen or heard from again, what do you guys know about Marius Corbeau?” asks Lucas.  Magpie is surprised, Lucas has always seemed so reluctant to discuss Meadow Lane or anything related to it with anyone besides Magpie.

Bo bites his lip. “My Grandpa used to tell us stories, but he was pretty old and probably pretty confused, because they didn’t make a lot of sense. What I do know is that the story about Marius disappearing is true, and that his horse really was found. In fact, Cormorant lived out the rest of his days on your family farm, Lucas.” 

At this Lucas’ eyes grow wide. “I never knew!” he says.

Billy pipes up, “Some say Marius never really existed at all, that he was a ghost the whole time! He just appeared one day the disappeared just a suddenly. Whatever the case, they say Farfalla was devastated. They say she cursed the house and that’s why the silence…” Billy catches himself talking about the one thing Magpie has learned no one in town ever talks about. The silence at Meadow Lane.

“I think it’s unfair to blame Farfalla, no one knows what really happened,” says Sydney in her calm, comforting tone. “I would love to know more about the Skylark Bell though, some say it was a gift to Farfalla, and that it was very old. They say it had the most beautiful, perfect sound. But it disappeared when her family left Meadow Lane, and no one knows what happened to it. Some say it’s a mystical object that would end the silence,” says Sydney.

Magpie can feel the familiar tingle at the back of her neck that tells her she needs to be paying attention. The mystical Skylark Bell that rings to break the silence, and the book titled The Skye Lark Belle – Skye with an E, Belle with an E, surely there is some connection to the two, after all, they were both in her dream. Magpie is so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t realize everyone has gotten up and started packing. 

“Magpie you ready to go?” she hears Bo’s voice cut through her thoughts and looks up. She sees Lucas standing close to Sydney and feels the same tightness in her stomach she felt the first time she saw them together.

“Oh, yes,” she answers, hoping Bo didn’t notice the look on her face a moment ago. 

 “I’ll help you up,” says Lucas, quickly walking over. He holds his hands out and lifts Magpie to her feet. They stand and stare at one another for a moment and Magpie feels the tightness ease up. 

“Sydney, I can drive you home,” says Billy, “Bo, do you want to ride with us?” Bo nods and the group makes their way back to the road. Billy, Bo and Sydney hop in Billy’s pickup truck, he revs the engine and loud rock music bursts out the windows. Magpie and Lucas laugh as the truck roars down the road leaving a trail of gravel dust behind it.

“Not only do the Bunting brothers know how to make an entrance, they also know how to make an exit!” laughs Lucas, making Magpie giggle. Lucas walks Magpie across the road to the bottom of her driveway. “I hope those spooky stories around the campfire don’t give you nightmares,” he says as they are about to part ways. Magpie gets the impression Lucas isn’t quite ready to go home yet, but she isn’t sure.

“I think I’ll be fine, I’ll probably just dream of marshmallows and chocolate,” she says, winking at him. Lucas smiles, and lingers for amoment before finally wishing her goodnight and heading home.

Thank you so much for listening.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review. Either one, or both, are greatly appreciated. Thank you.

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas learned more about the terrible winter of 1925 when the Carnifex family left the town of Pocket.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 18, where Magpie finds a frightening piece of evidence hidden in a secret compartment in her fireplace, then discovers an addition to her sketchbook that she doesn’t remember making, causing her to feel afraid and overwhelmed.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Chapter   18 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas learned more about the terrible winter of 1925 when the Carnifex family left the town of Pocket.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 18 – Magpie finds a frightening piece of evidence hidden in a secret compartment in her fireplace, then discovers an addition to her sketchbook that she doesn’t remember making, causing her to feel afraid and overwhelmed.

Now settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… as we get started!

“Wow, it’s starting to feel like fall out there!” Magpie says to her mother, walking into the warm, cozy kitchen of the old farmhouse.

“It is a little chilly tonight, that wind is pretty strong,” says Mrs. Phaeton, putting down the fork in her hand.  “So, what incredible adventure were you up to today?” she asks, smiling.

“We went to the library,” Magpie answers, completely serious. 

They stare at one another for a moment, then simultaneously start laughing.

“Wow!” says her mother between giggles, “That must have been the most exciting outing of the entire summer!”  Magpie bursts into loud laughter, it feels good to be so lighthearted.  

“I love you, Mom,” she says, her voice full of appreciation.

“I love you too, honey,” says her mom, kissing her forehead tenderly.  “I almost forgot, I made us some baked potatoes for dinner.  I thought it might be nice comfort food on a cool, windy night.  What do you think?”

“I think that sounds great,” answers Magpie, grabbing utensils from the drawer. She walks to the counter and pulls out a couple of stools. “Why don’t I grab some candles, we’ll make a date of it!” she adds, walking toward the living room.  She is about to grab the candles from the bookcase when she remembers the brick by the fireplace with Charlotte Carnifex’s initials carved into it. 

Magpie walks over to the fireplace, crouching down to look closely at the brick and running her finger over the letters. Something about the brick makes it stand out from the others.  She’s never noticed before, but it seems to be smaller than the others, and a slightly different colour.  Magpie grips the brick with her fingertips and wiggles it gently from side to side.  At first it doesn’t budge, but after a few more tries she feels it shift slightly.  Tugging a little harder, Magpie manages to pull the brick out altogether and, sure enough, there is an empty space behind the it.  She reaches in and feels around gingerly, unsure of what she might find.  Her fingers rub up against a piece of paper.  She pulls it out and reaches in again, this time a little further.  She can feel something round, like a small ball or marble?  Perhaps Charlotte hid some of James’ favourite toys in here.  Magpie closes her hand around the object and pulls it out. She can tell there is something attached to the ball, like a rope or string.  She opens up her fist, excited to find out what has been tucked in the secret hiding place all these years.  Looking down, her smile fades and the colour quickly drains from her face.  Laying in her outstretched hand are the remnants of a dusty, worn collar, a small round bell attached to it.  She hears a soft noise above her head and looks up to see Scarlet sitting on the mantle, the exact same collar around her neck.  

Feeling slightly dizzy, Magpie shoves the collar back into hole and puts the brick back in its place.  She takes a few steps back and lets herself fall into the couch before unfolding the piece of paper in her trembling hand. She instantly recognizes Charlotte’s handwriting:

8th July, 1926

I am heartbroken. I have come to this house, which was once filled with joy, only to find complete and utter devastation.  My husband was unable to find work after we left so we moved from town to town; after several months he fell ill, and I now find myself a widow.  I returned to Pocket hoping to find solace, and perhaps even help, but have found the town to be just as devastated as I am.

 To add to the grief; upon my arrival today, I found Cerise’s collar in the rose bush by the shed.  I can only imagine that she is gone forever.  This was her home, her collar belongs here.  I cry at the thought that I will never again hear the sound of this bell.

 I will close the door behind me today and never return.  I refuse to look back.  I have decided to return to England, to live with my sister and her family.  For the sake of my son, James, I must show strength and resilience.

Farewell,

Charlotte Carnifex

“Magpie, I’ve been calling for you, dinner’s getting cold!” says Mrs. Phaeton from the doorway, “Did you find the candles?”

“I’m sorry mom, I got a little distracted,” she says, swallowing the lump in her throat, “here, I’ve got them.”  She glances back up at the mantle, but Scarlet has once again disappeared.  Magpie grabs the candles and walks back to the kitchen for dinner, but even the warm food can’t erase the chill she is feeling.  She helps her mother tidy up before excusing herself and heading up to her room.

Magpie pulls Charlotte’s letter out of her pocket and reaches for her notebook under the mattress.  She sits on her bed, about to tuck the letter at the back of the book, when she notices one of the page corners is folded.  She flips through the pages and lands on the drawing of Lucas by the car.  Her heart skips a beat as she stares at the page in disbelief.  There, behind the little boy, with a hand on each shoulder, is a woman with long hair spiraling down to her waist.  She is staring straight ahead, like she is looking out of the notebook and making eye contact with Magpie.  “I didn’t draw this!” she says out loud, slamming the notebook shut and throwing it across the room. Scarlet appears out of nowhere and walks over to the book.  She turns to face Magpie, her gaze unwavering, and sits down next to the book.  “I don’t understand what’s happening!  I feel like I’m going crazy!  The things that are happening aren’t possible.  You aren’t possible!” she shouts, directing all her fear and panic at the cat.  Scarlet stays next to the notebook, completely immobile, never breaking her eye contact with Magpie.

Magpie takes a few deep breaths and walks back toward the cat.  She sits on the floor and Scarlet immediately curls up in her lap. Magpie lets the sound of Scarlet’s purring calm her down before picking up the notebook and opening it to the sketch of the boy with the car.  She stares at the mysterious woman.  “Who are you?” she whispers.  The pencil outline of the woman’s mouth doesn’t move, but Magpie hears a voice whisper in her ear; “You know who I am, look more closely.”  For some reason, Magpie feels completely calm, and bends to look more closely at the sketch.  The woman’s hair flying around her face suddenly triggers a memory.  The day she and her mother were walking into the diner, in the doorway, the old woman with snow-white hair blowing in the breeze… The woman in her sketch is Farfalla!  Granted, the woman in the sketch looks much younger, but now Magpie recognizes some of her features.  She puts the notebook aside and picks scarlet up from her lap.  Holding the cat at arm’s length, she looks into its bright blue eyes and says, “I need to go to Farfalla, don’t I?”  The cat blinks and lets out a soft meow. Magpie gives her a soft kiss on top of the head, and holds her close to her chest for a moment, feeling the warmth emanating from her body. 

“Thank you, Scarlet.  You can go now...” she says before giving the cat one more hug and placing her gently on the floor.

The cat looks at her one last time, then turns and walks out the door.  Magpie’s heart sinks, she’s certain she’ll never see Scarlet again.  She turns out the lights and goes to bed, now knowing what she needs to do.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 19 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where things in the town of Pocket start to unravel and the threat of the silence at Meadow Lane becomes very real.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we will recount a series of strange events, or glitches, that came to us from Amy, host of our partner podcasts, Collected Sounds and Volsteadland.

Music: Nightbridge and Glitch by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual, and unexplained, experience.

Before we dive into today’s episode, I want to tell you about the real-life person behind the mysterious presence I encountered in our last Fantome Friday episode, The Bootleggers. He was known as Kid Cann, among many other names, and was quite influential here in Minneapolis in his heyday. My friend Amy over at Collected Sounds is putting together a podcast called Volsteadland which will take a deeper dive into this character. Be sure to check it out!

In today’s episode we will recount a series of strange events, or glitches, that came to us from Amy, host of our partner podcasts, Collected Sounds and Volsteadland.

I’d also like to let you know that I recently had the pleasure of being interviewed by Ken Volante for his podcast Something Rather Than Nothing. My interview is Episode 94 and is titled Melissa Oliveri. Something Rather Than Nothing is available on all major podcast platforms, I’d be honoured if you gave it a listen.

Now, it’s time to get settled in. Grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

It was September 13th, 2020 when I decided I should start keeping track of these things. I didn't really think I needed to, I didn’t really see a pattern, until the scissors.

As I’m writing this, I realize that all these things all happened in September. Different years, but always September. Strange…

The first incident happened about 3 years ago, shortly after we moved into our new house. I was looking for my pill box. I knew I had recently gotten a new prescription and filled up two little pillboxes, I just couldn't find one of them. I distinctly remembered putting it on a shelf in the hall closet on the main floor, but it wasn't there. I searched the entire house, my purses, drawers, medicine cabinets, everywhere! The box was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I ended up having to fill a new prescription. A few days later I came home with the new prescription and went to put it away in the hall closet and, sitting there right in front of me, was the lost pill box, exactly where I remembered putting it. Exactly where I had looked for it several times.

The next glitch occurred last fall. I was downstairs and glanced at our Echo Show, noting that the time said 2:58pm. I went outside and did some planting of vegetables and repotted some plants. I felt like I was out there for at least 20 minutes. When I came back in, I looked at the same clock on the Echo, and the time read 3:00pm. I was shocked. I know for a fact I was out there more than 2 minutes since I was listening to music on the outdoor speakers and heard at least 3 songs. This is a whole new level of losing track of time!

A few days after the time incident I was washing dishes and putting things away. I cleaned both pairs of scissors and put one away in the butcher block and left the other to dry in the rack before putting it away in the drawer. I started wiping down the counter as my husband came in to help me with dinner. He was arranging things on the stove and handed me something to wash. I took it from him then looked down at my hand in shock – he had handed me the scissors that I had just washed and put away, only they were dirty. There is no way he could have gotten the scissors from where I had left them without me noticing because I was standing next to the butcher block and the drying rack the whole time! I was too stunned to even figure out which of the two pairs of scissors he had handed me, I just did my best to shake off the troubling sense of déjà vu as I washed them… again.

A few weeks after the scissor incident, I got a notice on my phone that I had an email from my friend Melissa. I didn't read it right away as we were eating dinner. A few moments later I got a text from Melissa saying "I just sent you an email and I forgot to say..." – the timestamp on the text was 5:49pm. Just over an hour later, at 7:08pm, I got another message from her saying, "I just got home and when I looked at my computer, I realized my email hadn't been sent! Sending it now." But when I checked my email account the message was there and time stamped 5:43pm, just moments before Melissa’s original text telling me she sent it. How did I get the email at 5:43pm when she didn't actually send it until 7:08pm?

The next evening my husband and I were shutting down the basement before going up to bed. I made a point to close the curtains for privacy, knowing that I would be taking a shower the next morning. There is a small bell attached to the door leading outside for the dogs to ring when they want to go out. The window is quite wide, I have to walk several paces to get from one side to the other. I pulled the left side closed first. Just as I finished pulling the right side closed, I heard the dog bell ring. I was standing at least 15 feet away from the door. It was notable because I’d never heard the bell ring before as I was closing the curtains, and I happened after I had already started to walk away from the window, but I didn’t turn back to look. When I went downstairs the next morning the curtain was pulled back open. I asked my husband if he had been downstairs overnight, and he told me he had not. 

About one week after the curtain incident, I was working in the basement office downstairs. I stepped away for a moment to take a break upstairs. As I was walking back to my office, I noticed that my large, bright orange water cup was on the bar in the main area of the basement. It dawned on me that I should have grabbed it and brought it into the office with me, but I was walking quickly and had already past it. I told myself I would grab it next time I stepped out for a break. I walked back into my office and froze in shock - the large, bright orange cup, the same one I had just walked past in a different room one moment ago, was sitting on my desk.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we resume our adventures in Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell.  In last week’s episode, Magpie and Lucas spent some time in the archives at the library and learned more about the terrible winter of 1925 when the Carnifex family left the town of Pocket.

 Next week we read Chapter 18 – The Sketch, where Magpie finds a frightening piece of evidence hidden in a secret compartment in her fireplace, then discovers an addition to her sketchbook that she doesn’t remember making, causing her to feel afraid and overwhelmed.

Don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want miss a thing! And now, an original song by Cannelle inspired by today’s story – here is “Glitch”

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 17 – Hidden in the Archives, Where Magpie and Lucas dig through the archives at the local library in an attempt to find out what happened to the Carnifex family.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 17 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.   

In our last episode, a mysterious feather shaped key appeared in the picnic basket where Magpie had placed a blackberry which, earlier that day, had been dropped in her lap by a bird. And Scarlet seemed to have a hand in causing Magpie to add to her sketchbook, while still completely asleep! 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 17 – Hidden in the Archives, Where Magpie and Lucas dig through the archives at the local library in an attempt to find out what happened to the Carnifex family.

It’s that wonderful time… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started!

“Sorry if I was short on the phone last night,” says Lucas as they make their way toward town.

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” says Magpie nonchalantly.  Lucas looks like he is about to say something more, but his lips press together, and he keeps walking in silence.  “I hope we can find out more information about Charlotte Carnifex and the terrible winter she mentioned in her letter,” says Magpie, breaking the silence.

“Me too!  I wonder what happened to her and her family, where they ended up,” says Lucas, his tone far more relaxed.

They stride up the long, tree-lined path to the library doors, the lawn where they had a picnic the previous day stretching to their left.  Lucas and Magpie enter through the ornate double doors, the stained-glass windows above reflect a multitude of colours on the entryway tile as they make their way to the librarian’s desk.

“Excuse me, where can we find newspaper archives from about 100 years ago?” Lucas asks the librarian in a hushed voice.

“Oh dear, I’m afraid most of those were lost when the old library burned down!  You’re welcome to take a look at what’s left, and we do carry a few books about the history of Pocket if you would like to look at those,” she says.

Lucas and Magpie exchange a brief look of frustration before nodding at her.  She guides them to a small, narrow shelf at the back of the library. There, they find about a dozen books relating to Pocket, most of them about some of its more notable inhabitants, like the Original members of the Bunting Family who opened the general store, and the Swift Family, who originally founded the school. 

“I had no idea Mr. Swift was related to the people who opened the school!” says Lucas, surprised.

“Well, you said yourself the families have been here for generations!” she says, playfully.  “I’m going to take a look at what’s left of the archives,” she adds, walking to a small nook in the corner of the library.

They spend hours scanning through books and old newspapers.  There are very few newspapers from before the fire, and the only thing of interest Magpie finds is a short article about the disappearance of Marius Corbeau, but it doesn’t mention anything she doesn’t already know; that his horse, Cormorant, was found wandering near the road but that Marius himself was nowhere to be found and hadn’t been seen or heard from since.

Magpie is about to give up on their research when Lucas finally waves at her to come look over his shoulder.  “I found something!” he whispers excitedly as she gets closer.  He points to a badly yellowing page in a small, crinkled book that had been tucked in the back corner of the shelf.  Magpie silently reads through the first few paragraphs. 

“Wow, this says the winter of 1925 was the worst on record, and that several people died from the cold!  That’s the same year Charlotte Carnifex wrote her letter!” she says, looking up from the page.

“And look here, it mentions that old house near the barn,” says Lucas, pointing, “the family was trying to keep warm with candles and their house caught fire.  It says the father initially made it out but ran back inside to try and save the family dog and never returned.”

 “How horrific!” she exclaims.

“Did you read the part about how several families left the area?  It also says several homes were broken into by people passing through town, they must have known they’d never get caught,” he says with disgust.  “Edward Carnifex was right, good thing he sealed up the door to the attic,” he adds.

“No wonder the people of Pocket are so weary of strangers,” says Magpie.  “Does it say anything about the Carnifex family specifically?”

Lucas reads on for a few more pages then looks up at her, shaking his head.  “No, it does mention them briefly as the original owners of the farmhouse where you now live, and it lists them with the people who left town that winter, but then it’s like they fell off the face of the earth.”  Lucas flips through the pages with his thumb and stops a few chapters further “Here’s a list of homeowners throughout the years for most of the surrounding farms.  It looks like almost all of them have been in the same family for generations, but yours, for some reason…” his brow furrows and he leans closer to the book, squinting, “…it isn’t listed.  Isn’t that strange?” he says, looking up at her.

Magpie shrugs, “Maybe because it’s on the outskirts of town, no one has ever paid much attention to it. It’s like it doesn’t belong…” she says, looking down at her feet.

“Is that how you feel?” he asks, looking at her intently.

“It’s how I would feel if I didn’t have you,” she answers, looking up to meet his gaze.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, smiling at her warmly. 

“The library will be closing in five minutes,” warns the librarian, the sound of her voice making them jump.  They have been so engrossed in their research neither one of them has noticed the darkening sky through the stained glass of the library windows.  

They quickly gather their things and head out.  As they walk down the main street Magpie feels like something is off, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.  The wind whips up and swirls a few leaves around their feet; summer is definitely coming to an end.  It is now completely dark outside, and the streetlights are flickering.  As they walk by the park, Magpie hears the swings squeaking loudly back and forth, blown by the breeze. “They should really fix those, they’re so loud,” says Lucas, as if reading her mind.  Magpie looks up at him, grateful they have been able to spend so much time together this summer.  Once they reach Lucas’ driveway, they wish one another goodnight and part ways.  Magpie walks the rest of the way home, smiling. 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for the 5th installment of Fantòme Friday, where we will tell a story from the host of our sister podcast Collected Sounds, Amy, who has been experiencing inexplicable events that she has dubbed “glitches”    . Then, the following week, we will continue our adventure and read Chapter 18 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where we finally learn what it was Magpie drew in her sketchbook while she was sleepwalking!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 16 – The Feather Key, where the mystery deepens when a curious object inexplicably shows up, and Scarlet exhibits more strange behaviour.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 16 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, we learned about how Lucas lost his parents at a very young age, and that there may have been a mysterious good Samaritan with him at the time of the accident. Magpie also had another distant but uncanny encounter with Farfalla. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 16 – The Feather Key, where the mystery deepens when a curious object inexplicably shows up, and Scarlet exhibits more strange behaviour.

It’s that wonderful time… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started

Magpie kicks off her rainboots in the entryway, letting the heavy front door of her house close behind her. She puts down the picnic basket to take off her cardigan and hangs it on the coat rack next to the hall closet. She still has a warm feeling inside knowing Lucas trusts her enough to tell her about his past.  Picking up the picnic basket she makes her way to the kitchen where her mom is putting some dishes away.

“Phew, the creek was rushing pretty fast today after all the rain we had last week!” says Magpie, her cheeks flushed from being outside all day.

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with you playing near rushing water,” says her mom in a very serious voice, putting down a stack of plates.

Magpie saunters over and puts her arm around her mother’s shoulders, “Oh mom, don’t be such a worry wart!  I’m not ‘playing’, I’m exploring!  And Lucas is with me, he knows the land around here like the back of his hand!”  

Magpie’s mother takes her daughter in her arms and places a gentle kiss on her forehead, “Just promise me you’re being careful, ok?” she says, grabbing the empty picnic basket.  “How was the picnic I packed for you guys?” she inquires, quickly changing the subject.  

“It was great!  That bumbleberry pie was especially amazing, thank you so much!” answers Magpie, genuinely grateful.

“It looks like you left something in here,” says her mom, reaching into the bottom of the basket, “did you find this at the creek?”

Magpie looks puzzled for a moment, then remembers the blackberry that landed on her lap at the library.  “Oh! You mean the blackberry?” she says.

Now it’s her mother’s turn to look confused.  “Blackberry?  No, I mean this key!” she says, holding up a small, shiny, antique silver key shaped like a feather.

“I…uh…” stammers Magpie, confused, “I guess… maybe Lucas found it at the… creek.”  She grabs the key and tucks it into her pocket, doing her best to smile at her mom before rushing up the stairs. She knows very well Lucas didn’t find it at the creek because she was carrying the picnic basket while they were walking, and it was sitting right next to her the entire time they were in the barn.

She shuts her bedroom door carefully and lays on her bed before taking the tiny, mysterious key out of her pocket.  Turning it over in her hand, she notes there is no writing on it, and nothing to indicate what it might open.  Where had it come from?  And what happened to the blackberry she had tucked in the picnic basket?  Afraid of losing the small trinket, she loops it onto the silver chain her mother gave her for her birthday, and slips it back over her head, tucking the key under her shirt.  

"What is going on?!" she wonders out loud, grabbing the phone to call Lucas.  He answers on the sixth ring, just as Magpie is about to hang up.  “Lucas, do you have a second?” she asks.

“I’m just… ugh… it’s not a great time.  Can I call you back?” he asks.  

Magpie can’t tell if he sounds distracted or annoyed, and her heart sinks a little.  After their conversation earlier that day she thought she could tell him anything, but right now she’s not so sure.  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll figured it out,” she mumbles, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m sorry Magpie.  It’s just that, my Grandma… it’s complicated,” he says, his tone much softer than before.  

Magpie suddenly feels silly and childish.  “No worries, I was just wondering if you wanted to head to the library with me tomorrow, to take a look at the archives,” she says, putting the story of the feather key aside for the moment.  They agree to meet by the main road in the morning and Magpie hangs up the phone.

Magpie changes into her pyjamas and lays on her bed, running her finger along the chain on which she’s looped the feather key.  A soft jingle outside her bedroom door makes her sit up. She hears a little scratch and the door cracks open just wide enough to let Scarlet in. “Hello there!” she says happily, patting the bed for the cat to come up.  “I’m so glad you came back, I’ve missed having you around,” she says, running her hand through the cat’s soft coat.  Scarlet circles around before curling up on Magpie’s pillow. Magpie turns out the light and lays back down, her head next to the cat’s warm body. The loud purring in Magpie’s ear lulls her to sleep in a matter of minutes and she lets herself slip into deep, peaceful rest.

Halfway through the night, Scarlet lifts her head up to look at Magpie, who is sound asleep.  Scarlet stands up, stretches, and jumps down before making her way silently across the floor to the other side of the bed.  She stands on her hind legs to reach up and nudge Magpie’s hand with her nose.  Still completely asleep, Magpie sits up, her legs dangling off the side of the bed.  She stands and turns to crouch down and pull her notebook from under the mattress.  Scarlet sits on the floor in front of her, her unwavering gaze fixed directly on Magpie, who sits back on the side of the bed, her unseeing eyes staring straight ahead, and starts feverishly sketching without looking down at the open notebook on her lap.  A few minutes later, Magpie closes the book, slips it back in its hiding place, and lays back in her bed as if nothing happened.  Having seemingly completed her task, Scarlet quietly exits through the partially opened bedroom door, and disappears down the dark stairway to the main floor…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 17 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie and Lucas head to the local library archives to learn more about the history or Pocket and, more specifically, Magpie’s house and the Carnifex family.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 15 – Blackbirds and Blackberries - Where Magpie learns more about Lucas’ past, and notes that birds seem to be part of the mysteries happening in and around Pocket.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 15 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, we got a peak into Magpie’s secret notebook where she records and sketches details about her unexplained visions. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 15 – Blackbirds and Blackberries - Where Magpie learns more about Lucas’ past, and notes that birds seem to be part of the mysteries happening in and around Pocket.

It’s time to settle in… grab a blanket and a warm drink… let’s get started!

A warm breeze is blowing the leaves in the trees overhead, their soft movement making a sound like gentle ocean waves. Magpie and Lucas are sitting on the vast front lawn of the library, enjoying a picnic before heading out to explore an old abandoned barn by the creek

“I wonder what her story is?” Magpie whispers, watching Farfalla shuffle down the main street. It’s been a few days since Magpie’s run-in with Farfalla at the diner, and she had finally managed to get the old woman out of her mind, but everything comes rushing back the moment she sees Farfalla across the street.

“Who?  Farfalla?!  Bah, she’s just a harmless old lady.  Doesn’t talk, doesn’t hear, just keeps to herself in that little house with all the birdhouses on the porch,” he answers, dismissively.

“She must be so lonely!” sighs Magpie, experiencing a sudden pang of empathy.  She scrounges around the picnic basket for a napkin to wipe the bumbleberry pie off her fingers. “Do you think she has any family?” she asks.

“I doubt it.  From what the folks in town say she’s just been on her own forever, but she’s older than everyone so I guess nobody really knows,” he replies, appearing completely unconcerned as he helps himself to another slice of pie.

Magpie is about to ask Lucas how old he thinks Farfalla might be when the old woman stops in her tracks and slowly turns to look straight at them. Magpie feels a chill as she meets Farfalla’s icy blue eyes.  Out of nowhere, a flock of blackbirds swoops overhead, one of them dropping a large, perfectly ripe blackberry into Magpie’s lap. Magpie looks down, surprised.  Her eyes quickly shift back up to Farfalla but the old woman is already rounding the corner of the street, heading home.

“What was that all about?!” says Lucas, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know,” replies Magpie, quietly holding the blackberry in her palm.  She gently puts it in the bottom of the empty picnic basket, and they walk to the creek in silence.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“This way,” says Lucas as they step into a field of tall grass off the side of the road. The grass is almost taller than they are, but eventually gives way to a small clearing that is cut in half by the winding creek. Near the creek sits an old barn, still standing proudly, it’s wood siding and roof having survived years of sun, rain, snow and cold.

“Are you sure it’s abandoned?” asks Magpie, not wanting to anger one of the local farmers by trespassing.

“Definitely.  There used to be a house nearby, but it burned down almost a hundred years ago, and the family never returned… I think the father died in the fire and they were too devastated to start over, so they just moved away,” he says quietly.

They are now standing in front of the massive barn doors.  The sound of the rushing creek to the right is surprisingly loud, **CREEK** the recent rain having pushed the water level up the banks on either side.  To the left, Magpie can see remnants of the foundation belonging to the old house.  Her heart fills with sadness, what a tragic story.  “That poor family, it must be devastating to lose a parent,” she says, glancing at Lucas who is staring at the ground, silent.  

“Lucas, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…”

 “You’re wondering what happened to my parents,” he says, turning to look at her.  Magpie nods quietly, her face filled with tenderness.  Lucas motions for her to follow him as he pushes open the barn doors. Inside, light filters through the spaces between the siding, shining on the dust particles in the air and making them sparkle like tiny stars.  The barn is empty save for some dried-out bales of hay and stacks of old apple barrels. 

Magpie puts down the picnic basket and they sit in the loose hay in the middle of the floor.  

Lucas heaves a small sigh before speaking “When I was little, we were driving home from my aunt’s wedding.  It was a cool fall night and it was getting late.  I was tired and cranky and whining about wanting to get home, so my dad was driving a little fast.  He didn’t realize it had gotten so cold, and that the rain on the road had frozen. Our car hit a patch of ice, spun out, then rolled over into the ditch…” he pauses, staring into the distance like he is no longer in the barn but back by the side of the road that night.

Blinking, he turns back to Magpie.  “I don’t remember much after that; I must have blacked out or something. The next thing I remember is sitting by the side of the road next to the car.  I have no idea how I got out, or why I didn’t get hurt, not a scratch! How is that possible when my mom and dad didn’t… They were so badly injured… The doctors couldn’t… They both…” he stops, unable to say the word.  Even all these years later Magpie can clearly see the pain on his face.  Taking a deep breath, he adds, “If only I hadn’t been so whiny, my dad wouldn’t have been going so fast and… maybe…”

Magpie puts her hand on Lucas’ shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Lucas.  It must have been horrible for you, but it wasn’t your fault,” she says softly.  “Thank you for trusting me with your story,” she adds, knowing it has been difficult for him to tell.

He stares at her for a long moment, like he is deciding whether to continue.  “Magpie, there’s… there’s one other thing. Something I’ve never told anyone before,” he says quietly, “that night, when I woke up in the ditch, I think someone was there with me.”

“You mean like a police officer, or an ambulance driver?” she asks, confused.

Lucas shakes his head slowly.  “No, before they showed up, but the crazy thing is… I’m not sure that person was even real!  They completely disappeared as soon as the emergency crews showed up.  I know I was young, and a lot of it is very fuzzy, but I distinctly remember someone being there with me in the ditch, comforting me!” he says, looking at Magpie like he’s hoping she can provide answers.

“Well, there are definitely strange things going on around here,” she says, “But… I wouldn’t be surprised if a stranger found you and, once you were safe, decided to leave without taking credit.  Do you remember what they looked like?” she asks.  

Lucas shakes his head again, “I just remember they were standing behind me, their hands on my shoulders, and that I felt warm and safe, but I never saw their face.”

Magpie and Lucas remain silent for a few minutes as Magpie drums up the courage to tell him about her visions, relieved to finally have found someone who might understand, but before she can utter a word, a loud flapping noise from above their heads makes them both jump. Magpie looks up and sees a crow flying near the rafters above. It swoops down and lands in front of them on the barn floor.  It stands for a moment, its head turned to one side, staring at them through its round, shiny eye, then lets out a loud, accusatory “Caw!” in their direction before flying out the double-hinged doors and into the sky.

“I guess he thinks this barn belongs to him!” kids Lucas, thankful for the distraction and an opportunity to change the subject.  Standing up, he reaches his hands toward Magpie to help her to her feet.  They stand face to face for a moment. Something about Lucas’ features… his hair… starts to trigger a memory.  “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, reaching his hand up to his cheek.  

Magpie realizes she’s staring and blushes slightly.  “No!  Uh.. Just, a little something in your hair,” she says, reaching up to tug a piece of hay out from between his dark curls and holding it up.  They stand very close for a moment, and Magpie feels butterflies in her stomach.  Clearing her throat, she says, “We should probably get going, it’ll be dark soon.” She grabs the picnic basket and they walk out the massive barn doors.  Lucas swings the doors shut and they follow the curving creek back to the main road.  The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so.  Magpie feels like her friendship with Lucas has reached a new level, and she decides to tell him her secret before the summer is through.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 16 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where the mystery deepens when a strange object shows up, and Scarlet exhibits some strange behaviour.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

This Fantôme Friday episode tells the mysterious story of The Bootleggers, in which our narrator encounters the presence of a famous Minneapolis bad boy while hosting an open house.

Music: Nightbridge and The Velvets by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

On the last Friday of each month, we will pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusal and unexplained, experience.

In today’s episode we will recount the story of The Bootleggers. Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story.

So get settled in, grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

There’s something about a huge victorian house with original wallpaper and ornate woodwork that creates a feeling of connection to a time gone by.

My husband and I were hosting at open house at one of his listings. An amazing 3+ story Victorian in the heart of Uptown Minneapolis. The home had once been a boarding house and still held onto many of its original details like stained glass, large stairways with gorgeous wood details, printed wallpaper with delicate floral patters, and a second stairway at the back of the house that lead to what must have been maid’s quarters. In the back was a large garage with a loft above that had once been a carriage house.

We had dressed up for the occasion, my husband wearing a suit and I wearing bright red pants and a cute pair of heels. We stationed ourselves at one end of the large living room, beautiful sun filtering into the room through multiple windows. Across the nearly 20 foot long room was a beautiful fireplace, to the left of it a wide opening into the dining room which featured wooden wall panelling and a built-in buffet. To our left was an opening into a small sitting room which also lead into the dining room.

We greeted multiple visitors, then had a little down time during which we quietly sat on the red velvet chairs. I was quietly savouring the moment when I began to sense, or visualize, a man standing in the doorway to the dining room staring at the fireplace. He was wearing a 3 piece suit, a hat, and held some kind of cane in his hand. I got the feeling he was from the 1920s or so. I could hear music from a player piano, the tinkling of drinkware, conversation, and loud women’s laughter. 

I didn’t get the sense that this was a party, but more that it was a business of some sort. I started thinking about the man and wondering “what’s your name…?”. Suddenly, in my mind came the name Jim Cam. And I went “Jim Cam?” and heard back “CAM! CAM!” in a tone that relayed that I wasn’t understanding. I thought about it for a moment, then laughed at myself saying I was making things up, thinking of James Cameron the film maker or something. At about that time another group of people arrived to look at the house, a welcome distraction from the strange experience that had just occurred.

After the last group had come by, we started making our way around the house to turn off the lights. My husband went up to the 2nd and 3rd floors while I took care of the main floor.  As I entered the dining room, I got a sudden urge to bend down and inspect the wood paneling on the bottom half of the walls, pressing on different parts of it as if I expected to find a hidden compartment. From behind my right shoulder I felt the man softly whisper “We’re bootleggers…” with a hint of pride and mischief in his voice, as if he were saying “you’ll never find it, we’re good at what we do” and smiling at how naïve I was.

As we were driving home I hopped on my phone and did an online search for Minneapolis Bootleggers. After some digging I found something that stopped me in my tracks. 7 little letters that spelled out the name Kid Cann. Cann with 2 N’s – which when written out can look very much like Cam. One of the most reknown mobsters in town who operated in this area of the city in the 1920s and 1930s. He did his business with the likes of Al Capone and lived to a relatively old age considering his livelihood, and his funeral was held at the Jewish Temple just half a block from the house where I envisioned him.

Could the house have been a sort of speakeasy during prohibition? If so, judging by its location, and his notoriety, Kid Cann would likely have had a part in it. How fascinating to have experienced that brief moment back in time, even if it was just through a vague, echoing vision. 

I wonder if the people in the room that night ever spoke of the ghost girl in the bright red pants and heels who vanished suddenly after Kid Cann whispered in her ear…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we resume our adventures in Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell.  In last week’s episode, we got an exclusive look into Magpie’s secret notebook where she records and sketches details about her unexplained visions. Next week we read chapter 15 – blackbirds and blackberries – where Magpie learns about the tragic event in Lucas’ past that shaped the course of his life. Don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want miss a thing! And now, an original song by Cannelle inspired by today’s story – here is “The Velvets”

In today’s episode we read the chapter 34 – Shelta – in which Farfalla has an unexpected encounter that will stop her in her tracks. 

This week's podcast partner is Paranormal Exposed: https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

The Skylark Bell on Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/theskylarkbell

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

Official Merch Shops: http://www.melissaoliveri.com/store

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 34 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode we finally got answers about the mysterious disappearance of a child on the outskirts of Carnifex Land that Magpie had a vision about in Book 2 – Wingspan.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 34 – Shelta – in which Farfalla has an unexpected encounter that will stop her in her tracks. 

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Paranormal Exposed – you may recognize the name from our past collaboration about haunted objects released for Halloween of 2022. Paranormal exposed takes a look at eerie and unexplained events from a sceptic’s point of view. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to their show.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

She stopped asking for her parents after a few weeks.

The first morning she woke up whimpering a bit, but I had Ru take her for a stroll and the distraction was just what she needed. I provided more sweets and a warm meal, then sang her to sleep. The second morning she woke up crying again. This time, I coaxed a rabbit into her tent. She couldn’t resist the soft, sweet creature, and spent the rest of the week cuddling and talking to it. Things kept on like this for a while. Luckily, I had several tricks up my sleeve. 

Eventually, she grew attached to me. I rocked her to sleep most nights and sang her Audrey Tourtereaux’s French lullaby. When she grew older, I taught her to cook, to sew, to build a shelter, cut firewood... Things I felt she would need in life. She made the most beautiful dresses and coats and became quite adept at foraging for food and creating delicious meals for us. The years went by in the blink of an eye. Before I realized what was happening, she became a teenager. I didn’t want to admit to myself that it would soon be time to let her go. I had grown to love her almost like a daughter. But I would often find her pining for love, companionship, and peers her own age. It wasn’t fair for me to deny her that joy. I questioned myself daily whether the time was right, then one day fate stepped in.

We were walking along the beach. I stopped to look out at the ocean, my mind always turning to Elisabeth. Shelta continued on, collecting seashells into her hand-woven basket. She had taken to making jewelry out of them. I stared at the rolling waves, dipping my toe in the sea, hoping those specific drops of water would someday grace the shores on the other side of the world where, perhaps, Elisabeth would encounter them. 

Suddenly, Shelta cut into my daydream with an excited shout. “Look! Look what I found!” she called, waving her arms at me. My heart stopped when the object in the sand came into view. All these years later… The Skylark Bell. Shelta picked it up and turned it over in her hands. I stood frozen in shock. Of course, I still have the bell I created during my time at the druid encampment. The one whose powers were forged that fateful night when the tribe was decimated and the Ancient Oak was burned, but I never expected to see this bell again, the one that flew off the cliff with me that day, then sank with me into the sand at the bottom of the ocean before slipping out of my hands.

“How old do you think it is?” Shelta had asked, her voice filled with enthusiasm. I told her it looked like an ancient artifact, perhaps even from Druid times. I knew then what I needed to do. The bell would protect her. It was time to let her go. The process was gradual. I cautiously guided her to places and times where she would encounter the right kind of people so she could reenter the world. Finally, one day she announced she had met a man who owned an antique shop and they had fallen in love.

I wouldn’t see Shelta again for years.

There were others. Many others. I found some at the beach, some in the fields, some by the woods… Each one plucked from a different time then returned to a time other than their own so as to keep my mystique intact, but always ensuring they would continue their lives safe and happy. After Shelta, I crafted a special elixir that I would administer on the children’s last day with me, so they would forget our time together. The last vanishing was Charlie. He was a friend of the boy who lived at Carnifex house, the caretakers’ son. After Charlie left, I took a break. I hadn’t found myself alone for several years, and I took some time to revisit my life. My thoughts always went first to Elisabeth, then to Marius. I bathed in it for years, the endless circle of Elisabeth and Marius, love and broken hearts.

Then one day, I saw him.

~~~~~~

Farfalla stands frozen in place at the edge of the woods. She blinks several times, unable to believe her eyes. Walking through the fields of Carnifex House on the back of a black horse with a white mane and tail is Marius. She watches as he awkwardly coaxes the huge animal in figure eights, then practices stopping and going a few times. Eventually, he turns and heads back toward the paddock. Farfalla stays at her post until darkness sets in, unable to comprehend what she has just seen. How could Marius be here? Now?! Marius would be 120 years old by now, the scene she witnessed today is an impossible one!

Farfalla spends the next few days observing the Carnifex fields from the edge of the forest. Sure enough, she sees Marius and Cormorant riding through the tall grass, the wind blowing those familiar dark curls. She’s run her fingers through that hair countless times, she would recognize it anywhere. 

On the fifth day Farfalla sees something that makes her heart sink. Once again, she sees Marius and Cormorant, but this time they are accompanied by a woman on a dark bay mare. As the woman approaches, Farfalla’s breath catches in her throat. It’s almost as though she is staring at a younger version of herself. She watches as they talk and laugh. She sees the way he looks at the woman, the depth of his love for her is evident. On the breeze she hears the woman call him Lucas, and her brow furrows. She’s certain she is looking at the same man, and not a descendant or relative. Why is this woman calling him Lucas? 

A moment later he responds by calling the woman’s name. Magpie… Each echo of the word inside Farfalla’s head feels like a nail being hammered into her heart. Magpie. The very first time they met, when he glanced up and saw her in the apple tree, the first word out of his mouth was Magpie. Now Farfalla understands why. He thought she was this woman. A wave of painful comprehension washes over Farfalla. Marius hasn’t met her yet. Somehow, some way, he will time travel back to her youth and they will meet and fall in love. Then he will disappear. 

But… perhaps it doesn’t have to be this way! Perhaps she can change things. Farfalla turns and walks swiftly back to her forest home, ready to set her plan in motion. She keeps an eye on him from a distance, waiting for the right moment. Finally, one day she hears him tell Magpie he and Cormorant are going for a long ride. 

Farfalla ponders how she can possibly send Marius to 1920s Pocket. It dawns on her suddenly that she needs the Skylark Bell. Not hers, but the old one, the one Shelta found on the beach. Shelta’s husband passed away shortly after they married, but she has carried on with the daily task of running the antique shop. Shelta is an old woman now, and she is startled when she sees Farfalla looking the same as she did decades ago. Farfalla strikes a deal with her; Shelta will receive a trunk full of antiques and relics, and in exchange she is to give the Skylark Bell to the young man with the dark curly hair. Shelta agrees with little hesitation, she still feels a deep nostalgia about her time with Farfalla despite all the years they’ve spent apart, and the additional merchandise will help her shop stay afloat.

The first part of her plan put in place, Farfalla heads back to the forest to speak to Ru. She instructs him to lead Marius into the forest. She will take care of the rest. 

Farfalla is on pins and needles the rest of the day. Finally, the sun begins to set, and she watches from a distance as Marius walks into the antique shop. He exits quite some time later, and he and Cormorant begin ascending the winding hill that leads to the top of the cliff above Pòcaid. Ru races onto the road as instructed, and Marius follows him back into the woods. Now it is Farfalla who has a role to play. She follows Marius and Cormorant as they walk the winding path in the woods. Finally, they come to the arch. She sees him hesitate, but he eventually moves forward. Farfalla waits for the precise moment Marius and Cormorant are under the arch then begins to sing the song of the Oak Tree. She watches as he looks around, an expression of uncertainty on his face. The breeze picks up, swinging the trinkets she attached to the arch back and forth. The metal spoons, cups and bells collide and create a cacophonous symphony. Farfalla begins to sing more loudly, and she feels the elements shift. She sees Marius squeeze his eyes shut before, just a moment later, he simply disappears.

Farfalla heaves a sigh of relief. Now the next step is to warn her younger self, to prevent Marius from ever disappearing. She isn’t entirely sure how to go about it, but she will find a way.

She and Marius will be together, no matter what it takes.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 35 – Roadblocks – in which Farfalla learns that her powers as Dealan-dè have limits.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon or Ko-Fi, where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! You can also find The Skylark Bell exclusive merch on my website, www.theskylarkbell.com. Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 14 – The Sketchbook – where we get an exclusive, in-depth look into Magpie’s notebook where she records and sketches details from her mysterious visions.

Music: Nightbridge and Visions by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 14 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie finally came face to face with the mysterious Farfalla, who had a strange reaction upon seeing Magpie. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 14 – The Sketchbook – where we get an exclusive, in-depth look into Magpie’s notebook where she records and sketches details from her mysterious visions.

Get comfortable… grab a blanket and a warm drink… and let’s get started

Magpie’s sketchbook is bound in dark blue leather with a gold hummingbird etched into the cover. Inside, the pages are completely blank, leaving her the freedom to write or sketch.   The book came in the mail about two years ago, right around Magpie’s birthday. Initially, she thought her mother had bought it for her as a birthday present, but her mother told her that, unfortunately, she couldn’t take credit for the beautiful gift, and the sender has remained a mystery to this day. 

Magpie gently opens her notebook to the first page.

Her scribbled notes describe the vision she had of the woman in the rocking chair, the one that ended up being her Great-Grandmother Elizabeth.  She runs her eyes over the shape of the rocking chair, the woman sitting in it, the green shawl over her shoulders… A short written update scribbled in different coloured pen provides an explanation for the vision and Magpie considers it resolved, but shivers a little none-the-less as she recalls the moment she found the photograph in the dusty, yellowing family photo album that identified the woman in her vision as the Great-Grandmother she’d never met.

Flipping to the next page she sees a sketch outlining several tall buildings, like the downtown area of a large city, with an old-fashioned car parked in front of a large department store. On the sidewalk in front of the store, a woman is standing, holding a little girl by the hand, both of them with their backs turned to the person viewing the sketch and facing the beautifully dressed display windows. Magpie clearly remembers the day she had this vision, it was a few years ago, and she was sitting next to her mother on a city bus headed downtown for the grand opening of a new art gallery. Magpie still has no explanation for that vision, but since it happened in a large city, she can only assume it has nothing to do with Pocket, so she decides to move on.

The next few pages detail visions she had while they were still living in the city, most feel irrelevant to what has been happening recently, but one catches her eye.  It depicts a dream she once had about a young boy, 4 or 5 years old, with wavy black hair and gray eyes, sitting by the side of a desolate country road next to a badly damaged car.  Could it be Lucas?  She has never asked him about his parents and he’s never brought it up, but since he lives with his grandmother, it would make sense that something happened to them – Was it a car accident?  Was he there?  If so, why had she dreamed about it, before even knowing him?!  She makes a mental note to try to find out more and keeps flipping through her notebook. 

A few more sketches of farmland follow the dream about the little boy, some resemble the area around Pocket, like the sketch of a white house with lace-like trim around the windows and a stunning array of colours in the flowerbed, and a couple of others with rolling fields ranging from bright green to yellow and the dry brown of autumn, but to Magpie they just seem to have predicted that she would move here, and there is no helpful information in them.

Magpie pauses on an illustration of an apple orchard.  She recalls having that vision the night before she and her mom left the city to move into the Farmhouse.  In it, rich fruit dangles from the branches of several trees, bright red apples. Under one of the trees she can see the silhouette of a large horse, but she recalls the vision had been blurry.  What really catches her eye, though, is the outline of a house in the distance, a two-story house similar to the one on Meadow Lane.  Could those stumps behind the house one Meadow Lane have once been a thriving apple orchard? The only note accompanying the sketch consists of two hastily-written words in the margin which read “Overwhelming joy” - words she certainly wouldn’t assign to the house on Meadow Lane today. Under the words is a small sketch, just a faint outline, that looks like a ring etched with a feather pattern.

Unsure what these things mean, Magpie turns the page and finally finds some notes detailing one of her first visions since moving to Pocket.  It is the day she and Lucas were walking by Meadow Lane.  Magpie was inexplicably drawn to the property, and had the beginnings of a vision where she saw two blurry silhouettes.  

 Suddenly, something clicks in Magpie’s mind.  She flips forward to the description of the vision she had day she discovered the secret attic, when Meadow Lane was all lit up and full of life. She skims through her notes and her finger stops on one sentence: “Two lights bouncing, like lanterns being carried by two people walking toward the woods.”  Two silhouettes in the first vision; two lanterns in this one.  She seems to be having recurring visions of the same two people at Meadow Lane, but who are they?!

Magpie turns the page, and sees a note about the vision she had of Charlotte Carnifex and her husband in the horse cart when they first arrived on the site where they would eventually build this very farmhouse. Then she sees a sketch and note about Scarlet, with a quick scribble in the margin describing the fireplace brick with the initials ‘C.C.’ 

The last page in Magpie’s notebook contains the description and accompanying sketch of her nightmare, where everything came together; Meadow Lane, Scarlet, and Farfalla. Every page beyond is blank, this is all the information she has.

 Closing her notebook and tracing the outline of the hummingbird with her finger, Magpie lets her mind wander for a moment.  Meadow Lane seems to be the central part of the story to which everything else is connected, the most important connection being the two mysterious figures she keeps seeing. Now, more than ever, she is determined to get some answers!

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for our 4th Fantôme Friday! Then the following week we will continue our adventure and read Chapter 15 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie learns about the tragic event in Lucas’ past that shaped the course of his life.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 13 – Where Magpie and Farfalla finally come face to face!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 13 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie came across a photograph of Marius Corbeau, the man from her vision at Mirror Pond, and learned of his tragic disappearance in a snowstorm. 

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 13 – Where Magpie and Farfalla come face to face.

It’s time to settle in… grab a blanket and a warm drink… let’s get started!

Magpie stays home for a few days, watching old movies with her mom and reading adventure books up in her room.  It feels good to just be... normal!... and not worry about all the strange things going on in Pocket.  

Magpie slept in this morning and is lounging on the couch in her pajamas when her mom peeks her head around the corner of the room.

“Magpie, I’m heading into town to ship this canvas to a client, why don’t you come with me?” she asks.

“Sure!  Where’s this one headed?” asks Magpie.  She’s always curious about the different places her mother’s artwork ends up.

“It’s going to a gallery overseas!  I’m hoping if they like it they’ll request an entire collection!  It’s a really great opportunity,” she answers, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

They talk about art and travel while slowly strolling through town. Next to the post office, some children play in a small park. Magpie stops to drink in the joyful sounds of the swings squeaking loudly as they sway back and forth, the children giggling on the see-saw and laughing wildly as they whiz down the slide.  She is finally feeling calm, everything around her looks and feels normal, and it’s been days since she’s had a vision.

A small bell above the post office door signals to the clerk that they have entered. “What can I help ya with?”  Asks the tall gentleman behind the counter, his large mustache bouncing up and down with each word.  Magpie’s mother explains the shipment details to him as Magpie wanders around the tiny space. The floors are crooked, and creak loudly, making her a little self-conscious with every step. On the back wall there are old photographs of Pocket, some with handwritten insciptions detailing the location and year.   She immediately spots a photo of the Pocket General Store, it was taken the year the store opened, and features the Bunting family proudly standing on the large wooden porch.  There are several photos of the high school through the years, some with students sprawled on the front lawn, others showing them neatly lined up on the front steps.  Magpie looks closely to see if she can spot Charlotte Carnifex, or perhaps the mysterious Marius, in one of the photos, but no such luck.  Scanning the wall, she finds a photo of the Redwing Inn; sure enough there are several horses hitched on the posts outside.  It feels strange to think that the people from her visions were living in this time.

“Ready to go?” asks her mom, tucking her wallet back in her bag.  Magpie nods and they head outside. The park is empty now, the children likely having been called in for lunch.  Magpie and her mother keep walking down the main street, smiling at passers-by, but most of them don’t even make eye contact.

“That’s Mrs. Tuffeto!” says Mrs. Phaeton in a hushed voice, nodding toward a woman on the sidewalk ahead.  Her tone tells Magpie her mother’s got a plan.  

“Mrs. Tuffetto!  I must tell you, those cupcakes you make are wondeful!” says Mrs. Phaeton cheerfully as they get closer.  The woman stops in her tracks, like a deer in the headlights, unsure what to do.  

Magpie immediately pipes up, “Not only are they delicious, they’re beautiful, like edible artwork!”  

Mrs. Tuffetto glances around to see if anyone is listening and takes a step closer to them. “Thank you, that is very kind” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, like she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s speaking to them.  Before they can continue the conversation, she scurries off in the opposite direction. 

“Progress!” says Magpie’s mother, cheerfully.  They giggle softly and continue on their way.

As they near the diner, Mrs. Phaeton suggests they grab a late breakfast.  They saunter up the flagstone walkway and Magpie reaches for the door, but before she can grasp the handle, the door swings open and an old woman steps out into the bright light of day, her untamed white hair surrounding her face like a snow flurry, it had to be Farfalla.  Magpie has an instant flashback, Farfalla looks just like the old woman in her dream! She feels the shiver at the back of her neck extend all the way down her spine to her feet.  Farfalla stops in the restaurant doorway and lays her piercing blue eyes on Magpie’s face.  For an instant, Magpie senses a change in her expression, but before she can figure out what it is, the old woman has turned and is headed down the street. 

“Go ahead honey, you’re letting all the flies in!” her mother nudges her from behind, oblivious to the eerie feeling in the air between Magpie and Farfalla.

Magpie shakes her head and walks over to an empty table near the window. She distractedly orders the first thing on the menu, smiling and nodding at the waitress, and politely listening to her mother’s stories, but in her mind, she can’t stop thinking about Farfalla.  What had flashed across her face in that moment?  Fear?  Confusion?  …Recognition?

“…and I’d like to get the fireplace cleaned out so we can use it this winter,” her mother continues, “Magpie, you barely ate your breakfast!” she remarks as Magpie places her napkin on her plate.

“I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” she says, pushing her chair back to stand, “I do like the idea of the fireplace though,” she adds, forcing a smile.

As she and her mom are walking home she struggles to keep up her end of the conversation, her mind is spinning with images of Farfalla’s face.  They finally walk through the front door of their house and Magpie is thrilled to hear a soft meow as she is unlacing her running shoes. “Scarlet!” she says as the small cat trots down the stairs toward her.  She picks up the cat and carries it up the stairs, cradling it in her arms and nuzzling its soft fur. “I’m heading up to my room for a bit, mom!” she calls as she nears the landing. 

“Sounds good, honey.  Thanks for walking into town with me!” says Mrs. Phaeton.

Magpie gently places Scarlet on the bed and fishes her notebook out from under the mattress.  Between her recent visions, the dream she had a few nights ago, and the run-in with Farfalla this morning, she feels it’s time to see if any of her notes can help fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

Scarlet sits on the bed facing Magpie, a strange look of expectation in her eyes…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 14 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where we get a closeup view of Magpie’s notebook in which she sketches the things she sees in her mysterious visions.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 12, Cold Pancakes – Where Magpie visits Lucas and sees a photograph at that stops her in her tracks.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 12 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie had a terrible dream that involved Scarlett, Farfalla, and Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 12 Cold Pancakes – Where Magpie visits Lucas and sees a photograph at that stops her in her tracks.

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started!

“Come on in!” shouts Lucas from the back of the kitchen. It is a bright, sunny day and Magpie is excited to get started on their newest adventure, hoping it’ll get her mind of the terrible dream she had the night before.  Magpie and Lucas usually meet at the bottom of Lucas’ driveway, but this time he is running late and has asked her to come up to the house.  Magpie shyly makes her way through the dark living room to the back of the house. The kitchen is surprisingly bright, with soft yellow walls and sheer white curtains filtering the sunlight. 

“My grandma made some pancakes, want some?” asks Lucas, already shoving a heaping plate of steaming pancakes across the counter toward her. “She makes the best pancakes with blackberries AND chocolate chips in them – you’ve never had anything like it!” he says, beaming.

“Uh, sure… Thanks!”  Magpie pulls the plate closer and pours some syrup on the stack pancakes.  She watches as it slowly makes its way down to the white porcelain plate, forming a pool in which she can see a golden, distorted reflection of herself. 

“Where is your grandmother, anyway?  I’d love to meet her!” she says, trying to make conversation.

“Oh… she’s, uh… napping,” replies Lucas, visibly uncomfortable.

Sensing awkwardness, Magpie quickly changes the subject, “So… Where should we go exploring today?”

 Lucas’ mood shifts immediately to excitement. “Well, there’s the ruins from the old mill in the clearing where the creek meets Pine River.  I think we should check it out!  They shut it down about fifty years ago, but there are still tons of artifacts left behind!” He speaks very quickly before shoving one last, large bite of pancake into his mouth and carrying his empty plate to the sink. “I’ll change into my old clothes and grab my boots while you finish eating.” He says. His words sound muffled as he navigates the big bite of pancake still in his mouth. “Meet me on the front steps!” he adds, his voice trailing as he runs upstairs.

Magpie sits alone in the kitchen, poking at her rapidly cooling pancakes.  She can’t bring herself to eat, for some reason her stomach feels tight, like she’s expecting something bad to happen, but aside from the ticking clock everything is quiet. Tick, tock, tick tock… A cloud passes over the sun and, for a moment, the kitchen is washed in grey. The mood in the kitchen changes instantly and the tiny space feels cold and almost… ominous.  Magpie feels a strange sense of relief when the cloud passes and the soft sunlight is restored.  She’s about to walk her plate to the sink when something on the wall catches her eye.  Amid an artful display of vintage photographs, one in particular has caused her to freeze in her tracks.

 “Hey slowpoke!  I thought you were going to meet me on the front steps!”  The sound of Lucas’ voice makes her jump.  Magpie didn’t realize several minutes had gone by.  Lucas is leaning on the doorframe, ready to go.

Shaking her head in an attempt to focus on the present moment, Magpie points to the yellow, creased photograph framed on the wall. “Who is this?” she asks, trying to sound calm and composed, but on the inside she can feel her heart racing.

“Oh, my grandma likes to collect old photos,” Lucas replies casually.  “That’s Marius Corbeau, he lived in Pocket a long time ago.  I guess he disappeared in a snowstorm one day while looking for firewood.  They found his horse… what was its name again?” he pauses for a moment, his eyes turned upwards, scanning his memory, “Oh yeah, Cormorant!... It was wandering near the road; it still had its tack on and everything, but Marius was nowhere to be found, and apparently he was never seen again.” Finishes Lucas, very matter of fact.

“That’s terrible.” Says Magpie, trying to stifle a shudder.

The photograph shows a man wearing layers of heavy clothing, with dark curls sticking out from under his cap.  The image is so faded and worn that Magpie can’t make out his face, but she still recognizes the man from the vision she had that day at mirror pond.  Swallowing hard, and wondering whether she even wants to hear the answer, Magpie, a slight tremor in her voice, asks “What colour was Cormorant?”

“Oh, that’s the cool part!” says Lucas, “Cormorant was completely black with a white mane and tail!  They say Marius brought the horse with him when he came from Europe, and that no one had ever seen a horse like that before! There is a bit of a mystery surrounding Marius though, not only did he disappear suddenly, that’s also how he appeared! They say he landed in Pocket one day, completely out of the blue, and he already knew his way around, like he’d been there before, but no one recognized him! It’s a small town, there’s no way a stranger goes unnoticed. The whole thing is very strange...” he ends, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet, unable to hide his impatience to get out and explore.

Magpie can feel the colour draining from her face.  How can all these visions be parts of reality, history, people from the past that she’s never met or heard of – what are they doing in her mind?!

“Hey are you ok?” asks Lucas, taking a closer look at her, concern washing over his face.

Completely overwhelmed by the events of the past few days, with the images of her dream from the previous night, and Marius’ body landing on the ground with snow swirling all around, Magpie, close to tears, looks down at the ground and stammers, “I… I don’t feel so well, I think I ate too many pancakes.  I have to go!” and with that, she swiftly exits through the front door.

Lucas watches Magpie run down the driveway, puzzled.  Her plate of cold pancakes sits, barely eaten, on the counter.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 13 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie and the mysterious Farfalla finally come face to face!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we will recount the troubling story of The Open House, where our narrator comes into contact with a violent, panicked energy in the bedroom of a nearby house which is listed for sale. Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story.

Music: Nightbridge and Foreign Emotion by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusal and unexplained, experience.

In today’s episode we will recount the troubling story of The Open House. Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story.

So get settled in, grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

We had never met the neighbours in the house across the street. They seemed to keep to themselves, and a couple of years after we moved into our house they put their house up for sale. They were already moved out by the time it went up for sale, and my husband – who had only recently become a Realtor – suggested we go take a look and connect with the agent selling the house. My parents were in town visting from Canada and offered to watch our baby while we went across the street to view the home.

The very quaint, modest house was painted a bright yellow and was surrounded by tasteful landescaping. We entered through the front door which had some stained glass in it that created a rainbow on the hardwood floor of the entryway. A cheerful woman greeted us as we walked in. We introduced ourselves and started our tour. Because there were already people viewing the second floor we decided to start with the basement. It was an unfinished basement, typical for the area with nothing notable about it. We moved on the the main floor which featured beautiful original wood trim and staging furniture to make it feel warm and cozy.

By this time the family who had been looking at the second floor was coming down the stairs and wrapping up their tour. We smiled as we passed them and headed up the creaky wood staircase. The second floor was also very typical for a century-old house, with a short landing that opened up to 3 bedrooms which were empty of any furniture. The first bedroom was at the back of the house and had beautiful wood floors. As I walked into the bedroom that faced the front of the house I was hit with an immediate oppresive, panicked feeling. In trying to explain it to my husband later on, I described it as a change in atmosphere similar to stepping from an air-conditioned store into oppresive humid summer heat and humidity. The change in the air was that palpable. I could sense the energy of a woman spinning around the perimetre of the room at a high rate of speed, sobbing, screaming, fearful, irrational, completely panicked… I instantly began to feel unwell - dizzy, and nauseous… The emotions were so overwhelming I immediately stepped out of the room back into the hallway and sat down on a small antique wooden chair that had thankfully been left there. I explained to my husband what had just happened and took a moment to get my bearings. I felt still felt unwell, and very emotional… not with my own emotions, but someone else’s… someone who wasn’t there, at least physically. 

We decided we should leave, and started walking back down the stairs to the main floor. The staircase was directly aligned with the front door and I could see the sunny day outside as we were coming down – in my mind the thought kept repeating “I need to get out, let me out, let me out, let me out…”. Of course once we got back to the main floor the real-estate agent started to chat with us… the two minutes we spent making small talk were quite possibly the longest 2 minutes of my life.

We eventually made it back to our house, but every time I looked out our front windows all I could do was stare at the second story bedroom window of the yellow house across the street where the woman was stuck in an endless loop of terror.

A few weeks later, in chatting with one of the neighbours, my husband learned that many years prior the house had belonged to people who had a volatile relationship. Whether that has any connection to my experience in the home I’ll never know. 

The house sold shortly after that incident and was transformed in such a way that I barely remember how it looked at the time. We have become friends with the new homeowners, they are a lovely family… but I have not, and will not, set foot in that house ever again.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we resume our adventures in Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell.  In last week’s episode, Magpie had a terrible dream that involved Scarlett, Farfalla, and Meadow Lane. Next week we read chapter 12 – Cold Pancakes – Where Magpie visits Lucas and sees a photograph at that stops her in her tracks. Don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want miss a thing! And now, an original song by Cannelle inspired by today’s story – here is Foreign Emotion.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 11 – Terror in the night – Where Scarlet, Meadow Lane, The Skylark Bell, and Farfalla come together in a terrifying way!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 11 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, The Dinner Date, Scarlet made a brief appearance to point out an etching in one of the bricks in the fireplace at Magpie’s house, and the name of the mysterious Farfalla came up again in conversation between Magpie her mother.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 11 – Terror in the night – Where Scarlet, Meadow Lane, and Farfalla come together in a terrifying way!

 So get cozy… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started!

Magpie is walking outside. In the faint moonlight she can tell she is standing by the side of the main road, just outside Pocket.  Behind her, she can hear the tinkling of the bell on Scarlet’s collar ‘jingle, jingle, jingle’. They are walking together, in the dark, heading toward home.  To Magpie’s left is Meadow Lane, the house in the distance completely dark and desolate.  They reach the point where the lane meets the road, and Scarlet starts trotting toward the old, abandoned house.  Magpie, without a second thought, scurries after her.  

Suddenly, Magpie realizes she can no longer hear the bell, even though Scarlet is still running up ahead.  Magpie stops in her tracks and calls out for Scarlet to stop, but there is no sound.  Panicked, she starts running after the cat, and realizes she can’t hear the gravel crunching beneath her feet.  Scarlet stops, just steps from the house, and turns to stare at Magpie, like there is something she wants Magpie to understand.

Feeling apprehensive, Magpie decides to follow the cat, who slowly makes its way to the back of the house.  The cat stands beneath a window and turns to look at Magpie. Magpie approaches cautiously and peers in the window. Inside the house she sees a woman in a wooden rocking chair wearing a long dress with lace trim, two small children sitting on the plank wood floor in front of her. Behind the children is a roaring fire in the fireplace. The woman is reading a book to the children,  and Magpie squints to make out the title: “The Skylark Belle” - Belle, with an E, like the belle of the ball...  how curious! 

Just then, Magpie feels Scarlet brush by her leg. They resume their macabre game of follow the leader and make their way toward the other side of the house. 

Once there, Scarlet steps into a small shed. Glancing back toward the road, Magpie reluctantly follows the cat. The inside of the shed is softly lit by the moonlight filtering through its small windows. There is a workbench below the windows, and on it Magpie can see a large piece of wood that someone has begun whittling into the shape of a bird. Several tools are strewn nearby. Scarlet hops onto the work bench and walks to the far end before sitting next to a small rounded object.  Shuffling carefully toward the cat, Magpie makes her way to the end of the workbench. Squinting, she vaguely makes out the shape of a bell. She can tell there is something etched into the bell but can’t quite make it out in the dark. If she could just hold it and feel its surface with her fingers she might be able to tell what it is… Magpie gingerly stretches her hand out to grab the bell when the cat suddenly jumps toward her, back arched, claws out, its mouth wide open like it is screeching, but of course no sound comes out.  Terrified, Magpie steps back, tripping on a garden tool and falling to the ground soundlessly. She’s never seen Scarlet behave like this before! Unhurt, but incredibly overwhelmed, and dazed by the complete silence, she steps out of the shed to gather her thoughts. 

Magpie looks up at the house, her gaze travelling to the second story window, where she sees a pale face with dark eyes staring down at her, unwavering.  A wispy white hand appears next to it and points at her.  Petrified, Magpie turns and races back toward the road, her feet grinding into the gravel silently.  

The moment she steps off Meadow Lane Magpie is overcome by a cacophony of sound: the faintest cricket sounds like a passing truck, her footsteps like a jack hammer.  She puts her hands over her ears, trying to muffle the unbearable sounds. Finally, everything stops. Magpie lifts her head and looks up, then recoils in horror.  By the side of the road, she sees an old woman, standing barefoot in a long white nightgown, wild feather-white hair flying around her pale face - the same face Magpie saw in the second story window of the house just a moment ago – how can that be?!  Dark shadows gather where the woman’s eyes should be, and her mouth is open wide; from her cavernous throat she screams: “Magpie!  Magpie!  Magpie!”

“Magpie!  Wake up, you’re just having a bad dream!”

Magpie opens her eyes, completely disoriented.  The lights in her bedroom are turned on and her mother, a worried look on her face, is sitting by the side of the bed.  “Honey, are you ok?  You scared me!  You were screaming so loudly!” 

Magpie nods quietly, still shaken from her dream, “I’m ok, thanks Mom.”  She sits up to drink a few sips of water from the bottle on her nightstand.  “Do you… would you mind if I sleep in your room the rest of the night?” she asks, feeling a little silly at her age to be making such a request.

“Of course, I don’t mind!  It’ll be like old times, when we used to watch those black and white movies and fall asleep with our hands in the popcorn bowl,” her mother says, soothingly.  Magpie forces a smile as she gets up and grabs her pillow.  “Where’s Scarlet?  I thought she always slept in your room?” remarks Mrs. Phaeton.

“I’m not sure where she went, she was downstairs earlier,” says Magpie, pretending everything is normal.  She feels a shiver run through her entire body as her memory of the dream, and Scarlet’s role in it, comes back to her.

“Sweetie, you’re shivering!  Let’s get you to bed,” says her mother, nudging her down the hall.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for our third Fantôme Friday episode – The Open House, where we tell the terrifying tale of an unexplained experience in a neighbouring home.

The following week we will pursue our adventure in Meadow Lane and the Skylar Bell by reading Chapter 12, where Magpie visits Lucas and sees a photograph that stops her in her tracks!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 10 – The Dinner Date, where Magpie and her mom catch up on the day, bringing the mysterious Farfalla into the conversation.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 10 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas explored the secret attic and discovered treasures from the home’s original owners, and discovered that there is much more to Scarlet the cat than meets the eye!

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 10 – The Dinner Date, where Magpie and her mom catch up on the day, bringing the mysterious Farfalla into the conversation.

 So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… are you read? Let’s get started...

The smell of charcoal wafts through the entire back yard, overpowering the delicate scent of the wild roses.  Magpie loves the sizzling sound as the food hits the hot grill.  One of the great things about living in the country is the variety of fresh produce from the neighbouring farms sold at the Farmer’s Market.  The market is held every Sunday on the sprawling lawn of the library, gathering farmers and artisans from the area surrounding Pocket and beyond.  Magpie and her mother love to wander from booth to booth, exploring various handmade goods like knitted shawls, candles, and jewelry.  But Magpie’s favourite thing is being surrounded by the bright colours and rich smells of the fruits and vegetables. She and her mom love to cook together, hanging out in the kitchen for hours, trying out new recipes or baking treats with the locally ground flour from the small mill in the neighbouring town.

“Magpie, why don’t you go grab the candles.  I think these are just about done,” says Mrs. Phaeton, expertly flipping their dinner so it is perfectly marked by a trellis of black lines.

“Sure thing, Mom.  Do you remember where you put them?” asks Magpie.  

Mrs. Phaeton gets a look on her face that tells Magpie her mom has no idea where the candles ended up.  With a giggle, Magpie scurries into the kitchen and starts checking the cupboards. She’s down to the last one when she hears the sound of the small bell on the cat collar again, this time coming from the living room.  She follows the sound and is overcome with joy when she sees Scarlet sitting on the mantle above the fireplace.  “Scarlet!”  she cries, “I was afraid you were gone forever!  You’re still my cat, and I’m still calling you Scarlet,” she tells the small cat while reaching up to pet her.  Scarlet crosses the mantle and sits on the end of it, looking intently at Magpie and meowing loudly. “Is there something I’m supposed to do?” asks Magpie, feeling only slightly foolish for talking to the cat as if it’s a person. Scarlet reaches down with her paw and strikes one of the bricks below the mantle.  Magpie leans down for a closer look and realizes there is something engraved in it.  She dusts it off with her hand a little and the initials “C.C.” become clearly visible.  “Charlotte Carnifex!” exclaims Magpie.  She stands up to look at Scarlet, but the cat is gone.

“Any luck finding those candles?” calls her mother from the back door.  Magpie looks in the bookcase next to the fireplace and sees the candles thrown haphazardly onto a shelf.

“Just found them!” she yells, and heads back outside for dinner.  

A vase filled with roses sits atop the bright yellow tablecloth.  Magpie inhales deeply, filling her lungs with their sweet perfume, before taking her place at the picnic table.  She tucks the candles into Grandma Lilian’s small crystal candle holders and carefully brings a match to the wick.  The warm glow of the candles’ tiny flames washes over Magpie’s face as her mother joins her at the table, two plates of steaming grilled vegetables in her hands.  They reminisce about Grandma Lilian, their old apartment in the city and dinner dates gone by as the cool evening breeze ruffles their hair. 

“This might be the best dinner I’ve ever had!” says Magpie, breaking into giggles simultaneously with her mom as they collect empty plates and cups.  It’s a running joke between them; every time they do a ‘dinner date’ they congratulate themselves on their cooking skills.

“I stopped by the most adorable bakery today,” says her mother, changing the subject, “They have these wonderful little cupcakes decorated with flowers and birds.  I bought us a couple for dessert.”

“Oh, that must be Tuffetto’s Bakery!  Lucas told me about it the day we moved in,” says Magpie.

“Yes, Mr. Tuffetto, that was his name!  He wasn’t very chatty, and his wife just stayed in the back preparing the pastries.  People here definitely keep to themselves more, don’t they?!  There was a woman there, with bright white hair and blue eyes, she was probably 100 years old!  She was carrying a basket with jars of blackberry jam.  I offered to let her go ahead of me but she just kept staring straight ahead, as if I didn’t exist!” says her mother, “I’m looking forward to the day when we’re finally considered ‘locals’.”  

Magpie’s heart starts beating a little faster… “The old woman’s name, did you ask Mr. Tuffetto what it was?” inquires Magpie.

“As a matter of fact, he did mention it… it was a strange name, Befana?  Farina?” 

“Farfalla?” suggests Magpie.

“Ah yes, Farfalla!  I hung back to look at the marvelous array of cakes and pastries on display, and he did get a little more conversational after she left.  He told me she’s the oldest resident in town and that no one has ever heard her make a sound.  

 She walks around town every morning to do her errands, after that she heads to the diner for the same breakfast every day - blackberry waffles that she washes down with some sweet orange tea before walking home.  On Sundays she drops off a basket of home-made blackberry jam for him and his wife to sell at the market, and in exchange he gives her bread the rest of the week.  We’re definitely not in the big city anymore!” she finishes, laughing.

“Pocket is definitely a quirky little town…” agrees Magpie, remember her encounter with the waitress at the diner on her first night in town.  “So, what’s this new painting you’re working on that sent you to the ‘big city’ for supplies?” she asks, changing the subject.  Her mother launches into the details of her most recent piece of artwork and how their new surroundings, and even the residents of Pocket, have inspired her.   They chat long into the night, savouring their dinner and the delectable cupcakes from Tuffetto’s.  Eventually, the candles burn low and it’s time to go inside.

“Let’s leave cleanup for the morning.  Deal?” asks her mom, stacking their plates on the counter. Magpie is only too happy to oblige, and they head upstairs.

“Goodnight, Mom, I love you,” she says, standing in the doorway to her room.

“Goodnight, my beautiful bird, sweet dreams,” answers her mother tenderly before fading into the darkness of the room across the hall.

Magpie slips under the light blanket on her bed and lies on her back, staring at the closet door dimly lit by the crescent moon outside her window.  Where is Scarlet?  How could she be Cerise, who had lived generations ago?  What is the connection and where is she now?  And what happened to Charlotte Carnifex and her family? Where did they go? And Farfalla, who never makes a sound, and goes about her routine by herself every single day, what is her story? Magpie’s thoughts continue swirling as her eyes get heavy…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we continue our adventure by reading Chapter 11 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie has a terrifying experience in the night that involves many of the unexplained things she has experienced since moving to Pocket.  Be sure to subscribe, you don’t want to miss a thing!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode Magpie and Lucas explore the contents of the old trunk in the secret attic, and learn something about Scarlet that will send chills down your spine!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 9 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie and Lucas were exploring the secret attic that Magpie had accidentally discovered a few days prior. They were about to open one of the many large trunks stored in the vast, dusty space… a trunk that Scarlet the cat seemed to think they should open first.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 9 – The Trunk – Where Magpie and Lucas learn something about Scarlet that will send chills down your spine!

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… are you read? Let’s get started...

 “One, two, three!” he says Lucas as, together, they gently lift the heavy trunk lid.  The hinges squeak loudly and a thick cloud of dust lifts in the air, surrounding them.  They sit still, waiting for it to settle before peering into the trunk…

Inside are neatly folded stacks of old-fashioned, yellowing garments – things people would have worn a hundred years ago:  a crinoline skirt, an apron, a wool scarf with matching gloves.  Lucas and Magpie carefully pull out each garment one by one. Something is tugging at Magpie’s memory, but she has so much on her mind she can’t figure out what it is.  At the bottom of the trunk is a long, flat wooden box; they lift it out and notice it is engraved with the name ‘Charlotte Carnifex’.  At last they have discovered the identity of the mysterious ‘C. C.’!  Inside the box, they find a treasure trove of personal items: a worn wooden pipe; a pocket watch, a silver spoon with something engraved on it turned black and illegible; a silver locket which Magpie attempts to pry open to no avail; a small pouch with seashells someone probably collected on vacation; and an ornate hair comb with an emerald hummingbird adorning the top.

“Look inside the lid, there’s something tucked in there,” says Magpie, reaching for a small, folded piece of paper which she opens gingerly. “It looks like a page ripped out of a diary,”  she says before reading out loud:

12th of February, 1925

 It has been a difficult winter.  Many of the townspeople have vacated the area, and moved further     south, and I’ve overheard Edward say we must leave as well.  I make this last trip to the attic to bring a few precious pieces belonging to our family.  Edward has told me he will seal the entrance to the stairway to ensure our most precious possessions are secured should an ill-intentioned person pillage the vacant farms in our absence.  

My one regret is that my best friend, my sweet cat Cerise, has been missing for several days.  I fear   she was trapped out in the cold, unable to find shelter, and is now lost to me forever.  Never has there been a more wonderful pet, brought here from overseas by Edward as a wedding gift.  I leave with this letter a photograph of her with my son, James.  I hope that, by some miracle, they will be reunited come spring.

My greatest wish is that we will return, and once again make this house, and this land, our home.  If we fail, and you, a stranger, are reading this, know that this house was once filled with joy, laughter and song.  It was surrounded by flowers, birds and wildlife.  It is a wonderful place to be.  Be grateful that you have an opportunity to experience it.

 Farewell,

Charlotte Carnifex

“I don’t see a photo anywhere,” says Magpie, looking on the floor around her to make sure it didn’t slip out when she unfolded the note.

“Is this it?” asks Lucas, tugging on the corner of another piece of paper sticking out from the lining in the lid of the trunk. Suddenly, the colour in his face drains completely and his hand begins to shake

“What’s wrong, Lucas?  You’re scaring me a little,” says Magpie, an uneasy feeling starting to form in the pit of her stomach.

“The cat, Magpie, it’s Scarlet!” he says, reaching his arm out so she can see the photo.

Disbelief washes over Magpie.  The cat in the photo is identical to Scarlet, every marking in exactly the same place, down to the small bell hanging from its collar.  They sit in silence for a moment, waiting for the initial shock to pass.  Just then, Scarlet saunters over.  “Cerise?”  whispers Magpie.  The cat stops in its tracks, its bright blue eyes directed at them, then turns and runs across the attic and down the stairs, the sound of the small bell on its collar fading behind it.

Magpie and Lucas, still stunned, start slowly putting the clothes back into the trunk.  Magpie suddenly lets out a gasp.  On top of the small stack of clothing on her lap is a bonnet - but not just any bonnet, it’s identical to the one in her vision of the young couple in the cart.  

“Magpie, are you alright?” asks Lucas, still shaken.

“Where are the gloves?” she asks, a little loudly.

“The what?” he looks around, hopelessly confused.  

Magpie desperately digs through the clothing as though she were on a mission and finally finds the scarf and gloves.  Sure enough, they’re the same gloves worn by the man in her vision.  She can see them, clear as day, covering his hands as they tightly gripped the reigns guiding the horses down the road.  It is all starting to make sense now! The couple in her vision must have been Charlotte and Edward Carnifex, and they weren’t pointing at anything in particular, they were pointing at the land on which they were going to build this very house!  The table in the back of the cart, though a little more worn now, still stands in the dining room downstairs.

Magpie sighs and looks up to smile gently at Lucas.  “You know what?  None of this is any crazier than the silence at Meadow Lane,” she says, trying to put him at ease.  

He smiles weakly back at her as they carefully put everything in the trunk just the way the found it.  They close the lid gently, stand to brush the dust off their clothes, then head down to Magpie’s room.  

“Scarlet!” calls Magpie, upon realizing the cat is not on her bed.  “Cerise!” she tries again.  She faintly hears the tinkle of a small bell downstairs. They walk down and search the entire first floor, but there is no sign of the cat.

Lucas flops down on the couch.  “Maybe Scarlet – er, Cerise - just needed someone to know the truth about the house and its original owners,” he says.

Before they can delve into it any more, the front door opens and Mrs. Phaeton makes her way into the living room.  “Oh, hello there, I didn’t realize we had a guest!” she says pleasantly, putting down her bags.

“Mom, this is Lucas, my friend from next door,” says Magpie, trying to sound normal.

“How wonderful to finally meet you, Lucas.  Magpie tells me you’ve been graciously helping her get acquainted with our new surroundings,” says Mrs. Phaeton.

“We’ve been having a lot of fun,” stammers Lucas.  “Well, I’d better get going, I’m sure my grandmother could use some help with dinner,” as he stands up he says, “it’s great to meet you, Mrs. Phaeton.”  With that, he hurries out and Magpie is left with her mother, who has no idea about the strange events that have been going on since their arrival at the old farmhouse.

“Why don’t we get going on some dinner of our own,” says her mother, smiling as she walks back to the kitchen.

“Good idea,” says Magpie, happy to focus on something as simple as food and push everything else to the back of her mind.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we continue our adventure by reading Chapter 10 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie and her mom chat about the challenges of winning over the local residents of Pocket!  

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

Welcome Back! In today’s episode Magpie and Lucas finally get together to explore the secret attic Magpie discovered a few days prior. What secrets are hidden in the previously sealed-off room? Listen on to find out!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 8 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie’s alone time at Mirror Pond turned into a disturbing vision where a mysterious man and his unusual horse seemed to be trapped in a snowstorm.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 8 – The Attic, where Magpie and Lucas finally get together to explore the secret attic Magpie discovered a few days prior.

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… are you read? Let’s get started...

“I’m home!” calls Magpie, walking in the door and hanging her backpack on the coat rack, leaving her sketchbook with the drawing of the mysterious man and his horse inside. The house remains completely silent.  Magpie, puzzled, walks to the kitchen. There is a note from her mother on the counter:

Magpie,

Ran out of supplies, driving to the city to get refills, they don’t have what I need at Pocket General Store.  Back by dinner time.

Love you!

Mom

A knock at the door makes her jump slightly. She walks through the dining room to the front door. “It’s just me!” says a familiar voice.

“Hi Lucas!  I thought you were coming over this afternoon!” she exclaims, swinging the door open and waving him in.

Lucas looks at her like she’s from outer space.  “Magpie, it’s 2pm,” he says.

“Oh… I must’ve lost track of time while I was sitting by mirror pond” she says, embarrassed.  Her visions have never made her lose track of time like this before; she finds it unnerving. 

“Who’s this?” he asks, noticing the cat sitting on the dining room table.

“This is Scarlet! She appeared at the back door one rainy day and I didn’t have the heart to leave her outside.  She’s very friendly,” answers Magpie, happy to change the subject.

 “That’s odd, I’ve never seen her in the area before.  I’m sure I’d remember, she’s so unique looking.  I wonder where she came from?” he says.

“I don’t know, but she was very thin.  I don’t think she’d eaten for a while,” explains Magpie. 

Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Lucas excitedly asks, “So, the reason you invited me over today - you said something about a hidden room?  An attic?”

“Yeah!  I couldn’t believe it!” she says before launching into an explanation of how she accidentally discovered the trap door.  “It was so dark, I didn’t really stay in the attic very long.  I figured since you know so much about the town’s history maybe you could help me dig around up there!” she adds, skipping the part about the vision she had of the festivities at Meadow Lane.

“Wow, I can’t wait to check it out!” he says eagerly.  They make their way upstairs, to the back of the closet, through the trap door and up the creaky steps to the attic. Scarlet follows closely, never leaving Magpie out of her sight.

In the daylight, Magpie can see there are actually two round windows, one at each end of the vast, cluttered space.  She and Lucas make their separate ways to opposite ends of the room and clean off the windows to let in more light.  As their eyes adjust to the light, they are amazed by the quantity of belongings left behind by previous owners.

“Look at this mirror, it’s got to weigh two hundred pounds, how did they even get it up here?!” wonders Lucas, staring at a huge antique mirror framed in ornate silver.

Magpie carefully pulls up the corner of a sheet so as not to lift too much dust.  Underneath she sees an antique dresser with handles of coral coloured shell.  She tugs at one of the drawers and, with a little convicing, it slides open.  Inside she sees an antique hairbrush and a silver plaited handheld mirror, the initials ‘C. C.’ ornately engraved on the back.  “I wonder who all these things belonged to,” she says, holding up the personalized mirror for Lucas to see.

“I don’t know, I can’t believe anyone would leave all their furniture up here!”  he says, turning the mirror over in his hand before placing it gently back in the drawer.

Magpie walks over to a small wooden cradle and gives it a gentle nudge with her finger, causing it to swing softly from side to side.  She bends to look at an etching on the side of it and runs her finger over the letters carved into the wood: J-A-M-E-S.  The cradle stops swinging, restored to its decades-long state of immobility as if the interruption caused by Magpie’s touch had never happened.  Magpie turns and takes a few steps further into the immense room, the sound of her shoes echoing on the old floorboards. “Look at all these trunks!  I wonder what’s inside those!” she says excitedly, pointing to stacks of wooden trunks strewn about the attic.

“There’s only one way to find out,” says Lucas, a sparkle in his eye.  

They make their way to the largest trunk in the center of the attic and are about to open it when Scarlet lets out a loud meow. Startled, they turn to see her sitting on a smaller, dark blue trunk in the far corner of the room.

“You want us to open this one first?” kids Magpie. 

“Let’s indulge her,” says Lucas, walking across the dusty floor toward the trunk, “Maybe she knows something we don’t,” he adds with a wink.

Magpie pulls her sleeve over her hand and frees the top of the trunk from a thick, clingy layer of dust.  On its cover, the same initials ‘C. C.’ are carved and filled in with gold paint.  A large, rusty lock looped through the lid of the trunk hangs open.  “Well that’s a stroke of luck!” says Lucas, sliding the lock off the trunk.  “One, two, three!” he says as, together, they gently lift the lid.  The hinges squeak loudly and a thick cloud of dust lifts in the air, surrounding them.  They sit still, waiting for it to settle before peering into the trunk…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we continue our adventure by reading Chapter 9 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie and Lucas make a bone-chilling discovery inside the old trunk in the secret attic.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual and unexplained, experience.

In today’s episode we recount the story of The Lady in the Window in which our narrator has a psychic vision in what is about to be their new home...

Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.

Music: Nightbridge and The Blue Dress by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

On the last Friday of each month, we will pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusal and unexplained, experience.

In today’s episode we will recount the story of The Lady in the Window. Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story.

So get settled in, grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…

This happened many years ago, in the same house where I sit now, writing this story, the gentle ticking of the clock in the background. 

I had only recently moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota from Montreal, Canada after a whirwind love story in which my husband and I reconnected after many years appart, fell in love, and got married all within a matter of a few months.  Ready to start our lives together, my husband and I had decided to sell his condo in a different neighbourhood, and put an offer on a century-old house in a quiet neighbourhood that I, still being relatively new to the city, didn’t know much about. But with the tree-lined streets, well-manicured gardens, and small shops and restaurants nearby, it seemed like a the kind of neighbourhood that would be perfect for us at this point in our lives. The little house sat on up on hill, it’s long, steep driveway leading back to a spacious (at least by city standards) yard with a huge maple tree.  The house had been built in late 1800’s, it had quirky closets, wide wood trim around the doors and windows and along the rather crooked floors. I loved every part of it, but my favourite thing of all was the old manual doorbell that worked by twisting a knob that would then unwind and make a sharp high-pitched ringing noise.

The person we were buying the house from was an old high school friend of my husband’s whose family was moving out of state for work. They had remodeled certain parts of the house, but kept the original feel throughout. Because they had already moved to their new home, there was no one living in the house while we were in a holding pattern waiting for our closing date to arrive.  With the owners’ permission, we went to the property with our real estate agent to measure windows for blinds and curtains so they would be ready by our move-in date.

On a bright, sunny, very early spring day we met our realtor at the house.  It was exciting to be there knowing it would become our home very soon. We marveled at the size of the yard, still covered in ice and snow from the long Minnesota winter.  Inside, the cozy house felt warm and inviting.  My husband stayed in the living room with our realtor while I went about the first floor as the sun, unobstructed by tree leaves so early in the year, shon joyfully through the many windows.

Finished with the first floor, I decided to head upstairs.  The steps creaked under my feet as I went up. I took a right and worked my way counter-clockwise through the second floor, first measuring the bathroom windows, then the smaller bedroom - which we were planning on turning into an office until, someday, we hoped to turn it into a nursery (spoiler alert, we ended up doing both those things!).  Last of all, I walked into the main bedroom.  The doorway into the room was directly across from the windows, looking out the front of the house toward the street.  It was a lovely view, being slightly up on a hill.  

Out of nowhere, I had a sudden urge to place my hand on the window, palm flat against the cold glass.  As soon as I did that,  an image of a woman came into my head.  She had her hair up in a bun and was wearing a period dress with a high neck and skirt down to the floor, like the photos I had seen of my great-grandmother in the early 1900’s. The woman was standing with her hand on the window looking out at a lake, and I felt a deep sense of sadness and regret wash over me.

I shook my head and stepped back, taking my hand off the glass, instantly breaking the connection, and thought about what had just happened.  This vision made no sense to me because, though there is a lake somewhat nearby, it is blocks away, and certainly cannot be seen from our house. Though I had experienced other unexplained images like this before, I decided to write this episode off as an overactive imagination. I quickly measured the remaining windows, gathered my things, and headed back downstairs, never mentioning what happened to anyone else.

About a week later, we got a call from the homeowner who was in town for a few days. She mentioned we had gotten some mail at our soon-to-be new address and asked if we wanted to swing by to pick it up.  The next day we drove over and stood on the front steps chatting with her.  During our conversation, she casually mentioned that decades ago the lake had a peninsula that jutted out, stretching several blocks to the south.  Our house, up on the hill, would have had a lovely view of that part of the lake, directly across the street, especially from the second floor bedroom window… The homeowner went on to explain that that part of the lake was filled in in the early 1900’s, and a whole neighbourhood of houses was built on the land… To the great regret, I am sure, of the lady in the window.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we resume our adventures in Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell. In our previous episode, chapter 7 Magpie had a vision of a man and his unusual horse lost in a snow storm while she was spending some alone time at Mirror Pond. In our next episode we read chapter 8 – The Attic, where Magpie and Lucas finally explore the secret attic at Magpie’s house.  Don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want miss a thing! And now, an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story, here is The Blue Dress.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 7 – Mystery at Mirror Pond, where some alone time in nature with her sketchbook proves to be anything but relaxing for Magpie!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 7 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie accidentally discovered a secret attic that had been sealed up decades before.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 7 – Mystery at Mirror Pond, where some alone time in nature with her sketchbook proves to be anything but relaxing for Magpie!

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started

Magpie drinks down the last of her orange juice, pushes her sleeves up and gets started on the dishes. Outside the kitchen window she can see the old rail fence and, in the field beyond it, the Starlings’ farm.  Lucas is spending the morning with his grandmother in the neighbouring town, so Magpie has made her own plans.  She stacks the last of the clean plates in the cupboard with a thud and hurries to the hall closet.

“I’m heading to the pond!” she shouts to her mom, struggling to pull on her boots as Scarlet rubs up against her legs, purring loudly with affection.

Mirror Pond sits across from the old farmhouse in the middle of what was once a rock quarry that had long ago been filled in with gravel.  One of Magpie’s favourite discoveries since moving to Pocket is sitting with her journal on the large rock in the middle of the pond and drawing sketches or writing stories as the water gently ripples around her, it helps her clear her mind.

“Boy, you don’t stop for a second!” laughs her mom, walking in from the sunroom and wiping paint off a long, thin paintbrush.  Magpie’s mom is an artist; she paints bright, unusually coloured landscapes.  She’s not famous by any means, but does well enough that the two of them can live comfortably.  She has finally set up her studio in the sunroom and is working on a commissioned piece for the gallery she used to work at in the city.  “I found some great vegetables at the market to grill for dinner, is it a date?” she asks, picking up the cat for a snuggle. 

Magpie nods. Her mom is a great cook and Magpie loves when they have dinner ‘dates’.  They decorate the picnic table, light a few candles, and stay out well into the night chatting and telling stories.  “Can’t wait!” she says, tucking her notebook, sketchbook and pencils into her backpack, “See you later!”

Magpie gently closes the front door behind her, skips down their long driveway and waits for a pickup truck to drive by before crossing the road. She gingerly hops over an old, dilapidated fence and steps through some overgrown grass to get to the edge of the quarry. From there, she scurries excitedly down the stony path to the pond, and muddles across a few feet of water before settling down on the rock with a satisfying thud. She takes a moment to soak in the sound of the water settling after the disruption she caused wading through it to the rock nearby, a small turtle slowly makes its way onto a fallen log and turns its face up to the sun.  It’s a perfect day for sketching, the still water reflects the feathery white clouds strewn across the sky while the sunlight filters through the leaves and flowers, giving them a surreal glow.

Magpie pulls a shiny red apple out of her pocket and takes a large bite before grabbing her pencil.  She chews slowly, deep in thought, as she starts drawing outlines of the scene before her:  The stones in the quarry, faraway hills, tall grass in the field, the mound of raspberry bushes where the foxes like to burrow, the shadows cast by the sparse trees and bushes and, barely visible in the distance, the roof of the house on Meadow Lane.  For a moment she thinks of what she saw in her vision the night before, when Meadow Lane was all lit up with a roaring fire in the fireplace, music, and people dancing… but she pushes the thought to the back of her mind.  Magpie concentrates on her sketch, relishing the sound of the pencil moving across the paper, bringing the blank page to life.

Lost in her drawing, Magpie barely notices as her mind is slowly overcome by the image of a man on a large black horse, its long white mane and tail flowing toward the ground. The man, dressed in layers of thick dark clothes, is expertly guiding the striking, unusual-looking animal through mounds of snow as the wind whips up a swirl of snowflakes around them.  Dark curls make their way rebelliously out from under the man’s cap as his eyes squint against the winter storm, like he is looking for something, or trying to find his way. The sky and everything around him is a flurry of white, it’s impossible to tell where he is, or which direction he is going. His exhausted, worried face looks vaguely familiar to Magpie, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.  Both horse and man are bracing themselves against a tremendous gust of wind when the man’s scarf unravels and blows onto the horse’s face.  Terrified, the massive animal rears several times and the man is thrown from its back. Magpie winces as the man’s body crashes to the ground.  The horse gallops off and the man is left laying in the snow, immobile, as the wind swirls around him.

A large frog hopping into the pond startles Magpie out of her vision.  The ripples in the water distort the reflection of the sky as the warm summer breeze blows the cattails on the pond.  “Here we go again,” she whispers to herself, hastily flipping to a blank page in her notebook. She starts sketching; snow drifts, large black hooves, a flowing mane and tail, leather boots worn by a mysterious man, his dark, curly hair blowing in the wind…  She has no idea how long she has been sitting there, feverishly drawing, before she holds up the completed sketch; it is surprisingly accurate.  She shudders, recalling how the man’s body hit the ground when he was thrown off his gigantic horse. She takes one last look at her sketch before packing up her things and heading home, the cold winter snowstorm from her vision giving her goosebumps despite the warm summer sun.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for our second Fantome Friday – where we will hear the unsettling true story of The Lady in the Window!  – Be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss a thing! 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 33 – The Vanishings – in which Farfalla fully steps into her role as the infamous Dealan-dè

This week's podcast partner is The Haunted UK: https://linktr.ee/hauntedukpodcast

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

The Skylark Bell official website - http://www.theskylarkbell.com

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com

Join Melissa's Patreon for early access to podcast episodes, music downloads, and more: http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

The Skylark Bell on Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/theskylarkbell

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

Official Merch Shops: http://www.melissaoliveri.com/store

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 33 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla found herself in the vulnerable position of needing to ask Cailleach for help to save Ash.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 33 – The Vanishings – in which Farfalla fully steps into her role as the infamous Dealan-dè

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member The Haunted UK. You may recognize the name from past collaborations in season 2 of The Skylark Bell such as The Redheaded Hitchhiker, The Cellar, and Return to Manor Ridge Farm. The Haunted UK is a brilliant podcast that explores both the paranormal AND the unexplained. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to their podcast.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

The years following Ash’s illness have flown by. He’s never questioned why he stopped growing, instead approaching the world with an eternal childlike wonder. It is sad and sweet all at once. I didn’t realise, when I had Cailleach put him in the tree, how unnatural it is to be a parent to a child with no expectation of evolution or growth. I sing him the same lullabies, we play with the same toys, play the same games… It is like an endless loop. I think Caileach knew. That’s why she sent Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby. 

It happened one spring day. It was very early morning and Ash was still asleep. I had just finished washing my hair and was rubbing some fragrant oils into it when they stepped out from under the arch. I remember the look on their faces. Not surprise, exactly. Perhaps Cailleach had explained to them what was going to happen. But a look of gentle shock nonetheless, as if they couldn’t quite believe everything had actually happened as described. I stood still, quietly assessing them. Rowan Barnaby was a tall, slim man dressed entirely in black with a mass of wild hair billowing atop his head. He appeared more timid than his counterpart, who stood one or two steps in front of him, prepared to take on the task at hand, her auburn hair piled atop her head barely held together with a scattering of pins. Mandalina Barnaby. I didn’t realise at the time how grateful I would be for their existence.

I would learn, much later, that they had lost a child. Cailleach hand-picked them to be Ash’s eternal caregivers, and they embraced the assignment with all their hearts. I presume she has trapped them inside trees in that strange place that perhaps doesn’t even really exist, the time purgatory, where people are split in two, half of them trapped inside ancient trees, and the other half, a sort of consciousness with a semi-solid body, left to roam the earth. At least they had a choice in the matter…

After a few weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby announced that they had chosen a time and place where they would like to live with Ash. My heart broke into fragments as I watched them disappear under the arch. Luckily, I still see Ash occasionally, he likes to come to visit, and take walks through the forest with Ru. I still don’t understand how Ru has lived so long, perhaps there is a tree somewhere with him in it. I don’t question these things anymore, I’m simply grateful for the company. Especially now that I once again find myself alone. I had put the stories of the vanishings out of my mind after Ash was saved. I thought we would be together forever. Now I understand I haven’t changed anything at all, the entire story is playing out exactly as it was written.

Who am I to argue?

It is time for another child to vanish.

~~~~~~

“Ready or not, here I come!” the girl’s shout echoes across the vast fields. 

The boy hunkers down behind the giant rock, stifling his giggles. He’s certain his sister will never find him here, she’s too afraid of the woods. Farfalla stands just inside the edge of the forest, hidden in the shadows, Ru standing steadfastly by her side. She watches as the girl runs through the tall grass in search of her brother.

“Now,” whispers Farfalla to the deer, never taking her eyes off the girl. Ru steps into the sunlight, just behind the line of trees but within the girl’s line of sight. The girl stops in her tracks and stares at the deer, mesmerized. Farfalla begins to sing, ever so softly, willing her voice to carry on the wind to reach the girl. The girl begins to walk toward the deer, one foot in front of the other, her eyes staring straight ahead.

From behind the rock, the boy sees his sister walking toward the forest. He squints into the darkness and sees a red deer standing at the edge of the tree line. The girl is clearly heading straight for it. “Shelta!” he shouts, waving his arms over his head to get her attention. The girl keeps marching forward, completely oblivious to his call, almost like she is sleepwalking. “Shelta, over here!” he shouts again, this time with a tinge of desperation in his voice. Still, the girl keeps her steady pace. She has almost reached the line of trees.

The boy begins to feel slightly dizzy and lays a hand on the rock to steady himself. He can hear singing, similar to a woman’s voice, but not entirely human either. The sound swirls around him, its dizzying effect causing him to curl up on the ground behind the rock. His eyelids get heavy, and his body goes limp, and finally he gives into the temptation to sleep.

Farfalla leads the way, maintaining her hold on the girl through song. Ru follows behind her, and the girl walks behind Ru. Finally, they come to the clearing, though it isn’t much of a clearing anymore. A collection of young trees has sprung from the acorns Farfalla planted after the Ancient Oak was felled. Farfalla stops singing, and the girl blinks. Farfalla turns to Ru. “Thank you,” she says, laying a hand on the deer’s cheek. The deer snorts in reply, then turns and disappears into the darkness of the forest.

“Where’s Lachlan?” whimpers the girl as she comes to her senses. She scans her surroundings and looks back at Farfalla, her face filled with fear and uncertainty.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” says Farfalla. “What’s your name my darling?” she asks, crouching to be at eye level with the girl before laying a hand on her cheek.

“Sh-Shelta,” stammers the girl through chattering teeth.

“My name is Dealan-dè,” says Farfalla. “I live here in the forest with my friend Ru, who you met earlier. Isn’t he beautiful?” The girl nods. “I bet he would love to walk with you sometime, he likes to have a companion to go on his walks. Would you like that?” The girl shrugs, then nods.

“I think it’s my bedtime, I should go home,” says the girl hesitantly.

“Oh, it’s quite dark, I think it will be nearly impossible to find your way home right now. It would be much safer for you to stay with me. I even have a soft bed for you to sleep in, and some toys…. and chocolate!” says Farfalla, opening up her hand. The girl looks at the pieces of wrapped candy in Farfalla’s palm and smiles.

“May I have two?” She asks. 

Farfalla laughs. “You may have them all!” she announces, to the girl’s delight. Shelta carefully unwraps each candy and sits happily on a log, eating each one and licking her fingers clean. Finally, darkness settles and Farfalla guides her to the tent with a lantern. “You’ll be safe and comfortable here, Shelta,” she says, guiding the girl to the cot. The girl is too tired to make a fuss, and falls asleep only moments after her head hits the pillow.

Back in the field, the boy wakes up, disoriented by the night sky and the rock towering next to him. Finally, he remembers watching his sister go into the woods. “Shelta?!” he shouts, desperately looking in every direction. “Shelta! Where are you?!” he yells, but no one replies. Panicked, he stands up and races across the field toward his house.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 34 – Shelta – in which a new addition to Farfalla’s life becomes instrumental in her plan.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. Leaving a rating or a review on your preferred podcast platform is incredibly helpful in helping the podcast gain visibility so others can find and enjoy the story of The Skylark Bell, it’s a quick, easy, and free way to support my work. If you’d like to support me further,  you can also subscribe to Patreon, where you’ll get early access to ad-free episodes as well as digital downloads of my music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! And be sure to follow me on social media for updates, I love to connect with listeners... Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast.  

This week we get to listen to a bonus chapter of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell which was written after the completion of books 2 and 3 (Wingspan and SkyeDive, respectively).

In this chapter, Magpie and Lucas head to the county fair where Magpie meets some of Lucas' friends, including the somewhat mystical Sydney Finch.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: A bonus episode of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In today’s episode we read a bonus Chapter called Sydney Finch - where Magpie meets some of Lucas’ friends, including the somewhat mystical Sydney Finch.

 So get settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.

Magpie can feel her heart beat a little faster as she and Lucas approach the fairgrounds. They’ve made plans to meet up with some of Lucas’ friends at the county fair, which is held in the large field behind the school. 

“Everyone looks forward to the fair each year,” says Lucas, happily chatting away, completely oblivious to Magpie’s mounting anxiety. “People come from the surrounding towns and compete in all kinds of things; best pie, best cow, best seed art… you name it!” he laughs.

“I’ve never even heard of seed art, and my mom is an artist!” says Magpie, Lucas’ enthusiasm helping her feel a bit more at ease.

They’ve now arrived at the fair. Magpie sees a few basic rides; a ferris wheel, bumper cars, a tilt-a-whirl, and some carnival games. Most of the fairgrounds are reserved for animal shows, she sees horseback riders lined up waiting for their turn in the ring, in another area she sees kids walking their goats, and in the distance she can hear the cacophonous cluck of a collection of prize chickens. Magpie chuckles to herself, all this is so foreign to her, such a contrast to her life in the city! She feels her apprehension wash away with every step. 

Lucas points to a large barn-like building. “That’s where they do the food and art competitions, but first let’s head over to the stage, I think The Bunting Brothers are playing!” he says, pulling her across the fairgrounds. They walk around the barn and come to a grassy area where a stage has been set up. On the stage are two broad-shouldered young men, each with a guitar. Behind them is an older man, presumably their father if their similar appearance is any clue, who is playing on a rather sparse drum set. One of the boys is singing, his voice carrying across the entire expanse of the fair. The crowd claps and whoops loudly as they finish their song. Magpie can’t help but join in, the joyfulness of the crowd is contagious. 

“For our last song, we’d like to invite Sydney Finch up on the stage!” says one of the boys, waving his arm at a girl standing off to the side of the stage.

“That’s Bo Bunting in the red shirt, and his brother Billy has the green shirt,” explains Lucas. Magpie nods as she watches a beautiful young woman make her way up the steps and to the front of the stage. She has long, straight dark hair decorated with braids and beads in the front, and her large dark eyes sparkling as she looks out at the crowd. Bo and Billy start playing a soft, sad tune on their guitars, and Sydney Finch begins to sing. Magpie feels a lump form in her throat and tears well up in her eyes, Sydney’s voice has a beautiful, plaintive quality to it that makes Magpie feel like her heart is being shattered into a thousand pieces. A hush washes over the crowd, making Magpie think she’s not the only one feeling this way. Finally the last note of the song rings over the silent field, and after a moment the crowd hops to its feet and erupts in loud cheers as Sydney takes a small bow before stepping off the stage.

“Come on!” says Lucas, pulling Magpie toward the side of the stage. 

“Lucas Starling! It’s been a while!” says Bo, waving at them.

“Hey Bo! This is my friend, Magpie. She just moved in next door to me,” says Lucas. Magpie nods and waves shyly.

“Welcome to Pocket!” says Billy, sidling up to his brother. 

“Hi Sydney,” says Lucas, looking over Billy’s shoulder. Magpie can’t be sure but she detects a hint of nervousness in Lucas’ voice and she feels an ever so slight twinge of envy in the pit of her stomach.

“Hi Lucas,” says Sydney, pushing past the Bunting brothers. “Hi, I’m Sydney,” she says, extending a hand out to Magpie. Her kind, gentle tone instantly makes Magpie feel comfortable.

“I’m Magpie. It’s nice to meet you, you have such an incredible voice,” replies Magpie.

“Oh thank you! I have my Tota, my grandmother, to thank for that. She taught me all the songs of our people from the day I was born, and I guess it just stuck!” she says, brushing a hand through her magnificent hair. 

Magpie notices the beaded bracelets on her wrist, they look handmade. “Did you make those?” she asks, admiration in her voice.

Sydney giggles, “I did! I have my Tota to thank for that too!” she says. “Here, my gift to you,” she adds, taking a turquoise bracelet from her wrist and handing it to Magpie. “It will look perfect with your blue eyes,” she adds, leaving no room for Magpie to refuse.

“Thank you so much,” says Magpie, genuinely touched.

“We were going to check out the seed art, and maybe see if we can sneak a slice of the winning pie,” says Lucas, “would you like to join us?” Everyone nods and the group makes its way toward the old barn.

Magpie is blown away by creativity and artistrty of the seed art, she had no idea this even existed! She walks along the row of framed canvases, peering at each one. Many feature intricate floral patterns, some represent seed versions of famous people, a few depict farm animals. One in particular catches Magpie’s eye. It is slightly smaller than the others, and the subject matter completely different. The artist has used a collection of green seeds to create a mermaid, then bright orange seeds for her hair. She is sitting on a beach, her face turned toward the sky, dandelion seeds used to make puffy white clouds. Magpie leans in to get a closer look and notices the siren’s mouth is open as if she is shouting or singing. “How peculiar,” she whispers to herself.

“Enough of this art stuff, let’s eat!” Bo’s booming voice startles Magpie. He leads the group toward a different area of the building and through a doorway that has a large sign above it reading “Baking Contest This Way!”

The baking contest has already ended by the time they arrive, but there are plenty of goodies left to go around. Lucas opts for a slice of chocolate pudding pie, while Magpie enjoys a couple of cherry tarts. The Bunting brothers each put away 3 chocolate cupcakes, and Sydney picks out a delicate, flakey square of baklava for herself. They eat and laugh and tell jokes, Lucas asks about Bo and Billy’s younger brother Sebastian, who is in his and Magpie’s grade, they tell him he’s doing great at their Grandparent’s farm but misses his friends. 

They start talking about the old mill and a few other abandoned places around Pocket.  Magpie, sensing an opening asks “Have any of you ever been to Meadow Lane?” She instantly regrets her question as the laughter and chatter immediately stop. 

Lucas steps in, trying to smooth things over, “I told Magpie the story about Meadow Lane the other day. I was hoping to keep her away from there, but I think I only made her more curious about it. She’s an adventurous spirit too!” he quips.

“Yeah, no one in town goes there, or even talks about it, really,” says Bo quietly, looking around to see if anybody outside their group is within earshot.

“I think something threw off the balance of natural things in that place,” says Sydney.

“What do you mean?” asks Magpie.

“There is day, and night. There is fire, and water,” she begins, holding her hands out with her palms up. “Every thing has an equal and opposite thing. When that balance shifts, it can create unnatural results. I believe something, or someone, shifted the balance at Meadow Lane, and that is when the silence came,” she ends, in a very matter-of-fact way.

“Well, it’s getting late, we should probably head out, they’ll be shutting the fair down soon,” says Lucas, clearly looking for a way to move on from the topic.

The group starts walking back toward Pocket’s main street, their bellies full of sweets. They part ways outside Bunting’s General Store, where Billy offers to give Sydney a ride to her house on the outskirts of the next town, and Magpie and Lucas start making their way home. 

“Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone,” says Magpie, “I had a great time, and your friends are very nice,” she adds, feeling the bracelet Sydney gave her slide around her wrist.

“You’re going to fit in just fine,” says Lucas, smiling at her. 

Magpie is about to apologize for making things awkward by asking about Meadow Lane when she hears a sound drifting on the breeze, like someone is softly singing. Somehow, the sound is even more beautiful than Sydney Finch’s voice. Almost, hypnotic… “Do you hear that?” asks Magpie, turning around to try and figure out where the sound is coming from.

“Hear what?” asks Lucas, stopping to listen.

“I’m not sure, it’s like singing, but… but not… not… human?” she says the word like a question, unsure of what she thinks.

Lucas leans in and closes his eyes, focused on finding the sound. “I do hear it!” he says, “it’s very faint, it almost seems like it’s coming from - ”

“- Meadow Lane!” Magpie finishes his sentence for him.

“But that’s impossible, there’s no sound at Meadow Lane,” he says.

They stand and stare at the farm in the fading light. The silhouette of the massive oak tree in the front field framed against the indigo sky. As quickly as it started, the singing disappears.

“Well, it sounds like Sydney Finch has some competition out there,” kids Lucas, trying to dispel the eerie feeling surrounding them.

Magpie nods and forces a smile as they make their way to Lucas’ driveway. They wish each other goodnight and Mapie keeps walking toward her house. As she is going up the front steps she realizes she completely forgot to tell Lucas about the secret attic! She makes a mental note to call him in the morning and heads inside.

Thank you so much for listening.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast. 

If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review. Either one, or both, are greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Magpie accidentally discovers a previously hidden part of the old farmhouse she and her mother recently moved into, and experiences yet another vision related to Meadow Lane.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of whimsical productions and collected sounds presents: Episode 6 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Lucas finally told Magpie the impossible truth about Meadow Lane, that it is cursed with a complete silence that spreads to anyone who sets foot on the property, and Magpie had just come home after a strange vision that inexplicably caused her to lose track of time.

In today’s episode we pick up where we left off with Chapter 6 – An accidental discovery, where Magpie accidentally discovers a previously hidden part of her new house, and experiences yet another vision related to Meadow Lane.

You know the drill, Get settled… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… here we go

Magpie stands staring at the phone for a moment, still perplexed about losing track of time during her vision of the couple in the horse cart. She walks back through the house to the living room where she finds Scarlet curled up on the sofa.

“Come on, Scarlet, let’s head upstairs,” Magpie says to the cat.  They have bonded over the past week and it follows her everywhere around the house, but refuses to set foot outside.  It hops up the staircase with amazing agility and races in front of her to her bedroom door.  “I’m going to hang in the hideout and write in my notebook, want to tag along?” she asks as she opens the bedroom door, Lucas’ flashlight still in her hand. Magpie has nicknamed her long awkward bedroom closet The Hideout.  She hasn’t yet used it for some quiet time, but tonight feels like a good night.  She grabs a blanket and Lucas’ flashlight before creeping in, crawling to the back of the long closet and sitting down with her notebook.   Scarlet follows her with soft, velvety footsteps and curls up in her lap.  The back of the closet is peaceful and dark, and Magpie relishes the lack of distractions as she starts sketching and writing notes about her vision, describing everything in as much detail as possible:  the couple, their cart, their belongings... something at the back of her mind tingles, like she’s missing something, so she pauses for a moment, but it just won’t come to her.

Time seems to be at a standstill, and she has no idea how long she’s been sitting in the darkness, but her back feels a little stiff from being bent over her notebook.  Leaning back against the wall of the closet, she closes her eyes to take a break.  Suddenly, she feels the wall behind her shift slightly, like the weight of her body is pushing it in. Intrigued, she scoots Scarlet off her lap and turns around to shine her flashlight at the wall.  To her amazement, she sees a crack in the plaster and what looks like empty space behind it.  It’s a secret door!  It has been plastered over and was completely hidden until she accidentally pushed it and broke the seal.  She nudges it gently to see if it continues to move, and sure enough it swings inwards.She grabs her flashlight and shines it into the opening.  The trap door leads to a short corridor at the end of which she sees a dusty, narrow stairway going up.  Filled with both nervousness and excitement, Magpie crawls through and carefully walks toward the stairs.  She puts a tentative foot on the first step.  It creaks a little but feels solid.  She slowly makes her way to the top of the stairway, keeping a tight grip on the banister. From the top of the stairs her gaze sweeps across a massive attic; it looks like it has been untouched for decades! 

Through the small circle of light provided by her flashlight, Magpie can see piles of old trunks, a rocking horse, a dress form and various pieces of furniture covered in dusty sheets.  Cobwebs criss-cross one another atop the rafters and among piles of old furniture.  She feels around for a light switch, hoping there is electrical lighting up here, but no luck.  Is it possible no one has been in this attic since the house was fitted with electricity?  To her left she can see moonlight shining faintly through a small round window.  She carefully makes her way through the tangle of old belongings and wipes some of the dust and grime off the glass so she can see out.  The window faces the front of her house; she can make out her front lawn, the old quarry across the street, the line of trees between her property and Lucas’ driveway, and, in the distance, the bottom of Meadow Lane where it meets the road.  She squints in the darkness, trying to see the house, but it is too dark.  

She’s about to turn and head back downstairs to tell her mother what she’s discovered when something catches her eye. For a moment, she sees a brief flicker in the distance, almost like someone walked by a window while holding a candle.  She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to ‘reset’ her vision, and lets out a gasp when she opens them again.  Outside the small attic window, in the dark field across the road, she sees Meadow Lane, every window filled with light, silhouettes dancing in front of a large, roaring fireplace in the living room.  She can faintly hear the sound of music, like an old record playing on a victrola. Outside, on the side of the house, she sees lanterns hanging from carriages and horse carts, the horses patiently waiting for their drivers to return from the celebration.  Another quick gleam of light makes her glance toward the back of the house.  Squinting, she can make out two lanterns bouncing back and forth, getting further from the house, like they are being held by two people who are walking toward the forest.  Shocked, she stands perfectly still, staring out the small window at the impossible scene before her eyes.  Suddenly, Meadow Lane is washed in darkness once again, and Magpie realises she has just experienced another vision.  Behind her, a faint meow brings her back to reality.  

“Come on, Scarlet, I think I’m ready for bed now,” she says quietly as she heads back down to her room. She curls up in a ball on her bed, Scarlet snuggled at her feet, and pulls the blanket up to her chin.  Even though it is summer, Magpie feels a chill right through to her bones.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we continue our adventure by reading Chapter 7 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where some nice quiet time by Mirror Pond ends with yet more mystery!  – Don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want to miss a thing! 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In today's episode, Lucas finally tells Magpie the impossible truth about Meadow Lane, that there is NO SOUND there at all. Magpie struggles to understand the connection between her mysterious visions and the abandoned farm.

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 5 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

Welcome back! In our previous regular episode, Magpie let us in on her most closely guarded secret, that she has visions of things that have happened in the past, and she met a surprise guest, an unusual cat who appeared suddenly at her back door, then hinted at a connection to the old farmhouse before disappearing just as suddenly.

In today’s episode we’ll be pursue our adventure with Chapter 5 – Sunset on the Bridge, where Lucas finally tells Magpie the impossible truth about Meadow Lane, which seems to trigger the mysterious visions that Magpie struggles to understand.

By now, you know what to do! Get comfy… grab a blanket, a warm drink… and let’s get started.

“I hope we’re in Mrs. Piper’s class next fall, she’s big on field trips and local history,” says Lucas. 

“Ugh, I can’t think about school yet, summer just started three weeks ago!” Magpie exclaims, dramatically putting her arm against her forehead and feigning exasperation.  They both start giggling as the mud oozes under their rainboots.  

“I’m glad you decided to come out,” Lucas says, still smiling.  “Hopefully that’s the last of the rain!”  Magpie and Lucas have made plans to watch the sunset from the bridge over Pine River, but the rain was threatening to ruin their plans.  Now, the thick mass of gray clouds is blowing farther away with each gust of wind, and the evening sun is shining brighter and brighter every minute.

“Well, you know us fancy girls,” kids Magpie. “We don’t like it when the rain messes up our hair!”  Lucas lets out a loud laugh.  Magpie is a bit of a tomboy, with wild reddish hair waving in all different directions.  There’s no way she’d let her hair get in the way of going out and exploring!  

They banter back and forth as they amble down the road, but their chatter quiets swiftly when they realise they’re nearing the dirt path that leads to Meadow Lane.

“That place gives me the creeps,” mutters Lucas, staring at the dull grey structure in the distance.  It’s the first time he’s broached the subject, mostly dodging it over the last few days.

“Why?  Because it’s abandoned?” she asks, hopeful that he won’t change the subject again.

“No, that doesn’t scare me.  It’s… the history… “  he begins, hesitant to go on, “you’re going to think I’m crazy.  That we’re all  crazy!”

 “Try me,” she says, thinking nothing could seem any crazier than her visions.

 He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Apparently, there is no sound on Meadow Lane,” he says, stopping to wait for her reaction.

 Magpie looks puzzled.  “What do you mean ‘no sound’, like no people making noise?  I don’t get it,” she says.

“No, no, not like that,” he says, “I mean NO sound.  Not a footstep as you walk up the lane, nothing if you speak, or cough, or clap.  Not a creak on the wooden steps, not a noise if you stomp your feet on the porch, not a bird chirping or an animal calling.  Not…  One…  Sound… Ever!” he ends, emphatically.

“Is it true?” asks Magpie, thoroughly intrigued, confused and a little scared.

“Well, nobody dares to find out because the older folks in town say people who stay on the property more than a few minutes never utter another word!  On windy days, the grass around the house doesn’t even move, and there are never any birds or animals there… it’s really creepy,” he answers, running a hand through his wavy, jet-black hair with a visible shudder.

“How can that be?  What happened there?” asks Magpie, a small tremor running through her body too.

“No one can explain it, it’s the strangest thing.  Some say it was cursed by a young woman who lived there, after her fiance died… but those are just rumours, I dunno,” he says, his voice trailing off.

They’ve come to a complete stop in front of Meadow Lane.  There is something frightening about it, but Magpie also feels strangely drawn to it, almost like she belongs there.  She subconsciously starts taking a step onto the dirt path, and an image immediately begins to form in her mind. She can see a silhouette.  No, two silhouettes!  It’s all very hazy.  She can see a series of trees lined up behind the house, and a large animal, maybe a horse, running in the field, a flock of birds overhead… Her vision is just beginning to take shape when suddenly she feels Lucas grab her arm, startling her back to reality.

“Let’s get going, we don’t want to miss sunset at the river,” he says, pulling her back toward the road.  She steps back reluctantly, still dazed from the vision.  Who were those silhouettes in the distance?  Why does she feel such an urge to visit the old farm?  Magpie and Lucas continue walking toward the bridge in silence. Magpie secretly makes up her mind to explore the house on Meadow Lane before summer is over!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Magpie can hear water rushing nearby as she and Lucas trample through a large field. The grass surrounding them almost reaches the top of their heads as they make their way toward the river.  They come to a clearing and Magpie sees Pine River winding toward town.  An old crumbling mill sits on the riverbank, its water wheel dipping into the cool, rushing water .  A small wooden bridge, it’s worn boards faded from years of sun, connects the flour mill to the wheat fields she and Lucas have just walked through.  The bridge is a great vantage point from which to watch the sun cast fiery orange and yellow rays against the back of escaping rainclouds. Magpie and Lucas stand next to each other, leaning on the bridge’s wood rail.  

“Phew, just made it!” says Lucas, his face glowing in the light.

“It’s perfect, I’m so glad you brought me here.  Thanks Lucas.”  Magpie glances sideways at him, admiring the way his hair falls into perfect waves around his face.  Catching herself staring, she self-consciously turns away, her blushing cheeks camouflaged by the glow of the sun.  “It looks just like someone took a paintbrush to the sky,” she says, drinking in the colours as they shift into hazy pink and purple hues.  “I wonder how many people before us have stood in this exact spot watching the sunset,” she adds, dreamily.  Magpie heaves a deep sigh.  The intense beauty lasts only a few minutes, and she wishes she could bottle up the feeling she gets while watching it:  Absolute peace.  The colours are now fading and the first stars begin to twinkle faintly overhead as the moon prepares for its shift.  “I guess we should be going,” she says, regretfully.

“You’re right,” he agrees, grabbing a flashlight out of his backpack.  They make their way back to the road, surrounded by the sound of their footsteps on the gravel and the ever-increasing chorus of crickets. They reach the bottom of Lucas’ driveway first.  “It’s pretty dark, I should walk you home,” he says, taking a few steps further.

“You’re such a gentelman,” she teases, “you’d think I was a damsel in distress or something!”  Lucas looks like he might be blushing but she can’t really tell in the dark.  “I’m fine,” she continues, “I love walking in the dark, and it’s only a little further.  I’ll flash the porch light to let you know I’m home, ok?”

“Alright,” he answers hesitantly.  “Here, take my flashlight,”  he adds, shoving it toward her.  She grabs it, thanks him, and continues down the road.

Magpie has only taken a few steps up her driveway when, out of nowhere, a thick fog rises rapidly around her.  The fog is so dense she can barely see the lights of her house up ahead.  She gets an inexplicable urge to turn and face the road when she is hit with a vision. She hears the echo of trotting hooves and sees two sorrel mares pulling an old cart down the road with a young couple seated at the front. The back of the cart is filled with chairs, a large table, buckets, tools and old wooden trunks.  The man, holding the reigns tightly in his gloved hands, sits next to a very pregnant woman wearing a bonnet.  The pair are wearing period clothing and are smiling happily.  The man lifts his arm to point toward something behind Magpie, and the woman instantly turns to look.  Magpie turns to see what it is he is pointing at, but the vision fades away.

Magpie is left with only a shard of moon to light the vast fields around her house.  She shakes off the eerie feeling brought on by the vision and hurries up the driveway. Walking into the house, she is so distracted it takes her a moment to realise the phone is ringing. “Hello?” she answers.

“Magpie!  I was getting worried!  You forgot to flash the porch light.”  She can  hear the concern in Lucas’ voice, but what is he so worried about?  She just  walked in the door!  Magpie glances at the clock and her heart skips a beat when she sees it has been nearly twenty minutes since she left Lucas at the bottom of his driveway.

“I’m so sorry, Lucas!  I… got distracted by the... um… fireflies!” she spits out, wincing at her terrible excuse.

“Fireflies?” he questions.  She can tell he is smiling at the end of the line and her face turns red.  “Goodnight Magpie, sleep well,” he says softly.

“Goodnight Lucas,” she replies before gently placing the phone back in its cradle.

Hopefully sleep will come, but after what just happened Magpie has her doubts…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we continue our adventure by reading Chapter 6 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie makes an accidental discovery inside her own house, and has another vision related to Meadow Lane, will she finally be able to put the pieces together? Don’t forget to subscribe, if you want to find out!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, and Cannelle Elanion for composing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.