The Skylark Bell (Melissa Oliveri)

In today’s episode we read Chapter 25 – A Fete and a Feather - in which Lucas joins Farfalla for a memorable celebration at Meadow Lane

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

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

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip: https://anchor.fm/shannon-quinn6

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 25 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie toured the house at Meadow Lane that her mother has converted into an Artist’s Retreat. 

In today’s episode we read Chapter 25 – A Fete and a Feather - in which Lucas joins Farfalla for a memorable celebration at Meadow Lane

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Murder Roadtrip, which, like The Skylark Bell, is part of the Boopod Network of paranormal and true crime podcasts.

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

Lucas navigates Cormorant up the long dirt path to the house on Meadow Lane. After all this time he still feels a small tickle of fear at the back of his neck as he steps off the road onto the lane. All those years of being told not to go there, of listening to the terrifying stories, and knowing how it all ended with Magpie saving the town from the spreading silence by ringing the Skylark Bell…  He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at the house. His fear is quickly washed away when he sees it all lit up, music and laughter pouring out from every crack and crevice. 

He suddenly recalls Magpie telling him about one of her visions where she saw Meadow Lane all lit up, like there was a celebration of some kind. He turns Cormorant around to look back at Magpie’s house, or rather, the house that would become Magpie’s, across the road. He looks up at the small attic window… it seems like only yesterday he and Magpie were going up the creaking stairs, hearts pounding with excitement at what they might find in the secret attic! Scarlet had followed them on velvet feet, knowing her secret would soon be revealed. He shakes the thoughts from his head and turns Cormorant back around, guiding him all the way up the lane to the back of the house. 

“I’ll be back soon old friend,” he says gently to the horse, tying it to a fence rail at the back of the house away from all the commotion. 

Lucas makes his way to the front door and gives it a knock that sounds far more confident than he is feeling. The door swings open immediately, and Lucas is hit with a wall of sound and smells; laughter, music, the clinking of drinkware and dishes, the smell of beer, roasting food, pie… It’s almost an assault on the senses and Lucas recoils slightly but a large arm encircles him and pulls him into the house. “Marius! Come on in my boy! It’s great to have you!” Mr. Shearwater slurs as he pulls Lucas into the house. Lucas stumbles in and smiles awkwardly. Parties have never been his thing. Someone hands him a glass full of beer and a woman shoves a plate in his hand, filled to the brim with what looks like some type of stew and a couple of thick slices of bread. He doesn’t even have time to thank her before she moves on to her next victim. 

Lucas looks across the room and sees Charlotte and Edward Carnifex, they catch his eye and smile warmly. Charlotte looks stunning an emerald green dress, and Lucas recognizes the ornate dragonfly shaped comb in her hair as the one he and Magpie found in the secret attic all those years ago. Lucas suddenly realizes that Edward’s pocket watch, the one he checks multiple times a day, was also in that old trunk, 90 years in the future. He marvels at the fact that he can see and speak to these people, people he read about in books, in letters, people he saw in creased and faded photographs… people with real feelings, real lives. Something about the realization breaks his heart. 

Lucas shakes off the sad nostalgic feeling. Skirting along the perimeter of the room, he manages to make his way toward the dining table where he puts down the plate and glass of beer. He has no intention of partaking in all the food and drink, he is here for one reason only… Just then he sees Farfalla watching him from across the room, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth. She has caught him unloading his plate. He smiles at her sheepishly and nods toward the kitchen. Farfalla smiles and nods back, and he makes his way carefully through flailing arms and legs and spilling drinks to the small kitchen at the back of the house.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” says Farfalla sweetly as he’s coming through the doorway. It’s much quieter in the kitchen but his ears are still ringing from the noise in the other room.

“Well, I don’t normally go to parties but…” He begins.

“No, I meant I didn’t think you’d make it all the way to the kitchen!” she laughs, walking up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. Lucas starts laughing too, suddenly feeling the pressure and nervousness dissipate. He looks into Farfalla’s face, as if he’s trying to decide something.

Just then, the kitchen door opens, letting in the sounds of music and raucous laughter. “Falla, come on, we’re taking photographs! Bring your friend!” says a young man with dark hair and large brown eyes.

“That’s my cousin Bruno,” she laughs. “Come on! This way!” she shouts, grabbing Lucas by the hand and leading him back into the living room. 

Bruno positions them in front of the living room wall and steps back to an old-fashioned camera. “Stand very still!” he says. Lucas stares, completely mesmerized by what, to him, is an antique camera.

“Do we have to stand for several hours?!” asks Lucas.

“Shhh! Don’t move!” says Farfalla, giving him a gentle elbow to the ribs

Bruno laughs. “No, that’s how it was with the old wooden cameras, this is the new style! My grandfather got it for me as a birthday gift!” With that he takes their photo. “Okay, you’re free to go!” he says before turning to a petite woman in a long black dress with a string of pearls, “Auntie Freda! It’s your turn!”

“This is our chance, follow me,” Lucas says to Farfalla, a secretive air about him all of a sudden. Farfalla squints her eyes at him but takes his hand nonetheless and lets him lead her through the kitchen. At the back door he grabs two lanterns and lights them before handing one to Farfalla. He leads her away from the house, toward the orchard in the field behind it. This is the moment, he’s sure of it… it isn’t the life he thought he was going to lead, but he has managed to find love and happiness all the same. As they reach the first row of trees, he turns to Farfalla and takes her face in his hands. “There’s something I have to tell you,” he says, his tone serious. Farfalla looks at him, silently, waiting.

“I…” he begins, but something beyond Farfalla’s shoulder makes him stop. Something superfluous, unclear, hazy, yet… familiar. Something way down at the bottom of Meadow Lane where it meets the road. It’s like he can see two silhouettes, children. “Magpie…” he whispers.

“You what…?” says Farfalla, startling him back to reality. He glances down at her face, then looks back over her shoulder toward the road, but there is nothing there.

“I… I have something for you,” he says, struggling to get back on track. He slips his hand into his pocket and feels the cold metal of the feather ring concealed inside. Feeling his confidence return, he looks Farfalla straight in the eye as he takes the ring out of his pocket. “This ring was given to me, long ago…” he begins as Farfalla lets out a gasp, “and there is only one person in the world who should have it.” He says holding it out to her.

“Marius, it’s beautiful!” she says, taking the ring from his palm. “It’s etched like a feather! How unique! Where in the world did you find this?!” she asks.

“It was given to me by someone very special, a lifetime ago,” he says, remembering the day a blackbird left the ring at his feet as he stood waiting for Magpie to come meet him at the bottom of his driveway. The same day they found out Farfalla had died... But here she is, now, standing directly in front of him. This is his life now; it is time to embrace it. “This ring belongs to you,” he says simply. “It would make me very happy if you would consider wearing it, as my wife.” With this, he feels a nervous panic rising in his stomach but shifts his feet to keep it down.

“I would love nothing more,” she says, smiling. “Perhaps, for now, we should keep this between us though, until you’ve spoken to Father. It is tradition after all…” she trails off.

“Of course!” he says, “I understand. Yes, it’ll be our special secret for now, and come spring we can marry and celebrate with everyone in the village,” he says, smiling.

Farfalla unclasps the delicate silver chain around her neck and loops the ring onto it before handing it to him “Would you mind?” she says, turning her back and holding her mass of red hair out of the way. Nervous, Lucas lays the chain back around her delicate porcelain neck and closes the clasp. Farfalla turns back around and falls into his arms, he lets out a whoop of joy and spins her around. Nearby, Cormorant lets out a loud whinny.

“Are you feeling left out old boy?!” Says Lucas, cheerfully.

“Oh Marius, let’s go for a celebratory ride!” she says. Lucas is only two happy to oblige, and the two of them hop on Cormorant’s back and walk silently through the apple orchard with only a sliver of moon to light their way.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 26, Happy Holidays, where Magpie celebrates the season with the Sarcelles and is in for a heartwarming surprise.

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’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a donation via my podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon page. There you will get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, and I have some fun snail mail gifts for Patreon subscribers coming in the near future!! Check the show notes for links.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Murder Roadtrip. Our hosts travel alphabetically through the U.S. delving into strange tales from each state. If you enjoy the strange atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll definitely want to check them out.

Once again, thank you for listening. I am Melissa Oliveri, creator and host of  The Skylark Bell podcast.

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 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.

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 today’s episode we read the chapter 25 – A Chaotic Swirl of a Dream – in which Farfalla has a dream with kaleidoscopic images of her past, present, and future.

This week's podcast partner is Generally Spooky: https://linktr.ee/generallyspooky

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 25 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla began to embrace her new role and status within the ancient forest group. She was also introduced to the Ancient Oak, a tree reminiscent of The Oak at Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 25 – A Chaotic Swirl of a Dream – in which Farfalla has a dream with kaleidoscopic images of her past, present, and future.

Today’s podcast partner is Generally Spooky, also a member of The Boopod Network! If you’re interested in learning about the often spooky and haunting history of Scotland, you won’t want to miss this one! Hosts Eilidh and Kieran sprinkle just the right amount of humour in each episode. Just check the show notes for a link to the Generally Spooky podcast. 

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

The instructions came so clearly, like a conversation with a trusted teacher. A friend. A confidant. 

The Ancient Oak wanted something, something quite simple and small, the size of an acorn, and I have been given something invaluable in return: Instructions on how to make the Skylark Bell. I will need the entire tribe to help me. I’ve noticed a change in them, ever since they realized I can communicate with the Ancient Oak. They have always revered oak trees, and cohabitated with nature, even gotten animals to do their bidding, but they have never had the capacity for this two-way communication like I have. I have no explanation for it, this ability, but I know one thing: It has put me into a position of power.

~~~~~~

The man with the long dark beard stands on the beach, his arms bent at the elbow resting on his hips. He is squinting at the image Farfalla has drawn in the sand with a stick. Farfalla has been living with the tribe for nearly three years now, but her grasp of their complex language is still very loose, so she has taken to drawing out her instructions.

“Corbin,” she says, turning to the man, “can you do this?” she stumbles through the words in his language. The man turns to her and nods, smiling with pride. He is an expert at shaping and engraving metals, he is essential to her plan. The matter settled; they amble back up the beach. On a whim, Farfalla picks a violet and hands it to him. “Thank you,” she says, “tapadh leat (TAW-pa-latt)”.  He smiles at her and holds his hand out. She grasps it shyly and lets him guide her up the steep embankment back toward the forest.

Farfalla never thought she would open her heart up again, but loneliness has gotten the better of her. She and Corbin, despite their limited communication, have become quite friendly over the years. It has taken her some time to gather full instructions from the Ancient Oak, but at last it is time to make the bell. Corbin will forge and engrave it, then there will be a ceremony with fire, tinctures, herbs, song, and dance, then the bell will be complete. Farfalla’s deepest wish is to use it to return to her beloved Elisabeth.

Farfalla lays a kiss on Corbin’s cheek as they part ways. He heads to his tent to begin his work, and Farfalla lets herself into Cailleach’s tent. Cailleach has been unwell for several weeks and Farfalla has been caring for her. “How are you feeling today?” she asks cheerfully as she prepares some herbal tea with the hot water from the kettle she grabbed out of the community fire.

“I’m tired, but there’s still life in me,” says Cailleach, her parched lips parting into a smile. Farfalla helps the old woman sit up in her cot then hands her the steaming concoction.

“Thistle.... Bog Myrtle, Heather… and something else, I can’t quite decipher,” says Cailleach as she inhales the steam swirling out of her cup.

“Oak bark,” says Farfalla, smiling. “Don’t worry, I asked for permission before taking some,” she adds with a wink. “Corbin is going to start making the bell today,” she says, changing the topic. Cailleach nods, a faraway look in her eye. “What is it Cailleach? You seem concerned…” she notes.

Cailleach shakes her head, her silver crown of curls brushing back and forth over her shoulders. “Nothing to trouble you with at this time,” she says.

“You seem to know so much more about me, about everything, than you let on. Is there a reason you won’t tell me?” Farfalla presses on.

“I believe your future is fluid. I don’t think you are constrained to living it as you have before. That is why I tell you nothing of it, so you can make your own choices, forge your own path. I am hopeful that this time…” Cailleach lets the thought trail off. Farfalla doesn’t respond, but let’s Cailleach’s last word resonate around the tent. This time… 

Farfalla helps Cailleach lay back down and stands guard until the old woman is asleep. She then grabs the kettle before she slips out of the tent. Farfalla fills the kettle with water then hangs it back on the rod that stretches across the fire. It is dusk, and there is a cool edge to the breeze to indicate the end of summer. It seems like only yesterday they were celebrating the arrival of spring. Farfalla walks to the edge of the clearing and sees the red deer standing by, waiting for her. They’ve gotten into the habit of walking through the woods and watching the moonrise by the rock near what would eventually be the Carnifex property.

“Hello Ru!” She whispers, running her hand over the soft red fur for which she gave the animal its name. “Are you ready for our walk?” The deer takes a step forward, and they head off into the forest. The walk the familiar paths side by side with Farfalla chattering about her conversation with the Ancient Oak and her preparations for the making of the Skylark Bell. Finally, the come to the edge of the forest, and stand next to the ancient stone that will one day serve as a marker between the fields of Carnifex House and the neighbouring farm. Farfalla leans on the rock and watches the moon rise. It is almost full, only the slimmest shred of it remaining unlit. They stand for the better part of an hour, silent, basking in the silvery moonlight, before turning and walking back through the forest to the encampment. The deer stops short of the clearing and Farfalla says her goodbyes before continuing on by herself. She lets herself into her tent and collapses onto her straw bed, exhausted.

Farfalla has only been asleep for an hour or so when the dream begins. At first, it is the familiar dream where she is under water, sinking into the sand with the sun’s rays filtering through the water above her head before everything goes dark. This time though, she sees Marius’ face as he reaches down to pull her from the water. She collapses into his arms and he pulls her up the beach into the tall, dry grass beyond. Suddenly, they are at Meadow Lane. Farfalla turns to Marius and watches in horror as he slowly transforms into a Magpie, stretching his black and white wings before lifting off into the sky. She watches until he disappears, then turns when she feels a presence by her side. There is James, a look of pain and disappointment on his face. He leans toward her lets out a loud, accusatory Caw! Before vanishing into thin air. Farfalla recoils in fear and squeezes her eyes closed. When she reopens them, she is inside the house at Meadow Lane, staring into the mirror of the vanity in her bedroom. She sees a girl there who looks very much like her, but is dressed oddly, and going on about The Silence. The girl fades away and Farfalla sees the forest reflected in the mirror. She turns on her stool and sees the winding path through the woods ahead of her and Ru standing proudly, head held high with his crown of antlers reaching for the canopy of leaves above. She walks to the deer, and they begin to amble down the path. As they are walking Farfalla gets the feeling the deer has gotten larger, she turns to look and gasps when she sees Cormorant by her side, his dark coat blending with the shadows of the forest while his white mane and tail look like they are glowing from the inside.  The massive horse stops short of the clearing and Farfalla looks on in horror; the Ancient Oak is engulfed in flames from top to bottom. The loud crackling noise reminds her of the sound as the trees from her beloved apple orchard were burned in the fireplace during the terrible winter of 1925. Farfalla can feel the acrid smoke filling her lungs and wakes up coughing and heaving for air. 

She sits up in bed, and it takes her a moment to remember where she is. She shakes off the sensation of being disoriented and fills her cup with water from the jug by her bed. She runs through the various chaotically swirling elements of the dream in her mind. Water, fire, deer, horse, magpie, Marius, James, the Ancient Oak. She feels like there is a warning in it all, but she can’t quite decipher it. Exhausted, Farfalla lays back down. Tomorrow is an important day, tomorrow the bell will be finished. Farfalla closes her eyes and falls into a long, dreamless sleep. 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 26 – The Making of a Bell – in which Farfalla uses the instuctions from the Ancient Oak to create the Skylark Bell.

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 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. 

In today’s episode we read Wingspan Chapter 27, Mirror Pond - in which Lucas experiences the terrible winter of 1925 and Marius Corbeau's mysterious fate, first hand.

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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Spilling The Crime: https://linktr.ee/spillingthecrime

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 27 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie and Julien get engaged during a holiday celebration with the Sarcelles at Carnifex House.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 27 – Mirror Pond - in which Lucas experiences the terrible winter of 1925 first hand.

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Spilling the Crime. 

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

The terrible winter of 1925 has arrived. Shortly after the New Year’s celebrations, weeks of frigid temperatures and relentless snow falls started taking their toll. Lucas remembers reading about it in Charlotte’s letters and in the books and newspapers at the library, but never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be living it. 

He is there when Charlotte and Edward pack up their house. He helps Edward and James carry their belongings to the attic. It takes the strength of all three of them to haul the silver-framed mirror that had once been the centerpiece of the dining room up two flights of stairs. He is there when Cerise disappears, leaving Charlotte devastated. He watches as she tearfully tucks the photo of James and Cerise into the lid of the trunk, the photo that he had once held in his hand, the photo that his younger self would find 90 years from now. Once everything is safely tucked away, he helps them wall off the staircase and build the closet in what would eventually become Magpie’s room. He helps them pack their cart and watches with a heavy heart as they disappear down the road, travelling toward a future that is uncertain for them, but for which he already knows the outcome.

Lucas hears about a man’s tragic passing in a fire at a nearby farm, and his heart aches. He remembers reading about the incident while he and Magpie were doing research at the library, he remembers sitting in the man’s abandoned barn with Magpie, the ruins of the farmhouse just a few yards away. But back then he didn’t know the man, he had no connection to him. Things are different now. The man’s name was Earl. He was a lovely, very hard-working man who was proud of his family. He was a wonderful father to his children, teaching them, entertaining them, caring for them. He and Lucas had worked side by side rebuilding the bunting’s shed after the wind blew it down. History records events, it records people’s accomplishments, but it doesn’t record who people are, who they were, not in the most meaningful way. Articles about the tragedy didn’t say “He carried his daughter up on his shoulders so she could reach to brightest, shiniest apple in the tree,” Lucas thinks sadly.

With the Carnifex family gone, the Shearwaters have invited Lucas to stay with them at Meadow Lane. He and Farfalla announced their engagement over the holidays, to everyone’s delight. It was the happiest Lucas had been in a long time, until the cold and snow removed all joy from the town of Pocket. The apple trees in the orchard were chopped down for firewood as the residents of Pocket became more and more desperate to stay warm. One of the last trees standing is the large oak that stands in front of Meadow Lane. Farfalla had desperately begged her father to preserve it, arguing that birds and animals were nesting in it and she couldn’t bear the thought of chopping it down. Finally, Lucas had offered to go out to find more wood and Mr. Shearwater had relented.

Lucas has spent the last few days riding through the fields with Cormorant, searching for any kind of tree the Shearwaters can use for firewood. They have been using what little reserves they have left sparingly, but the pile of wood is dwindling, with no sign of the bitter cold letting up. His first few excursions had been somewhat successful, he’d found some saplings that would tide them over for a few days. Today he has traveled farther than any other outing, but a blizzard blows in as he is making his way home, drastically reducing visibility. Lucas squints his eyes against the howling wind and nudges Cormorant in the general direction of Meadow Lane. They slowly plough through mounds of snow, the wind never relinquishing its hold on the air. Lucas can feel thoughts of Marius’ untimely end creeping into his mind but pushes them away, he needs to focus on getting home to Farfalla. 

Suddenly, Lucas sees a flash of colour up ahead. He squints, leaning forward in the saddle to get a better look. He sees a girl sitting on a large rock. “Magpie?!” he says, his words carried away on the wind. Lucas reaches up to try and pull his scarf from his face so he can see better, but a gust of wind blows it out of his hand and onto Cormorant’s face. The huge animal rears up in fear, throwing Lucas off its back. Lucas lands with a thud, the frozen ground instantly knocking the wind out of him. He can hear the sound of Cormorant galloping away, and takes a moment to catch his breath and think about what to do next. He thinks about the stories he and Magpie heard about Marius, how he disappeared in a snowstorm by Mirror Pond. If he is at Mirror Pond, then he isn’t all that far away from Meadow Lane! If he can get up, he just might make it. 

Lucas turns onto his stomach and lifts himself up on all fours then waits a moment to make sure his arms and legs are unhurt. Suddenly, his hands slip out from under him, brushing away the snow on the surface of the pond and sending Lucas’ face crashing against the ice. Out of nowhere he hears a man’s voice. Lucas strains to make out the words. He senses movement nearby and rolls over onto his back to get a better view. An older man is leaning over him, a pleading look on his face. “Take me with you!” he says, “Please, you have to take me with you.” Lucas sees his bright white snowy surroundings fade to black as he loses consciousness. 

The man springs into action, groaning as he picks Lucas up off the ground and carries him as best he can toward the house at Meadow Lane. He finally reaches the front yard and leans Lucas up against the trunk of the oak tree on the front lawn. “I’m going to get help, I’ll be right back,” says the man to a still unconscious Lucas, before racing toward the Starling farm across the road. A few moments later Lucas can feel himself slowly coming around. He keeps his eyes closed and wraps his arms around himself to fend off the bitter cold. On the wind he can hear the tinkling of a bell, he recognizes the sound of the Skylark Bell. “I must be near Meadow Lane!” he thinks, his eyes popping open. The world before him is washed in white. He can feel the trunk of the oak tree behind him and realizes the house is only a few yards behind. He props himself up against the tree and turns around. In the upstairs window of the house, he can see Farfalla dancing in front of her vanity mirror, her mouth moving like she is singing. He strains to hear, a very faint tune carrying on the wind, a tune that sounds vaguely familiar. Something about it sends a chill down Lucas’ spine, a chill far worse than the burning cold of the blizzard. Lucas closes his eyes, and the singing gradually gets louder. He has no doubt about where he has heard it before. That surreal voice singing that mystical tune. He first heard it in the forest near Carnifex house, an ocean and a century away. Lucas feels dizzy and disoriented, and the sensation of his body and mind separating, floating away on the sound waves.

The old man makes his way back to the oak tree. “I don’t understand,” he says in shock, realizing that Lucas is gone. “He was right here!”

The old man looks devastated as his shoulders slump in resignation. He knows Marius never made it back to Meadow Lane, he read about it years ago.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 28, All That Could Have Been, where Lucas once again finds himself transported, this time back to Carnifex House, but his feeling of relief is short lived.

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’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a donation via my podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon page. There you will get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, and I have some fun snail mail gifts for Patreon subscribers coming in the near future!! Check the show notes for links.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Spilling the Crime. Listen to this true crime podcast with hilarious and lively hosts. If you enjoy a good laugh with your dose of the unexplained and mysterious be sure to listen to Spilling the Crime.

Once again, thank you for listening. I am Melissa Oliveri, creator and host of  The Skylark Bell podcast.      

In today’s episode we read the chapter 17 – A Childhood Dream Come True – in which Farfalla embraces her new role as The Skye Lark Belle.

This week's podcast partner is The Haunted UK: https://linktr.ee/hauntedukpodcast

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 17 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla was crowned the first Skye Lark Belle at the very first edition of the Lark Festival of Skye.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 17 – A Childhood Dream Come True – in which Farfalla embraces her new role as The Skye Lark Belle.

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.

August 1^st, 1797

As a child, I wanted nothing more than to be The Skye Lark Belle. 

I remember the sound of Mama’s voice as she read from the brown leather-bound book with the gold etching on the on the cover. I remember sitting by the fire with Paloma, each with a cup of hot cocoa and a blanket. I remember imagining in my head the images that went with the words Mama was reading. A beautiful woman with long red hair, just like mine, walking out of the ocean in her long white dress. The people on the beach were spell-bound by her beauty. They brought her to the Lark Festival and put her on a stage where she sang for everyone, and they all fell in love with her, and crowned her the Belle of the Lark Festival of Skye. 

I wanted it all. I wished for it with every fiber of my being. The adoration, the gifts, the crown. I sat and wished for it every single day, sitting on that big rock in the middle of mirror pond.

I didn’t know then that it was a true story. I didn’t know then that it was based on my very own life. Who would ever have believed that?! I didn’t know then that the old adage, be careful what you wish for, would ever ring so true? 

I have paid dearly for that wish. I will never see Elisabeth again, she won’t be born for over 130 years. I will never know what happened to James. I will never see Mama, Papa, or Paloma again, and they will never know what happened to me. They’ll never guess that my entire story is written in a book that bought in a small overseas bookshop and gifted to Mama years ago.

We all thought it was just a story. But it’s real.

Very, very real.

~~~~~~

Farfalla landed on the beach only a few days ago and has been asleep for most of that time. After being crowned at the lark festival she walked through the field in a daze, shying away as people came to her one after the other, touching her hair, asking her to sing, asking her what it is like being a sea creature. Finally, the old woman had shooed them away and collected her husband from the ale tent so he could drive them home to a small house at the end of a long dirt road. They give her two helpings of boiled fish and potato stew, then a cup of oats with milk and honey, before showing her to her room. Farfalla lets herself sink into the straw bed, the hearty meal having filled her stomach, and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Rise and shine!” comes a voice from the doorway. Farfalla groggily sits up turns to let her legs dangle off the edge of the bed, her feet resting on the rough wood floor. The old woman from the cart walks into the room carrying a tray. “I’ve brought ye some oats n’ berries, and a tall glass of milk. That’ll put ye right, you’ll see,” she says cheerfully as she places the tray on the bed next to Farfalla.

“Thank you Mrs. Sutherland,” says Farfalla.

“Please, call me Agnes, we’re practically family now,” replies the old woman with a chuckle.

Farfalla bristles at the mention of family. 

Farfalla rubs her eyes and looks down at a tin cup filled with wild roses sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. She leans over to smell them, and the scent brings her back to Meadow Lane the day she made her own crown of vines and twigs. She had placed a wild rose in it. She feels a pang of sadness hit her in the gut. Blinking back tears, she scans the room, and lets out a gasp. Every possible surface is covered with a makeshift vase filled with wildflowers; bluebells, daisies, clover, violets, marigolds, forget-me-nots… “They’re from the villagers” Agnes explains, “They’re happy you have chosen Pòcaid as your home.”

Pòcaid. The name sounds familiar. Farfalla lets it roll around in her head for a moment, then it clicks. Pòcaid is the name of the village she and James were going to. Carnifex House must be nearby!

“I’ve altered one of my dresses for you,” Agnes’ voice cuts through Farfalla’s thoughts, “it’ll be perfect for your performance tonight,” she says.

Farfalla’s brow furrows. “Performance?” she asks.

“Yes, the Brackenridge girl is ill again, Margaret is convinced the healing powers of a Selkie will make it right. I’ve promised her you will come over tonight, to sing,” replies. Farfalla opens her mouth to protest but thinks better of it. Agnes’ tone left no room for discussion.

Farfalla finishes her breakfast and spends most of the day helping Agnes around the house while John tends to the fields. They eat and early supper together and Agnes sends Farfalla to her room to get ready. Farfalla struggles with the dress, the complex layers of undergarments very unfamiliar to her. Once she’s relatively confident everything is in its place she heads to the kitchen.

“I knew it would fit you,” gushes Agnes, fussing over the placement of the lace collar at the back of Farfalla’s neck. “We should go, they’ll be expecting us,” she says, nodding to John who gets up and marches out the door.

They sit in a row at the front of the horse cart, Farfalla in the middle. The dark bay mare, whose name is Violet, plods along what is clearly a familiar path. They turn down a long dirt lane and pull up in front of a two-story stone house with a vast, well-manicured garden in front. “Now, Mrs. Brackenridge is expecting you,” says Agnes, as she and Farfalla step out of the cart. She reaches into the folds of her skirts and pulls out the silver vine crown. “One last thing,” she says, placing it gently on Farfalla’s head. She stands back and scans her eyes up and down to ensure everything is in its place, then gives one short nod of approval. “Off you go then,” she says, gesturing toward the front door.

“Ar-aren’t you coming with me?” asks Farfalla, suddenly even more uncomfortable than she already was.

“No, the Brackenridge family is very particular,” she says, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She waves her hand one more time and climbs back into the cart. “We’ll be back to collect you in a little while,” she says as John gives Violet the signal to start walking.

Farfalla walks to the front door and reaches for the door knocker, but the door swings open before she has a chance to grasp it. A tall, older man with shoulders far too wide for his slim frame nods and gestures for her to come in. Farfalla steps into the hallway and notes the beautiful stone tile and ornate wood trim of the entryway.

“Our honoured guest has arrived!” calls a sing-songy voice at the end of the hall. Farfalla takes a few tentative steps in that direction and sees a woman with a beautifully designed dress and dark silken hair up in a complex twist held together by several jeweled pins. The woman extends a delicate hand with unusually long fingers toward Farfalla. “I am Margaret Brackenridge, and this is my husband Donald,” she says. Her speech is as graceful as her posture. Headmistress Tangella-Newsome would love her thinks Farfalla, her lips curving into a smile. “Please, this way. Our daughter has taken ill again. I am sure you are just the remedy for what ails her,” says Margaret Brackenridge. Farfalla finds herself unable to think of her as simply ‘Margaret’. 

They continue down the long hallway and up the stairs to a bedroom to the right of the landing. Inside the dimly lit room is a large four-poster bed with layers of thick blankets despite the summer heat. Farfalla can see a small, pale face peeking out from under the blankets. She walks to the bed and cautiously sits down. The little girl’s eyes open, and progressively widen when she sees Farfalla. 

“Hullo,” says the girl, quietly.

“Hello,” says Farfalla, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Lissie,” she replies, and after a brief moment, “Well, really it’s Elisabeth,”

Faralla’s heart skips a beat. Elisabeth. She can feel her hands start to tremble so she shoves them under her legs. 

“I know who you are,” continues the girl, her voice barely above a whisper. Farfalla looks at her quizzically. “You’re the Skye Lark Belle!” at this her voice gains a little strength. “Mama says you came from the ocean, like a Selkie, and that you can make me better!”

Farfalla feels her eyes get sad. She can tell the girl is stricken with some kind of degenerative illness. The best she can do is bring her some temporary comfort. “Well, what do you say we walk over to that rocking chair and I sing you a little song?” she asks. The little girl nods, and Farfalla helps her get out of bed and take a few steps over to the chair. Farfalla sits down and lifts the girl onto her lap. She rocks back and forth for a moment before she starts singing. First the old French lullaby she once sang to her own Elisabeth, then, almost unconsciously, the song of the Oak Tree. She opens her eyes as the last note echoes through the room, and looks down at the child. The girl is looking up at her wide-eyed, and there is a rosiness to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“Lissie?” Margaret Brackenridge walks across the room and looks down at her daughter. Lissie wiggles off Farfalla’s lap and stands up, then takes several confident steps around the room. “Lissie, you’re walking!” exclaims her mother, grabbing the girl and lifting her into her arms. “Thank you,” she says to Farfalla, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“The Sutherlands have arrived,” says the tall, slim butler from the doorway.

“I should be going,” says Farfalla. She leans in toward the girl, no sitting on the edge of the bed and swinging her legs back and forth. “Goodbye, Elisabeth,” she says, running a hand down the girl’s cheek. She turns away quickly before they can see the tears brewing in her eyes, and scurries down the stairs and through the long hallway to the front door.

“Wait!” shouts Mr. Brackenridge, running behind her. Farfalla stops in her tracks, running a finger under her eyelid to catch a tear. She turns to face the man. “How will we ever repay you?” he asks.

“Oh, no need to repay me,” she says, “I’m just happy I could help.” With that, she turns and leaves.

“How did it go?” asks Agnes, shifting to the middle of the seat so Farfalla can get into the cart.

“She’s feeling well now,” replies Farfalla, pulling the crown off her head and putting it into the back of the cart. They ride the rest of the way home in silence, and Farfalla heads straight to bed, visions of Lissie and her own Elisabeth swirling into one another as she falls asleep.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 18 – Pocaid – in which Farfalla becomes close with the Carnifex children, Frannie and Felix.

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.  

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 2

NOTE: If you have not listened to Volume 1 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first installment, 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 installment of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volume 1 or the story won’t make much sense. 

In last week’s episode, we met Marie, who agreed to take on a job house-sitting for twin sisters Florence and Winifred over the holiday weekend and will help care for their elderly tenant, Mr. Holcomb who lives upstairs. When we left Marie, she had just exited Mr. Holcomb’s apartment after Christmas Eve dinner went awry as a thunderous storm rolled in. 

Now, get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s dive back into the story, shall we?

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next time I glanced at the fire it had been rendered to a pile of glowing embers, and a small stream of sunlight was coming through a crack in the floral chenille fabric of the drapes. I got up, neatly folded, and piled the blankets, and pulled the drapes open to let the full force of the sun shine into the room. A cloud of dust lifted from the drapes and swirled into the air before slowly settling onto the surrounding surfaces. In the bright light of day, the space didn’t seem nearly so threatening, and I began to feel ridiculous about overreacting to the phone call the night before. The line was crackly, I probably misheard. In all likelihood it was a wrong number, or a prank call. 

“Merry Christmas, Marie,” I said out loud to the empty flat as I padded down the hall to the kitchen. I cooked some eggs and toast, poured myself a glass of orange juice, and put the kettle on for tea. I eyed the tea canisters on the shelf above the cookbooks but decided to save that for the evening. I washed up my dishes, changed clothes, brushed my teeth, then decided to go upstairs to check on Mr. Holcomb. 

I climbed the narrow stairs and was about to knock on the door when it swung open, revealing Mr. Holcomb’s silhouette in the hallway. “I told you my hearing was good,” he uttered before I could ask how he knew I was there. “Merry Christmas,” he added without any merriment in his voice. He looked exhausted.

I opened my mouth to ask what had happened the night before, but he had already started walking down the hallway on velvet feet. I followed him to the kitchen where two cups of steaming coffee and a plate of biscuits sat waiting on the table. “How did you...” I let the question trail, unable to wrap my brain around his impeccable timing.

“My senses are above average, I knew you were coming upstairs before you did,” he replied with a wink. I noticed with wonder that when he winked the clouds in his other eye swirled faster for a moment as though a gust of wind was passing through.

We sat at the table in silence. I became self-conscious of the crunching of biscuits in the quiet little kitchen and was about to begin a conversation when Mr. Holcomb beat me to it. “I have a gift for you,” he said out of the blue. I stared at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. I had never seen him leave his flat, how in the world did he manage to find a gift for me? He turned to take a small box off the counter and handed it to me. I freed the box from the blue velvet ribbon wrapped around it and gently lifted its lid. Inside was a fine china teacup with matching saucer, both white but painted with a black floral pattern that bordered on ink blots. There was something very Winifred-esque about them and I briefly wondered if this was a re-gift situation, but it didn’t matter to me, I was touched by the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

“This is lovely Mr. Holcomb, and so very kind, thank you. I’m afraid I have nothing to offer in return, I didn’t realise...”

“Not to worry dear, I wasn’t expecting anything at all, I simply wanted to show some appreciation for keeping me company at this time of year,” he replied. His stormy eyes took on a darker tone then, almost like the deep, heavy grey of a rain cloud about to unleash its tears on the world. “Well, I shall leave you to your own devices for the rest of the day. Nothing personal, I simply prefer to be alone at Christmas.”

I frowned but acquiesced with a polite nod as I rose from my chair. “I insist on bringing you a tray with Christmas dinner though, I’ll leave it by your door around 6pm, okay?” I asked. He smiled and gave me a nod, understanding my need to reciprocate the kindness of his gift. “I shall see you tomorrow morning then?” my question was tentative; I still hadn’t sorted out what had happened the night before.

“Yes, I shall cook us a nice Boxing Day breakfast. Now go on, enjoy your time downstairs, there is much to read, much to discover, much to learn...” he said. Had his eyes been clear, they’d have been staring into my soul then. I looked at him intently, his eyes suddenly seemed lighter, almost white, and feathery, there was a calm to them, and I got a shiver down my spine as I realised he was attempting to convey a message.

I took the box containing Mr. Holcomb’s gift and made my way back to the sisters’ flat. I gently pulled the cup and saucer out of the box and placed them on the counter. It was here that I finally noted the black flowers were painted in a swirling pattern eerily reminiscent of Mr. Holcomb’s cloudy eyes.

I was intimately familiar with the kitchen and sitting rooms already, so I decided it was time to explore the rest of the flat. I first went down the hall and hesitantly stepped into Winifred’s room. I perused the items on her dresser, they were few; an empty perfume bottle, a hairbrush with long strands of dark hair tangled into it, a collection of multicoloured glass bottles and vials that appeared to contain various tinctures and what looked like animal teeth... Curiouser and curiouser! Winifred was definitely the creepy sister. Laying askew atop her nightstand was a copy of Daphne DuMaurier’s The House on the Strand. I picked up the book and read the synopsis on the back, it had to do with time travel and such. I placed it back down, making a mental note to get myself a copy, I found the idea of time travel fascinating!

I exited Winifred’s room and let myself into Florence’s living quarters. Her space was much larger and included a sitting area. I ran my hand along the wood of her antique loveseat, then down its striped salmon-coloured satin fabric. I walked to her dresser and noticed the top drawer was slightly open. I peeked in and saw it was filled with handwritten notes and illustrations on various bits of paper. I was about to pull it open further to explore the contents when I heard a commotion outside the window. “What was that?” I asked the empty room. I walked to the window and looked out to see a group of boys running down the street at breakneck speed. My eyes followed them until they were out of sight, then darted back to the sidewalk. Sitting just outside the window, quietly staring up at me with stunning yellow eyes, was a kitten, its velvety grey fur covered in mud. Clearly the boys had been mistreating it. 

Concerned for the kitten’s safety, I rushed down the hallway, grabbing the antique key to the front door off the entryway console as I whizzed by, and flew down the steps to the sidewalk. Thankfully the kitten was still there. From this proximity I could see it had a blue velvet ribbon for a collar, with small silver tag dangling from it. I approached cautiously, not wanting to scare it away, and crouched down while reaching my hand out. The kitten immediately got up and walked toward me, pushing its little head against my palm, its friendliness completely unhindered by the abuse it had just suffered at the hands of the unruly boys. “Hello there small friend,” I cooed, running my hand down the softness of its back. I used my other hand to grab hold of the tag. “Jones,” I read, “is that your name, or your family’s name?” The kitten remained silent; its amber eyes transfixed on me as I carefully bent down to scoop it up.

I cradled the kitten in my arms as I made my way back into the sisters’ flat. It took a few tries opening various cupboards, but I eventually found two shallow bowls. I filled one with water, and placed a few pieces of cooked chicken from the fridge into the other one. “There you go, Jones, Merry Christmas,” I told him as I placed the bowls on the tile floor. He meowed at me, and I told myself he was wishing me a merry Christmas in return. I didn’t know then it wasn’t going to be a merry Christmas for him at all...

I gave Jones a bath as best I could in the large porcelain sink, then settled him on a pillow by the stove to dry. I spent the rest of the day in the cozy kitchen cooking and baking. First, I prepared a hearty vegetable soup with cheddar and chive biscuits, then some lentil fritters using my nan’s recipe from memory, and finally a rum raisin cake with homemade custard for dessert. I also made a point to prepare a little Christmas meal for Jones using odds and ends I found in the fridge. I put together a tray for Mr. Holcomb and left it by his door, promptly at 6pm, as promised, then came back downstairs to eat. I found a festive tartan tablecloth and some tapered candles with accompanying pewter candle holders on the bottom shelf of the pantry. “It’s just you and me, Jones,” I said to the cat, “might as well make the most of it!” I spooned a bit of custard onto a plate for him. His golden eyes glowed with gratitude as he lapped it up.

We finished dinner and I tidied the kitchen, then wandered aimlessly about the flat, eventually landing in the reading room.  I perused the books housed on the multitude of shelves, and finally chose Alice in Wonderland. I plopped myself in the leather chair stationed in front of the massive oak desk in the center of the room and lost myself down the rabbit hole alongside Alice for a couple of hours. Eventually, I tore myself away from the pages to give my eyes a break. I set the book down on the desktop and pushed the chair back slightly to take a look at the drawers. The top drawer had a keyhole, which of course made me desperately want to open it. I scoured the items strewn on top of the desk and eventually found a small key with a black satin ribbon tied in a bow around the top of it. I turned the key in the lock and heard the satisfying click that meant my curiosity would soon be satiated. Alas, behind the barrier of the lock, the drawer contained only an assortment of pens and blank notepads.

I moved onto the top right drawer and found a collection of folders detailing much of the history of the building including the original owners and a collection of past tenants. Fascinating! I had done so much reading already though, I decided to save this for the following day. I shifted to the left and pulled that top drawer open. At first, I thought it was empty, but just as I was about to close it, I noticed there was a black folder laying on the very bottom, almost imperceptible. The folder was wedged so tightly into the bottom of the drawer I had to use my thumbnail to pry it free. I didn’t immediately realise it, but the mystery I was about to discover would call into question everything I thought I knew about Mr. Holcomb and the twins.

I lifted the folder out of the drawer and a series of newspaper clippings fell out onto the desk. I turned on the antique desk lamp, picked up one of the clippings, and held it under the light to get a better look. “Young Salesman From Edgewick Goes Missing” read the headline. Despite my tired eyes I dove in, completely enthralled by the mystery. It wasn’t long before my breath caught in my throat. The article went on to explain that a young man had gone missing after leaving for work the Tuesday morning prior. He was last seen dressed in a charcoal-coloured wool suit and carrying a brown satchel. His name? Russell James Holcomb. 

I let the piece of paper fall from my hand to the surface of the hardwood desktop. I stared at the portrait of the young man; with a little imagination it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance with the old cloud-eyed man living upstairs. My brow knit as I tried to come to terms with this discovery. Mr. Holcomb had gone missing as a young man, was anyone aware of his whereabouts now? I sifted through the other newspaper clippings in search of answers. Most of them were from the same era as the first one, days to weeks after Mr. Holcomb first disappeared, but one of them stood out. It was written nearly a decade later and was part of a collection of stories about people who had mysteriously vanished without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. 

I had half a mind to march upstairs and ask Mr. Holcomb what this was all about, but it dawned on me then that perhaps he didn’t want to be found, perhaps he had good reason for never speaking up about his whereabouts. From the news articles it didn’t sound like he was the type to have done anything nefarious. I was desperately curious about his story but knew better than to go charging in asking questions. The grandfather clock in the corner struck twice, it was 2am already, and I had promised Mr. Holcomb I would join him for breakfast in a few hours. I wandered back into the living room and settled on the sofa with my trusty pile of blankets. Jones hopped onto the couch as well and curled up on top of my feet. I fell asleep to the steady rumble of his purring as the fire in the fireplace slowly waned to embers.

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

Be sure to check in next week for the next part of the story!

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.  

In today’s episode we read Chapter 11 – The Skye Lark Belle - in which Magpie returns to the Lark Festival with Manon and has a bizarre and terrifying experience

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 11 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie overheard a strange, imaginary conversation coming from her empty dining room while she and Lucas enjoyed a dinner with Manon and Alfred Sarcelle.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 11 – The Skye Lark Belle - in which Magpie returns to the Lark Festival with Manon and has a bizarre and terrifying experience

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

“Good morning!” says Manon, setting a plate of fresh strawberry crepes in front of Magpie.

“Wow, these look amazing!” says Magpie, “Thank you so much!”

“My pleasure! I told Alfred I was making crepes, it made him quite sorry that he and Lucas had to leave early to catch the ferry!” says Manon, winking at Magpie.

“I don’t envy them, that’s a lot of travel time to go pick up a rocking chair!” says Magpie.

“Indeed! But those chairs are handmade, you can’t find them anywhere else, and Alfred has always wanted one. I told him I would buy him one for his birthday, but he would have to go pick it up. I am glad Lucas went with him, it would have been a long and lonely trip otherwise!” says Manon.

Magpie and Manon have decided they will spend the day at the Lark Festival. There are different activities each day and today is the crowning of the Skye Lark Belle. “There will be music and dancing, and the ceremony, it will be wonderful!” Manon says, her deep brown eyes twinkling with excitement. 

Magpie pops the last strawberry into her in her mouth and walks her plate to the sink. “I’m ready when you are!” she says, feeling her excitement building. 

“Wonderful! I will get my shoes,” replies Manon.

The sun and the sea breeze come together to create the perfect temperature for a long walk outside. Magpie and Manon chat about their lives, their families, travels. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is your relationship with Lucas?” asks Manon as they are approaching the festival.

“We’ve been very close friends for years, but recently it has turned into something more,” replies Magpie, blushing slightly. She isn’t sure why she feels so shy when it comes to her relationship with Lucas. If she’s honest with herself, she has loved him from the very first day she moved to Pocket when he walked her through town. Magpie has a faraway look in her eye as she thinks back to all that has transpired between them since that day.

“I am very happy for you; it is clear to anyone who is paying attention that the two of you are very much in love,” says Manon, smiling.

Magpie smiles back. They have reached the gate to Goldcrest Gardens and the sights, smells, and sounds of the Lark Festival. “Here we are!” says Manon, her voice taking on a childlike quality. They enter the gardens and start making the rounds. Magpie is mesmerized once again by the kaleidoscope of music and colours. She and Manon are walking off their lunch, which consisted of a multitude of fair foods, when they come upon a carnival game booth.

“Step right up, win a prize!” shouts the man behind the counter.

“Come on, let’s do it!” says Manon, grabbing Magpie by the hand and pulling her toward the booth. She hands the man a series of tickets. “We each get 3 tries, just stand behind this line and throw the ball into the basket over there,” she says, pointing to a small woven basket.

“Got it!” says Magpie, her competitive spirit rising to the occasion. Magpie misses her first shot, but every ball thereafter lands directly on target.

“We have a winner!” says the carnival barker, his voice booming. He reaches behind the counter and hands Magpie a small handmade doll. “There you go, your very own Skye Lark Belle!” he says. 

Magpie bristles at the words. “Belle with an E,” she reminds herself, but the words trigger a memory, something from a long time ago. Magpie isn’t sure if it was a dream or a vision, but she remembers seeing a woman sitting by a fireplace reading a leather-bound book with “The Skye Lark Belle” written in gold-leaf on the cover. Magpie shakes out of her reverie and thanks the man. She looks down at the little doll clutched in her hand.  The doll’s head is made of wood and features a hand-painted face with lush pink lips and large blue eyes. Its body is made of straw covered in a little white lace dress. The doll’s hair is made of bright red yarn and is adorned with a silver crown made of painted twigs.

“I’ve always thought those dolls were a little creepy,” whispers Manon with a wink. “Come, let’s go ride on the carousel!” she says, once again grabbing Magpie by the hand.

Magpie isn’t sure if it’s the all the food they’ve been snacking on or the feeling brought on by hearing the words Skylark Bell, but she feels her stomach churn at the thought of going ‘round and ‘round on the carousel. “You know, I’m going to sit this one out, I think I ate a little too much,” says Magpie. 

“Okay, I will meet you back here!” says Manon over her shoulder, skipping toward the carousel. She chooses a unicorn, its face turned upward, a crown of flowers tumbling down its mane, and hops on just as the carrousel starts spinning. Magpie watches, enraptured once again by the craftsmanship and rainbow of colours on each of the different creatures whizzing by.

Suddenly, she notices a creature that makes her feel uneasy. It is a Mermaid, her turquoise and green tail twisted behind her, her arms at her sides like they are pushing her upper body out of the water. She has long, red hair cascading over her shoulders, and a silver crown made of twigs circling the top of her head. Her large blue unseeing eyes stare straight ahead while her mouth hangs open, as if in song… or is it a scream?...

“That’s the Skye Lark Belle,” says a voice behind Magpie, making her jump. Magpie spins around to see an old man in a vintage tweed suit and cap. “She was the belle of the ball at the very first Lark Festival here on the Isle of Skye. They found her on the beach one day. It is said she had a voice that wasn’t from this world, that she could communicate with the birds… a beautiful woman with long red hair and eyes blue like the sea.” He pauses, rubbing his short gray beard with one hand as if deep in thought before continuing, “over time some people in the village got the idea in their head that she was actually a siren. People don’t take kindly to sirens ‘round here.” He pauses again, heaving a long sigh. “I’m afraid things didn’t end well for the original Skye Lark Belle…” he says, his voice trailing off.

“What did they do to her?” asks Magpie, enthralled. Just then she hears Manon calling her name. Magpie turns to see Manon waving for her to come over. Magpie turns back to the old man, but he is already several paces away, heading toward the gate to leave. Magpie makes a mental note to inquire about the first Belle of the Skye Lark Festival when she has a chance, then walks quickly over to Manon.

“They are going to crown this year’s Belle! This way!” she says, leading Magpie toward a stage that has been set up at the back of the gardens where a crowd has started to form.

Magpie suddenly feels very uncomfortable, something in the air just feels off. She stops in her tracks and looks around. She has been so focused on the stage that she hasn’t taken a moment to look at the crowd. Now she gazes on in horror. All around her, every person is wearing a long white lace dress, a wig of red curly hair, and a silver crown made of painted twigs. As if on cue, they all start singing “Fallalala la la la la la laaaa”. Magpie starts to feel dizzy. The crowd closes in around her, swaying, singing the haunting tune… She looks around desperately trying to find Manon, and feels relief when she spots the back of Manon’s head just a few paces away. Magpie clutches people’s shoulders to keep herself upright as she makes her way forward. Breathless, she is about to reach Manon when she feels someone grab her arm, pulling her to the front of the crowd.

“Here she is, this year’s Skye Lark Belle!” shouts a woman, holding up Magpie’s arm. Magpie spins around, mustering every ounce of strength to not let her legs buckle underneath her. Somehow in the past few seconds she has been brought up onto the stage. She looks out at the crowd, a sea of women with long red hair… women who look like Farfalla… women who look like her… 

Magpie feels something being placed on her head. “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Skye Lark Belle!” says a man’s voice behind her. The crowd starts swaying in unison and singing a haunting tune, “Fallalala la la la la laaaa…”. Magpie starts seeing stars and is resigned to the fact that she is going to lose consciousness, when suddenly she feels someone take a firm hold of her hand. She turns and feels relief wash over her.

“Lucas!” she whispers.

“You looked like you could use a hand,” he says, winking.

“I don’t know what happened, I was just trying to get to Manon and all of a sudden I was up here, and everyone looks like Farfalla, and they’re putting something on my head, calling me the Skye Lark Belle…” she rambles.

“It’s almost over.” He says, smiling at her reassuringly.

“Yes, almost over…” she says, the words echoing strangely in her head.

“Magpie?! Magpie, are you okay?!” Manon is leaning over her, her eyes filled with worry. Magpie sits up. She is on the ground and Manon is kneeling next to her. Around them a crowd has formed, concern on everyone’s face. “Are you alright?” Manon asks again. Magpie nods, rubbing her eyes. “She’s okay everyone! Everything’s okay,” she says to the crowd, which immediately begins to disperse.

“What happened?” asks Magpie.

“We were walking to the stage and all of a sudden you just collapsed!” she says. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Magpie carefully stands up and takes a moment to get her bearings. “Yes, I feel fine,” she says, “but… where are all the women, the ones with the red wigs and white gowns?” she asks.

Manon gets a confused look on her face, “I have seen no such women my dear, perhaps you were dreaming?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before suggesting they start making their way home before the sun sets. 

They walk home in silence, Magpie’s thoughts swirling. Manon helps Magpie settle into a chair by the fireplace and brings her some tea before heading back to the caretaker’s cottage. A short while later Lucas rushes in the front door.

“Magpie?” he shouts, kicking off his shoes.

“I’m in here,” she says, smiling at him as he walks into the room.

“Manon told me you fainted at the festival today, is everything okay?” he asks, his face washed with concern.

“Yes, I’m fine, I think I just overheated a bit,” she replies, standing up and folding the blanket that Manon had wrapped around her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” says Lucas, taking both her hands in his.

“That’s the funny thing,” she says, “you were there!” Lucas looks at her quizzically. “I can’t explain it,” she continues, “But even when you’re far away, you’re still with me somehow.”

At this he smiles. “Well, it’s been a day. What do you say we head up?” he asks. Magpie nods and they head upstairs. “I’m right here if you need anything at all,” says Lucas, standing in the hallway between their bedroom doors. He strokes her cheek with his forefinger before stepping into the darkness of his bedroom. 

Magpie sits on the edge of her bed and looks at the moon outside her window, unable to shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 12, A Special Guest, in which Magpie and Lucas entertain a very special visitor. 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

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 read Chapter 14 – Swan Dive – where Lucas explores the land surrounding Carnifex House with Cormorant, and is shocked to find a familiar item in a small antique shop.

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 14 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie read a letter from her departed father.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 14 – Swan Dive – where Lucas explores the land surrounding Carnifex House with Cormorant, and is shocked to find a familiar item in a small antique shop.

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

“You look like you’ve been riding your whole life!” says Magpie, shielding her eyes from the sun to look up at Lucas, who is sitting proudly on Cormorant’s back. Lucas has built a bond with Cormorant over the past few weeks, and they’ve been going for long rides exploring the area around Carnifex House and the small seaside town of Pòcaid. “Where will you be going today?” asks Magpie, smiling. She recalls how she and Lucas spent the entire summer exploring the year she moved to Pocket. It seems like a lifetime ago. They are both older now, but Lucas still has that same taste for adventure.

“I think I’m going to head down to the beach, then take the main road up and check out the gardens at Goldcrest Manor,” he says, looking down at Magpie and admiring the way the sun falling on her hair turns it a fiery shade of orange. “I’ll be back in time for dinner!” he says over his shoulder as he and Cormorant head out. Lucas and Magpie have decided to eat a fancy home-cooked dinner on their patio, and Lucas is secretly planning to propose with the small feather ring, which is still safely tucked away in his pocket. Magpie waves goodbye and watches Lucas and Cormorant until they are out of sight before turning and heading back toward the house.

Lucas and Cormorant make their way down the winding path to the beach. The sun shines through a soft brushstroke of clouds and a gentle breeze makes the tall grasses on either side of the dirt path sway like they are dancing to music no one else can hear. At last Lucas and Cormorant reach the bottom of the hill and the ocean opens up before them, caressing the sandy beach with each rolling wave. Lucas guides Cormorant toward the left, away from town, and follows the shoreline. Up ahead he sees a massive bird dive into the ocean, promptly coming up with a silvery fish in its beak, then using its massive wingspan to lift back up into the sky. A Gannet, Lucas thinks, remembering the time Manon had pointed one out to him. They had been talking about local wildlife that day, and she had been teaching him French words for some of the animals. “Chevreuil,” she would say when they’d see a deer, then she’d giggle when he tried and failed to pronounce it as well as her. One time they saw a large crow on a fence post behind Carnifex House, “Un Corbeau!” said Manon, turning to Lucas with expectation. “I can say that one!” he had laughed before shouting “Un Corbeau!”, scaring the shiny black bird back into the sky.

The sound of stones landing in the water brings Lucas’ attention back to the beach. Up ahead, a small boy is trying his best to skip rocks into the oncoming waves. A tall slim man dressed entirely in black keeps watch from a distance. As Lucas approaches the boy looks up at him with unusually large blue eyes. “Hullo,” he says with a perfect English accent.

“Hi there!” says Lucas.

“Daddy!” shouts the boy, “I think he’s from America!” At this point the boy’s father is only a few steps away. He smiles kindly at Lucas but remains silent.  “You have a big, weird horse” says the boy, very matter of fact.

“Indeed, I do!” laughs Lucas.

“You shouldn’t go into the forest,” says the boy, his voice taking on a very serious tone. Lucas furrows his brow, he has no intention of riding through the woods today, but why would this little boy say that to him?

“Alright Ash, time to head home,” says the man, giving Lucas a sharp nod before tapping the boy on the shoulder.

“Goodbye, man from America with the big, weird horse!” shouts the boy, laughing as he skips away down the shore. 

Lucas shakes his head, watching as the boy and his father disappear up a grassy path away from the beach.

“All right Cormorant, how about we head toward town?” he asks the horse. Cormorant’s ears wave back and forth, catching Lucas’ words off the wind. Lucas pivots the horse, and they follow the shoreline back toward town. 

Lucas breathes in the cool, salty air, marveling at the beauty of the island. He comes around the bend and sees the bright colours of downtown Pòcaid up ahead. Squinting in the distance he notices a small structure tucked away behind the Skye Blue Bakery. He’s never noticed the small wooden house before, having never come into town from this direction. He pulls up to the house and reads the sign above the door “Swan Dive Antiques. Let’s go check it out!” he says, excited to have discovered something new. He guides Cormorant toward the back of the shop and ties him to a fence post. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, patting the horse’s neck gently.  He walks around to the front of the building and lets himself in. Inside, the low-lit shop is chock-full of antiques; everything from large pieces of furniture to stacks of chairs, vintage blankets, trinkets, and jewelry. 

“You’re looking for a gift,” says a voice from the back of the store. Lucas squints into the darkness before taking a few tentative steps further into the shop. A woman steps forward into the light, a delicate smile on her face.

“Actually, I’m not really looking for anything in particular, I was just out for a horse ride and noticed your shop. I’ve never seen it before, you’re kind of hidden from the main road,” he says.

The woman’s smile stretches a little more. “Those who need me know where to find me,” she says. “My name is Shelta, it’s lovely to meet you…” she lets her voice trail, giving Lucas a chance to introduce himself.

“Lucas,” he replies. “My… girlfriend… and I live up at Carnifex House” he says, fumbling with the world girlfriend all while bracing for the woman’s reaction at the mention of Carnifex House. Unlike the other villagers, she doesn’t even flinch, and instead motions for him to follow her to a display case at the back of the store, her leather lace-up boots echoing on the wood floor.

“Perhaps your girlfriend would appreciate one of these,” she says, turning on the small built-in lights so he can see the contents of the glass case. An eclectic array of belongings is displayed on velvet mats, ranging from vintage costume jewelry to silver spoons, old engagement rings, antique writing quills with ink wells, and a variety of stones and crystals which, according to the small handwritten sign next to them, have various healing and magical properties. A small figurine shaped like a bird whittled out of wood catches his eye, and he’s about to ask the shopkeeper to look at it when a sound above his head makes him look up. Hanging from the rafters in the ceiling are several windchimes and bells, and one in particular causes Lucas to gasp. He would recognize it anywhere, even in a low-lit hidden antique shop an ocean away from Meadow Lane… There, hanging from the end of a long cobalt blue velvet ribbon, is The Skyark Bell.

“What on earth?!” he whispers to himself. 

“Ah, yes, this item is very old indeed, some say it dates back to the time of the druids!” says the shopkeeper, her smile never leaving her face. Lucas is too shocked to respond. “Perhaps this would make a nice addition to your home, it has a beautiful sound,” she adds. Lucas nods, as if in a dream state. The woman unties the end of the ribbon, setting the bell free. She gently wraps it with some pale blue tissue paper before stretching her arm across the counter to hand it to Lucas. “Consider this a welcome gift,” she says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion, her eyes fixated on Lucas’ face like she can see right through him.

“Thank you,” he stutters, still stunned, before placing the bell in his coat pocket.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to close now,” she says, her smile never faltering. Lucas nods and heads back out the door. He has barely come down the front steps when he hears the loud click of the deadbolt in the door as the remaining lights in the shop go dark. Lucas looks up at the darkening sky. What time is it? He wonders, he didn’t think he’d been in the store all that long. He scurries to the back and is relieved to see Cormorant standing patiently next to the fencepost. 

“Time to head home, old friend” he says, lifting himself gently into the saddle.

Lucas and Cormorant walk briskly toward the main road that climbs the cliff above the town, Lucas making note of how rapidly daylight is fading from the sky above.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 15, Gateway, where Lucas and Cormorant take a turn that will change the course of their lives, and Magpie’s, forever.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 13 – Love, Dad - in which Magpie reads a letter from her estranged father.

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 13 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Mrs Phaeton paid a visit to Carnifex House, and broke the sad news to Magpie that her father had passed away.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 13 – Love, Dad - in which Magpie reads a letter from her estranged father.

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

Magpie feels a lump in her throat and a heaviness in her stomach as she watches the car pull away. It was a difficult goodbye, knowing she wouldn’t see her mother for the better part of a year. She watches as the car disappears around the bend, a single tear winding its way down her cheek, then turns around to walk back into the quiet, empty house.

Lucas is at the Caretaker’s Cottage working on the roof, which sprung a leak during a rain storm the night before. Lucky for the Sarcelles he and Magpie had been doing a daily check on their house. 

Magpie wanders aimlessly from room to room, echoes of the time spent with her mother over the past week playing in her mind. She can still see them sitting at the dining room table enjoying an early breakfast before taking a morning walk down to the beach. She pictures her mother curled up in a blanket by the fireplace as they chat about art, music, life. She can hear echoes of laughter as they sat out on the little patio, a fire gently roaring in the fire pit, or the sound of pots and pans and dishes as they prepared a glorious pasta dish and mocha cupcakes for their last dinner together the night before. 

Magpie heaves a sigh. Having circled the main floor, she walks slowly up the stairs to the bedrooms. The sunlight filters through the sheer curtains in the window of the room Mrs. Phaeton had stayed in, creating a shaft of light on the bed where she and Magpie had sat when she broke the news to Magpie that her father had passed away, and handed her a letter he left behind.

Magpie lays her hand against the pocket of her jeans. She’s been carrying that letter every day since her mother handed it to her. Placing it in her nightstand drawer before bed and slipping it back into her pocket after getting dressed each morning. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to break the seal and read the words written by the father she never knew. But now, in this quiet, empty room filled with the comforting warmth of the sun and the fragrant smell of the wildflowers in the vase next to the bed, she feels like it is time.

Magpie walks across the room and looks out the window at the sea, sparkling as the sun’s rays tickle the water. It is an absolutely perfect early fall day. She cracks the window open, letting in a light breeze that sends the sheer curtains billowing like two small ghosts tethered to the curtain rod. She takes a few steps back and pulls the letter out of her pocket before sitting on the edge of the bed. With her finger, she gently traces the letters of her name written on the envelope. A tear falls on the paper, creating a star shape as the ink runs in the top corner of the letter M. Magpie wipes her eyes roughly with her palm before turning the envelope over and slowly breaking the seal. She exhales heavily, suddenly realizing she has been holding her breath. 

She gingerly slips the letter out of the envelope and unfolds it. Pressing the page down on her lap to flatten out the creases. She holds it up to the sunlight, taking in the rows of letters and spaces that, when put together, compose her father’s final message to her. “You can do this,” she says out loud, the words echoing in the empty room. She takes one more deep breath and starts reading.

My sweet Magpie,

I have been staring at this blank page for days. So many times, I have thought about what to say to you, and the words just never seemed right. I find myself at the point now where there is no time left for me to sort it out, so I will do my best to convey my message and hope that you will also be able to grasp all that is not written. 

The first thing I need to do is tell you I love you. The second is that I am sorry. I am sorry for all that I missed. I am sorry for making you think I never wanted to be with you, to get to know you… I am sorry because that couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m honest, I simply felt that I was not worthy, that being in your life would make it worse, not better. As I write this, I am looking at a stack of unsent birthday and holiday cards and gifts, things for a tiny little girl, things for a teenage girl, and things for a woman. Things I could simply never find the courage to send. All those years lost, but you were always on my mind, every single day. I will pack these cards and gifts and make sure they find their way to you somehow.

I have written your mother her own letter, but it is important for me that you know that she and I loved each other deeply, and hurt each other deeply, but I bear her no ill will and I have absolutely no regrets about my relationship with her, because it brought you into the world, and you are a bright, shining light.

I don’t have any amazing stories to tell, I have lived a simple life. I never remarried, I worked a steady job and lived in the same one-bedroom apartment in the city. My belongings are of no interest, I have nothing that would be meaningful to you, no mementos or awards or family jewels. All I can leave you are the following words of advice, which come directly from my heart. 

 If you love someone, tell them. Don’t wait. Time is the most precious thing in the world. No one can be sure there will be a tomorrow. Spend time with those you love. I can’t tell you the tremendous regret I feel that I never spent time with you, the person in the world I love the most. I always thought there would come a day when we would be reunited, but here I am, out of time. How I wish I could go back and change things, tell your mother just how much I loved her, and love her still. Things would have been so different. 

The last and most important thing is this, my dear Magpie. If your life doesn’t work out the way you hoped, if it is thrown off track by loss, or unexpected change, don’t let your heart grow hard. Don’t become bitter or angry or vengeful. Don’t hold on to those feelings, they will not serve you well. Try to find a place of acceptance, and a path forward. There is always a chance for a bright, happy future, no matter how dark things seem at any given moment. Everything finds its way in time. I wish I had learned that much earlier.

If ever you feel lonely, or scared, just think of me, and I will be there. I will be there will all my heart, holding you, whispering comforting words in your ear. Just listen for me. 

I wish you love, happiness, light, and all the time in the world.

Fly high, sweet bird. 

Love,

Dad

Magpie lays the letter next to her on the bed on a small patch of sunlight, the tears streaming freely down her face. 

“I’m home!” she hears Lucas’ voice downstairs, quickly followed by the sound of his footsteps coming upstairs. 

“I’m in here,” she says, the words coming out of her sounding odd, her throat tight with grief. 

Lucas walks into the room, his face filled with concern. “Magpie, are you okay?”

Magpie falls into his arms, letting his warmth radiate through her. They stay silent for a moment, then Magpie steps back to look into his face. “I love you, Lucas,” she says quietly.

“I love you too, Magpie,” he replies softly. They smile at each other, relieved to finally express the feelings that had been building up for years. Lucas slips his hand into his pocket, feeling the small feather ring he’s been carrying around every day for years. “Tomorrow, tomorrow I will give it to Magpie, tomorrow I’ll ask her to marry me,” he thinks, basking in the glowing feeling of joy washing through him. 

Magpie leans her head on Lucas’ shoulder, relishing the feeling of warmth and safety that has settled in her chest. Her father’s words of advice echo in her mind, “Don’t wait, time is the most precious thing in the world, no one can be sure there will be a tomorrow...”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 14, Swan Dive, in which Lucas explores the land surrounding Carnifex House and the town of Pòcaid with Cormorant, and is shocked to find a familiar item in a small antique shop. 

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

The Skylark Bell Season 2 - Wingspan

In today’s episode we read Chapter 3 – The Blue Dress - in which Magpie and Lucas discover an odd vintage shop on a sides treet, and its mysterious owner seems very much invested in Magpie purchasing her blue dress.

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 3 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie had an eerie premonition as she, her mom, and Lucas were flying across the ocean toward their destination.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 3 – The Blue Dress - in which Magpie and Lucas discover an odd vintage shop on a sides treet, and its mysterious owner seems very much invested in Magpie purchasing her blue dress.

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

Magpie yawns loudly and stretches her arms up above her head. “That’s the jetlag talking” laughs her mother. Magpie smiles and rubs her eyes before tossing the blankets aside and hopping out of bed. 

“No time for jetlag, today’s your big day!” says Magpie excitedly. She scurries to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face and brush her teeth, then heads over to her suitcase to dig out her jeans, a tee shirt and cardigan. “Mom, have you seen my shoes?” she asks, scanning the messy, dimly lit room. 

“How about we open these curtains and get some light in here, maybe that’ll help,” says Mrs. Phaeton in her usual practical tone of voice as she pulls the curtain cords, instantly washing the room in bright sunlight.

Magpie spots her shoes under the couch at the other end of the room. She is just bending down to grab them when a knock on the door startles her. She looks through the peephole and sees Lucas’ black curls on the other side of the door. She slides the security chain off and greets him with a smile.

“Good morning!” she says cheerfully. 

“Hey,” he groans, walking slowly over to the couch before letting himself drop on it like a potato sack.

“Oh my, someone needs some breakfast and a nice cup of coffee!” says Mrs. Phaeton. “Magpie, why don’t you and Lucas head down to the café across from the hotel, and I’ll catch up with you later on, there are a few phone calls I need to make.”

“Sounds great, see you in a bit!” says Magpie, walking over to the couch and grabbing Lucas’ hand to help pull him to his feet. “Come on sleepy-head!” she says, giggling, “let’s get you fed and caffeinated!” 

Two doormen in suits and top hats hold the front doors open for Magpie and Lucas to step through as they head outside. “I feel like royalty!” whispers Magpie, giddy. 

“I feel like a nap…” yawns Lucas, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from Magpie. 

They wait for a cab to drive by then cross the street to the small café, choosing a table outside in the sun. 

A waiter in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants approaches their table almost immediately. He does a double take when he sees Magpie but catches himself and almost immediately regains a neutral facial expression. “Welcome to the Sparrow Café, what may I get you this morning?”  he asks politely. Magpie and Lucas order some French pastries and a pot of coffee. They chat until the food comes, then they sit quietly and take in the scenery as they savour sweet, flakey almond croissants and hot coffee. They are just wrapping things up when the waiter walks over with their bill. 

“May I ask, miss, are you related to the woman with the white dress? She was here earlier, a very charming lady. If I may say so, you look very similar.” he says, pointing to something behind Magpie. Magpie turns and sees a woman in a long white dress walking away, her bright red hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. “She left this behind on the table…” he adds, placing a small square beverage napkin in front of her. There is a rough sketch on the napkin, it looks like an archway or rainbow going over a path lined with trees on either side.

Magpie knits her brow “No, the only other person with us is my mom, and she hasn’t left the hotel since last night,” she answers. 

“Ah, I apologize, I must be mistaken. Well, I hope you enjoy your time in London, we at Sparrow Café look forward to seeing you again soon,” says the waiter, bowing slightly before walking away.

Magpie pushes the strange encounter to the back of her mind as she and Lucas stand up. “I’m feeling a lot better,” he says, “let’s go exploring!” Magpie has an instant flashback to the weeks when she and Lucas first met, when they would go exploring the area surrounding Pocket every day. She feels a warmth wash over her that spreads to her cheeks and hopes he doesn’t notice her blushing. 

“Sure! But this isn’t Pocket, we’ll have to actually keep track of time, and of where we’re going!” she says as they start walking toward the busy street ahead. Suddenly, something makes Magpie turn and run back to their table at the café. “Hold on a sec, I’ll be right back,” she shouts over her shoulder, trotting back to their table. She grabs the napkin with the strange sketch and tucks it in her bag before jogging back to Lucas.

~~~~~~

Magpie and Lucas have been wandering the streets of London for some time when they come upon a small shop tucked away on a side street made of cobblestone. Magpie feels inexplicably drawn to the shop. “Let’s go in here!” she says, grabbing Lucas’ hand and pulling him in. A bell above the door rings as they enter. The shop is quite small and filled with vintage clothing and accessories. They giggle at some of the old styles, especially the dresses and shirts from the 1960s and ‘70s. At the very back of the shop, hanging high on the wall, is a gorgeous blue sequin dress. Magpie stops to stare at it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the voice is coming from behind them. Magpie and Lucas spin in unison, and find themselves facing a petite older woman in a long black dress, a string of pearls around her neck creating a stark contrast against the dark background of her clothes. “You should try it on, I believe it is your size” she says, her eyes fixed on Magpie.

“Uh... ok. It is very pretty,” concedes Magpie. She did pack a dress for tonight’s event but, if she’s being honest, she doesn’t care much for it. This dress would be perfect.

“Magpie, it’s getting late, we should probably get going,” says Lucas, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the small shop.

“I will make you an offer you can’t refuse,” says the woman, “you can have the dress for 10 pounds, and I will include these shoes.” Her eyes are still fixated on Magpie as she grabs a pair of dainty cobalt-coloured high-heeled shoes.

“Oh my, I suppose at that price I don’t have much to lose even if it doesn’t fit!” replies Magpie.

“It will fit.” Says the woman, smiling, as she walks to the back of the store and uses a long pole with a hook to lift the dress off its hanger. She carefully folds the dress and wraps it in tissue paper, then slips the shoes into a box. She packs everything into a large, unmarked bag and hands it to Magpie. Magpie settles up, and she and Lucas head out the door.

“Something in there didn’t feel right,” says Lucas quietly as they start heading back toward the hotel.

“Oh, I think it was just a little cluttered and stuffy,” says Magpie, cradling the tissue-paper wrapped dress against her chest.

“If you say so...” says Lucas, the tone of his voice indicating that he’s not convinced there wasn’t something very wrong in the little store on the cobblestone street.

As they walk away, the old woman stands in the shop window, her unwavering gaze fixed on them. The lights in the shop behind her go dark, making her almost entirely disappear save for the string of pearls around her neck, and she flips the small sign in the window to “closed”.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 4, The End is the Beginning is the End, where Magpie has an inexplicable, and dangerous, experience on the cobblestone street outside the vintage shop.

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 episode we are introduced to our main character, Magpie, who is just moving into an old farmhouse on the outskirts of a curious little town called 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

TRANSCRIPTION:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 1 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In today’s episode we’ll begin our adventure with Chapter 1, The Old Farmhouse, where we are introduced to our main character, Magpie, who is just moving into an old farmhouse on the outskirts of a small town called Pocket.

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

“Phew, I think this is the last one!” says Mrs. Phaeton, setting a large box on the dining room table.

“We did it!”  says Magpie, her bright blue eyes twinkling and a proud, excited grin on her face.

Magpie’s real name is Margaret Phaeton; as far as she can remember no one has ever called her by her actual name.  As a baby she was attracted to shiny things, just like the Magpie, and it was her father who gave her the nickname.  Magpie doesn’t remember her father, he left when she was just a baby, so it has always just been her and her mom.  Until today, Magpie and her mom lived in a small apartment in the city, but her mother finally managed to save up enough money for a down payment on a large Victorian farmhouse on the outskirts of Pocket.  

The house is like an old-fashioned dollhouse, with a wraparound porch, peaked roof, reddish-brown siding, and white shutters on the windows.  It sits far back from the road at the end of a long driveway lined with trees.  Large, blooming lilac bushes reach up to the second-storey windows, which are all adorned with window boxes just waiting to be filled.  Tulips and daffodils grow along the bottom of the porch and lush, green fields radiate all around.  Behind the house, a small storage shed is covered in ivy and wild rose bushes whose sweet fragrance drifts through the entire backyard.

Magpie loves the farmhouse.  It feels like it is filled with history, and the energy of the families that lived there before hers.  The massive front door opens to a wide stairway leading to the second storey.  Wide planks of dark wood make up the floors of the house.  The sheen of varnish can still be seen along the edges of the walls in some places, but mostly, an uneven patina has formed in the areas where countless footsteps have tread.

To the right of the entryway, a large opening with pocket doors leads to a dining room which features a large built-in hutch with ornate etchings in its rich, dark wood.  Behind the dining room is the kitchen where bright light filters through ruffled lace café curtains in the windows and a large porcelain sink divides the heavy wooden countertops that line the back wall.  Along the side wall, an old-fashioned turquoise enamel stove gives the kitchen a feel of days gone by, it faces the long kitchen island in the middle of the room.  A row of hand-made wooden stools lined up along the back of the island provides a more casual place to grab a quick bite.  

To the left of the entryway is a spacious living room with a brick fireplace and a thick wood mantle on which someone has left an old clock.  But Magpie’s favourite room is the sunroom; it sits in the back corner of the house, connecting the living room and the kitchen, and is painted bright yellow with white trim around its many windows and along the ceiling and floor.  Through the sheer curtains billowing in the breeze she can see rolling fields of tall grass.  

Upstairs, three mid-sized rooms with creaky wood floors make up the bedrooms.  Two of them face the front of the house while the master bedroom faces the back and connects to a small bathroom with a claw-foot bathtub.  Magpie’s room has a big, bright window looking out toward the front of the house where she can see the quarry and pond across the road.  The uneven floorboards are faded and scratched from years of furniture being moved across them, but Magpie is absolutely charmed by the sense of history.  Her favourite thing about the room is the closet.  Though it is awkward, with its door tucked in the corner of the room, the inside stretching along the entire wall like a tunnel, and its ceiling angled by the roofline of the house, Magpie doesn’t mind that it’s weird.  She plans to use it as a secret hiding place where she can bring a lamp and do some quiet reading or draw sketches.

There are a few remnants of the previous owners strewn throughout the house.  The back shed is filled with gardening tools, a wheelbarrow, shovels and plant pots.  Inside the house, a thick rug sits in front of the stone fireplace and fills up most of the living room, a coat rack stands guard by the front door, and a red antique coffee pot sits on the stove.  The massive oak table in the dining room also came with the house, it shows wear and scratches from decades of family meals and Magpie can’t help but imagine the sounds and smells of holiday dinners with children racing around from room to room.

 “I’m bushed, what do you say we order a pizza and call it a day?” says Mrs. Phaeton, flopping onto one of the kitchen stools. She kicks off her sneakers and brushes a strand of copper coloured hair off her forehead

Magpie giggles, “Mom!  We live in the middle of nowhere, they don’t deliver pizza here!”  they both get caught up in a laughing fit before Magpie offers to walk into town to grab some food to go.

 “Here’s some money, see what you can find and make sure you’re back before it gets dark, ok?”  says her mom.

“Will do!  See you in a bit!” shouts Magpie over her shoulder as she walks out the front door. She steps out into the early evening sun, a gust of wind ruffling her hair. It’ll be her first time venturing into the town of Pocket, and for some reason the thought sends a shiver down her spine…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 2 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie meets the boy next door who takes her on a tour of the town, and mentions a mysterious old woman named Farfalla.  – So don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want miss a thing! 

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

In this episode, we will be introduced to the story of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell. Our main character, Magpie, must figure out what has caused the mysterious silence at Meadow Lane before it spreads 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, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: An Introduction to The Skylark Bell. I'm your host, Melissa Oliveri.

Each episode of this podcast will feature one chapter of my book, Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell. On the last Friday of each month, we'll take a break from the story, and cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least unusual and unexplained experience.

In today's episode, we'll be introduced to the town of Pocket, it's newest resident, Magpie, and the mysterious house at the end of Meadow Lane.

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

Meadow Lane sits on the outskirts of a small town called Pocket. There is no sound on Meadow Lane. No crunching gravel under people's feet, and not a sound if they yell or clap their hands. It stays surrounded in a thick veil of silence at all times. The wind doesn't blow there, there's not a bird in the sky overhead, and not a critter running through the tall, dry grass.

Since Magpie and her mother moved to Pocket, Magpie has felt drawn to the mysterious, disheveled house. She hears stories about the young brokenhearted woman who cursed the property, and whisperings about the mysterious Skylark Bell.

What really happened at Meadow Lane, nearly a century ago, that could erase all sound from the land? And who is the strange old lady who wanders through town without ever speaking a word?

Magpie has a secret that not even her mother knows about. She has visions from the past, like slow-moving pictures, and suddenly they all seem linked to the inexplicable silence that hangs over Meadow Lane.

Will she put the puzzle pieces together before the silence spreads to the entire town?

Thank you so much for listening! Join me next week as we officially embark on our adventure and read Chapter 1 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where we'll be introduced to our main character, and the town of Pocket's newest resident, Magpie.

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 writing equally fantastic and eerie music for this podcast.

In this episode we meet Lucas, the boy next door, who takes Magpie on a whirlwind tour of Pocket. Lucas is very knowledgable about the history of the small town, but for some reason he holds back when Magpie expresses interest in a spooky abandoned house nearby.

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 2 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

If you recall, in our previous episode we were introduced to our main character, Magpie, who just moved into an old farmhouse on the outskirts of a small town called Pocket.

In today’s episode we’ll read Chapter  2, Lucas, where Magpie meets the boy next door who takes her on a tour of Pocket, but seems reluctant to talk about both the spooky abandoned house nearby and a mysterious old woman named Farfalla!

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

The cool spring air hits Magpie’s face as she walks down her long driveway.  The cloudy sky makes the early evening seem darker than it should be.  It casts a grey haze over the countryside. Magpie takes a deep breath and fills her lungs with the earthy smell of wet dirt and wildflowers, not at all fazed by the muddy puddles along the side of the road.  In fact, she’s surprised by how comfortable she feels in the country after living in the city all her life.  She passes by the driveway that leads to the house next door; next to it a large mailbox with a bright red flag perches atop a thick wooden post.  Next to the flag, worn letters spell out the surname ‘Starling’.

Across the road, a little farther down, she sees a long lane leading to a delapitated two-storey house.  The house is completely dark, it looks like no one has lived there for decades, and Magpie is instantly intrigued.  She is so focused on the mysterious house she doesn’t hear footsteps coming up behind her.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” says a voice in her ear.  Magpie startles and turns around quickly.  A boy about her age is standing by the side of the road next to her, wearing worn jeans, dark rubber boots and a chunky knit sweater.  Tousled black hair falls around his face and his grey eyes look completely serious.

“Excuse m-m-me?”  she stammers, her heart still beating rapidly. 

“You must be the new girl,”  he says, “I’m Lucas Starling, I live…”

“…oh, next door to me,”  she says.  

Lucas looks at her, puzzled. “How did you…?  Are you psychic or something?!”  he asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

“Psychic?” Magpie pauses, narrowing her eyes at him – how could he know? “Um… no, I saw your mailbox,”  she says, pointing to it in the distance.  

“Ahh…” he says with a single nod, which sends his black curls waving back and forth

They stand, staring at one another for a moment, awkward silence between them, until Magpie realises he’s waiting for her to introduce herself.  “Oh!  I’m Magpie!”  she says, reaching out to shake his hand.  “My mom and I just moved in today.  I’m heading into town to grab some food, which restaurant would you recommend?”  she asks.

A smile teases the corner of Lucas’ mouth.  “You’re from the city, aren’t you.”  It is more of a statement than a question.  “There’s only one restaurant in town, it’s called The Early Bird.  You might want to hurry though, they close in about an hour,”  he adds, glancing at his watch.

“Oh!  I guess… I didn’t realise…”  Magpie feels completely foolish.

“Why don’t I walk with you, so you don’t get lost,”  Lucas says with a wink.  Magpie looks back at the abandoned house.  She wants to ask Lucas to tell her more about it, but she is afraid he’ll think she’s weird, so she smiles at him, nodding, and they start walking toward Pocket.

Lucas leads Magpie down the main street of town.  It is mostly lined with tidy, two-story homes with ornate trim around the windows, large front porches with swings and rocking chairs, and well-manicured flower beds.  As they near the center of the small town he begins to tell her about the handful of businesses that line its main street.

First, they come across a gas station with old-style pumps from the 1940’s.  “The gas station used to be a hitching post back in the day, before people had cars.  The main building housed a tavern, I think it was called The Redwing Inn, for people passing through town on their way to the larger cities on either side.  The outside was painted bright red, I saw it in a painting once,” says Lucas.  Magpie can hear the passion in his voice, he’s very knowledgable and very interested in the history of the town.

“That’s the Pocket General Store,” he says, pointing to a quaint building with grey wooden siding and a sloping roof, “They carry everything from groceries to farm equipment.  One of the kids, Sebastian, is in our grade so you’ll meet him next fall. You are going to Pocket High, right?” he asks.

 “Yes, of course,” she replies.  Magpie has pushed all thoughts of school to the back of her mind.  At her old school the kids weren’t particularly nice to her, and she is nervous about what might happen now that she’s the ‘new girl’.  

“Pocket High is just down the street at the end over there,” says Lucas, pointing to the only crosstreet in the small town, “It shares a huge lawn with the library next door and we usually eat lunch out there under one of the trees.  The principal, Mr. Swift, is pretty cool; he lets us plant a community garden at the back of the lot where we grow all kinds of vegetables for families whose farms have had a bad season.  That way they have enough food to get through the winter.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!”  says Magpie.  It sounds like the people of Pocket are kind and giving.  Maybe she has nothing to worry about!  “Where does that street go, across from the school?” she asks, pointing to the right.

“The house on the corner is actually a bakery, Tuffetto’s!  Mr. Tuffetto makes the best bread you’ve ever had, and his wife makes cakes and pastries, all different shapes and colours.  We always get our birthday cakes there.  Then at the back of the street, where all the blackberry bushes are, that’s the house where Farfalla lives.”  he says, without offering any further explanation.  “Ah, here we are!”  he adds, not giving Magpie a chance to ask about the mysterious Farfalla and her blackberries. 

Magpie can’t help but wonder why someone who is so happy to talk about the history of the town would be so mysterious about the abandoned house, and the woman named Farfalla…?

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we pursue our adventure and read Chapter 3 of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, where Magpie has an uncomfortable encounter with one of the locals, and learns that the people of Pocket may have reason not to trust strangers.  – Oh, and don’t forget to subscribe, you don’t want 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.

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 today’s episode we read the chapter 21 – Sea Bird – in which Farfalla uses new found skills to avenge the Carnifex children.

This week's podcast partner is Mums, Mysteries & Murder: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

Interview with Melissa on The Brian Oake Show: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1zw9A6Q22ZqQiw9RNkq8Gc

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 21 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla became aware of  Nurse Betsey’s cruelty toward the Carnifex children.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 21 – Sea Bird – in which Farfalla uses new found skills to avenge the children.

Today’s podcast partner is Mums Mysteries and Murder, proud members of the boopod network of true crime and paranormal podcasts. Hosts Marti and Effie, each hailing from Australia and Scotland respectively, add a heavy dose of wite to their stories about true crime and the unexplained each hailing from their home countries. You’re sure to find topics you haven’t heard elsewhere on Mums Mysteries and Murder. Be sure to check the shownotes 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.

October 30^th, 1799

I’ve figured it out. I will sing.

I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to find a way to rid the children of Nurse Betsey. I have watched as she has antagonized them and punished them without merit. She is cunning, always reserving her true self for moments when Mr. and Mrs. Carnifex are not present to witness her cruelty. In their presence she is every bit the perfect nanny, which has made it difficult for me to put an end to her twisted game. I tried speaking to them, gently guiding the conversation toward her behaviour, but the idea that Nurse Betsey was anything but perfect was so foreign to them that they wouldn’t even entertain it. I then attempted to speak directly to Betsey, but unlike most of the people in the village, she neither fears nor respects me. She laughed and told me the children were lying, and that she would “have a word with them about all this!”. My attempt at an intervention cost each of them a spanking.

I have spent sleepless nights trying to concoct a plan to get her out of their lives, trying to spend as many of my days with them as possible. Then, last night I was called to “perform” for a family on the other side of the island. The father was in bad shape, my guess is dysentery. I sang for him Audrey Tourtereaux’s French song, but he was still moaning and crying out. His wife began asking why I wasn’t making him better, and questioning my capabilities, so I sang the song of the Oak Tree. Not for him, but for her. Once I felt like she was... hypnotized? Papa always said my voice was hypnotic, perhaps he was onto something… I told her to go make herself a cup of tea with laudanum and go sit on the couch. Sure enough, she followed my instructions to the letter. She was sound asleep on the couch when I let myself out.

I will sing.

I will sing for Betsey, and she will do my bidding.

~~~~~~

“Children, why don’t we play hide and go seek?!” shouts Farfalla excitedly.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate; we don’t want anyone to go missing, do we?” says Nurse Betsey. Or do we? Wonders Farfalla.

“Oh, Nurse Betsey, we play hide and go seek with Miss Skye all the time! it’s tremendous fun! Please say yes!” begs Frannie.

“We promise we’ll come out if you can’t find us!” adds Felix. 

Nurse Betsey, not wanting to be outdone by Farfalla, nods her head reluctantly. “But you need to stay on Carnifex land, understood?” she asks in her usual sharp tone. Both children nod solemnly.

“Wonderful!” says Farfalla, clapping her hands. “Now, the two of you go hide while Nurse Betsey and I count to 100. Ready? Set… GO!”

The children scurry across the field in different directions as Farfalla turns to face the stone wall at the back of Carnifex House. Nurse Betsey stands next to her, stoic and silent. Farfalla counts to fifty, then softly begins to hum the song of the Oak Tree. “What on earth are you doing?” asks Nurse Betsey, but Farfalla keeps her face turned toward the wall, gradually singing louder and louder. Eventually, she turns to look at Betsey, who is staring at her, wide-eyed. Farfalla, still singing, turns and starts walking across the field toward the path that leads to the beach. Betsey follows closely behind, as if in a trance. They walk all the way across the field, but instead of taking the path to the beach, Farfalla takes a sharp left, and they start walking uphill into the neighbouring field. Farfalla keeps her singing steady as the cold wind blows the tall dry grass around them. There is a chill in the air. October is almost over. The ocean will be very cold now. Farfalla can feel herself getting winded as they walk up the hill, which gets steeper and steeper with every step, but she keeps singing, and Betsey follows without question.

Finally, Farfalla reaches the top of the hill. From this vantage point she can see the ocean stretch for miles, its choppy surface interrupted by a series of rocky islands in the distance. She can see the sandy beach stretch out to her right, and she can see the rocks and crashing waves directly below the cliff on which she and Betsey now stand. Farfalla stops singing and turns to face Betsey. “I know what you did to those children,” she begins.

“Children…” echoes Betsey

“I know it was you who broke the music box,” continues Farfalla.

“Music...” whispers Betsey.

“I tried to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Carnifex. I even tried to speak to you!” she cries, tears streaming down her face. “You are a hurtful, horrible person, Betsey,” she continues, her emotions getting the better of her.

Betsey blinks, and Farfalla worries that the spell may be broken. She hums the song again to regain control. This time, a sea bird begins circling overhead, intrigued by the sound of Farfalla’s voice. Once she is certain Betsey is once again in a trance, Farfalla points to the cliff’s edge. “Walk,” she says, simply.

Betsey turns on her heel and takes a step. Farfalla wipes the tears from her face and smiles. It’s working! The wind picks up, blowing the sea bird out into the bay. It fights to get back to the cliff’s edge, and lands on a rock a few paces away from Farfalla. Betsey continues her slow, methodical march to the edge of the cliff. Farfalla licks her lips in anticipation. Finally, just as Betsey’s toes are leaning over the edge of the cliff she suddenly stops. Farfalla’s brow furrows. “No!” Farfalla’s hushed whisper is quickly carried away on the wind. Betsey slowly turns around, a look of confusion on her face. Farfalla, panicked, turns to the sea bird on the rock, and points to Betsey. “Fly!” she shouts. This time the wind is on her side, carrying her command straight to its target. The bird lifts off the rock and, without hesitation, flies in a direct line toward Betsey, hitting her in the chest and causing her to stumble backwards. Betsey’s eyes grow wide as she realizes what is happening. There is no time for her to scream before her body is hurled over the edge of the cliff. Farfalla can hear rocks tumble down the cliffside and land in the ocean. Betsey also lands, with a sickening thud. The sea bird lifts into the sky and circles back like a boomerang, landing at Farfalla’s feet.

“Hello there, friend,” she says, crouching to take a closer look. The bird tilts its head toward her, as if waiting for instructions. “You are free to go now. Thank you,” she says simply. The bird spreads its wings, almost like it is waving goodbye, lifts into the sky, and soars over the ocean. Farfalla watches until it is out of sight, then turns and walks back toward Carnifex House. The children will be wondering where she is, her plan took longer to carry out than she anticipated. She hums happily to herself as she scurries through the dry grass.

From behind the rock where the sea bird first landed, a small face with tear-stained cheeks peeks out. Confused, the child walks to the cliff’s edge and looks down. There, on the sharp rocks, waves crashing over her still body, is Nursey Betsey. She is laying at a strange angle, arms and legs dangling in different directions, the tips of her fingers dipping into the violent water below. Terrified, the child backs away, then races through the tall grass toward Carnifex House.

In the grey October sky above, an ever-growing flock of sea birds begins to circle, patiently waiting for their next instructions.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 22 – Trial by Water – in which Farfalla’s actions catch up with her.

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 today’s episode we read Chapter 6 – Skylarks over Scotland - in which Magpie has a deeply unsettling vision as she and Lucas travel on to Scotland.

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 6 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie continued to feel the mysterious woman nearby as she and Lucas celebrated the opening of Mrs. Phaeton’s art exhibit at the Clawfoot Gallery.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 6 – Skylarks over Scotland - in which Magpie has a deeply unsettling vision as she and Lucas travel on to Scotland.

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

Magpie inhales the cool, salty sea air from the deck of the ferry taking them from Mainland Scotland to the Isle of Skye. She and Lucas said their good-byes to Mrs. Phaeton when they left London yesterday morning. It was a bittersweet moment for Magpie, she and her mother have been on their own her entire life, her dad having left when she was just a baby, and though starting a new adventure at Carnifex House is exciting, she can’t help but feel a little nervous and sad. Having Lucas by her side helps ease her anxiety though, and her mom has promised to visit at the end of the summer before returning to Pocket.

Magpie hears Lucas say something, but his voice gets carried away on the wind. She leans in closer to him. “What was that?” she asks, shouting despite being only a short distance from him.

“I said, I think I can see land up ahead!” shouts Lucas.

Magpie leans forward against the railing and squints into the distance. It is foggy up ahead, but she can make out dark shapes through the fog, perhaps cliffs or even mountains.

“I think you’re right!” she shouts back to Lucas, and they grin at each other with anticipation. 

It has been a long two days. After leaving Magpie’s mom at the hotel in London, they took a cab to the airport. A short flight took them to Glasgow where they hopped on a train which would take them Northwest to the coast over a period of six hours. The scenery outside the train window was absolutely stunning. Mountains, valleys, wildlife, castles, villages… Magpie had lost count of how many times she wished she could hop off the train to go exploring! Finally, the train had pulled into the very last station, and they disembarked, Lucas laughing as Magpie hauled her massive suitcase while he flung his duffle bag over his shoulder. Due to the ferry’s schedule, Magpie and Lucas had booked a night at a quaint little Inn in the village of Smeòrach (SHMUR-arch), which they had spent a considerable portion of their train ride learning how to pronounce. 

Now, Magpie closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky where the sun is trying its best to pierce through the clouds. Slowly the fog ahead of them lifts and the Island comes into view. “Oh Lucas, this is even more beautiful that I imagined!” says Magpie, all sadness and anxiety vanishing from her mind.

“Unbelievable,” says Lucas, breathless. 

They are still quite far from the land, a long stretch of deep blue water separating the ferry from the shore. In the distance they can see choppy stone cliffs reaching up to the sky, and rolling mountains beyond, their tops kissing the low-lying clouds.

Lucas, looks out at the water, the glistening sun making it sparkle like the sequins on Magpie’s blue dress. He thinks back to the moment he saw her in that dress, how it took his breath away. Feeling his cheeks flush, he keeps his gaze straight ahead and asks, “Can you believe we’re here?!”

“No, none of this seems real!” replies Magpie, unable to wipe the smile off her face. 

It seems like only yesterday she was reading the letter Charlotte Carnifex had sent to Farfalla’s sister, Paloma, detailing a property on a remote Scottish island that had belonged to the Carnifex family for centuries. At the time, two years seemed like an impossibly long time to wait before travelling to settle the estate, but time had flown by. Once Mrs. Phaeton found out she wouldn’t be travelling with Magpie to Scotland she had sorted out their affairs over the phone and through the mail, claiming ownership of the property and getting in touch with the caretakers to plan for Magpie and Lucas’ arrival. 

Magpie’s mind starts to wander… Paloma had raised Farfalla’s daughter Elizabeth after it was thought Farfalla had perished when the boat that was taking her and James to this very island was found in pieces on the shore. Was this the view that lay before her when the boat sank? Was there a storm? Or perhaps they crashed into a rock, or another boat? What was her last thought as the water rushed over her head? 

Magpie shakes the thoughts from her mind. This is no time to dwell on such things, she and Lucas are about to start a new adventure today! And besides, Farfalla hadn’t perished at sea that day, she had lived out her days in Pocket. Or had she…? With a shudder Magpie recalls the letters scrawled on the back of the mysterious sketch that inexplicably appeared at Farfalla’s house as she and Lucas were gathering her things after her death. The black pencil smudged around the words “I AM NOT FARFALLA”. 

Magpie focuses on the land stretching out before her. The ferry is closing in on the shore and Magpie can almost feel Lucas trembling with anticipation.  Suddenly, a flash of movement at the top of the cliff to her left catches Magpie’s eye. She looks up, squinting against the sun, which has claimed victory over the retreating clouds. Atop the cliff she sees a woman, her long white dress reflecting the sunlight, a crown of fiery red hair flowing behind her in the wind. She is racing toward the edge of the cliff at full speed, causing Magpie’s stomach to clench with anxiety. Just when Magpie is about to shout “Stop!”, the woman stops abruptly, reaches her arm back and throws something over the cliff’s edge with all her might. Magpie follows the object’s trajectory as it arcs toward the ocean below, the sunlight glinting off its metallic surface. The scene unfolds very quickly, and as the object lands in the water Magpie feels the entire earth heave under her feet, like a tremendous wave has passed under the boat, as if the tectonic plates themselves just shifted. Terrified, Magpie lets out a scream and grabs onto the railing with both hands. 

“Magpie! Are you alright?!” says Lucas, his face washed with concern.

“Didn’t you feel that?!” she asks him, her iron grip on the railing turning her knuckles white.

“Feel what?” he asks, now looking confused as well as worried.

“Did you see the woman? The woman on the cliff? She threw something into the ocean, and when it landed in the water there was a… a… a shift!” says Magpie, unsure of how to explain what she just experienced.

“What do you mean a ‘shift’?” he asks, genuinely trying to decipher what Magpie is trying to convey.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” begins Magpie, “it’s like the earth shifted, like the ground, the water, the air… like they all heaved at the same time, at the exact moment that object landed in the ocean.”

“Do you think it was another vision?” asks Lucas gently. Magpie shrugs and nods slowly, it is the only explanation that makes any sense. She shudders when she thinks of how real her last two visions have felt, first the one on the cobblestone street in London, and now this. The line between reality and her visions has become blurred, and she finds it worrisome.

A loud horn above their heads brings Magpie and Lucas’ attention back to the scene before them. The ferry is pulling into the harbour, they’ve arrived on the Isle of Skye.

“Okay, our new adventure starts NOW!” says Lucas, draping a comforting arm over her shoulders. Magpie leans into him and looks out to shore. She can see a small village a little farther down the beach, and vast green fields dotted with farmhouses, a winding road connecting the dots. Lucas is right, their new adventure starts now, it’s time to let go of Meadow Lane, the silence, the visions… she needs to put it all behind her. The only thing she has to think of from this point on, is the future.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 7, Pocaid, where Magpie and Lucas finally arrive in the quaint town of Pocaid on the Isle of Skye, but their welcome is not as warm as they’d hoped!

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

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.

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 read the chapter 26 – in which we witness the creation of the mythical Skylark Bell.

This week's podcast partner is Haunted or Hoax: https://linktr.ee/HauntedorHoax

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 26 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla had an eerie dream that involved kaleidoscopic images of her past, present, and future.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 26 – in which we witness the creation of the mythical Skylark Bell.

Today’s podcast partner is Haunted or Hoax, a proud Boopod Network member. Hosted by Jennifer and Kristen, Haunted or Hoax takes your favorite ghost stories and separates fact from fiction. They also research various lesser-known paranormal stories from around the United States, ensuring they have original content that hasn’t been covered countless times by others. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to the Haunted or Hoax podcast.

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

This dream is worse.

I thought the water dream was bad, but seeing the Ancient Oak on fire like that nearly broke my heart. Please, please, please don’t let it come true like the water dream.

I am working very hard to push the dream… nightmare… to the back of my mind today.

I think Corbin is nearly finished with the bell and I am very much looking forward to having it back in my possession. I don’t know what happened to the bell I had in my hands when I was thrown off the cliff by the mayor of Pòcaid. I can only hope it has found a permanent home at the bottom of the ocean where no one else will find it.

Soon, my darling Elisabeth, soon I will return to you.

~~~~~~

“Dealan-dè?” Corbin’s voice comes from outside the tent.

Farfalla straightens her blankets and runs her fingers through her hair. She pushes her feet into the leather shoes that Lonan gifted her during last year’s winter solstice celebration. Lonan is the tribe’s leather expert, he fashions shoes and clothing for everyone. Today she is thankful for the shoes, there is a chill in the air. Farfalla gives her cheeks a pinch to bring some colour to them, then steps outside her tent. She finds Corbin standing a few paces away, a look of excitement on his face.

Corbin motions for her to follow him toward his work tent. Once inside, he says something to her, she catches the word sùilean (SOO-lan), the word for eyes in his language. She looks at him, trying to understand the rest of the sentence. He exaggeratedly squeezes his eyes closed and she immediately catches on, he doesn’t want her to look! Giggling, she covers her eyes with her hands. She can hear him tinkering around the tent, the sound of tools being moved. Finally, she hears a sound that briefly stops her heart. The familiar tinkling of the Skylark Bell.

“Look!” he says, in her language. She would be charmed if she weren’t already awash with emotion at finally getting her bell back. Farfalla opens her eyes and looks down at Corbin’s outstretched hand. There, an exact replica of her beloved bell, complete with the swirl of larks spiraling around it, and the words The Skye Lark Bell rings only for The Skye Lark Belle in Corbin’s native tongue, as it was instructed by the Ancient Oak. Farfalla takes the bell and closes her hands around it, holding it tightly to her chest. She can feel it pulsing with warmth, already powerful even though they have not completed all the steps yet. Tonight. Tonight, they will host a ceremony that will finally make the bell the instrument she needs to control distance and time at her will. She falls into Corbin’s arms in gratitude and takes his face in her hands. “Thank you, thank you,” she says, before turning on her heel and rushing outside to prepare for the ceremony.

“Erskina shall help you with your hair, and Gavenia shall help you dress,” says Cormag, the leader of the tribe. He was the one who pulled Farfalla out of the ocean that very first day. He has been working closely with Cailleach and Farfalla to learn English, and has been doing his best, as a revered teacher within the tribe, to teach Farfalla their language. He took charge of organizing the ceremony per the instructions that were passed on from the Ancient Oak first to Farfalla, who then shared them with Cailleach who passed them on to him. 

Farfalla steps into her tent and is immediately lavished upon with flowers and fabrics. The two girls pull a white gown over her head, then set her hair in ornate braids, placing fragrant blooms around her head like a crown. They thread a sash around her waist and tighten it, then pull a robe over her shoulders. It is beautifully embroidered with birds and flowers on the sleeves, and the outline of a red deer on the back. Farfalla gasps at the workmanship. This must have taken a lot of time to fashion! Once dressed, the girls step back and admire their work.

“Tapadh leat,” says Farfalla, “Thank you.”

The girls nod in unison then leave to get themselves ready for the ceremony. Farfalla sits alone in the small tent that has been her home for the past few years. She is ready, ready to go home to Elisabeth, to her time. Perhaps she’ll stay in the big city with Paloma, Mama and Papa. After all these years spent centuries back, she misses modern amenities more than ever. Perhaps she can put all the tragedy and betrayal behind her and have a fresh start, surely she has earned that!

The sound of beating drums signals the start of the ceremony. Farfalla takes a deep breath and steps out of her tent. The cool night air hits her face and the smell of burning sage once again wafts on the breeze. She walks toward the fire where the tribe has already begun its dance. Someone hands her a cup filled with a mysterious drink she’s never had before. Farfalla doesn’t question it and drinks it in three large gulps. Within minutes she feels her body moving to the beat. She looks around, colours are enhanced, the fire brighter and louder, faces weaving in and out of her line of sight. She moves around the fire in a circle, arms flailing, feet stomping into the dirt. The drums stop abruptly, and Farfalla sees Cormag and Cailleach approaching. They are also dressed in white robes, but on each of their heads sits an ornate headdress. Cormag’s is made of black feathers, like a raven, and a carved wooden beak juts out of the front. Cailleach’s is fashioned out of owl feathers, with two bright yellow flowers on the front for eyes. Both of them also have deer antlers jutting up and out of their headdresses. In all, it is a shocking sight, even for the other tribe members, who haven’t celebrated a ceremony of this magnitude in many years.

Farfalla stares at them, entranced. After a moment she glances across the fire at the people gathered around. Her eyes stop on Corbin, there’s a strange look on his face. He is rubbing his hands together in apprehension. Farfalla tries to make eye contact with him, but he seems to be deliberately avoiding everyone’s gaze. She makes note of the bizarre behaviour, she’ll speak to him after the ceremony. 

“Come here,” says Cailleach, drawing Farfalla’s attention back to the task at hand. Cailleach’s voice has taken on a strong, decisive tone that had been lacking recently due to her illness. Farfalla steps forward and drops to her knees before the pair. “This is your amulet. You must cherish it, protect it, and use it only for good. As we complete this ceremony, you must instill in it your purest, truest, most heartfelt wish. Are you ready to take on this responsibility? This power?” asks Cailleach. Farfalla nods solemnly. 

Cormag hands her the bell, and Farfalla closes her eyes and holds it tightly in her hand. “I want my life back,” she whispers, “I want to be with-” Marius! She thinks suddenly, his face flashing in her mind. What? No! She wants to be with Elisabeth, her sweet Elisabeth! “I want to be with-” Marius! Her mind screams at her despite her best efforts to push his name out of her thoughts. 

“Have you completed your part?” asks Cormag. Unsure whether she has done it quite right, but disoriented and dizzy from the elixir she was given when she first arrived, Farfalla nods.

Cailleach edges closer to her and leans in to whisper in her ear. “Remember, do not harden your heart, no matter what happens tonight,” she says, a slight ominous edge to her voice.

Before Farfalla can ask her to elaborate she scurries away and Cormag shifts into her place. “By the power of the fire, the sea, the wind, and the dirt beneath our feet – I declare this ceremony officially closed. Let the festivities begin!” he shouts, swinging his arms up above his head. A booming cheer lifts from the crowd as the dancing and drumming resumes. 

Farfalla is left on her knees with the Skylark Bell clutched in her hands as the celebration swirls chaotically around her. She feels her heart pound with worry, did her wish to be with Elisabeth work? Where did those thoughts of Marius come from? Though she loved him dearly, her deepest wish is to be with her daughter, why would his name, his face, enter her mind unbidden like they did?

Hidden in the trees on the outskirts of the clearing, a woman with long red hair smiles, her blue eyes laser focused on Farfalla. Her task complete, she turns and disappears into the shadows of the forest.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 27 – Trial by Fire – in which a surprising betrayal has terrible consequences.

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 today’s episode we read the chapter 12 – The Letter – in which an unexpected letter will change the course of James and Farfalla’s lives... forever.

This week's podcast partner is Haunted or Hoax: https://linktr.ee/HauntedorHoax

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 12 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode we were introduced to James and Farfalla’s daughter, Magpie’s great-grandmother, Elisabeth.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 12 – The Letter – in which an unexpected letter will change the course of James and Farfalla’s lives... forever.

Today’s podcast partner is Haunted or Hoax, a proud Boopod Network member. Hosted by Jennifer and Kristen, Haunted or Hoax takes your favorite ghost stories and separates fact from fiction. They also research various lesser-known paranormal stories from around the United States, ensuring they have original content that hasn’t been covered countless times by others. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to the Haunted or Hoax podcast.

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

May 2^nd, 1932

The letter came today. 

The one that will change everything. 

Everything.

I can only hope that the letter leads us to a new, bright and beautiful life. Elisabeth deserves parents who openly care for one another. She deserves to live in a place where she and her family are not shunned and feared and excluded. She deserves to play with children who will not be frightened of her. She deserves to run through fields of tall grass and watch foxes play and birds fly overhead. She deserves all the most wonderful things that the world has to offer, and I am putting my hopes into the hand-scrawled letters stretching across the page in James’ hand.

~~~~~~

James sits in the rocking chair, a sheet of paper in his trembling hand.

“James? What’s going on?” asks Farfalla, walking in the front door and putting a basket full of blackberries down on the floor.

“Mama!” shouts Elisabeth, racing over to her mother. Farfalla takes Elisabeth in her arms and carries her into the living room. She sets Elisabeth at James’ feet then joins her on the floor. They pass a ball back and forth while Farfalla studies James’ face. She can’t read him very well. She hasn’t been able to read him for several months now. Ever since the incident with the hobby horse, in fact. James has continued to provide and care for her and Elisabeth, but there is a distance between them that wasn’t there before.

“James?” she prods, gently. She glances at the paper in his hand. It is a letter scrawled in ornate cursive handwriting, black ink stretching from edge to edge of the page in a flourish.

James looks down at her and blinks, like he hadn’t realized she and Elisabeth were even in the room. “It’s a letter,” he begins, “from my Uncle George Archibald in Scotland. Well, from his estate. It would seem he has passed away,” says James in a strange, robotic tone.

“Oh James, I’m so sorry. Were you close?” she asks, laying a hand on his knee.

James shakes his head, “That’s the thing, I hardly knew him at all. My father had mentioned him in passing a few times, but I don’t recall ever meeting him.” James pauses here and takes a deep breath. “Farfalla, he’s bequeathed his house to me. An entire property on the Isle of Skye.”

Farfalla’s eyes grow wide. “James, that’s amazing!” she gasps. James looks at her silently for a long while, long enough for Farfalla to begin to feel uncomfortable. “What is it, are you not interested?” she asks.

“I never felt at home when my mother and I lived overseas, I sacrificed my relationship with her because I wanted to return to Pocket, to the place and the people I know… or knew,” he corrects himself. Farfalla feels the sting of his remark. She knows his relationship with her hasn’t been all that he’d hoped. She knows in her heart she has let him down. She decides then and there to make a valiant effort to make it up to him.

“Home is wherever you and I and Elisabeth are, together,” she says, taking his face in her hands. 

“Lissabett!” pipes up Elisabeth, causing them all to laugh and lifting some of the tension in the room for the first time in a very long time.

Farfalla feels relieved as she sees James’ shoulders relax a little. She kisses him softly and moves back to look him in the eye. “Let’s at the very least take a trip to go see the property, it will do us good. We can have Elisabeth stay with my parents or Paloma while we go settle the estate, and if we like it there then the three of us can move. It’ll be a fresh start,” she gives him a knowing gaze. A fresh start is exactly what they all need. She should have done it long ago, but she held onto the hope that Pocket would somehow turn back into the place she once knew and loved. She has finally come to the sad conclusion that this will never be the case.

Elisabeth lets out a loud yawn and rubs her eyes. “I think perhaps it’s someone’s bedtime,” says Farfalla, picking her up off the floor.

“No Mama, no sleep,” mumbles Elisabeth before yawning again.

Farfalla wraps her arms around the little girl. “I’ll read you your favourite book, about the cat in the painting,” she says.

Elisabeth nods, “And Mama sing, sing the wind song,” she says. Farfalla smiles at her, every night Elisabeth asks Farfalla to sing the French lullaby to her as she falls asleep. 

“Yes, my love, then I will sing for you,” she says, disappearing down the dark hallway toward Elisabeth’s bedroom.

“Okay, she’s asleep,” says Farfalla, walking back into the living room some time later. She takes a seat on the sofa across from James, so they are facing each other. “Tell me more about this house, about your family,” she says.

“I only know the stories my father told me. Carnifex House, that’s what they call it, has been in our family for generations. It’s just outside a small town called Pòcaid. There is a caretaker’s cottage on the property as well as a pasture where they raise horses. I think there is a path that leads down to the beach at the very back of the property as well,” he says, staring off in the distance as he tries to recall the few details his father told him about his old family home.

“James, that’s sounds absolutely lovely!” breathes Farfalla. She can already imagine Elisabeth collecting shells on the beach, and ambling around the fields picking wildflowers, or going for horse rides into town.

“I suppose so…” he lets his voice trail, and Farfalla gets the sense that there is something he is not telling her.

“Is that all you remember?” she asks tentatively.

James shakes his head and groans. “There are… stories…” he begins hesitantly. Farfalla leans in even more closely. “My father always said Uncle George Archibald was a… character. He believed whole heartedly that there was a druid witch living in the forest at the edge of their property. He used to say that she would cause people, often children, to vanish. He had a name for her… I can’t recall now.”

Farfalla feels a chill run down her spine. She’s not quite sure if it’s the mention of people accusing someone of being a witch, or the mention of people vanishing that she finds most troubling. “Well, like you said, they’re just stories, and those were different times. I think we should plan a trip to Scotland, it will be good for us,” she says, walking over to the wingback chair he is sitting in and settling down on his lap. James looks surprised at first, then sadness washes over his eyes. It is in that moment that Farfalla realizes a part of her truly does love him. She kisses him then, desperate to erase all the hurt and sadness she has caused. They sit together in silence for a long while, each lost in their thoughts.

“Okay,” James says at last. 

“Yes?” says Farfalla, leaning back to look at him. James smiles at her and nods. Farfalla lets out a quiet squeal so as not to wake Elisabeth. She hops off his lap and stands up. James stands to face and holds her by the waist. They stare into one another’s eyes for a long time, comfortable with the stretch of silence between them. Somehow, they have found their way back to each other. Somehow, in this precise moment, it is like nothing in the past; not Marius, not the people of Pocket, not the horrendous winter of 1925, not druids or witches in the Scottish woods, not even vanishings, could come between them. Somehow, Farfalla has finally found a way to truly make room in her heart for James.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 13 – A Night on the Town – in which Farfalla and James travel to the city to bring Elisabeth to stay with Farfalla’s sister Paloma while they travel.

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 read Chapter 32 – Today’s Special - in which Magpie once again finds herself in the town of Pocket, where she comes to a startling, and devastating realisation.

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Mums, Mysteries, and Murder: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

Something (Rather Than Nothing) podcast: https://allmylinks.com/volanteunion

Ken Volante's interview with The Skylark Bell creator Melissa Oliver on the Something (Rather Than Nothing) podcast: https://www.podbean.com/ew/pb-jbynw-1054d07

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 32 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas comes face to face with the infamous Dealan-de, who has long been thought to be responsible for the Vanishings at Carnifex House.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 32 – Today’s Special - in which Magpie once again finds herself in the town of Pocket, where she comes to a startling, and devastating realisation.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Mums Mysteries and Murder. I also want to mention a podcast called Something, Rather than Nothing, which discusses art and its role in our lives. I was interviewed by Ken Volante for Something Rather Than Nothing last year, just check the show notes for links to that interview, Ken’s podcast, and Mums Mysteries and Murder. 

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

Magpie keeps her eyes closed but loosens her grip on the trunk of the oak tree at Meadow Lane. For some reason, her arms don’t seem as outstretched as they were when she first encircled it, like the tree has grown smaller somehow. She opens her eyes and looks around. Her heart sinks when she sees the dilapidated house at Meadow Lane up ahead. She releases the tree and turns to walk quietly back down the lane, wrapped in the now familiar silence. 

Magpie feels relief wash over her as she steps onto the road and hears the gravel crunch beneath her feet. The sound of an engine causes her to look up, and she sees a vintage turquoise pickup truck breeze passed her on its way toward town. “You don’t see those every day!” she says to herself, turning to follow its trajectory.

As Magpie nears town, she feels a growing sense of unease. In the time it has taken her to walk from Meadow Lane to Bunting’s General Store, she has seen four more vintage vehicles. Three pickup trucks, and a convertible car driven by a woman with oversized sunglasses and a colourful scarf in her hair. 

Magpie sees a couple walking out of the store, the man dressed in pleated wool pants and a jacket, the woman wearing a green tweed skirt suit with matching hat, her hair peeking out from under it in a perfect bob. Magpie continues down the street, not oblivious to the looks she is getting from people as she walks by. Everyone she sees is dressed in vintage clothing. Finally, Magpie finds herself standing in front of The Early Bird diner, it looks the same as it did the last time she was there. She allows herself to feel a small sense of relief at the familiar sight and a smile forms on her lips. Her joy is quickly replaced with shock when she sees the sign posted in the window “Wednesday, June 13^th, 1962 – Today’s Special – Blackberry Waffles!”

Magpie starts shaking, unsure what to do next. Suddenly, she hears hushed whispers coming from the sidewalk behind her. She turns and sees a crowd gathering, everyone looking at her and whispering to one another behind their hands. She picks up bits and pieces of their hushed conversations “she’s back”, “how is it possible”, “where has she been all this time”. Suddenly, a hand grabs her arm and pulls her into the restaurant. 

“I’m sorry to have taken a hold of you so abruptly, but you looked like you could use a hand,” says a petite woman, her silky brown hair curled into a perfect flip at the ends. The woman looks vaguely familiar, but Magpie can’t place her. The woman keeps chatting as they slowly make their way across the dining room. “Are you hungry?” she asks, turning toward Magpie. 

Magpie nods absent-mindedly as her gaze travels to the scarf around the woman’s neck. She almost falls over in shock as recognition washes over her. It’s the same scarf she had taken from Grandma Gemma’s house after Gemma passed away decades ago. Magpie has worn that scarf countless times over the years. This woman is Gemma, Lucas’ grandmother! 

“Come, let’s sit down,” says Gemma, guiding Magpie to a booth at the back of the restaurant, the same booth where Magpie sat across from Farfalla all those years ago. “We’ll have two orders of those blackberry waffles, and a pot of sweet orange tea, please” she says as the waitress walks up to their table. The waitress nods and scurries back to the counter where she immediately begins to gossip with the row of customers seated on the red swivel stools.

“People have a lot of questions for you Mrs- ” she begins, before stopping herself. “May I call you Farfalla?” she asks politely. 

Magpie is stunned to find herself nodding. What is going on?! She sits across from Gemma, listening to her talk about her family, her husband, their house on the outskirts of the village. Magpie remains in a trance, letting the warmth of the sweet orange tea wash through her as she silently eats her blackberry waffles with one hand, her other hand clutching her satchel, which contains the last remnants of her real life.

Gemma and her husband graciously offer for Magpie to stay at their house, “Lucas’ house,” thinks Magpie, for several weeks. Every morning, before anyone else is awake, Magpie runs to the old oak tree at Meadow Lane and stands with one hand pressed into its trunk, hoping to hear the haunting melody that might bring her back home to Lucas, but she finds only the same thick, unbearable silence that will remain there until her younger self rings the Skylark Bell more than 50 years from now. Resigned to her new reality, she focuses on learning how to knit from Gemma, who is an excellent teacher. Magpie catches on quickly, and before she knows it, she is knitting mittens, scarves, shawls, and sweaters to sell at the farmer’s market. She perfects her blackberry jam recipe and starts selling that too. 

Within a few months Magpie is earning enough to put a down payment on the small house around the corner from Monsieur Tourtereaux’s Bakery, which would eventually become Tuffeto’s. She falls into a routine, keeping to herself, focusing on her knitting and tending to the blackberry bushes that she has planted all around the front and side of her house. She starts to collect birdhouses, making fast friends of their various residents as she sits on the porch with an outstretched hand covered in birdseed. She and Gemma stay in touch, regularly getting together for tea. Eventually, Gemma becomes pregnant and gives birth to a son, who would eventually grow up to be Lucas’ father. Magpie’s heart aches when she sees the baby. She had witnessed his life end at the side of the road, not knowing then that she would also witness his life begin. Magpie and Gemma’s meetings become fewer and farther between as the duties of motherhood take priority. 

Magpie’s only other connection occurs years later when she seeks out Farfalla’s daughter, her own Great-Grandmother, Elizabeth. They exchange letters for a few years, though Magpie can never tell if Elizabeth truly believes she is writing to her mother, Farfalla, or if she is simply lonely and enjoying the companionship of a pen pal. One day a package arrives with a beautiful hand-knit green shawl, and Magpie remembers her very first vision, the one where Elizabeth was in a rocking chair knitting this very shawl. It feels otherworldly to be holding it in her hands. Eventually, the letters start to come less regularly, Elizabeth has gotten older and is in poor health, and writing has become tedious for her. One day, the letters stop coming all together, and Magpie once again finds herself alone.

It is around this time that Magpie makes a habit of having breakfast at The Early Bird each day, sticking to her usual order of Blackberry Waffles and Sweet Orange Tea. The routine helps the days go by, at this point she is simply biding her time, and the years blur into one another.

From the very first day, the people of Pocket presume she is Farfalla, returned from overseas where, it turns out, she did not die in a tragic accident. Magpie chooses not to correct them, having no other explanation for her existence in this place and time. It is simpler to step into the role of Farfalla and move forward from there. She remains silent, speaking to no one lest they discover she is not who they think she is. They come to their own conclusions about why she does not speak. The give her plenty of space, still frightened by the mysterious silence at Meadow Lane, and her possible connection to it. There are days when she wants to scream at them at the top of her lungs, “I am not Farfalla!”, but she knows better. Better to keep quiet.

It had only taken a few days after Magpie’s arrival for her to realize the agonizing truth.

The impossible truth.

“It was me. 

It was me all along. 

I WAS FARFALLA.”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 33, Sparking Silence, where Lucas tries desperately to find a way to put his and Magpie’s timelines back in place.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Mums Mysteries and Murder, whose hosts both live in Scotland and feature one native Scot and an Australian who discuss tales of the unexplained and true crime from their respective countries. If you enjoy the spooky, uncanny feel of The Skylark Bell, you’re sure to enjoy Mums Mysteries and Murder. 

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, and this is The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

In today’s episode we read the chapter 39 – Nothing – in which Magpie finds herself at a crossroads. 

This week's podcast partner is The Boopod Network of true crime and paranormal podcasts, which includes the following:

The Activity Continues: https://bit.ly/m/TACpod

The Nightcap Nebula: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-nightcap-nebula-podcast/id1672430903

The Paranormal Truth: https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

Mums, Mysteries, & Murder: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

Generally Spooky: https://linktr.ee/generallyspooky

Shittin' Bricks: https://linktr.ee/shittinbricks

Horror Roulette: https://horrorroulette.com/

Certainly Strange: https://open.spotify.com/show/1stSYQC9Sqox9TwbU48Dof?si=ct4_QX_NQh6hHZHxZ9eyVA&utm_source=copy-link&nd=1

Haunted or Hoax: https://linktr.ee/HauntedorHoax

Spilling the Crime: https://linktr.ee/spillingthecrime

Murder Roadtrip: https://www.instagram.com/murderroadtrippod/

Dark Tales from the Road: https://linktr.ee/darktalesfromtheroad

The Skylark Bell: http://www.theskylarkbell.com

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.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 39 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Magpie stopped The Skylark Bell from causing the boating accident that set Farfalla’s time loop, and consequently Magpie’s,  in motion.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 39 – Nothing – in which Magpie finds herself at a crossroads. 

Today’s podcast partner is The Boopod Network – a collective of independent True Crime and paranormal podcasts which includes The Skylark Bell. There have been several fantastic collaborative projects featuring various members of the Boopod network over the past year or two, and each individual podcast is fantastic in its own right. Just check the show notes for links to podcast that are part of the Boopod Network, and be sure to give them a listen, you won’t regret it.

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

At first there was nothing. 

I remember my thoughts swirling. Is nothing something? How can I have thoughts if there is nothing? Thoughts are something. 

I could quickly feel myself losing my grip on reality when suddenly there was something. A spark. A flash of light. A reflection.

I turned my gaze to it, and gradually the light grew bright enough to illuminate the woman. She had long silver hair and was dressed in a somewhat shapeless white linen gown with colourful embroidery on it, birds and flowers and animals. I remember being fixated on the stitches, like focusing on them would help keep me grounded in this strange, frightening instance.

I looked down at her hand and found the source of the light to be the bell. The one I had grasped in mid-air as Farfalla hauled it off the edge of the cliff. So the bell still exists. That wasn’t part of the plan. 

I glanced at our surroundings, but there was only darkness. Darkness as oppressive as the silence at Meadow Lane. Again, nothing. We were surrounded by nothing. Nothing but darkness. Perhaps darkness is something? The swirling thoughts again.

Finally, I chose to speak, my words echoing in the emptiness around us and cutting through the madness attempting to claim my mind.

“Where are we?” I asked the woman. 

“We are in Between,” replied the woman, a slight smile on her face.

“In between what?” I asked her.

“In Between. Between everything and nothing, between fire and water, between earth and sky, sound and silence. Between the head and the tail of the Ouroboros,” she replied. “In every opposite, there is always a small sliver, a place called Between. Most people never succeed in finding it, but you have,” replies the woman.

“How do I go home?” I asked her, not entirely sure I’d grasped the full concept of what she had just told me.

At this the woman laughed quietly, “There is no home. There is no you or I in Between. Come, take my hand,” she added then, reaching her free hand out to me.

“Who are you?” I asked her, suspiciously.

“I am Cailleach, the keeper of Between. There are not many of us here. Farfalla joined us for a time... but, things have changed now,” she replied. 

I hesitantly grabbed her hand, and we were instantly transported to a clearing surrounded by a mass of thick forest. In the center of the clearing was a large oak tree, taller and more massive than any tree I’d ever seen before. “This is Darragh,” the old woman said, laying her palm on the trunk of the tree. “Darragh has been here,” at this she waves her hand around to include the forest, the air, and the earth in her description of ‘here’, “longer than anyone or anything else. Darragh is the beginning, the end, and the in-between.”

At this point I had no idea where I was or what this woman was talking about, the entire experience felt dizzying, and I started to think perhaps I had simply fallen off the cliff and was in the process of having one last wild dream before dying.

“You did not die,” says the woman, as if reading my mind, “but you did not live, either.” 

At this my head whipped up toward her. “What do you mean? Where am I?” I asked, my voice cracking with palpable fear.

“As I told you, you are in Between, and you have a choice to make. You can go to what was before, or you can go do what comes after. Or you can stay here in Between and experience it all...” says the woman.

I remember the precise moment realization hit me. I was standing at a crossroads, my path branching off into three. I could choose the Before, and go back to my time loop, to how things were, and repeat the lifetimes of losing Lucas. Or I could choose to stay in Between, trapped inside an oak tree like Farfalla; eternal, shifting back and forth through time, but living as only half a person, half a consciousness. Or I could choose the most frightening of all. The After. The Future. The unknown. Would I be dead? Would I be a baby again, born with a fresh start? Would I disappear altogether, no one remembering that ever existed? I had lived my lifetime so many times, I had grown accustomed to knowing what was to come. The thought of the unknown was the most terrifying thing I could think of.

“I want what comes after,” I said.

“Very well,” said Cailleach, smiling.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for the final chapter of The Skylark Trilogy – and epilogue that will end all 3 books: Meadow Lane, Wingspan, and SkyeDive.

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 read the chapter 29 – Embers to Ash – In which we discover the secret behind both The Ancient Oak, and Dealan-dè.

This week's podcast partner is Horror Roulette: https://horrorroulette.com/

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 29 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla bid goodbye to the people of the camp and began to pick up the pieces of The Ancient Oak.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 29 – Embers to Ash – In which we discover the secret behind both The Ancient Oak, and Dealan-dè.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Horror Roulette. This podcast takes a unique approach in that topics are chosen by spinning a wheel of random words. You won’t find a more unique format or set of topics than this one! Be sure to check the show notes for a link to the Horror Roulette podcast.

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

I have called upon Ru to gather the herd.

They are like counterparts to the tribe that was here. Like Cailleach, there is a wise old female that the other deer look to for guidance. Then there is a tall proud male that they turn to for leadership, safety, planning - just like the tribe looked up to Cormag. The rest of the herd works together, each individual having a role to play. Then there is Ru; always walking on the outskirts, different than the rest of the herd, but still accepted within their ranks. Despite being younger than the two leaders, he is equally powerful, perhaps even more powerful, in his own right. Ru is like me.

I used vines and bits of rope left behind by the soldiers to attach the arch to the deer, then I instructed them to pull. I am grateful for their help, there is no way I could have lifted this magnificent work of art myself. Once the arch was set in place, I released the deer and shared with them the berries I picked that morning. Ru stayed behind when the others left, clinging to my side like he was afraid I would disappear. If I am honest with myself, I am also afraid I will disappear. But I think I have better control now. I think I can choose where, and when, I go.

Ru and I spent the afternoon together wandering the woods. He told me how sad he is that the tribespeople are gone. We shared our heartache and our memories. I told him the archway will help keep all of them and their teachings alive for all time. I think he smiled then, in his way. Finally, we parted ways at the edge of the forest, and I walked back to the clearing. 

I dug deep holes at either side of the arch to anchor it to the ground. It only occurred to me after I was finished that perhaps I could have commanded the ground to make space for the arch, so instead I commanded the ground to cling to the arch for all time. There is no way to know for certain whether it worked, but I figured it was worth a try.

The arch is a thing of beauty, hovering over the stump from which the Ancient Oak once towered. I have collected several acorns that scattered to the ground when the Oak fell. I will plant them in the clearing, so the forest can fill in once again. Perhaps I will keep one, as a memento. As I collected the acorns I found other artefacts, remnants of the encampment; metal cups, spoons, tools, and jewelry. I tied them to thin leather strips and hung them from the top of the arch. I also collected the feathers from Cormag and Caileach’s headdresses and hung those from the arch as well, which reminded me of the dreamcatcher that Isadora Finch gave me as a birthday gift, three lifetimes ago. Lastly, I threaded flowers throughout the arch, and made it look a bit like the Skye Lark Belle’s crown from my youth, back when I didn’t realize what I was wishing for.

Now the arch stands at the ready.

The question is, am I ready?

~~~~~~

Farfalla stands to admire her handywork. The arch is a thing of beauty, gracefully lifting over the tree stump, whose surface she painstakingly smoothed down to make it even with the ground around it. She has marked the place where she planted the pocketful of acorns she collected then planted each with a twig on which she threaded a leaf, like a little flag indicating where, someday, a majestic oak would rise.

Finally, it is time to take a break. She decides to walk down to the beach to clean herself up and scrub her gown, ridding herself of the streaks of soot and dirt on her arms and legs. Beneath the layers of dirt her arms are wrought with scrapes and scratches from the branches she used to make the arch. The cool water is soothing and Farfalla takes her time bathing in it. Once reasonably clean, she steps out of the sea and lays the gown on a sunny patch of grass in the sun, then she lays next to it while they both dry off. She lets her thoughts drift to the monumental task she just accomplished. Her arch is not simply a decoration, it is a gateway. The Ancient Oak told her the arch would be infused with its wisdom, its power, its magic. That the arch could be used to travel not only to a different time, but to a different place. A specific place. But the Ancient Oak did not have time to elaborate, so she doesn’t know where that place is. 

Farfalla is just slipping her gown back over her head when she hears the sound of stones being thrown into the water a little farther up the beach. She walks across the sand to the stony part of the shore. “Hullo,” says a little voice. Farfalla stands in shock. It is the small boy with the large blue eyes, the one from the cliffside, the son of the mayor. Ash. “I told you I would see you again,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. 

“How…?” begins Farfalla, unable to create a cohesive thought.

“I’m not sure how, exactly,” says the boy, skipping another rock across the surface of the sea. A tall slim man dressed all in black comes into view at the top of the grassy hill that overlooks the rocky beach, a woman with wild red hair pinned atop her head at his side. “It’s time for me to go,” says the boy, turning to run up the grassy hill.

“Wait!” shouts Farfalla, taking a few steps in his direction, but the boy, man, and woman quickly disappear behind the crest of the hill. Confused and a little thrown, Farfalla makes her way back to the forest.

As she nears the clearing Farfalla hears a faint pulsing sound. She can feel warmth emanating from the bell in her pocket as she gets closer to the arch. She hesitantly steps onto the stump and looks up at the arch stretching above her head. A breeze picks up, and the faint beginnings of the Song of the Oak Tree reach her ears. Farfalla can’t tell which direction the sound is coming from; she is surrounded by it. The bell grows hot in her hands, and she drops it with a small shout. The wind picks up and swings the trinkets hanging above her head, so they clash into one another, creating a cacophonous symphony. 

Farfalla feels panic quickly rising in her chest. She tries to step off the stump, but she can’t. It is like invisible hands are holding onto her feet. She looks down and sees the stump has begun to regrow around her. Now in full-fledged terror Farfalla begins to move her body, trying desperately to free herself, but the trunk only keeps growing taller and taller, surrounding her. Within seconds it has reached her waist. “Stop!” she shouts, her voice cracking in fear, “What are you doing?! You didn’t tell me this would happ-”. Farfalla’s words are cut off as the trunk grows around her head. Farfalla feels her mind separate from her body, the same sensation she had when she and Cailleach stepped under the arch and found themselves back at the encampment. Without explanation, she suddenly finds herself standing next to the Ancient Oak, its trunk and branches restored to their former glory, reaching high above the canopy of the surrounding trees.

“What just happened?” asks Farfalla. The words echo both inside and outside her mind. Farfalla needn’t wait for an answer, as she looks at the tree, she can also see herself from the inside of the tree. She is in both places at once. “How can this be, I don’t understand!” Again, the swirling echo all around and inside her. Farfalla suddenly feels faint and drops to the ground. 

“Dealan-dè,” the familiar voice comes from behind Farfalla’s back. She turns and sees Caileach standing a few paces away, smiling at her.

“Cailleach?! But you… you… I saw you! You turned to dust! How can this be?” asks Farfalla, the words once again bouncing across the inside of her head and the trees around the clearing.

“I told you, someone would come to us who could ensure our teachings would never be lost. That someone was you, my dear. The voice of the Ancient Oak, it was your voice. You gave yourself the instructions to climb the tree, to use the bell to escape the soldiers, to build the arch. You are Dealan-dè, the powerful one, the wise one, the eternal one,” says Cailleach.

“If I am inside the tree, then how am I here?” asks Farfalla, trying to sort everything out.

“You are not really here, only part of your consciousness is here. Without a physical body to carry around, you have the capacity to travel anywhere, any time. It is a tremendous honour to hold such power!” says Cailleach.

“But I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask for any of this! All I wanted was to go home to my daughter!” cries Farfalla, reeling at the impossibility of it all.

“It was the only way to ensure our tribe, our culture, our teachings, would not be lost,” replies Cailleach, laying a hand on Farfalla’s shoulder.

“So, you did this,” says Farfalla, suddenly feeling rage rising in her chest. They had used her! Cailleach, Cormag, Corbin, all of them! They had used her, trapped her inside this tree forever, sentenced her to burn and be cut up and shaped into an arch, to have her consciousness separated from her body for all eternity! “YOU did this!” she says again, rising to her feet, stepping close to Cailleach, rage twisting her face.

“I had forgotten how angry you were the first time,” says Cailleach, unfazed.

“The first time? What do you mean?” asks Farfalla.

“Remember the Ouroboros. The endless loop. Every lifetime you remember a little more. Every lifetime you are a little more resigned to your fate. But this is your first time, and you are angry,” replies the old woman. “I warned you not to harden your heart, I was hoping to spare you the first few cycles, the ones where you cause great harm, the ones where you seek revenge. No matter, it will all find its way in time,” she says, turning to walk away.

“Don’t you walk away from me! I need you to fix this! Get me out of this tree!” says Farfalla, as desperation quickly replaces the anger she is feeling. She puts her hands up to her ears, the echoing sound from inside and outside her body is dizzying and she’s not sure how much longer she can handle it.

“I suggest you travel to a time when the tree is no longer standing, it will eliminate that dreadful echo in your head,” says Cailleach, disappearing into the shadows of the forest and leaving Farfalla alone with the tree… with herself.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 30 – Back to the Cliffside – in which Farfalla returhns to a pivotal point in her life.

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. 

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 Jack’s Room in which our narrator has a haunting experience with a long-departed relative.

Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.

Music: Nightbridge and Jack's Room 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 Jack’s Room – and be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.

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

I was only a child, maybe 9 or 10 yeas old.  It was Christmas time and my father, step-mother and I were visiting relatives in Quebec City, Canada, which was about 4 hours away from where we lived. Rather than get a hotel, we were going to stay at my Great-Aunt Marselle’s house since she was on a trip overseas for the holidays. Great-Aunt Marselle was my father’s aunt, her sister being my Grandma Rachel.

The house was a curious old house with a strange layout and big heavy antique furniture.  It had belonged to my Grandmother’s Father, my Great-Grandfather, originally, where he had raised his son and four daughters first with my great-grandmother, then with his second wife after my great-grandmother passed awaya.  He was a successful business man, and the house sat in an upscale neighbourhood. I had been in the house countless times for gatherings that often included up to two dozen family members, whether we were celebrating Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas, the house welcomed us year after year – but this was the first time I would venture upstairs, and actually stay in the house overnight.

We parked in the driveway and took the front walkway to the door.  It was that time of night when the sun had just gone down and the sky was a dark blue, making black silhouettes of the trees and surrounding homes.  We stumbled through the entryway with our suitcases and I made my way to the front parlour.  Suddenly, a flash of white streaked across the room in front of me and I let out a shriek! My father quickly flipped the lightswitch, and in the glow of the antique light fixture I was able to see my Great-Aunt’s white cat, who was aptly named Fanfan (which was short for Fantome, the French word for ghost).  The cat was quite old and deaf, and meowed very loudly, unable to hear itself anymore.

We made our way into the house, turning lights on as we went, and hauled our suitcases up to the second floor. I was put in a small room at the end of the hallway while my father and step-mother were in a larger room just down the hall.  Exhausted from the trip, we decided to go to bed early. 

I don’t remember anything specific happening in the hours that followed, I just remember feeling absolutely terrified.  The walls of the room were covered in wallpaper that had a vine pattern to it, and I felt like the vines were going to twist around me, trapping me in this room full of frightening, negative energy.  I was the type of child who was afraid to bother her parents. Normally, I would not have been fussy about which room I was put in. Normally, I would not have been pushy about wanting to change rooms.  But nothing about that room felt normal. I WOULD NOT stay in that room, so much so that my parents ended up letting me sleep in their room, which was pretty unheard-of in our household. Something about what I said or how I was acting lead them to believe I couldn’t stay in the little room at the end of the hall.

About ten years later, while on yet another drive to Quebec City with my father, I asked if he rememberd that strange night at Great-Aunt Marselle’s house when I was afraid to sleep in the little bedroom with the vine wallpaper.  My dad replied “Oh, you mean Jack’s room?”  I paused and looked at him, perplexed. I didn’t recall a relative named Jack.  “Who’s Jack?” I asked, and my father explained that Jack was the brother of my Great-Grandfather’s second wife.  He was originally from Montreal but, for one reason or another, was living with his sister and her new husband at the house in Quebec City. 

We arrived at our destination and visited with my Grandma Rachel and aunts and uncles. The whole time I was just itching to visit Aunt Marselle, who had since sold the house and moved to an apartment, so I could ask her if she remembered anything more about Jack.  When we finally pulled up to her apartment bulding, I couldn’t get through the main door and up the creaky old stairway fast enough, but then we had to sit and wait politely (and patiently, being in her late 80’s she didn’t have the fastest pace) as she brought us drinks and a tin of Danish cookies. 

Finally, she settled into her chair and we were able to ask her if she had any stories about the mysterious Jack. Lucky for us, she had quite the tale to tell! According to Aunt Marselle, Jack did not much like children.  He would sit on the front stoop shouting at them, and throwing rocks if they came too close to the house.  

One morning Marselle was on the main floor of the house when she heard a loud thud upstairs.  She rushed up and found Jack on the floor of his bedroom.  He had been bending down to tie his shoe and collapsed in an apparent heart attack. Marselle was sent to fetch for the priest, but by the time the priest arrived at the house Jack had already died, in the little room at the end of the hall. 

Again, I don’t remember precisely why I wouldn’t stay in that room, I don’t recall seeing an apparition, I didn’t see or hear things moving by themselves, or catch strange shadows hovering in the corner of my eye – I just felt like I was not supposed to be there, like something wanted me out. Knowing what we now know about Jack, I can easily imagine that if part of him was still in that room, the last thing he would have wanted spending any time in there with him, is a child…

Thank you so much for listening. Next week we will resume our adventure in Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell.  Last week, in Chapter 4, Magpie let us in on her secret, that she keeps a sketchbook in which she records the psychic visions that come to her, and we met her surprise guest, an unusual cat who suddenly appeared at her back door, then hinted at a connection to the old farmhouse before disappearing just as suddently. Next week we read Chapter 5, Sunset on the Bridge, where Lucas finally tells Magpie the impossible truth about Meadow Lane, and Magpie experiences yet another mysterious vision.  Be sure to subscribe, you don’t want to miss a thing! Now, keep listening for an original song by Cannelle Elanion inspired by today’s episode, here is Jack’s Room.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 35 – Closure - in which Magpie discovers the identity of the person who sent the letter.

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Haunted or Hoax: https://linktr.ee/HauntedorHoax

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

In our previous episode, Magpie received a strange letter requesting her presence at the care home in Brighthaven.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 35 – Closure - in which Magpie discovers the identity of the person who sent the letter.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called haunted or hoax.

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

“Mr. Corbeau, your guest is here.” The nun’s words swirl around Magpie’s head and she begins to feel dizzy. Mr. Corbeau… Marius Corbeau? But he never even existed! Unless…

“You may come in now,” says Sister Agnes, her head peeking out from the open door.

Magpie takes a deep breath and steps into the room. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she blinks a few times then looks around. The room is quite small with only the basic necessities; a bed, a dresser, and a small desk and chair. Magpie turns her attention to the bed, there is an old man lying in it, layers of blankets piled on top of his legs despite the warm spring day.

“I will leave you now, but please don’t hesitate if you should need anything from me,” says Sister Agnes warmly, holding onto Magpie’s hands. She looks like she is deciding whether to stay more, then gestures with her head for Magpie to follow her back out into the hallway. “I should probably warn you; he is very ill. After 98 years of living, I’m afraid he doesn’t have much time left. I’m very sorry,” She gives Magpie’s hand a squeeze, then turns and walks away, the sound of her block heel shoes echoing down the hall. 

Magpie turns back toward the door, her heart pounding. She walks back into the room and tentatively steps to the side of the bed. “Mr. Corbeau?” she says, leaning toward the man who appears to be sleeping with his back turned toward her. She sees some movement at the foot of the bed, and the man makes a soft sound as he slowly turns himself around. 

Magpie lets out a gasp as recognition sets in. His face is carved with deep lines, and his hair is snowy white, the grey of his eyes is faded and milky, but she would recognize him anywhere. “Lucas!” she whispers, confused, horrified, and relieved and all the same time. The man strains to focus his eyes on her, and a smile slowly makes its way onto his face. He lifts his hand up to touch her face. “Lucas, how…? I don’t understand!” she says, tears streaming down her face. How can Lucas be here? How can he be 98 years old? He was only 25 when she left him at Carnifex House, she had made sure to put everything in place for him to live a happy, fulfilling life if she never returned!

“I tried so hard to find you,” he whispers. 

The noise that escapes from Magpie doesn’t even sound human. Never has she felt this level of pain, not even when Lucas first disappeared. She had finally accepted that she would never see him again, at least not as an adult, and consoled herself with the fact that he would be living a long happy life at Carnifex House. But here she is standing before a yet another cruel twist of fate.

Magpie takes a deep breath to compose herself then walks over to the desk to get the chair and brings it to the side of the bed. She sits down and takes a hold of Lucas’ hand.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“Shh, no need for that,” she says reassuringly, running a hand along his cheek. 

Suddenly a thought occurs to her, “Lucas, how did you find me? Here, in this time?” she asks.

He smiles and winks, “I was always clever, you know,” he says, clearly struggling to get the words out. “It took me a long time to figure it out.” He pauses, giving himself a moment to find the strength to continue. “I AM NOT FARFALLA,” he finally spits out. “It was you… all along. It was always you,” he says. 

Magpie sits back, reeling. Remembering the impossible sketch that had appeared out of thin air the day they cleaned out Farfalla’s house, her house. The sketch on which someone, herself, had scrawled a final clue, the words “I AM NOT FARFALLA”. So, Lucas had somehow ended up on a different timeline, one that began long before any of the events at Meadow Lane, long before the timeline Magpie is living in now, and somehow, he had figured out that she was the Farfalla of their youth. Somehow, he had found a way to get a message to her, so they could be together one last time.

Magpie tells him about his Grandma Gemma, and about how she herself held his father as a baby. She tells him about her knitting and blackberry jam, and how she has an arrangement with the Tuffetos. She tells him about her daily breakfast of blackberry waffles and sweet orange tea at The Early Bird, and how she always sits in the booth at the very back. She tells him about the people of Pocket being frightened of her, thinking she placed the curse on Meadow Lane, and that she lets them think that because it means they don’t approach her to ask questions. 

“I’m just biding my time until I see you again, as a young boy, and eventually, myself,” she says, a sad smile on her face.

Lucas’ eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head from side to side. He whispers something unintelligible. 

“What’s that?” she asks gently, leaning closer to hear him.

“Crossing. Timelines.” He chokes out. Magpie furrows her brow, confused. “Don’t cross timelines,” he says again.

“What do you mean, Lucas? I don’t understand,” she says.

He takes a deep breath, digging deep to get his message across. “I tried to come back… 1925… Marius… Mirror Pond,” he stops to catch his breath. “Crossing timelines… sparked the silence,” he says, closing his eyes, exhausted from the effort.

Magpie takes a moment to sort out the disjointed thoughts. Finally, she thinks she understands. “Lucas, do you mean that the silence at Meadow Lane started when you came into contact with your younger self?” she asks. Lucas gives her an almost imperceptible nod. Magpie ponders a little longer. If the silence began when Lucas and his younger self encountered each other, maybe Meadow Lane was just frozen in time, immobile for decades until… “

“Lucas, the silence at Meadow Lane started spreading after I met Farfalla,” she begins. He, again, nods quietly. “Crossing timelines is what made it start, and also what will make it grow.”

He finally opens his eyes to look at her. “One last thing,” he says, truly struggling at this point. “In the forest, there was a woman. She called herself Dealan-dè.” He pauses for a long while and Magpie wonders whether he has fallen asleep. “I think she sent me here on purpose. She was angry because I thought she was you, because I was hoping she was you,” he finally says. 

Magpie takes his hand, “I’m here now,” she says, leaning over to lay a tender kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, Magpie. I always loved you,” he whispers.

Magpie feels tears burning her eyes, “I love you too, Lucas,” she says. Unaware in that moment that those would be the last words she would ever speak.

Lucas lays in bed, his head turned toward her, his eyes never leaving her face, his hand never leaving her grasp, as he breathes his last breath.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 36, Crossing the Line, in which Magpie, after decades of living in Pocket under Farfalla’s identity, finally crosses paths with a familiar 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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Haunted or Hoax. Listen to this paranormal investigation podcast that travels around the United States. If you enjoy the haunted atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.   

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

In today’s episode we read the chapter 30 – Back to the Cliffside – in which Faralla travels back to a pivotal point in her life.

This week's podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/shannon-quinn6

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 30 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode we learned that Farfalla was the voice inside the Ancient Oak, which also left her transformed into Dealan-dè.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 30 – Back to the Cliffside – in which Faralla travels back to a pivotal point in her life.

Today’s podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip, also members of the Boopod Network of paranormal and true crime podcasts. This podcast takes listeners on a weekly roadtrip across the US to discuss true crime and the occasional spooks through each of the 50 States. Check the show notes for a link to the Murder Roadtrip podcast.

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

I am trapped in a tree.

How did I go from a blissful childhood of running through fields, to living with half of me eternally trapped in a tree? It sounds completely preposterous when I spell it out like this. 

They all knew. They all knew this would be my fate, and none of them stopped it. 

Did you know too?

I wandered aimlessly after that encounter with Cailleach. Finally, I picked up the bell, and laid a hand on the Ancient Oak. My prison. The process of travelling to a different time is much faster and easier than before, perhaps because it is only my consciousness that is travelling now. However, this also means I cannot live, love, and interact with people the way I did when I was a complete person. I came to this heart-wrenching realisation when I, at long last, managed to peek in on Elisabeth. I only did so one time. She was sitting in a rocking chair in Paloma’s old apartment in the city, which she presumably inherited. She was holding the tiniest baby, a girl. I heard her speak softly and lovingly to her baby, Lilian. My heart broke over and over watching them, knowing I couldn’t speak to her, or hold her, or meet my grandchild. I suffered through a few hours of wistful observation, the made my private, silent goodbyes before leaving them.

I stand here now with the arch above my head, struggling to understand. Am I still inside the wood from which it is built? I didn’t see my body when the trunk of the tree split. Where am I? Have I died? Am I a ghost? I don’t understand. Perhaps I am not meant to. I have these amazing, superhuman abilities now, I can control the elements, travel through time, speak to plants and animals. But I have paid dearly for these gifts. I have lost everything I ever loved, I have been betrayed time and time and time again. Betrayed by people, betrayed by time itself. And if I have understood correctly, this will happen to me again, and again, in a cruel, endless loop.

The Ouroboros.

Someone has to pay.

~~~~~~

Farfalla takes a moment to adjust to the darkness of her surroundings. Is it night already? She wonders. She looks around. The Ancient Oak is gone, in its place she sees the gateway arching over her head. The clearing is also gone, and she is standing on a narrow path deep in the forest. Of course! The acorns she planted have grown into trees, they look like they are hundreds of years old. The canopy formed by their leaves filters out most of the daylight.

Farfalla tentatively steps out from under the arch, unsure which direction to go. The sound of cracking twigs nearby causes her to spin around quickly. “Ru!” she gushes as the deer steps out from under the arch and walks up to her. “I’m so happy to see you,” she whispers. Farfalla throws her arms around its neck and leans her head on it. “I don’t recognize the forest anymore,” she whispers into its soft fur.

“I can show you the way,” Ru’s words echo in her mind. Farfalla leans back and nods, thankful to have a friend in this strange time. Ru walks in front of her, and Farfalla follows. The path winds and twists through the forest and they walk for what feels like hours before finally stepping into the light of day. Farfalla gasps as she recognizes the scene before her. Stretching as far as the eye can see are fields, and in the distance, the outline of Carnifex House. To her right is the large rock that separates Carnifex land from the neighbouring farm. “This is where I leave you,” Ru’s voice shaking her out of her shock, “but you may call on me any time,” he adds. Farfalla lays a grateful hand on the animal’s cheek, then steps back as it turns and gracefully runs back into the forest.

“Hullo,” says a small, familiar voice. 

Farfalla turns to see the small boy with the large blue eyes peeking from behind the rock. “Hello, Ash,” she says.

The little boy’s eyes widen in shock. “How do you know my name?!” he asks.

“I heard your father call you at the cliffside,” she says. Farfalla takes the boy’s furrowed brow and look of confusion to mean this is the first time he has met her. “I am…” Farfalla considers which name she should provide, but decides on her most recent one, “Dealan-dè”.

“Pleasure to meet you,” says the boy, a slightly nervous edge to his voice. He’s a sweet boy. How such a sweet boy could come from such a horrible man as his father I will never know, thinks Farfalla.

“Well, I must be on my way now,” says Farfalla, smiling. “We’ll meet again,” she adds, turning to look over her shoulder before wandering back into the forest. 

“You shouldn’t go in the forest,” says the boy.

“Whyever not?” asks Farfalla, slightly amused. 

“Because of the vanishings,” he says, “people go in there and never come out,” he adds.

“Do they now?” she says, “well, I know for a fact that I will return. You’ll see,” she lets the words trail behind her as she walks into the shadows cast by the trees. Behind her she hears the boy’s footsteps as he races through the tall grass as fast as his little legs will take him.

The fear in the boy’s voice sparked something in her. Fear. She has felt it so many times now. In the water when the boat fell to pieces. As she was being thrown off the cliff. As the Ancient Oak was being lit on fire. As the tree regrew around her, keeping her trapped inside. It is time for other people to feel fear. If they fear the vanishings, then she will make them happen. 

Now Farfalla knows what she must do. Now she has a plan. She will go to the cliffside.

Everything looks essentially the same when Farfalla opens her eyes and steps out from under the arch. She expertly navigates the path Ru showed her just yesterday, somehow having mapped it in her mind. She steps out of the forest and, sure enough, she sees the crowd gathered up ahead. She quickly steps behind the large rock so as not to be seen. 

“Alright, then the accused is found guilty. Take her to the cliffside!” she hears Mayor Sandpiper shout triumphantly. She watches as lifts Ash into his arms. The boy looks in her direction, then nods to someone in the crowd. Farfalla scans the crowd and sees herself, her younger self, hands tied behind her back with a gag tied around her head, and she feels equal parts sadness and rage. Her younger self turns to look, and they make eye contact. Farfalla quickly disappears into the forest to compose herself. This is harder than she thought it would be.

“I need to go to the cliffside,” she whispers to herself. 

“I will walk with you,” she hears Ru’s voice enter her mind. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as Ru appears by her side. They walk together, just inside the limits of the forest. Farfalla can hear the sound of the crowd as she and Ru approach the cliff.

“Any last words, Siren?” She hears Mayor Sandpiper’s arrogant question and recalls the joy on his face in that moment. She remembers her final words to him, telling him to hold his son close that night, and how she had struck him where it hurt.

Farfalla steps out of the forest then, and stands just under the jutting branch of an oak tree. Her younger self makes eye contact, and Farfalla nods. “It will be okay,” she whispers. There is no way the softly spoken words can reach the ears of her younger self over this distance, but she remembers somehow hearing them nonetheless, and the words had brought her comfort.

“Sink the siren!” comes a shout from the crowd. Farfalla looks on, the most comforting smile she can muster spread across her face. The chant from the crowd grows louder, and she hears the mayor instruct the men to do it. She watches as they push her younger self off the edge of the cliff and her breath catches in her throat. It takes everything in her power not to shout. She remembers the freefall, and looking up at the mayor’s gleeful face, and speaking his son’s name. The last word off her lips. Ash.

Farfalla steps back into the woods where Ru is patiently waiting. “Let’s take a walk,” she says, her heart heavy. They wander aimlessly until nightfall. Then, Farfalla walks in the darkness to the caretaker’s cottage. She lets herself in and prepares some food. She wanders around the space that had been hers all those years ago, the space form which she was ungraciously pulled and tossed away. In the bedroom, she finds her chain, the one Paloma had given her, with the tree charm on it. The feather ring and key from Marius are both still looped onto it as well. Farfalla picks it up and clips it around her neck. “This is mine,” she says out loud, asserting herself. These are the last remnants of her old life, her real life. The only items that have survived this inexplicable cycle of endings and beginnings.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 31 – Skipping Stones – in which Farfalla begins to devise a plan for revenge.

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.  

Today we’ll be reading a story called The Day the Sun Fell. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. It’s a story about working together to complete something that would be impossible if we were working alone.

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

The Activity Continues podcast: https://linkin.bio/theactivitycontinues

Volsteadland podcast: https://linkin.bio/volstead_land

Collected Sounds podcast: https://linkin.bio/collectedsounds

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: A Skylark Special Epsiode in collaboration with A Carefully Built Pretend podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Today we’ll be reading a story called The Day the Sun Fell. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. It’s a story about working together to complete something that would be impossible if we were working alone.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink…  and listen to my story about the night creatures.

The girl came to the field one day and saw the most incredible thing.

The sun had fallen from the sky and landed in the valley. The girl tried to lift it by herself, but soon realized it was impossible to do it on her own. She called her friend, and he came running. The girl and the boy tried to lift the sun back up into the sky, but they could not do it on their own.

The girl and the boy ran to the village, and soon all the villagers had gathered to help. They tied ropes around the sun and tried to pull it up the mountain, but they could not do it on their own.

The villagers called to all the people of the land, and they came with their drums. They beat their drums and they stomped their feet as they danced in circles. The sun started to bounce up and down in time with the music.

Soon, word had spread around the world that the sun had fallen from the sky. Dragons flew from the East, they used to villagers’ ropes to pull the bouncing sun into the sky. 

The people from the North used their song to send the winter wind. It blew over the mountain and pushed the sun higher up into the sky.

The people from the South gathered in the desert and they danced in a big circle, moving faster and faster, until a sandstorm lifted into the air! The sandstorm blew over the mountain to join the north wind, and together they pushed the sun up – up – up!

The people from the West stood on the beach and cheered as loudly as they could. Their shouts created huge waves in the ocean. The waves curled up toward the sky, the water mixing with the sand and wind, and gave the sun a push as it took one final bounce and landed back in its place in the bright blue sky.

The people cheered and cheered. The people from the East with their brightly coloured dragons, the people from the North with their windy song, the people from the South with their swirling sand, and the people from the West with their crashing waves. The sun smiled down on them all, proud and happy that the everyone in the world had worked together to put things right. 

The girl and the boy sat on the outskirts of their village in the valley, and watched as the sun set behind the mountain. It waved goodbye as it went down, and they heard it say it would return tomorrow.

Behind them they heard a loud crash.

The girl and the boy turned around, and saw the most incredible thing. There, a few paces away from where they sat, plopped on the lush green grass of the valley, was the moon.

Thank you so much for listening.

The Skylark Bell and A Carefully Built Pretend podcasts are brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and feature original music by Cannelle. I would love for you to join me on Patreon for additional content and be sure to follow my social media accounts where I share regular updates and previews. 

The music you hear was composed by me, under my stage name Cannelle, specifically for A Carefully Built Pretend podcast. I also composed all music for The Skylark Bell, as well as other podcasts like Collected Sounds, Volsteadland, and The Activity Continues. If you need custom music for your projects, pleast don’t hesitate to reach out. Links to all these fantastic podcasts can be found in the show notes.

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

In today’s episode we read Chapter 12 – A Special Guest -in which Magpie and Lucas entertain someone very special at Carnifex House, and Magpie gets some devastating news.

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 12 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie had a scary experience at the Lark Festival in a vision in which she was crowned the Skye Lark Belle.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 12 – A Special Guest - in which Magpie and Lucas entertain a very special visitor.

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

Lucas expertly flips the egg in the pan just as the toaster pops.

“Like clockwork!” says Magpie, walking into the kitchen, “I’m ravenous and that smells amazing!” 

“So, when you say “like clockwork”, are you referring to the timing of the toaster and egg flip, or are you referring to you walking into the kitchen at the exact moment that breakfast is ready?” he asks, leaning over and giving her a teasing poke in the arm.

“A Little bit of both?” she replies, winking. 

“What time does your mom arrive again?” he asks, placing a heaping plate of food in front of Magpie and filling her mug with hot, dark coffee.

“She’s taking the 9 o’clock ferry, so she should be here around 10:30 or 11 depending on the weather!” says Magpie, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

They wrap up their breakfast and Lucas heads out to tend to Cormorant while Magpie does the washing up. She puts the dishes away and starts slowly walking through the house room by room, ensuring everything is perfect for her mother’s arrival. She smiles at the fresh wildflower bouquet sitting in a vase by the living room window, Manon had brought it over the previous evening before she and Alfred left town to visit their son Julien in Paris for the week. “I’m very sorry we will not get to meet your mother, if she is anything like you, she must be a wonderful lady,” she had said, handing the flowers to Magpie.  

Now Magpie walks upstairs to check on the guest bedroom. The floral print of the handmade comforter on the antique four-poster bed brightens up the room. The late summer sun filters through the suncatcher hanging in the window, casting a rainbow onto the hardwood floor. Magpie had ventured into Crake’s Odd’s n’ Ends looking for the perfect finishing touch for the room, and as Mr. Crake had told them on the very first day, he had exactly what she needed. Magpie is placing a small vase of daisies on the nightstand when she hears the sound of the back door.

“Cormorant is all good,” says Lucas as Magpie walks into the room. “How are we doing for time?” he asks, pulling off his rubber boots and fixing his socks.

Magpie glances at the clock. “It’s 10:20 already, I suppose she could be here any minute!” she says. Right on cue, the sound of a car coming down the lane sends her heart pitter-pattering. Magpie races to the front door and watches the car come to a stop just a few yards away. She races outside, barefoot, and gets to the car just as her mom steps out. They fall into each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time, talking over each other excitedly.

“It’s been so long I – “  “How was your tri-“ “Oh sorry you go ah-“ “Oops, you go fir-“

They giggle and finally Magpie takes the lead. “How was your trip?” she asks.

“Long, and a little lonely, but good,” replies Mrs. Phaeton before glancing over Magpie’s shoulder, “Lucas! Oh my, you’ve turned into a grown man over the summer!” she exclaims.

At this Lucas blushes slightly, “It’s nice to see you Mrs. Phaeton,” he says.

“Please, call me Danielle. We’ve known each other long enough, and Mrs. Phaeton makes me feel older than my years if I’m being honest,” she says warmly.

“Come see the house!” says Magpie, grabbing her mother by the hand and pulling her along. “It’s lovely mom, it’s got so much history, wait ‘til you see the stone walls, and the wooden beams!” Magpie starts rattling off all her favourite things about Carnifex House as they walk toward the door, Lucas trailing behind with a suitcase in each hand.

“It’s unfortunate the caretakers are out of town!” says Mrs. Phaeton, walking into the living room.

“They planned their trip months ago, and they were very sorry they wouldn’t get to meet you. In fact, Manon brought this bouquet of flowers over last night just for you,” replies Magpie. 

Mrs. Phaeton looks at the flowers and smiles, “It looks like you’ve really settled in here.”

“It’s strange mom, I just feel at home here. I don’t really understand it, but I feel like I’m supposed to be here,” says Magpie.

“Sometimes we feel pulled toward something and it’s not our job to question it. That’s how I felt about moving to Pocket, about that farmhouse specifically… and look what happened, it turns out we are related to the people who built it!” Mrs. Phaeton heaves a sigh, “I don’t have all the answers, but if you feel drawn to this place then you should stay here. I can’t say it’ll be easy to live so far apart though…” at this Mrs. Phaeton gets a sad, nostalgic look on her face. She walks over to Magpie and holds her tightly in her arms. “You are not my baby anymore; you’ve got your wings and now it’s your turn to fly. I am so very proud of you,” she says, causing Magpie to blink back tears. They sit by the fireplace and chat, catching up on an entire summer’s worth of adventures, as the hours trickle by.

“Okay, Cormorant is settled in for the night, shall we go have dinner?” asks Lucas, walking in from the dining room.

“Always thinking about food this one,” says Mrs. Phaeton, pointing her thumb sideways at Lucas, “some things never change!” At this the three of them laugh.

“How is it dinner time already?!” exclaims Magpie. 

“Time flies, my beautiful bird!” says her mom affectionately as they gather their things and walk out the door.

The Red Kite Café is alive with music and chatter, nearly every table occupied. Magpie, Lucas, and Mrs. Phaeton sit outside on the patio, the sound of the waves crashing into the concrete wall across the street the perfect soundtrack to their dinner.

“What in the world is Cullen Skink?!” asks Mrs. Phaeton, glancing at the menu with her brow furrowed. Magpie and Lucas exchange a look and break out in laughter.

“We asked the same question on our first day here!” says Lucas before launching into an explanation. They sit outside chatting about their respective adventures and enjoying the view, the sounds, and the amazing food, before heading back up to Carnifex House.

“This will be your room for the week,” says Magpie, showing her mom into the guest room, “Just let me know if you need anything at all.”

Mrs. Phaeton enters the room and sits down on the bed, patting the empty space next to her. Magpie walks over and sits next to her mother. 

“Magpie, there’s something I have to tell you,” she says, looking deeply in Magpie’s eyes. Magpie instantly feels a heaviness forming in the pit of her stomach. “It’s about your dad…” Mrs. Phaeton’s voice trails off. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I got a phone call a couple of weeks ago from an old mutual friend. He was able to contact me when he saw an advertisement for my gallery exhibit after doing an online search. Honey, I’m so sorry, but your father passed away 3 weeks ago. I wanted to wait until we were together to tell you.”

Magpie sits, staring at her mom, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Her dad had left them when she was a baby. She’d never received a birthday card, or gift for the holidays, or even a phone call, not a single one! So… why does she feel so devastated? 

“What happened?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Apparently he had been quite ill the past several years,” says her mother quietly. “I never kept in touch with him after he left us. The truth is, the thought of being in contact with him hurt too much. I never stopped loving him. It’s hard to move on from your first real, true love. We were young, we made mistakes, I said things I shouldn’t have said, some really awful things. Then I told him to leave and never come back…and he did just that.” She pauses, a faraway look in her eyes. “I’m not excusing him. He should have been there for you. But I can see why he didn’t want to be with me.” Now tears are streaming down Mrs. Phaeton’s cheeks too. “What I’m trying to say is, we all made mistakes back then, Magpie. My one regret is letting so much time go by without reaching out to make amends. Which brings me to this…”  Mrs. Phaeton reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Your dad left this letter for you. There was one for me, too. His friend shipped them to me in London so I could give it to you in person.” 

Magpie holds the plain white envelope in her hand. She runs her finger over the letters of her name written on the front in block letters.

“You should read it in a quiet, private place when you feel ready,” says Mrs. Phaeton gently.

Magpie nods solemnly as she stands up and walks to the doorway. “Thanks mom,” she says, “I love you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight my beautiful bird. I love you too,” says her mom solemnly before turning off the light. 

Magpie watches as darkness washes over the room, the letter from the father she never knew clutched tightly in her hand.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 13, Love, Dad – in which Magpie reads a letter from her estranged father.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 10 – Night Magic - in which Magpie, Lucas, Manon and Alfred enjoy dinner on the patio, a perfect evening with the exception of Magpie’s unsettling vision, and some eerie stories about the druids who once were settled on what became Carnifex land.

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 10 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In our previous episode, Magpie and Lucas explored the local Lark Festival, where Magpie draws a parallel between the carrousel and the ouroboros.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 10 – Night Magic - in which Magpie, Lucas, Manon and Alfred enjoy dinner on the patio, a perfect evening with the exception of Magpie’s unsettling vision.

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

“Oh Lucas, everything looks absolutely perfect!” breathes Magpie, stepping back to admire their handywork. They’ve spent most of the day turning the very ordinary patio at Carnifex House into a small outdoor haven. Lucas worked all week building flower boxes that are now overflowing with pink and yellow blooms, then he and Magpie installed rows of string lights above the patio. Magpie found an outdoor lounge set on sale at Crake’s Odds n’ Ends and re-covered the cushions with yellow fabric to match the flowers. Manon and Alfred gifted them a pair of rocking chairs which Lucas re-painted a cool, dusky shade of green. 

“One last thing!” says Lucas, bringing over a small fire pit and bundle of firewood. “The nights are getting cooler now, I thought this would make a nice addition,” he explains.

“Genius! Nice work!” says Magpie.

“Bonjour!” they hear Manon’s voice drifting on the wind as she and Alfred come walking through the field from the Caretakers Cottage.

“Alfred! Is that a guitar?” asks Magpie, greeting them both warmly with a hug and traditional kiss on each cheek.

“I made him bring it! He’ll never admit it, but Alfred is a wonderful musician!” says Manon.

“Lucas, this is phenomenal craftsmanship!” says Alfred, taking the attention off himself by focusing closely on Lucas’ flower boxes.

“Thank you! I’ve never really built anything like this before, they turned out better than I thought they would!” says Lucas.

“You’re being modest, you are a natural! I have seen men with far more experience build things of far lesser quality.” Says Alfred, giving Lucas a friendly pat on the back.

“I’ve got desserts and drinks ready to go! Please make yourselves comfortable,” says Magpie, gesturing toward the couch. Alfred and Manon sit next to one another, taking in the beauty of the small outdoor oasis.

“Do you need a hand bringing things out?” asks Lucas.

“Nope! I’ve got it all on a tray ready to go, I’ll be right back,” says Magpie, walking toward the back door. She lets herself into the kitchen and grabs a few napkins printed with pink and yellow flowers, tucking one under each plate before grabbing both handles on the rustic wooden tray.

Out of nowhere, the sound of chatter rises from behind the closed door leading to the dining room. Carefully putting the tray back on the counter, Magpie tiptoes to the door, but stops short of opening it, her shaking hand hovering above the doorknob. She can hear animated voices on the other side coming in bursts: “I told her not to go into the woods,” says a woman. “…spells and faeries and magic, it’s all hogwash!” a man’s voice cuts in. “People don’t just vanish!” says another man, his voiced raised. 

Who are these people? How did they get in? And what are they talking about? Magpie swallows the lump in her throat and slowly turns the knob. She pushes the door open, carefully swinging it as wide as it will go, only to find herself staring into an empty room. Blinking, she takes a tentative step into the dining room. She can smell the acrid scent of a candle, as if someone has just blown it out before leaving the room, but there is no candle in sight.

“You sure you don’t need help?” comes Lucas’ voice from the back door. Magpie comes scurrying back into the kitchen and grabs the tray. 

“Sorry, I got distracted!” says Magpie, walking through the door which Lucas is holding open for her. Manon and Alfred ooh and ahh as she hands them each a plate adorned with small cakes and pastries. 

They sit for a couple of hours as the sun goes down, chatting about the Sarcelles’ time at Carnifex House, their son Julien, and about Magpie and Lucas’ years in Pocket. 

“Perhaps I should get the fire started, it’s getting a little chilly,” suggest Lucas. Everyone nods in agreement. Magpie gets blankets from a storage box near the back door and hands them out as Lucas gets the fire going. Before long they are sitting by the cozy orange glow of the flames as the string lights offer a comforting light from above.

“Alfred, would you play us a few songs? We’d love to hear some music,” asks Magpie. Alfred reluctantly agrees and takes his guitar out of the case. He proceeds to entertain them with a string of classic French songs by Charles Aznavour, Jacques Brel, Serge Gainsbourg and others that Magpie and Lucas aren’t familiar with, his sweet voice echoing across the fields, Manon joining him for her favourite parts. Magpie and Lucas clap as the final notes disappear into the night sky.

“Do you know anything about the history of Carnifex House, or the family?” asks Lucas, settling back into his rocking chair after bringing the empty plates and glasses back into the house.

Manon and Alfred look at one another. Magpie watches, unable to read what is going on between them.

“This is a land full of legends and stories…” begins Alfred.

“What he means is, there are so many rumours and the like, it is very hard to know what is truly a historical fact, and what is just an old wives’ tale,” interjects Manon.

“What are some of the stories people tell?” asks Magpie, leaning forward, her curiosity piqued.

Alfred and Manon exchange another look and Manon heaves a sigh. “Centuries ago, these lands are said to have been inhabited by Druids. They were philosophers, teachers – some even say they were magicians - whose existence was very intricately woven with nature. They revered trees, especially oak, which they said contained supernatural properties. They valued education and worshipped the sun, the earth, the air, the sea… they were very in-tune with their surroundings, and truly loved this land.”

“Some say they could control certain forces; light, distance, time, water, wind... Others suggest they were shape-shifters, able to turn themselves into animals, or even trees and rocks.” Interjects Alfred, “and there are tales of a very powerful Bandraoi (BAHN-dree), or female druid, named Dealan-dè (dyALanjay). To this day people claim to see her, sometimes racing through the fields, peeking out from the woods, or standing by the cliffside.”

“Fascinating!” says Lucas, his eyes fixed on the couple as the flickering light from the fire dances across their faces.

“Of course, these stories have been told and retold through centuries, there haven’t been druids on this land since the Romans came, so it is very likely that their lives have been misrepresented, their powers embellished and romanticized,” concludes Manon, smiling.

“I love that idea though, of being completely in tune with the natural world that surrounds us,” says Magpie dreamily.

“I wish I had magical powers and could control the wind and sea or turn myself into a wild animal!” says Lucas, childlike excitement in his voice.

Once again, Manon and Alfred exchange a glance. “Sometimes, powers like those are not all they’re cut out to be,” she says quietly.

“Well, it’s getting late, we should get going,” says Alfred, clapping his hands on his knees. He stands and reaches for Manon’s hands to pull her up from the couch. 

“Thank you so much for the beautiful evening, we are so thankful that you are both here,” adds Manon, a genuine look of gratitude on her face.

“The feeling is mutual,” says Lucas. Magpie stands next to him, nodding in agreement.

They wish one another good night, and the Sarcelles start walking back through the field into the night, headed toward the Caretakers Cottage.

Magpie and Lucas stand on the little patio, watching the glowing embers in the firepit as they fade and give way to darkness.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 11, The Skye Lark Bell, where Magpie returns to the Lark Festival with Manon and has a bizarre and terrifying experience.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you

In today’s episode we read the chapter 16 – Selkie, in which Farfalla is stunned to find herself as the star of a somewhat familiar story.

This week's podcast partner is Cannelle:

http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

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 16 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla awoke to strange surroundings and was rescued by villagers on the beach.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 16 – Selkie, in which Farfalla is stunned to find herself as the star of a somewhat familiar story.

Today’s podcast partner is Cannelle Music. Full disclosure, Cannelle is my stagename. I write and record all the music you hear in the The Skylark Bell, most of which is available on major streaming platforms on the album Songs from The Skylark Bell. I also record other unrelated music which you can find on streaming services and bandcamp. Just check the show notes for links to my website and related social media accounts.

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

I don’t know what day it is.

The smell of roasting meat hits me first. Perhaps because I am so hungry. I breathe deeply, taking in the smell, hoping it will fill my stomach somehow. It feels good to be able to breath normally again, to fill my lungs with air without searing pain running through my chest. 

I open my eyes and look up to the sky. I’m still laying in the cart. If I turn my head slightly, I can see the man and woman sitting at the front, staring at the road ahead, leaning close to one another and speaking in hushed voices. I can catch bits and pieces of their conversation; “Festival… Selkie… Beach…” but the words make no sense to me. 

Finally, the cart comes to a stop, and I gingerly lift myself into a sitting position. My head immediately makes me pay the price with violent throbbing across my brow. I close my eyes for a moment and the headache subsides slightly. After a few minutes I find the courage to open my eyes and take a look at my surroundings. The first thing I see is a large banner with painted words that make my heart stop momentarily.

“Skye Lark Festival” and underneath, “First Annual” and beneath that, “1797”.

My first thought is that I am dreaming.

But you know the truth. You know I’m not dreaming. You even know where I am, when I am. Perhaps you’ve even guessed who I am. Or rather, who I am about to become.

~~~~~~

The horse cart is parked at the edge of a large field dotted with makeshift tents comprised of wooden poles with strips of fabric stretched across the top. The smell of roasting meat comes from one such tent where several slabs of meat threaded onto a pole are roasting over an open flame. 

Nearby, a group of women are gathered around a table cutting vegetables and cooked meat. Every once in a while, one of the women fills a large pot with as much as she can fit, pours in some water, and hangs the pot over a roaring fire just outside their tent. Nearby is a sign in the ground that reads “Millie’s Pottage”.

A few paces away is a tent with a sign out front that simply reads “Ale!”  Farfalla can hear shouting and laughter coming from the tent, which is filled from end to end with large, bearded men. 

The smell of freshly baked bread travels on the breeze, and Farfalla turns to see an outdoor stone oven. Working on wooden tables in front of it are several women, each completing a step of the bread-baking process. “Anna Jane’s Oat Bread” Farfalla whispers to herself, reading the wooden sign nailed to a stake that has been plopped into the ground in front of the wooden table where the women are working.

She scans her eyes across the other tents, noting one that displays an assortment of wool sweaters, tartans, and fabrics. Another with various leather goods, and next to that a tent with jewelry, silver cups, belt buckles, and other trinkets. People mill about the field like ants as Farfalla looks on, fascinated. The people are dressed oddly, and some of them speak a language she’s never heard before. She struggles to comprehend the rustic nature of the festival. Of course, she is in a more remote, rural part of Scotland, but the food preparation methods seem positively barbaric, especially in comparison to the wonderful dinner she had in Glasgow just a few nights ago. Everything about this place looks and feels like her idea of what life would have been like 150 years ago.

The piercing sound of bagpipes fills the air, and a crowd begins to form at the far end of the field, where a wooden platform has been installed to form stage. Slowly the crowd at the Ale tent breaks apart and the large bearded men plod slowly to join the crowd.

“Ah, she’s awake,” comes the woman’s voice from the front of the cart.

Farfalla turns to look at her. “Where are we?” she asks.

“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” she replies, smiling. “Come on now!” she says, standing and hopping out of the cart. The man who was seated next to her climbs into the back of the cart and helps Farfalla to her feet. He hops out of the cart and lifts Farfalla by the waist as if she weighs no more than a feather before gently placing her on the ground.

“Welcome to the first annual Skye Lark Festival!” comes a booming voice from the stage up ahead. 

“If you don’t mind, I’m very tired, and I need to find a place where I can make a phone call, I have to get a hold of my sister. I need to let Elisabeth know I’m okay,” says Farfalla, pleading with the woman as she pulls Farfalla through the crowd with a firm grip on her arm. The woman continues on her mission as if she hasn’t heard a word Farfalla has said.

“I have been told, just a few moments ago, that John and Agnes Sutherland have something very special to share with us today, something very special indeed!” continues the man on the stage, his voice carrying across the field.

“Ma’am, please? Where are you taking me? I need to find out what happened to my-“

“She’s here!” shouts the old woman suddenly. Farfalla looks around, confused. Who’s here? The old woman elbows her way to the front of the crowd as Farfalla stumbles along. The man on the stage leans in and whispers something in the old woman’s ear. They go back and forth in hushed whispers, as the man glances curiously at Farfalla from the corner of his eye. Finally, the man nods and steps back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, be prepared to be amazed! What we have for you here is… positively mystical!” he shouts, waving his arm over his head in a flourish.

“Come on, git up!” fusses the old woman, pulling Farfalla onto the stage. Farfalla reluctantly follows, hopelessly confused, and almost delirious from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. The old woman grabs her by the shoulders and turns her, so she is facing the crowd.

“What we have here, is a real-life SELKIE!” boasts the man next to her. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. Farfalla sees the woman in front of her instinctively place one hand on her chest and cover her mouth with the other. Next to that woman a couple look up at her in shock.

“’How do we know she’s a selkie? Don’t look nuthin’ like one,” says a burly man from the back of the crowd.

“How would you know what a selkie looks like, you ever seen one before?” asks the man next to him. 

The tension rises quickly, but just as it looks like a fight might break out the old woman, still standing next to Farfalla, intervenes. “I found ‘er me self, laying on the beach. Walked right out of the ocean, she did. Not a boat in sight.”

“Maybe she’s a witch!” shouts a woman to the left. Farfalla’s head snaps up then. Not this again! There is a sudden shift in the crowd, and Farfalla can sense a growing sense of animosity toward her. The shouting and arguing gets progressively louder. The sun is directly overhead now, its rays aiming directly for the top o her head, and making her feel slightly faint. She tries her best to tune out the shouting, placing her hands over her ears. I just want to go home, she thinks. Home, to Meadow Lane, to Mama, Papa and Paloma, to the apple orchard and its thousands of fragrant blossoms, to the fox cubs playing in the fields, to the safety of the Oak Tree. She closes her eyes and starts humming the song of the Oak Tree, that strange, sweet melody she heard one day as she sat on her favourite branch.

Her humming grows louder, and her lips part to let out the hypnotic sound of her voice. A hush settles over the crowd as they listen to her, mesmerized. Farfalla sings her heart out, sings for James, for Elisabeth, Mama, Papa, Paloma… for Marius. Finally, drained of all energy, all emotion, she closes her mouth and opens her eyes. The crowd in front of her stands in silence, wide-eyed. She turns to look at the old woman and the man on the stage, both are frozen in place. The man regains control of his functions first and claps his hands. 

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, our very own Selkie!” he says, his brow furrowed as if he’s not entirely convinced of what he’s saying. 

“Crown her!” shouts a woman from the center of the crowd. “Yes, crown her!” comes another voice nearby. Soon enough a chant of “Crown her!” fills the air.  The man nods and walks to the side of the stage where a woman hands him a silver crown made of vines and twigs. The man walks back to Farfalla and places the crown on her head.

“I hereby give you, the very first Belle of the Skye Lark Festival!” he shouts. The crowd responds with a loud roar.

Farfalla stands perfectly still, frozen in shock. The Belle of the Skye Lark Festival… the Skye Lark Belle, just like in Mama’s book. She had walked out of the ocean too. She had been brought to the festival too. She had sung for the villagers, and they’d all fallen in love with her too. A silver crown of vines and twigs had also been placed on her head. Farfalla reaches up to touch the crown. It feels very real. This entire experience feels utterly real. A shiver runs through as she realizes the truth.

She is the Skye Lark Belle.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 17 – A Childhood Dream Come True – in which Farfalla embraces her new role.

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 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

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The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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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 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 5^th 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 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 we read the chapter 11 – Elisabeth, in which we meet James and Farfalla’s daughter, Magpie’s great grandmother, Elisabeth. But things take a dark turn when a relic from the past brings back painful memories for Farfalla.

This week's podcast partner is Horror Roulette: https://horrorroulette.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

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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 11 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode, James Carnifex and Farfalla married.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 11 – Elisabeth, in which we meet James and Farfalla’s daughter, Magpie’s great grandmother, Elisabeth.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Horror Roulette. This podcast takes a unique approach in that topics are chosen by spinning a wheel of random words. You won’t find a more unique format or set of topics than this one! Be sure to check the show notes for a link to the Horror Roulette podcast.

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

September 30^th, 1931

Carmen Elisabeth Carnifex. 

Such love I feel every time I say her name, like a song rolling off my tongue. I never dreamed love like this was possible, not after losing Marius. James is a wonderful man, and I care for him deeply. He provides for us and treats me with kindness and respect even though I have been shunned by nearly everyone I know. But I don’t love him like I loved Marius. I was beginning to think I would never feel love again, but then…

Elisabeth, as we call her, was born on our first wedding anniversary, about four weeks earlier than expected. I loved her from the moment she let out that first pitiful wail as the midwife carried her to the washtub to clean her up. The midwife placed her in my arms, and I felt the warmth of her tiny body against mine. It reminded me of the Oak Tree, and how I would lean on it and feel its heartbeat. I am her Oak Tree. Her Protector.

James was away on business when Elizabeth was born, so it was just the two of us the first few days. We spent much of our time in bed or in the rocking chair that Papa made and brought to our little house around the corner from Tourtereaux’s Bakery. James purchased the house just before our wedding and we moved in the next day. 

Elisabeth was very fussy at first and cried most hours of the day. I began to feel overwhelmed and thought perhaps I was doing something wrong. I made the special tea that the midwife left to “help recover from childbirth and give the baby strength” in her words, but that didn’t seem to quiet Elisabeth. Finally, one evening as we sat in the rocking chair, I began to sing her an old French lullaby that Audrey Tourtereaux had taught me when we were girls. I hadn’t thought of that song in years but for some reason in a moment of exhausted exasperation it spilled from my throat. “V’la l’bon vent, v’la l’jolie vent…”. Here comes the good wind, here comes the pretty wind. I was about halfway through singing the song before realizing that Elisabeth was finally quiet. I looked down at her, thinking I would find her asleep, but her eyes were wide open, unblinking, fixated on my face. I smiled at her and at last she closed her eyes and went to sleep. From that day forward any time she would be sad or upset I would sit in the rocking chair and sing her the French lullaby and she would calm almost instantly.

About a week after Elisabeth was born James was finally able to come home and meet his daughter. He wept at the sight of her and didn’t dare to touch her for fear her tiny frame couldn’t handle his large, strong hands. Over time he became more comfortable with her, helping to feed and diaper her, but he would always bring her to me when she cried saying, “Sing to her, Falla.”

The past year and a half of motherhood has helped heal my heart. I’ve learned to feel joy again, to smile and laugh, to let go of the anger and animosity that I held onto for so long. The sound of Elisabeth’s laughter in the other room brings a smile to my face in an instant. Watching her take her first steps, or take a bite of birthday cake for the first time, or seeing her eyes light up when James or Paloma, or Mama and Papa show up at the door… all of it, it fills me with love.

~~~~~~

“Lissabit” the blurry word comes from the little girl’s perfectly plump mouth. Her strawberry blonde curls bounce back and forth as she toddles toward James’ outstretched arms.

“Yes, my darling, well done!” he says, grinning with pride. 

Elisabeth’s chubby hands come together in an awkward clap and her giggle echoes around the room.

Farfalla watches from the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and relishes the feeling of warmth spreading through her body. 

“Ah, that will be Auntie Paloma!” says Farfalla as a knock on the front door echoes through the small house. “Come in!” she shouts from her perch by the sink.

“I hear today’s a special day!” says Paloma waltzing into the room, her arms overflowing with brightly wrapped boxes and bags.

“What in the world is all of this?!” exclaims Farfalla, catching two packages before they spill to the floor.

“This is what Aunties do, it’s my job to spoil her!” replies Paloma, setting the rest of her load on the dining room table before scurrying over to Elisabeth and lifting her up into the air. “How’s my favourite niece?!” she coos, nuzzling the toddler’s neck and sending her into fits of giggles.

“Your favourite niece is on the move!” says James, walking to the dining room table to help Farfalla stack the packages.

“Are you walking my darling?” Paloma is now nose-to-nose with Elisabeth, who is staring at her with wide blue eyes. 

“Loma.” says Elisabeth suddenly. Everyone in the room stands in stunned silence, unsure whether they heard correctly. “Loma!” Elisabeth says again, this time a little more loudly. She steps back and claps her tiny hands together. 

“Yes, my love, it’s Auntie Paloma!” says Paloma, pulling the child into her arms. Paloma looks to Farfalla, her eyes brimming with tears. “I could not love her more,” she says. 

Farfalla feels an inexplicable pang of… Worry? Envy? She’s not quite sure, but the emotion catches her off guard and she finds it disconcerting.

“Well, dinner will be ready soon, we’d better open these gifts so we have space at the table to sit down and eat,” she says, forcing a smile.

Paloma carries Elisabeth over to the table and places her in the highchair. She hands the child boxes and bags one by one and Elisabeth joyfully pulls at the brightly coloured paper. A myriad of dolls, books, finger paints, and dresses progressively cover the surface of the dining room table. Finally, all the packages have been opened, and James starts collected the bits of paper and empty boxes strewn on the floor.

“You didn’t need to do all this,” says Farfalla, swallowing the hint of disapproval that was about to appear in her voice. 

“You sound like Mama; you’re getting more practical as you get older!” laughs Paloma. Farfalla feels a sting, she isn’t anything like her mother… Is she? “Oh wait! There’s still one more!” shouts Paloma excitedly, snapping Farfalla out of her increasingly foul mood. Paloma races to the front door and steps out. She returns a moment later with a long box balanced awkwardly in her arms. “I almost forgot, my arms were too full earlier, and I left this out on the porch,” she says, lugging the box into the dining room. She opens the flaps and lifts out a hobby horse. From its shiny black lacquered head sprouts a white mane made of yarn.

Farfalla steps back in horror. “Put that thing away,” she says, her sharp tone causing Elisabeth’s face to scrunch up.

“Farfalla, it’s just a hobby horse. Since Elisabeth is walking now, I thought she’d have tremendous fun galloping about-”

“Put it away NOW!” Farfalla can feel her heart racing in her chest and tears springing under her eyelids. Elisabeth is crying now, her loud wailing instantly filling the small kitchen.

“Falla, why don’t you take Elisabeth to her room and settle her down in the rocking chair, you know how she quiets when you sing to her. I think she’s a little tuckered out from all the excitement,” says James. His calm demeanor helps Farfalla come to her senses. She nods and takes Elisabeth into the other room, closing the door behind her.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea she would be so upset! I don’t understand! I… I…” stutters Paloma once Farfalla has left the room.

James holds the hobby horse up to his eye level. “It looks like Cormorant,” he says simply, his lips squeezing tightly shut. He knows that losing Marius was very hard on Farfalla, but so many years have gone by, he thought for sure that with their family, with Elisabeth, that Farfalla had moved past all the anger and hurt. He certainly never dreamed she would react this way to a toy. “I will get rid of it,” he says, making no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“I’m so sorry James. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. I would have chosen a different colour if it had. I feel terrible,” says Paloma, laying a hand on James’ shoulder.

“Think nothing of it, you meant well,” he says, turning to face her.

They stand face to face for a long moment. The sound of Farfalla’s voice causes them to startle and take a step back. “She’s asleep now. I think perhaps it’s best if you head back to the city, Paloma,” she says. There is an edge to her voice that they haven’t heard in years, and James feels his heart sink. “I will pack some food for you, for the road,” she adds, walking briskly into the kitchen.

“Falla, I’m so sorry. It didn’t even cross my mind that the horse looked like Cor-” she stops herself as she sees Farfalla’s body go rigid. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. She walks to the coat tree to grab her sweater and handbag. “You don’t need to pack any food, I’ll be fine. Give Elisabeth a kiss for me and tell her I love her. Goodbye Falla,” she says, letting herself out the door. “Goodbye James.” James nods silently and gives her a sympathetic look.

The door closes softly and James walks back to the dining room table. He collects the dolls and books and stacks them neatly in the corner of the living room with Elisabeth’s other toys. He can hear Farfalla in the kitchen spooning food onto plates. He walks over to her and takes the serving spoon out of her hand. He places it gently on the counter and takes her by the shoulders to turn her around. He wraps his arms around her and feels her body go limp as she gives in to his embrace. She weeps then, she weeps like he has never heard her weep before. His heart sinks as he realizes how much of her heart belongs to Marius, still. He holds her until the wracking sobs slow then stop, then he pulls back a step to look at her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. He’s not sure if she’s apologizing for her outburst with Paloma, or for being so heartbroken about Marius, but he nods and lays a gentle hand on her cheek.

“You should get some rest, I’ll clean up in here,” he says, turning away from her so she can’t see the devastation in his eyes. He’s always known she loved Marius, but he thought perhaps with the arrival of Elisabeth, and the kindness and love he’s shown her all these years, that he had finally earned a prime place in her heart. There’s no doubt she is entirely devoted to Elisabeth, and she does feel something for him, perhaps gratitude and respect, but finally he must admit to himself, Farfalla’s heart will always belong to Marius.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 12 – The Letter – in which James receives a letter that will change his and Farfalla’s lives forever.

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.  

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.

 ----------- 

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...

 ----------

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.  

In today’s episode we read Chapter 33 – Sparking Silence - in which Lucas tries desperately to find a way to put his and Magpie’s timelines back in place

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Horror Roulette: http://www.horrorroulette.com

FULL TRANSCRIPT

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 33 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie came to the devastating realisation that she is the woman she knew as Farfalla in her youth, and that she will live out her days in Pocket.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 33 – Sparking Silence - in which Lucas tries desperately to find a way to put his and Magpie’s timelines back in place

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Horror Roulette.

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

It is 1925. Lucas is now older than Magpie was when they last parted ways in the forest. Life has been hard; he has spent the last 30 years building houses in Pocket and neighbouring Brighthaven. The job requires a lot of physical labour, and Lucas’ body is showing signs of wear. But today he has a spring in his step. It is winter. A brutal winter. He remembers his experience with it the first time. He was much younger then, and stronger, but not as wise… not as desperate.

This time Lucas has a plan. A plan that has been three decades in the making. Thirty years ago, he came to Meadow Lane in the dark of night, the field in front of the partially built structure of the house illuminated by the full moon. He had pulled the small acorn from the Forest near Carnifex house out of his satchel, and held it in the palm of his hand, pouring his deepest wish, his deepest desire into it, before carefully planting it into the ground. Three decades of changing seasons, of sun and rain and wind, of birds and squirrels, all witnesses to the oak tree rising out of the ground, getting bigger and stronger with every passing year.

Now, it is 1925, it is winter, and Lucas is going home. He knows exactly what to do. He will find his younger self at Mirror Pond, bring him to the oak tree, and together they will travel back to Pòcaid. He remembers the events from the first time he lived them, remembers the old man in the snow. The old man hadn’t been with him when he woke up at Carnifex house, but perhaps he had travelled to a different timeline. He can only hope that he will finally find Magpie. This is his only chance; it has to work.

Lucas has spent the last three days living in the barn at the Starling farm, having enlisted Gordon Starling’s help by telling him he is an old friend of the Marius, and of the Carnifex family from next door. Gordon has been a gracious host, providing blankets, a lantern, and food.

Well rested and revitalized, Lucas is ready for the work ahead. He squints against the blowing snow and pulls his scarf further up around his face, leaving only a narrow space for his eyes. He knows the approximate location of Mirror Pond despite the mounds of snow drifting across the quarry. If his memory serves him right, his younger self should be arriving at any moment. He waits by the side of the road for what feels like an eternity when, at long last, he sees Cormorant, his shining black coat a stark contrast to the blinding white of the snow. Lucas starts to make his way toward them and sees the familiar scene unfold. The scarf blowing onto Cormorant’s face, the huge animal rearing up in fear, and his younger self falling to the ground. 

Lucas shuffles through the deep snow as quickly as he can and leans over his younger self. “You’re going to take me with you!” he says, not realizing the depth of the desperation he has been feeling until now. “Take me with you!” he says again. His younger self loses consciousness, his body going limp in Lucas’ grasp. Lucas digs deep and finds superhuman strength to lift Young Lucas onto his shoulders, then carries him toward the oak tree. 

It feels like an eternity, but they finally make it across the quarry to the tree. Lucas puts his younger self down and leans him against the tree trunk. He peers into the man’s face, his own face… the eeriness of the situation sends a shiver down his spine. Young Lucas is still unconscious. Worried, Lucas decides to go ask Gordon Starling for help, perhaps a thermos of hot tea or soup to help warm him up. He hesitates, not wanting to step away. He can’t miss this opportunity, but he also can’t leave Young Lucas unconscious in the cold, he must do something. 

Pressing his lips together, Lucas hurries across the road to the Starling farm. Gordon springs into action almost immediately, he and Marius are very close and have a great relationship. Lucas shifts his weight from one foot to the other with impatience while Gordon gathers the items he has requested. This is his one chance at going home, he can’t bear the thought of what will happen if he misses it. At long last Gordon returns to the door with a thermos full of hot soup and some blankets. Lucas thanks him profusely and runs back across the road toward Meadow Lane.

His pace slows as he approaches the tree. Young Lucas is no longer sitting on the ground leaning against its trunk. “No, no, please, no!” says Lucas, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He circles the tree, hoping perhaps Young Lucas simply crawled to the other side, but in his heart, he knows the truth. His younger self is already gone. Lucas drops to his knees into the snow, his gaze traveling up through the bare branches of the oak tree to the grey, overcast sky above before lowering to the ground. He stays in the snow for some time, devastated, but eventually the cold starts seeping through his clothes, and he realizes he needs to find shelter. 

Lucas stands up and takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Suddenly, he realizes that the sound of the wind has died completely. So completely in fact that it doesn’t seem possible. Lucas stomps his feet in the snow, but he hears nothing. Concerned that something is wrong, he breaks off a twig from a branch of the oak tree, holds one end of it in each hand and lifts it up to his ear before snapping it, but the world around him remains completely silent. Lucas’ heart starts pounding. The silence. This is the silence at Meadow Lane. It started here. Now. 

Lucas hurriedly walks through the snow back toward the main road. A few paces away from the oak tree he is hit by a wave of sound. Wind, crunching footsteps, his heavy breathing. It is in that moment that Lucas realizes that crossing his own timeline is what sparked the silence at Meadow Lane. It started beneath the oak tree and spread to the entire property. All this time, everyone in town blamed Farfalla, blamed her curse. All this time… and it was him. He was responsible for it. Lucas is horrified by the realization. He stumbles back to the Starling’s barn and lays beneath layers of blankets, shivering, partly from the cold, and partly from shame, guilt, and fear.

The Starlings continue to care for him over the next few days, and the weather gradually improves. Finally, it is clear enough for Lucas to leave the Starling farm.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he says to Gordon.

Gordon smiles, “My pleasure! Any friend of Marius’ is a friend of mine,” he says.

“Marius was very fortunate to have a friend like you,” replies Lucas.

“He is fortunate. Don’t write him off just yet! Marius is the toughest, smartest man I know, I’ll be lucky to grow up to be half the man he is someday!” says Gordon, his voice filled with confidence. He turns to Cormorant, cozy in his stall. “Right, old friend? We’re just going to take care of each other until Marius comes back.”

Lucas feels a sting in his heart. The moment is bittersweet, he knows Marius is never coming back, but he feels relief knowing Cormorant will live out his days in Gordon’s care.

“I wish you all the best, Gordon. You’re going to do great things, I’m sure of it,” he says finally, shaking the boy’s hand.

“Thanks! I hope to see you again someday!” replies Gordon. 

Lucas nods without saying anything. He leans in toward Cormorant and whispers, “goodbye, old friend,” then turns and heads out of the barn. He walks to the bottom of the driveway and turns to look back at the house, Grandma Gemma’s house, his house. He stares at it for along moment, committing every detail to memory. Then he takes a few more steps and stops to look at Meadow Lane. 

“Farfalla is in there,” he thinks, his heart aching. “And Magpie, where is she?” He wonders, his heart sinking even deeper into his chest. He stands for a long moment despite the bitter cold, remembering his childhood with Grandma Gemma, his time spent exploring with Magpie, his time riding on Cormorant’s back with Farfalla. All this time, only to end up in the wrong time. 

“Goodbye,” he whispers, as he finally turns and walks away from Meadow Lane, for the very last time.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan   Chapter 34 – The Letter - in which Magpie receives a mysterious letter requesting she visit a nearby care home.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Horror Roulette. Em and Nick are fantastic hosts who discuss paranormal events and true crime. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, and this is The Skylark Bell Podcast. 

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.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 20 – Moonlight - in which Magpie and Lucas live parallel lives across time and space

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Shittin' Bricks: https://shittin-bricks.captivate.fm/

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 20 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas came to the realisation that he had somehow travelled back to 1920s Pocket, and was living with Charlotte and Edward Carnifex and their son James.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 20 – Moonlight - in which Magpie and Lucas live parallel lives across time and space

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

A year has gone by. An entire year alone in Scotland without Lucas. They hadn’t found any sign of anyone, let alone a large horse, entering the forest in the days following Lucas’ disappearance. The first few months, Magpie spent a tremendous amount of time and energy trying to put the pieces together, trying to figure out what happened and where Lucas had gone. It just didn’t seem possible to her that he would just… vanish! But after endless weeks with not even the smallest clue as to his or Cormorant’s whereabouts, Magpie was confronted with the sad reality that he probably wasn’t coming back. Though deep inside a part of her still held out hope, she pushed herself to move on. Her mother came to stay with her for a while, but she needed to get back to Pocket to take care of their house and continue her work. 

For Magpie, some days are easier than others, today is one of the others. It seems everywhere she turns something reminds her of Lucas and their time in Pocket. She hears the meow of a barn cat and thinks of Scarlet, she makes blackberry pancakes with chocolate chips from his Grandma Gemma’s recipe. Now, she sits by the small window at the top of the stairs looking out at the sky, watching the moon rise against the fading blue sky… 

Suddenly she hears a knock at the door downstairs…

~~~~~~

Thousands of miles and several decades away, Lucas is sitting in his bedroom window at the farmhouse, the bedroom that would eventually become Magpie’s room, looking up at the very same moon and thinking of Magpie, remembering all the times they would walk home by moonlight from their adventures exploring the area, having forgotten, once again, to keep an eye on the clock. He wonders what she has been up to the past year, what conclusion she came to regarding his disappearance. He’s quite certain the truth has not occurred to her, no one would believe that he time travelled nearly 100 years and a whole continent in one step… with a horse no less!

Lucas has spent the year working alongside Edward Carnifex, learning carpentry. He’s surprised by how much he enjoys it and how naturally it comes to him. He has now taken to repairing furniture and coming up with his own creations to sell at the farmer’s market. He has taken on all sorts of projects from signs for local shops, to whittling animals as party favours. He has grown quite comfortable with his existence as Marius Corbeau in 1923. Things were more challenging and awkward at first, he knew most of the buildings in the small town, but none of the people, and they grew suspicious of him, a stranger, knowing so much about their town. But over the past several months he has been able to win them over, and word of his carpentry talents has spread, ensuring he is perpetually busy with work.

One of the special orders he recently received came from none other than Mr. Nathaniel Shearwater.  He asked Lucas to build a decorative box for his daughter Farfalla’s birthday. Explaining that she loves birds, he asked Lucas to engrave the box with a feather. Lucas spent weeks building the box, and it is a stunning work of art, complete with a lock and feather-shaped key that he found at Bunting’s General Store. Mr. Shearwater picked up the box earlier in the day and was so impressed he invited Lucas over for dinner tonight. Lucas is somewhat apprehensive… the last time he saw Farfalla she was over 100 years old! He hasn’t met her yet in this time, until yesterday she and her sister Paloma had been away at boarding school. 

Lucas is deep in thought when a knock on the bedroom door startles him out of his reverie…

~~~~~~

The door creaks loudly as Magpie opens it, “Oh hi Julien, come on in!” she says, smiling warmly. Julien Sarcelle has returned from Paris to take over the caretaking at Carnifex House. Manon and Alfred have agreed to stay on for a few weeks to get him settled into his new role, then they will retire to the south of France. Magpie and Julien have been spending a lot of time together recently as he learns the ropes, and Magpie has invited him for a late dinner.  

“I’m a little intimidated,” she begins “I’ve heard Paris has some amazing food… hopefully you won’t be disappointed!” she says to him.

Julien laughs “I’m sure whatever you make will be wonderful,” he says warmly, taking off his cardigan and draping it over the back of a rocking chair. Though summer has just begun, there is still a chill in the Scottish sea air.

“Okay well, I have put together some North American delicacies for you… are you ready?” she asks, a twinkle in her eye. Julien nods at her with anticipation. “Tonight, we are having…. Drumroll please….” At this Julien starts tapping his hands against his legs in a rapid drumroll. “… Mac and Cheese, Corn Dogs, some Cherry Cola to drink and to top it all off, homemade Apple Pie! Oh, but to keep you at ease, there will be ‘French’ Fries,” she says, laughing. 

Julien is silent, staring at her. “What are these things? Are these foods? I cannot eat a dog!” He says, a horrified look on his face. 

Magpie starts blushing, “Oh no, they’re not made with dogs, in fact these are veggie dogs there isn’t any kind of meat in them at all, it…” Julien’s raucous laughter cuts her off mid-sentence. He was just fooling with her! She gives him a push and smiles as she heads to the kitchen to grab their plates.

~~~~~~

Back in Pocket, Lucas turns to see Charlotte standing in the doorway. “You asked me to let you know when it was time to go,” she says, smiling at him.

“Thank you,” he replies, swallowing the lump in his throat so she won’t know how nervous he is. He heads downstairs, puts on his riding boots, and says goodbye to Charlotte and Edward before heading out the door. Lucas has been so busy today he neglected to take Cormorant out for a ride, so he has decided to take the long way over to the Shearwaters and give the horse a chance to stretch its legs. “

“Hey Marius!” he hears upon entering the barn. It’s Gordon Starling, nearly as tall as Lucas now. They’ve spent some time together over the past year. Lucas sees a lot of himself in Gordon, or perhaps it is the other way around… regardless, they both have a deep love of adventure and exploration. Gordon was a tremendous asset in helping Lucas navigate his new surroundings. Though he knew the town, there were still some stark differences, and Gordon was only too happy to bring Lucas up to speed. “I heard you were taking Cormorant out tonight; I’ve got him all saddled up for you!” he says. Considering Gordon is Lucas’ Great-Great-Grandfather, Lucas thinks it’s funny that Gordon looks up to him, almost like a big brother.

“Thank you so much, Gordon! I appreciate it!” he says, walking over to Cormorant’s stall. “Hello old friend,” he whispers to the horse. He feels a special bond with the animal, it is the only connection he has to his old reality. He leads Cormorant outside and hops into the saddle. Horseback riding has become second nature to him since living in this time where cars are a commodity mostly reserved for the wealthy.  Lucas and Cormorant race through the fields behind the Starling and Carnifex farms, then cross the street to the rock quarry and Mirror Pond before heading toward the apple orchard behind Meadow Lane.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 21, Moving Forward Looking Back, where Magpie and Lucas come to terms with their respective situations.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Shittin’ Bricks. Kate and Dominic are fantastic hosts who take a deep look at things that bring people fear. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Again, thank you so much for listening. I'm Melissa Oliveri and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 9 – The Lark Festival - in which Magpie and Lucas explore the Lark festival of Skye, where Magpie is reminded of the mysterious Ouroboros.

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 9 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie and Lucas met Manon Sarcelle, who, with her husband, is the caretaker of Carnifex House. They are shocked to discover a horse in the pasture who appears identical to Marius Corbeau’s horse, Cormorant, even down to its name. 

In today’s episode we read Chapter 9 – The Lark Festival - in which Magpie and Lucas explore the Lark festival of Skye

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

Magpie and Lucas have been settling into Carnifex House over the past few weeks, rearranging furniture and giving the kitchen a fresh coat of paint. They’ve learned how to grow vegetables and care for Cormorant thanks to Manon and Alfred’s guidance. They have also made a few trips into Pòcaid for supplies, noting that the villagers seem to grow less suspicious of them with each visit.

Lucas has been working with Cormorant almost daily while Magpie has been focused on learning about the vegetable garden, but today Lucas and Magpie are going on their first horseback ride together. They are in the paddock with Manon, who is reviewing basic riding etiquette and giving them directions to various riding paths nearby. Since Cormorant is the only horse at Carnifex House, Alfred has gone to the neighbouring farm to borrow a horse for Magpie to ride. Magpie is watching and listening to Manon’s instructions, her feet on the bottom rail of the fence and her head and arms draped over the top rail.

Finally, Alfred comes trotting up the path on the back of a dark bay mare. He pulls up to the paddock and hops off. “This is Rose,” he says, his deep brown eyes twinkling, “she is a very gentle lady, I think you will get along very well,” he adds, handing the reins to Magpie. 

Magpie looks into the mare’s large brown eyes and runs her hand along the soft fur on its neck. “Hi Rose, I’m Magpie,” she whispers softly. The horse’s ears flicker back and forth, and she snickers softly in reply. “I think we’re going to be fast friends,” she says to Alfred with a wink.

“Okay, I think you are both ready to go!” says Manon excitedly. Alfred gives Magpie a leg up and she lands in the saddle somewhat awkwardly, but Rose doesn’t even flinch. Magpie looks on as Lucas puts one foot in the stirrup and hops gently on the other foot before hoisting himself up and landing gracefully on top of Cormorant’s back. Magpie’s breath catches in her throat as she experiences a flashback of her vision of Marius Corbeau falling off his horse at Mirror Pond back in Pocket… his horse that looked just like this horse… his horse which was also named Cormorant… She recalls how Marius’ black curls blew in the wind, much like Lucas’ black curls are doing now. 

“Here goes nothing!” says Lucas, grinning from ear to ear, “Let’s go!” 

With that, Alfred opens the paddock gate for Lucas and Cormorant to walk through. “Today is the first day of the Lark Festival, you should go check it out!” says Manon, “it is located in the gardens behind Goldcrest Manor, I think you would enjoy it!”

“That sounds like a great idea, thank you!” says Lucas. He smiles at Magpie as he takes the lead, and she follows him, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach brought up by the similarities between Lucas and the Marius from her vision.

They walk down the long lane away from Carnifex House, then turn onto the main road and break into a trot as they head toward Goldcrest Manor. A few minutes later the smell of mini doughnuts wafts through the air, and they can hear the organ music from a carousel.

“We must be getting close!” says Magpie, pulling up next to Lucas.

“I suddenly just got really hungry!” says Lucas, making them both giggle, and causing the horses’ ears to flicker back and forth.

They finally reach Goldcrest Gardens, rendered unrecognizable by a myriad of multicoloured tents featuring carnival games and various food and drink options. The centerpiece of the carnival appears to be a large, antique carousel surrounded by a whirling collection of unicorns, griffins, and other mystical creatures, each permanently frozen in a different position. 

Lucas laughs and points to a wooden sign nailed to a post “You don’t see that every day!” he says.

Magpie looks over his shoulder and laughs out loud. The sign reads “Horse Parking Lot, This Way!” with an arrow pointing toward the back of the gardens. “Let’s do it!” she says, as they lead Cormorant and Rose down the path.

The horses safely tucked away, Magpie and Lucas start ambling through the festival. They are immediately surrounded by the sound of carnival barkers shouting “Step right up! Try your luck!”, and the music from the carousel waving in and out as the speaker spins around in circles. The smell from all the different food vendors makes their mouths water. 

“What shall we eat first?!” ask Lucas. Though Magpie has learned Lucas isn’t much one for parties, he definitely enjoys party food!

“Cotton candy, candied apples, cranachan” shouts a man at a nearby booth, causing them to turn his direction.

“Pasties! Popcorn! Lemonade!” shouts another across the way, causing Magpie to pivot and bump into Lucas. They laugh and take a step back.

“I’ll get the cotton candy,” says Lucas

“And I’ll get the lemonade,” says Magpie 

“Meet you back here in 5,” they say in unison before going different directions.

Magpie walks to the booth and orders two large cups of lemonade. She turns and sees that Lucas is still waiting in line at the other booth, so she decides to take a small detour past the carousel before going back to their meeting spot. Taking a large sip out of her cup, she walks up to the fence surrounding the carousel. The joyful music fades away as the carousel comes to a stop. Magpie takes a closer look at the creatures lining its perimeter. She sees a two-person chair shaped like a swan, a father and son seated next to one another, smiling. Next in line is a pair of unicorns with flowers woven into their manes and tails, a boy and girl on their backs giggling as they pretend to race. Behind them, a griffin rears up on its hind legs, its mouth hanging open to show a pink tongue and pointy teeth. The music picks up again and the carousel slowly starts turning. Magpie watches as new creatures come into view, admiring the artistry of each and every one. 

“What happened to ‘meet you back here in 5’?” comes Lucas’ voice from behind her. 

Magpie spins around, coming directly face to face with him. She lays an apologetic hand on his shoulder. “Oh my gosh Lucas, I’m so sorry, I saw you were waiting in line, so I thought I’d come check out the carousel and totally lost track of time. Isn’t it beautiful?!” she exclaims. 

“Yes, it’s very beautiful” he answers softly, never taking his eyes off her face. 

Magpie smiles at him, her cheeks flushed. She holds out one of the lemonade cups “I believe this is yours Mr. Starling!” she says.

“And I believe this is yours, Mrs. Starling!” he says, holding out a large puff of blue cotton candy. “Uh… I mean, Miss Phaeton…” he says, turning a shade of pink she’s never seen on him before.

“Thanks,” she says, hesitating only a moment before coyly adding, “and, for the record, I kind of like the sound of Mrs. Starling.”

Lucas turns toward the carousel, smiling. They stand side by side, silent, watching as the mystical creatures, frozen in time, spin round and round.

“No beginning, and no end…” The thought echoes through Magpie’s mind, pushing all feelings of warmth and comfort from her body, and replacing them with a chill that runs all the way down her spine.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 10, Night Magic, where Magpie, Lucas, Manon and Alfred enjoy dinner on the patio, a perfect evening with the exception of Magpie’s unsettling vision.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 18 – Pocaid – in which Farfalla becomes close with the Carnifex children, Frannie and Felix.

This week's podcast partner is The Activity Continues: https://bit.ly/m/TACpod

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 18 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla fell into the role assigned to her by the villagers, and gained a reputation as The Skye Lark Bell.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 18 – Pocaid – in which Farfalla becomes close with the Carnifex children, Frannie and Felix.

Today’s podcast partner is The Activity Continues, also a member of the Boopod Network of true crime and paranormal podcasts.  The Activity Continues is a recap show which discusses the Travel Channel’s The Dead Files television show. Hosts Amy and Megan add a heavy dose of humor to the often dark subject matter. 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.

September 5^th, 1798

I have been here for over a year now. 

It was expected that I partake in the Skye Lark Festival again. The town chose to crown me the Skye Lark Belle for a second year in a row. I stood while they clapped and cheered as the crown was placed on my head, then a hush fell over the crowd as they waited for me to sing. I made them wait this time. Just for fun. I got a bit of a thrill out of it, the power to hold them captive.

The villagers have taken to calling me Skye. After several weeks I realized I never told anyone my real name. No one has ever heard the name Farfalla, it’s like Farfalla doesn’t exist here. It’s like I’m a completely different person here, in this place, in this time.

After the night I sang to Lissie, and her apparent healing, word spread around the town of Pòcaid and the surrounding area faster than a bolt of lightning. I have been called to “perform” countless times since then. Each time, the person I am being called to perform for seems to feel better after I sing for them. I don’t understand it. I am not a Selkie, or a Witch, or any other sort of mystical being. But while ever the people of Pòcaid feel I have some sort of power over them, I will continue to do their bidding. They reward me with and endless stream of gifts; flowers, clothing, jewelry, I even have my very own cottage at the back of Carnifex House. 

Ah yes, I hadn’t told you that part yet, had I!

I finally made my way to Carnifex House. It’s a lovely stone house with rolling fields behind it that gradually lead down to the beach. James and Elisabeth would have loved it. We would have been endlessly happy here…

I befriended the Carnifex family, without telling them of my connection to them, of course. Donald and Isabella Carnifex, James’ great-grandparents, are lovely people. They have two small children: Felix and Fran. Felix will eventually sire George Archibald, who is, though rather indirectly, somewhat responsible for my being here. But I don’t hold that against him. We play hide and seek nearly every day, and skip rocks into the sea. Fran, on the other hand, prefers to spend her days quietly sketching, or sewing. She has drawn pictures of me, always with the ocean in the background, and of course my silver crown of vines and twigs. I spend all my spare time with the children, they help heal my heart. 

I wonder what Elisabeth does with her days…

~~~~~~

“Skye! Skye!” Fran’s little voice barely makes it through the thick wooden door of the caretaker’s cottage. With the typical impatience of a child her age she bangs her little fists against the door in rapid succession. Finally, she hears footsteps coming on the other side and quiets down, excitedly shifting from foot to foot.

“Fran, what in the world is going on?!” asks Farfalla, opening the door so the girl can come in.

“Papa came back from the mainland today, and he brought us a surprise!” says the girl, holding up a paper-wrapped package tied with string.

“I see,” smiles Farfalla. The child’s excitement is endearing. “What is it?” she asks.

“Well, Felix thinks it’s just rocks, and that Papa is playing tricks on us, but I think it might be sweets!” she says, her cheeks turning pink with joy.

“Where is Felix?” asks Farfalla, glancing out the window.

“He went down to the beach to open his package, he says that way he can throw the rocks straight into the ocean,” Fran rolls her eyes in exasperation in a way that makes her look much older than her six years.

“What are you waiting for then, dig in!” laughs Farfalla. 

Fran doesn’t wait for her to ask twice, before anyone can utter another word the string has been slipped off and the torn paper is on the floor. “I knew it! He’s brought us back some tablet!” shouts Fran, barely able to contain herself.

Farfalla is hit with a memory she’d put to the back of her mind. The night she and James had spent in Glasgow, after their romantic dinner they went for a walk, and he slipped into a gift shop, coming out with his hands behind his back. “Pick a hand!” he had said. She chose the left. He whipped his arm around and handed her a piece of candy tucked into a small white paper cup. The candy had melted on her tongue and washed her mouth in sweet, sugary, creamy flavour. “Scottish tablet!” he had said before she could ask, proud of himself for aptly choosing his gift to her.

“Shall we have some?” comes Fran’s little voice from her seat at the table.

“Yes, yes, of course,” stumbles Farfalla, shaking her head back to the present. She fishes a knife out of the kitchen drawer and cuts two small squares from the brick. The flavour is exactly as she remembers, and she closes her eyes to savour it. A knock on the door startles them both. “Come in!” calls Farfalla. Nurse Betsey, Felix and Fran’s nanny, comes charging through the door.

“Frances Annabel Carnifex, I told you not to bother Miss Skye!” she says in her usual stern tone. “I’m so sorry about this, we’ll be on our way,” she adds, turning toward Farfalla. “Come now, Fran! I still need to find your brother, who knows where he’s run off to. I turn my back for one second… ” She doesn’t give Farfalla a chance to interject, and ushers the child from the kitchen table. Fran waves a sheepish goodbye to Farfalla as Nurse Betsey herds her out the door. Farfalla folds the paper around what is left of the tablet and tucks it into the pantry, she’ll bring it back up to the main house tonight when she goes for dinner. 

The Carnifex family is quite wealthy, having secured business connections of the mainland. They facilitate the export of various goods from island. They have a cook, a maid, and of course Nurse Betsey. When they offered for Farfalla to live in the caretaker’s cottage they insisted she also dine with them every evening. Farfalla is very cognizant of her good fortune. Her status as The Skye Lark Belle, or a Selkie as most villagers seem to believe, has secured her a rather lavish lifestyle. Everywhere she goes she is greeted with a “G’day Miss Skye!”. The villagers have provided her with the most stylish dresses, the coziest wool blankets, pillows made of down rather than feathers or straw, and the softest leather boots. They regularly feed her meals that most only get to enjoy on special occasion. They shower her with flowers, jewellery, and other gifts. All she has to do in return, is sing to their loved ones when they are unwell. 

The one thing no one has provided is friendship. The closest thing Farfalla has to it is her relationship with Fran and Felix, but they are children. Farfalla finds herself denied the adult companionship she craves. The villagers show her respect, admiration, and a semblance of kindness, but below it all there is fear. It’s different than the outward fear the people of Pocket harboured toward her; this fear is kept below the surface. 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 19 – The Beach – in which Farfalla has a strange encounter with a boy reminiscent of a scene in Book 2 – Wingspan.

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 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.

Welcome to Spooky Season, the most wonderful time of the year when all things ghost and unexplained take a front row seat. In today’s Skylark Special episode, we’ll hear the eerie tale of The Cemetery Ghost, in which our listener had an uncanny experience at a nearby cemetery that not only scared her, but also the friend she was communicating with at the time.

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

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

STORY TRANSCRIPT:

It was a picture-perfect summer morning; slightly cool, lovely breeze, bright sunshine... nothing to indicate what was to come.

I had been taking daily morning walks for several weeks and was tiring of the same scenery, so on a whim decided to visit the large cemetery a short drive from my house. I had heard it was a lovely place with miles of walking paths, mature trees, sculptures, statues, and a lake, and thought it would make a good change of pace. The cemetery is a prestigious place to spend the afterlife and boasts the graves of several local people of note including internationally successful businessmen and politicians.

I parked my car by the side of the path, not far from the entrance so I could find my way out easily when it came time to leave. Just inside the wrought iron gates of the cemetery was the visitor center. Next to it was a large crematorium which spanned the length of 3 interconnected buildings, each surrounded by manicured gardens with fountains and impeccable landscaping.

Across from the crematorium, a few paces behind my parked car, was the chapel. The chapel featured a domed roof and ornate tile work, it was absolutely beautiful, a true work of art. 

As I was exiting my car a friend pinged me with a good morning note. I replied, explaining where I was, as we both share a deep love of cemeteries and nature. We began messaging back and forth and I spontaneously filmed a quick video of the chapel to send to them. I then turned and began walking in the general direction of the lake, as that was the portion of the cemetery, I was most interested in. 

As I was making my way down the path, I continued to share photos and videos of the area with my friend. They marveled at how expansive the cemetery was, and how beautiful the mature trees and landscaping were. I eventually came around a bend in the path and saw the lake in the distance. The cemetery was rather hilly, and downhill from the path I was on was a separate path that made its way around the lake. The quickest way to get to the lake path was to cut through the section of gravestones in between the upper path which I was on, and the lower path. I eyed a tentative trail between the graves, some perpendicular to the ground, others flat stones, some of which were slightly overgrown and difficult to see. I then snapped a quick photo of the lake in the distance to send to my friend.

The moment my foot touched the grass I felt them. It was instantaneous. The feeling is hard to describe. I’ve felt it before, it’s familiar to me... I can absolutely distinguish it from simple daydreaming or an overactive imagination. It’s a very physical sensation, an instant tightening of the stomach. Next is the instant “knowing” – again, hard to explain. I’ll just know that the entity near me is from a certain era, or is a certain gender, sometimes I’ll sense what they’re wearing, on rare occasions I’ll know an age, or a name, or a profession, or even get a sense of their personality. In the past some of these experiences have later been confirmed with facts, it’s incredibly strange and creepy...

This time, I felt a crowd. It’s challenging to explain how this works, because I myself don’t understand it all that well, and I have no control over it. I suddenly just knew there was a crowd of people surrounding me. I would compare it to walking into a crowded restaurant and hearing loud chatter without being able to distinguish words, except instead of sound, it was the vague, silent presence of several people. It felt like they were rushing in to see who this stranger was in their midst. I didn’t feel threatened whatsoever, but I definitely felt uncomfortable, so I walked faster.

I quickly wound my way between the graves to the path below, then started filming as I walked across another small stretch of grass to the lake so I could show my friend. The tightening in my stomach continued to linger. I made brief mention of what had just happened in my video, and that the feeling seemed to be staying with me in the pit of my stomach. A few deep breaths later and a few feet farther down the path the feeling finally began to ease up... but something lingered in mind. A woman. 

I walked around the entire lake, marveling at the wildlife; the cormorant lifting off the surface of the water, and the heron soaring overhead. I stood under the expanse of two large willow trees whose low-hanging branches dipped into the water, all the time sharing photos, videos, and messages back and forth with my friend who was thoroughly enjoying the virtual visit.

I made my way around the lake and returned to the bottom of the hill I had walked down earlier. This time, I began filming a video as I made my way back up the hill to the path that would take me to my car. I could feel the woman’s presence getting stronger as I neared the rows of gravestones that lay flat on the ground. As I walked past one row in particular the sensation became very strong, and I turned back to revisit the specific spot. I would compare this feeling to hearing a high-pitched noise and trying to pinpoint where it’s coming, except instead of sound it’s emotion. Another thing that happens to me besides suddenly “knowing” things, is suddenly “feeling” things... often emotions that aren’t my own. This is without out a doubt the most challenging part of these experiences. 

As I neared a collection of gravestones the feeling became overwhelming, like a sound becoming too loud... The woman was incredibly upset, devastated, agitated... I felt a terrible weight fall on my shoulders, a heaviness settle into my body, and had to step away. If I’d stayed longer, perhaps I would have been able to get a name, or an era, or some kind of identifying information... but the weight of her emotions became unbearable, so I had to walk away and leave her behind. Thankfully, after taking a few paces up the hill I felt the strength of the emotion coming from her begin to wane. I ended the video and sent it to my friend.

I got back on the upper path and felt renewed energy now that the heaviness of the woman had lifted, so I decided to go the opposite direction from my car and visit other parts of the cemetery. I walked for some time, continuously taking photos and videos to share with my friend. I noticed a message from them asking if I was okay, and replied that yes I was fine, and told them that the eerie feeling brought on by my encounter with the woman had passed. 

I proceeded to walk among many more gravestones and felt nothing out of the ordinary anywhere else in the cemetery or during the course of my walk. 

As I was making my way back to my car, I saw another message from my friend saying they were scared. I asked why they were scared and reassured them the experience I had was very brief and had ended about half an hour ago, and that I was completely fine. I filmed one last video of the crematorium gardens next to my parked car and sent it off to my friend with a note saying I was leaving the cemetery and would continue our chat when I got to my next stop. 

I drove about 3 minutes to a nearby lake and parked my car on a side street. It was here, while still sitting in my car, that I noticed my friend was only just now reading my messages. I scrolled up and saw they had actually left several panicked messages asking if I was okay, if someone else was there, telling me they were scared... I quickly sent a new message asking if they’d received all the photos and videos I’d sent. They replied they had received everything up until the video where I encountered the woman, then the conversation went radio silent, with no other messages going through for over 30 minutes. 

Needless to say, my friend had gotten worked up into quite a state of worry and was pondering whether they should send someone out to look for me. They would have found me happily traipsing through the sunny cemetery snapping photos and videos, completely oblivious to the terrifying feeling of helplessness my friend was experiencing at the other end of the chat.

At first, I thought perhaps I had walked into a part of the cemetery with poor cell reception... but then I remembered that when I first arrived at the cemetery, I had sent a video of the chapel to my friend after I parked my car, and that video and accompanying message had gone through just fine. The last video I sent was also filmed next to my parked car... cell service that had been sufficient to send my first video should have ensured the last one would go out as well... but nothing went through until I’d exited the cemetery gates.

While I was parked nearby the name Hannah came spontaneously into my head. I made mention of it to my friend, then slowly made my way home.

Exactly one week later I returned to the cemetery to see if I could replicate the experience. I walked down the grassy hill, not exactly sure of where I had felt the woman, feeling only slightly nervous but nothing more. I stopped at a row of flat grave markers... but it didn’t feel right. I carried on and as I approached the next row, I knew I was in the right place. I began slowly walking down the row, looking at the different gravestones, and one in particular caused that same strange tightness in my stomach... I had found her. Rose Shadbolt. I continued to walk down the row to test my theory, and sure enough the feeling immediately began to subside. I came back to Rose’s grave, and the feeling returned.

I went home and did some research. It took some doing because I didn’t know Rose’s maiden name... but I finally found both her and her husband. I immediately began looking for a connection to someone named Hannah, perhaps a daughter... The first thing that caught my eye was that Rose’s husband had a sister named Hannah. This seemed to fit, but for some reason I wasn’t quite satisfied, I kept digging. I felt like the Hannah connection had to be with Rose, since that’s who I tapped into at the cemetery... Then I saw Rose’s mother’s name, Johanna... Coincidence? Perhaps... but Hannah is not the most common name, what are the odds there would be two variations of it affiliated with the family?

I don’t know how to explain this... sensitivity... to things other people don’t see or feel. But I have noticed something about myself that may explain it on a small level. When I was crouched under the willow trees by the lake, I turned to look behind me because I felt something was nearby. It was a fly, landing on a leaf, several feet away. There was quite a bit of activity going on peripherally; airplanes overhead, people talking while doing landscape work, the wind in the trees, birds... amidst all that, I noticed the presence of a fly landing on a leaf several paces behind me.  I believe, at its core, this ability, for lack of a better word, is simply hyper-awareness, to a degree that allows me to detect emotions, imprints, energy, sounds, movement, shifts, changes in air pressure, that others have no awareness of.

Many of the women on my mother’s side of the family seem to share this ability on some level, so perhaps there is a genetic predisposition to it. Whatever the case may be, I like to think that someday science will be able to provide an explanation, or at the very least a working theory. But, in the meantime, I will simply continue to share my world with people that others will never know are there...

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 2^nd and 3^rd 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”

Teaser Trailer for The Skylark Bell Podcast - launching January 2021!

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

**Trigger warning - This fictional story contains vague mention of alcoholism and abuse***

Today’s Halloween Special Episode was inspired by a real-life ghost story told to me via my dear friend at The Haunted UK Podcast. From that, I put together this fictional account of the story from the perspective of the ghost itself, a little girl named Helen who ended up trapped in the cellar of her house... for eternity.

Find The Haunted UK podcast here: https://www.instagram.com/hauntedukpodcast/

Find The Foxes Curiosity Cabinet official website here: https://thefoxescuriositycabinet.co.uk/password

and on Instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/foxescuriosity/

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: A Skylark Special Epsiode in collaboration with The Haunted UK Podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Today’s episode was inspired by a real-life story. You can hear the original story on the Haunted UK Podcast, check the show notes for a direct link. The version in today’s episode of The Skylark Bell is being told from the perspective of the ghost itself.

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for the preview of The Haunted UK Podcast, a fellow member of the Boopod network of paranormal and true crime podcasts.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink…  and celebrate spooky season with this eerie, unsettling story.

I didn’t mean to scare the boy; I promise I didn’t!

I didn’t mean to make the people shout. 

I didn’t mean to make papa cross either.

It’s just that... well... I’ve been down here such an awful long time... it gets quite lonely you know!

I don’t know how long it’s been since That Day. I don’t much like to talk about it, but since you asked...

I guess I was born a bit clumsy. It took me longer than most to learn to walk, I remember Mama saying, “Your brother Henry was walking before his first birthday!” She was so happy when I finally took a few steps, but there was still quite a lot of stumbling and tumbling which lead to me getting a few bumps and bruises. Up until That Day though, the only damage done had been to my body. 

The previous week, Grandma Yvette had given Mama a lovely vase for her birthday. Mama got some flowers from the market to put in the vase and placed it on the side table next to the sofa. The flowers made mama so happy. I love it when Mama’s happy.

My big brother Henry was running around as usual, taunting me because I couldn’t catch him. My legs and feet just would not go where I wanted them to. I tried and tried to go faster. If I could catch Henry, maybe Mama would be happy. Mama had been crying a lot the last few days. If I could catch Henry, maybe Papa would be proud of me. He had been shouting a lot the last few days. If I could catch Henry, maybe everything would get better. So, I took a deep breath and charged at Henry with all my might... and CRASH! My knee gave out and I slammed into the side table, sending the vase hurtling toward the floor. It landed with a smash, shards of glass flying everywhere, and water seeping between the rapidly wilting flower petals. 

I stayed put on the floor, frozen in fear. A large shadow hovered in the doorway. Papa. Papa had just come home. Papa had seen the whole incident. The shadow came toward me, and Papa came into view. He was walking funny too, maybe I get it from him. His eyes were glassy, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He smelled like that terrible smell when he gets grumpy. Mama says it’s his medicine that smells like that. I don’t know what kind of medicine it is, but I hope I don’t ever have to take it!

“Look what you’ve done!” Papa shouted so loudly that my ears started to ring. He grabbed my shoulders, and I knew. I knew just what he was going to do. I started kicking and screaming, begging him not to, apologizing, calling for Mama... Papa carried me to the door that leads to the cellar. I grabbed onto the door frame, trying to stop him from pushing me through, but he was stronger than me, and my fingernails collected paint as they scraped across the wood. Once I was through the door, he promptly closed it and I heard the latch close. I was locked in the basement.  I kicked and scratched and banged on the door, I stomped my feet, I screamed for Mama, I screamed to be let out, then I just screamed. I marched around the cellar, looking for a way out, but the windows were all blocked off, and it was pitch black. I sat on the cold cellar floor and cried loudly, wailing, until my throat got scratchy, and I couldn’t wail anymore. 

Finally, I crawled back up the stairs, my hands and feet and throat raw from the tantrum, and I sat on the very top step, silently heaving, until my breathing returned to normal. 

I think I fell asleep then. I’m not entirely sure. All I remember is waking up as I was flying through the air and then my body landing on the cellar’s stone floor, hard. Then everything went dark, which is strange because it was already so dark in the cellar, but this was a darker kind of dark. A nothing kind of dark.

When I woke up again, I was still in the cellar, but there was more light. I could see the pile of coal in the corner that we used to heat the house, and the machine that washed our clothes. I remember helping Mama with that once. She had been happy that day too, washing up little pyjamas for the new baby that was in her belly. That baby in her belly became my other brother, James. But now there were no baby pyjamas. Now there were storage bins piled along the wall, with things inside them that I had never seen. 

I tried to go up the stairs, but when I got to the top the door wouldn’t budge. I sat on the top step for a while, but then I remembered how much it hurt last time I sat on the top step, so I came back down and waited. I waited and waited and waited. Then one day I heard the door open, and some footsteps coming down. 

“Mama?” I whispered. I saw an older man.  A stranger. I hid in the corner and watched him as he walked to the corner to fill a small bucket with coal. “Hello?” I tried again. This time, I saw the man stand straight up and turn around very quickly. He looked toward me, but his eyes kept moving around, almost like he couldn’t see me. He shook his head and walked quickly across the cellar and back up the stairs, closing the door tightly behind him.

I don’t know how much time went by. Maybe it was years? Over and over again the man would come to the cellar to get some coal. Sometimes a woman would come down instead. Sometimes she would come and wash clothes, and I would stand nearby, eager to help. Sometimes I would look at her funny outfits and giggle. I don’t think she liked that much. She would always hurry to collect the washing and scurry back up the stairs.

Then came the boy. I had never seen him before. He was much younger than the man and woman. I watched him walk slowly across the cellar, carrying his little bucket. He scooped a little bit of coal into it, but some pieces fell onto the floor. He was clumsy like me! I let out a giggle, and the boy spun around, his eyes wide. He looked so very scared! I felt quite terrible about the whole thing. He hurried across the cellar with his bucket and ran up the stairs. I got scared too, then. What if Papa got mad at me for scaring the boy?

A while later I heard the people upstairs shouting. They were saying things like “I told you she was down there!” and “I didn’t think it was real!” and “Why didn’t you tell me!”

I guess maybe they do know I’m here... why don’t they let me out? Maybe they’re also mad at me for being clumsy. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll break something. Maybe they’re mad I scared the boy.

So, I stay in the cellar. It’s not so bad, you know. Sometimes people come down here, and I say hello, or just stand close to them while the go about their tasks. I keep hoping, maybe someday, one of them will take my hand and lead me through the door at the top of the stairs. Then I can see Mama and Henry and James again, and maybe even Grandma Yvette, and I can find Mama a new vase and go pick some flowers for her in our yard. Maybe I can even see the sunshine. It’s been so very long since I’ve seen the sunshine.

Or maybe you could come find me down here, and we could be friends. I know lots of wonderful games and nursery rhymes. I think we’d have quite a time in the cellar you and I. Don’t be afraid... after all, I’m just a little girl... *giggle*

Thank you so much for listening. I hope you’re having a safe and fun spooky season. Here at The Skylark Bell podcast it’s spooky season all year long, but we love when the rest of the world joins in.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. I would love for you to join me on Patreon for additional content and be sure to follow my social media accounts where I share regular updates and previews. 

I’d also like to give a special mention to an amazing creative soul, Kat, who creates for and owns The Foxes Curiosity Cabinet where you can find incredible sustainable fashion, hand-mixed, teas, unique housewares and more. Kat does an incredible job of designing original prints and creating clothing in an eco-conscious way. The Skylark Bell is proud to be affiliated with her brand, and we encourage you to go take a look at her incredible work.

Links to The Foxes Curiosity Cabinet, The Haunted UK, my patreon, website, and social media are all available in the show notes for this episode. 

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

Today’s special episode features an original story called The Christmas Ghost. This story was inspired by a song I wrote a few years ago, also called the Christmas Ghost, which you will hear at the very end of this episode. The story, and the song, are dedicated to those who have an empty seat at the holiday table, those who have lost a loved one, and who, every holiday season, feel that pang of sadness and nostalgia, no matter how many years have gone by. But I promise, this story does have a bright side...

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

All music by Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com / IG @cannelle.music

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 Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/theskylarkbell

Melissa on Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@melissaoliveri

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings productions presents – A Special episode of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

Before I dive into today’s episode, I’d like to explain how it came about. Something wild and wonderful happened earlier this week – The Skylark Bell found a whole new, and rather large, audience, and more than tripled its total of two-years’ worth of downloads in just 24 hours. This caused me to rearrange my calendar a little bit, and to write a new story to share with you this week. The episode celebrating the one-year anniversary of the Songs from the Skylark Bell soundtrack will now air next week instead.

Now, for today’s special episode I will share an original story called The Christmas Ghost. This story was inspired by a song I wrote a few years ago, also called the Christmas Ghost, which you will hear at the very end of this episode. The story, and the song, are dedicated to those who have an empty seat at the holiday table, those who have lost a loved one, and who, every holiday season, feel that pang of sadness and nostalgia, no matter how many years have gone by. But I promise, this story does have a bright side...

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

­­

I have a Christmas Ghost. 

Each year, the moment I haul the bins of holiday decorations into the living room, it begins to form. I can usually feel it hovering in the corner of the room, like a mass of swirling clouds coming together to form a storm.

I put a Holiday record on the turntable and joyfully dance around the room as I set up the tree, then step back to make sure it’s straight before adding the lights. I hang the pine garland on the railing of our front steps, taking the time to adjust the crimson bows just so, then string the lights up in the window. I look around to admire my handiwork, then take a break to snack on fresh-baked sugar cookies and a mug of warm spiced cider. Outside I hear children laugh and shout as they launch snowballs through the air, their colourful scarves and mittens clashing with the white of the snow. I hold the steaming mug of cider between my palms as I watch them, the opposing teams have now come together to build a snow fort. I take the last sip of my drink then get back to work. I loop a garland across the doorway to the living room, mesmerized by the reflection of the rainbow lights from the tree caught in its silvery tinsel, then I set the small figurines in and around the vintage nativity set that once belonged to my mother, more out of tradition than anything else. Lastly, I pin up a vintage-style red velvet banner with Noël printed on it in gold letters.

Distracted by the merriment, I forget about the ghost, until the record player puts forth that one song; the one that shatters my heart into pieces, the one that puts a lump in my throat, the one that coaxes the tears from my eyes, the one that sings about being together for the holidays – if the fates allow. The one that reminds me that the fates had other plans...

This is the point, once sadness and nostalgia take hold, when the ghost moves from the corner of the room like a low laying fog and wraps around me like a blanket. I let the tears flow, the heart break, and the grief take hold, only for  length of a song. I life the lid of the last box to reveal my collection of ornaments, each one a delicate treasure glittering with significance. I relish them all, the vintage and antique ones that belonged to parents and grandparents, the clumsy ones hand-made by children. the ones purchased the first Christmas after leaving home to decorate a shoebox-sized apartment, others that mark life moments like the arrival of a new love, a new pet, or a baby, and the ones collected while on vacation or work trips... all of them coming together to tell the story of my life.

As I hang the ornaments on the tree, the Christmas Ghost seeps into my mind. It brings up thoughts of Christmases past, when the magic of childhood gave the holiday a dream-like quality, like a classic film with a misty glow around the edges of the screen. The Christmas Ghost conjures up faces I haven’t seen or thought about in years. It brings back memories of gifts long since loved and lost, and the echoes of songs playing on a scratchy record player as we huddled under heaps of hand-knit blankets. The ghost then brings back the sights, sounds, and smells of the holiday kitchen. Meat pies, mashed potatoes and gravy, finger sandwiches, chocolate pudding pie with whipped cream and cherries on top, every flavour of soda under the rainbow, and boxes of cream-filled chocolates and peppermint patties – things only found at our grandparents’ house, things we ate until our little tummies bulged and we curled up for a nap to let the clock run out until it was time to open our gifts.

Finally, the last ornament is hung, the record on the turntable has reached its end, the reel of a lifetime of Christmas memories has played out, and the Christmas Ghost withdraws. Alone with my thoughts, I look out the window at the falling snow. Unusually large, delicate snowflakes float from the sky like feathers on a summer breeze. The world outside looks so very still in comparison, the children having been called in for supper, leaving their half-built fort and a handful of snow angels behind.

I stand at the window, watching as the snow gradually covers the ground, staring at the path leading to the house, wishing for footprints to appear, wishing for the doorbell to ring... but the world remains still and silent under the darkening sky.

It’s easy to look back and think of how I would have done things differently, all those years ago, had I known it would be our last Christmas - but that’s the thing, isn’t it? We never know it’s the last one until it’s too late. No matter how much wishing I have done in the Christmases since, those footprints have never come to mar the freshly fallen snow, and the doorbell has never rung.

I put my empty plate and mug into the sink, then return to the comfort of my rocking chair. The living room is lit only by the multicoloured twinkle of the Christmas tree, and I can see snowflakes still falling under the glow of the streetlight outside the window. The room is silent but for the faint ticking of a clock upstairs and the creaking of the rocking chair against the ancient wood floor. 

A knock on the door startles me. A neighbour with a gift, a homemade treat delivered with a smile and warm wishes as the cold air seeps through the open door. We exchange pleasantries and they go on their merry way. Now there are footprints in the snow leading up to the house. Perhaps wishes do come true. 

I return to my rocking chair, the carefully wrapped package on my lap. “Would you like a piece?” I ask the empty room. The voice of the Christmas Ghost echoes in my mind, telling me to enjoy the sweet gift under the twinkling lights. It tells me to flip over the record, dance to the music, grab a blanket and watch a favourite childhood film, light a candle in the dark, embrace the joy and the sadness, the memories and the present moment. I ponder a moment, then get up and flip the record, I dance over to the couch and grab a blanket, then pop a sweet treat in mouth as put on a movie. Once the film has ended, I light a candle in the dark room, and watch it go from somber to joyful. I sit quietly and reminisce, and cry because it ended, but smile because it happened.

The lesson is a good one, and I take note, because someday, perhaps, I will be someone’s Christmas Ghost.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we celebrate the one-year anniversary of Songs from The Skylark Bell, the official soundtrack to the podcast. This episode will feature track-by-track commentary with the inspiration and insight behind each song. An extended version of the episode will also be available exclusively to Patreon subscribers. Links to Patreon and my social media accounts are available in the show notes.

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for an original song by me, under my stage name Cannelle, called The Christmas Ghost. This song is available exclusively here on The Skylark Bell podcast and on Patreon.

As we head into the holiday season, I want to wish all of you peace and joy. I know the holidays can be difficult for many, each for their own different reasons. Hopefully your Christmas Ghost will be there to bring you memories of holidays gone by, and an appreciation for the present moment.

Once again, thank you for listening, I’m Melissa Oliveri and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 23 – The Birthday Bell - in which Lucas visits the Shearwaters at Meadow Lane to celebrate Farfalla’s birthday, and a mysterious presence attempts to issue a dire warning.

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Generally Spooky: https://linktr.ee/generallyspooky

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 23 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie returned to Pocket to attend the memorial service for Luca’s grandmother, Gemma.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 23 – The Birthday Bell - in which Lucas visits the Shearwaters at Meadow Lane to celebrate Farfalla’s birthday.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a special preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Generally Spooky.

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

Lucas has been spending a lot of time at the Shearwater house on Meadow Lane. Mr. Shearwater has agreed to let Lucas use the shed behind the house as his workshop, and he finds himself there nearly every day working on various projects. Between jobs, he has been busy carving a skylark to which he will attach the bell that traveled with him from the future. He plans on giving it to Farfalla for her upcoming birthday.

Finally, the big day is arrives. The Shearwaters have spared no expense to celebrate Farfalla’s 18 trips around the sun. Meadow Lane is decorated with swaths of fabric and large bows, candles in every window, fresh wildflowers in vases throughout the house. Lucas walks nervously up to the door, holding on tightly to the Skylark Bell, carefully packaged in a box with a blue satin ribbon that Charlotte found for him in her sewing box. Scarlett the cat had quite enjoyed toying with the end of the ribbon, leaving it a little frayed at the ends.

“Marius! Welcome!” says Mrs. Shearwater, opening the door for him. He smiles and walks nervously into the room, which is filled to the brim with the smell of homemade cake.

“Marius, I’m so happy you’re here!” says Farfalla, waltzing into the room, her blue dress flowing down to the floor, making her look almost ghost-like. Lucas is frozen to the floor, awed by her beauty. He comes to his senses and smiles at her.

“This is for you,” he says, holding the box out for her to take. Farfalla grabs it giddily and sets it on a table with a small handful of packages, each wrapped with brightly coloured ribbons.

“Shall we eat? Dinner is just about ready,” says Mrs. Phaeton. Farfalla grabs Lucas’ hand and pulls him toward the dining room table.

“Mama has made all my favourites! It’s going to be absolutely delicious! Then after dinner there will be dancing, Papa even got a new record for the victrola! He bought it when he was in the city a few months ago and kept it hidden so he could surprise me, isn’t it wonderful?!” she gushes, pure joy on her face. Lucas nods, a little overwhelmed, but her energy is contagious, and he begins to feel excited too.

They sit down to an amazing dinner with fresh tomatoes, green beans and other vegetables from the garden, warm homemade bread, a plate with a selection of fresh cheese from the market. Finally, it’s time for the crowning jewel, the birthday cake. Mrs. Shearwater comes in from the kitchen, carefully holding the cake on a platter with both hands. The white frosting of the cake is glowing, reflecting the light of the multitude of candles on its top. The platter that it sits on is decorated with wildflowers from the garden. Mrs. Shearwater sets the cake in front of Farfalla, who closes her eyes briefly before taking a deep breath and blowing all the candles out with one sweep. Everyone around the table claps.

“Happy birthday, Farfalla!” shouts Paloma, her cheeks rosy with excitement.

Farfalla sits quietly, soaking in the moment, a grateful smile on her face.

“Alright dear daughter, you do the honours!” says Mr. Shearwater, handing Farfalla a knife to cut and serve the cake.

“Mrs. Shearwater, this cake is incredible!” says Lucas, digging into his piece. The cake has a different texture than the bakery cakes he’d grown used to in his own time, it is more crumbly, but far more flavourful.

“Thank you, Marius, that’s very kind,” she replies, “it was my mother’s recipe.”

“Is it time for gifts yet?” asks Paloma, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Oh Farfalla, please open mine first! Please!”

Farfalla smiles and nods at her. Paloma races to the table where the packages are waiting patiently, and selects one wrapped with a yellow ribbon. Farfalla slowly unties the ribbon and unwraps the gift. Inside she finds a hand-knitted shawl made of soft blue wool. “Oh Paloma, it’s beautiful!” she says, her voice filled with awe.

“I chose the colour to match your eyes,” says Paloma, happy that her gift has pleased her older sister.

Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater each hand Farfalla a package next. One contains a silver locket on a long chain, and the other a painting of Meadow Lane that Mr. Shearwater commissioned from one of the artists in the neighbouring town. At last, it is time for Farfalla to open Lucas’ gift.

“This is from me,” he says shyly, handing the box to Farfalla. She slowly unties the ribbon, savouring every moment. Finally, the box is free of its restraints, and she gingerly lifts off the lid. She peels back a layer of tissue paper and lets out a gasp.

“Marius!” she says, holding a hand up to her mouth. She looks up at Lucas, her eyes full of emotion. “Did you make this?” she asks.

“I carved the skylark, and the bell came with me from Europe. I had been waiting to find the right person to give it to,” he says, never breaking eye contact with Farfalla.

“What a wonderful gift,” says Mrs. Shearwater, “Farfalla, you could hang it up in your bedroom window, that way you’ll see it every day,” she says, turning from Lucas to her daughter.

“Yes, that sounds perfect!” says Farfalla, still in awe of the Skylark’s craftsmanship.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, the night is young!” says Mr. Shearwater, “Now, we dance!” With that, he walks over to the victrola and puts on a record. They push the table and chairs against the wall to make more space. The next hour is spent spinning one another around, elbows locked, changing partners at regular intervals, laughing at missteps, and stopping to rest and grab a drink. Finally, the festivities come to an end, and it is time for Lucas to head home.

“Thank you for the marvelous gift,” says Farfalla, walking him down the lane, “This has been the most wonderful birthday. I will never forget this as long as I live,” she adds, stopping at the edge of the road and turning to face him.

“I will never forget it either,” says Lucas. He and Farfalla are standing very close, and he feels a warmth spread from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. “Goodnight, Farfalla,” he finally whispers before heading home.

Farfalla walks back up the lane like she is walking on a cloud and lets herself back into the house. “I installed a hook in your window for you, it’s ready and waiting for the bell,” says her father, smiling. Farfalla throws herself into his arms and thanks him, then she grabs the box with the bell and runs up the stairs to her room. 

She lays the box on her bed and carefully lifts the bell out. She holds it up, admiring the artistry. The Skylark has its head turned toward its back; a blackberry clutched in its beak. An ornate vine twists through its wings and between its feet then down to the loop where the small silver bell is attached. In the fading light of day and the weak light of her lantern Farfalla can’t quite make out the details on the bell itself. She feels it with her finger and comes to the conclusion that it is engraved with a swirl of birds spiraling around it, and perhaps a few words, but she can’t read them in the low light.

Farfalla lifts the bell through her window and hangs it on the decorative hook her father installed just moments ago. The bell swings back and forth in the breeze, its sweet sound filling the room. Farfalla lays on her bed and closes her eyes, soaking in the crystalline sound.

Unbeknownst to Farfalla, in the mirror of the small vanity in the corner of her room a mist begins to form. Slowly, through the fog, a woman’s face takes shape. She is frowning, a look of concern in her eyes, and her mouth appears to be moving, like she is shouting something, but no sound comes out. Farfalla remains on her bed, eyes closed, peacefully oblivious to the woman’s desperate attempt at some kind of warning...

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 24, The Lark and Bell Artist’s Retreat, where Mrs. Phaeton gives Magpie a tour of the house at Meadow Lane, which she has converted into an artist’s retreat and art gallery.

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’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a donation via your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Generally Spooky. Listen to tales from Scotland’s history, legends, and stories. If you’re enjoying the supernatural side of The Skylark Bell, and share a love of Scotland with our characters, be sure to listen to General Spooky. 

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 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.

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.  

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 1

Happy holidays 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 what I have in store for you over the next few weeks. 

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. 

And so begins the first of 4 installments of what was supposed to be a short story, but ended up being much longer, and far more meaningful than I could ever have imagined.

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

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

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.  

Happy holidays 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 what I have in store for you over the next few weeks. 

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. 

And so begins the first of 4 installments of what was supposed to be a short story, but ended up being much longer, and far more meaningful than I could ever have imagined.

So, dear friends, it is my pleasure to suggest that you get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… because we’re getting started.

I was standing on the brink of the holiday season with nothing but my own company to look forward to. Off work, no family or friends to visit, not enough money to whisk myself away from my mundane life... things were looking rather bleak. Then I saw the advertisement in my town newspaper: “In search of responsible adult to assist elderly man Dec 22^nd-27^th”. I stared at the phone number on the listing, and let the scenario run through my head: Christmas with a stranger... what could go wrong?! I laughed out loud, then dialed the number. I had nothing to lose... or so I thought.

A pleasant woman answered the phone with a jovial, “This is Florence!” 

“Hello Florence, my name is Marie. I saw your advertisement in the paper looking for someone to help with an elderly man over the holidays...” My voice sounded insecure; I wasn’t entirely sure I’d dialed the right number.

“Ah, yes...” Florence’s voice took on a more somber tone. “Our upstairs tenant is quite elderly, my sister and I check in on him daily to help with tidying up and cooking, but we’re going out of town for the holidays and don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.”

“I see...” I replied, curious about the dynamics of the two sisters and the old man living upstairs. “Are you looking for someone to visit a couple of times a day or...”

Florence cut in, “Well, ideally, we’d love to find someone to stay overnight in our flat to keep an eye on things and assist our tenant when necessary. Unfortunately, we can’t offer much in the way of financial compensation, but you could help yourself to anything in the fridge or pantry, both are well-stocked, and we have plenty of books and movies to entertain you.” She paused then, leaving the static air between us hanging for a moment before tentatively carrying on. “If that sounds agreeable, perhaps we could meet tomorrow for introductions?”

I thought it was strange she didn’t ask me for any references and that she was so quickly and easily willing to hand over access to both her home and the well-being of an elderly man to a complete stranger. Lucky for her, I was a kind, honest, trustworthy person. We agreed to meet at her flat for lunch the next day, the address was less than a mile from my apartment, very convenient if I needed to zip home for anything.

I easily found the 2-storey row house at the end of a cul-de-sac after following a long stretch of nearly identical brown brick buildings down a hill. My mother had always insisted I should never go to anyone’s home without bringing a token of appreciation, so I shifted the bag of pastries I had brought into my left hand and used my free hand to tap the door knocker against the heavy wooden door. I heard the sound reverberate on the other side, followed by a quick succession of echoing footsteps. A moment later I was standing in a long dim hallway with a petite woman who appeared to be in her 70s. Her appearance was quite striking; dressed all in black with chalky white makeup on her face and garish red lipstick swiped across her mouth like a child’s crayon mark on a blank page.

“Hello, you must be Florence?” I asked, noting that she hadn’t said a word of welcome to me after opening the door. Her irises and pupils were almost the same colour, making her eyes, which were fixated on me, look like two dark, bottomless pools. This, coupled with her completely static facial expression began to make me squirm. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other waiting for her to say something.

“This is my sister Winifred, she doesn’t speak much,” came a voice from the room to my left. My gaze quickly shifted to the doorway where a woman, identical to the one standing next to me, but with a much warmer countenance and more relaxed clothing style, was standing in the doorframe wiping flour from her hands onto a maroon apron. “I am Florence,” she added with a warm smile that put me only slightly more at ease. 

“I’m Marie, it’s lovely to meet you both... Oh, these are for you,” I said, awkwardly handing the bag of pastries to Winifred. The entire situation, identical twins, one apparently mute and very inept at applying makeup, an elderly man upstairs... it was all quite bizarre, and I began to question why I ever thought this would be a good idea. Winifred sniffled in acknowledgment then shuffled away, disappearing into the shadows of the endless hallway.

“Why don’t we begin by going upstairs to meet Mr. Holcomb,” suggested Florence, gently but purposefully laying a guiding hand on my shoulder and turning me toward a doorway to our left. We walked down a short hallway to a narrow set of wooden stairs leading up to an even narrower door with a brass number 7 hanging on it slightly askew. Florence marched up the stairs ahead of me, the ribbon of her apron bouncing back and forth as she made her way up. I followed closely, preferring the creepy narrow stairs to the company of her creepy sister Winifred.

“Mr. Holcomb? It’s Florence, I’ve got the caregiver here with me,” shouted Florence through the door. Caregiver? I was surprised to hear her coin the term as I had never insinuated I had any kind of caregiving experience. We waited a moment, Florence on the tiny landing and me a couple of stairs below her. Slow, shuffling footsteps grew louder on the other side of the door and the sound of the bolt slipping out of its casing echoed down the stairs behind me. The door creaked loudly as it was pulled open, and Florence walked through. I came up the last few steps and stepped into the flat. The man was already several steps ahead, his back to me as he walked toward the back of the apartment. 

Florence and I followed him, she more at ease than I by a long shot. The hallway was lined with mirrors streaked with gold, like something straight out of the 1960s. I peered into the adjacent rooms, and each one also appeared frozen in a similar era. We finally arrived at a small kitchen, bright sunlight pouring in through the small window above the sink. It was only then that I realised every other room I had seen had the curtains drawn and was bathed in darkness. The man finally turned to face me, and the sharp intake of my breath caused Florence to put a hand on my arm.

“Mr. Holcomb can see much more clearly than his appearance would suggest,” she leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“My hearing is quite stellar as well,” said the man, with no hint of banter in his voice. 

I stood transfixed. The man’s eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. When I was young our family dog’s eyes had become milky as it grew older, but this was something entirely different. The clouds in his eyes weren’t static but rolling, like an impending storm, a mixture of white, grey, and charcoal. 

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Holcomb, my name is Marie. It sounds like we’re going to be spending the holidays together!” The words were strung together as though someone else was speaking them, the voice coming out of my throat unrecognizable to me. I couldn’t believe I was listening to myself agree to stay in a strange building owned by strange sisters to look after a strange man. It felt like I had no control over my body or my mind in that moment.

Somehow or other, arrangements were made. It was like an out of body experience, and before I knew it December 22^ndarrived and I found myself standing in front of 51 Dimly Court with an antique key in my hand that had been slipped into my postbox by Florence the day before along with instructions on how to ensure the furnace was running, how to use the antique stove, and how to reach her in case of emergency. Scribbled in a shaky hand at the bottom of the note, as though added in haste, were words that left me perplexed: “Do not drink the tea in the canisters above the cookbooks.” It must have been a collection of very rare, expensive teas for it to be their only rule! I decided then and there I would have a cup before my stay was over.

I let myself into the flat and slowly made the rounds, exploring every room. Each one was filled top to bottom with knick-knacks and antique furniture. Cluttered didn’t even begin to describe it. I could tell which space belonged to which sister. The tell-tale sign in Winifred’s room was the dusty black swath of lacey fabric draped across the top of her four-poster bed. Florence’s room on the other hand featured a vintage floral bedspread with matching curtains. I had already decided to simply sleep on the couch, a luxury I could afford at my age without having to concern myself with stiff joints or a sore back. I found the bathroom and kitchen, and immediately thought of the tea. My eyes scanned the space, and I saw a shelf lined with cookbooks on the far wall. Above it was another smaller shelf with a set of 3 glass cannisters each filled with loose-leaf teas: One gold, one black, and one purple. Bingo! I reached up to grab the gold canister, but just as my fingers closed around it, I was startled by a crash above my head. 

My heart raced as I scurried down the hall, through the doorway, and up the narrow stairs to Mr. Holcomb’s flat. I knocked on the door and shouted “Mr. Holcomb? It’s Marie, is everything alright?” I stood nervously listening to the wave of silence behind the door, and almost fell backwards down the stairs when it suddenly creaked open. Mr. Holcomb’s silhouette blocked what little light was emanating from the kitchen at the end of the hall. “I- I heard a loud crash, is everything okay?” I asked in a shaky voice.

Mr. Holcomb nodded and motioned for me to come in. “Yes, I do apologise, I’m afraid I sent a houseplant crashing to the floor. Sometimes the greenery and I have disagreements,” said the old man. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking about arguing with houseplants, his face seemed to remain expressionless much of the time, but I was surprised by his offer to make me some tea, and by the warmth of his tone, as he hadn’t been all that friendly when I’d first met him. I nodded and followed him to the kitchen where he set about preparing tea and a plate of biscuits. “If I may ask, Mr. Holcomb, what sorts of tasks does Florence help you with? She wasn’t very specific if I’m being honest...” He was sitting across the table from me, and I was finding it rather difficult to focus with those rolling storm cloud eyes of his, but decided to simply look at his forehead instead and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“The truth is Miss, I don’t need help with anything at all, but I know it pleases Florence to visit, makes her feel useful. Did she mention she was a nurse during the war? She and her sister both, but that was before we met...” he said. We carried on chatting, and I found myself surprised at how easy it was to converse with him. By the time we were done I hardly even noticed his unusual eyes and was happy I had taken on the job after all. Little did I know...

The next couple of days were uneventful. I spent much of my time reading, napping, and visiting with Mr. Holcomb. He insisted on making us Christmas Eve dinner and handed me a shopping list of ingredients in preparation. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, I also grabbed ingredients to make dessert. I spent most of Christmas Eve sorting out the antique oven, and somehow managed to bake up a decent batch of shortbread. It was my Nan’s recipe and I had made it so often I had it memorised. We sat down to a traditional holiday meal and chatted back and forth. 

I was hoping Mr. Holcomb would touch on how his cloud eyes came to be, but he never broached the subject, and I didn’t dare inquire about it. He mentioned being sent to war, but strayed from providing any details of his experience, instead speaking of the bravery and brilliance of Florence and Winifred who saved countless lives with very little means as nurses in the war zone. He talked about his childhood Christmases in the poverty-stricken area of the city, and how his mother once saved all the money she could to buy him and his brother each an orange and a mincemeat pie the Christmas after their father had passed away. His stories were like relics of a time gone by, and I soaked them in like a sponge, leaning in to gaze upon every crevice on his weathered face, and eventually getting lost in the swirling mist of his eyes.

The conversation flowed naturally, easily, and I found myself rather enjoying Mr. Holcomb’s company, but as the night wore on, I noticed he began to shift in his seat and appeared to grow increasingly uncomfortable. Before I knew it the antique clock in the next room was chiming midnight. Almost simultaneously, a roll of thunder rattled the windows of the tiny kitchen.

“Oh, dear...” Mr. Holcomb turned toward the window. “It’s best that you go,” he said, turning back toward me. There was an expression on his face that I couldn’t read, and the clouds in his eyes began to roll, not unlike the low-lying swirl of an incoming fog, except they were the colour of slate. 

“Yes, it is late. Time flies!” I said a little too loudly, suddenly uncomfortable myself. I began to gather up the dishes as a distraction.

“Never mind that, you need to go,” commanded Mr. Holcomb again, this time with a sharper tone. He abruptly rose from his chair and disappeared down the hall.

I quickly placed the dishes on the counter and scrambled after him, but he had already vanished. I tentatively peered into the first room off the hallway. “Mr. Holcomb?” I spoke into the darkness of the room. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and I saw the room was empty. I could make out a set of built-in bookshelves and large oak desk with a worn brown satchel sat atop it. I took a few steps into the room and noticed a collection of picture frames on the wall, and a certificate awarded to Russell J. Holcomb, but I couldn’t see what it was for. 

Through the doorway at the opposite end of the office I saw Mr. Holcomb in the room across the hall. He was seated in a brown leather wing-back chair, the kind with brass studs around the edges. The sight of him made my breath catch in my throat; he was wearing a blindfold and sitting rod-straight and perfectly still, his lips pressed tightly together in concentration. I opened my mouth to ask if he was alright but was cut off by a monstrous clap of thunder and subsequent flickering of the apartment lights. I stood in the hallway, transfixed, like my feet were glued to the floor. Out of nowhere I heard the front door to Mr. Holcomb’s flat creak open of its own accord. That did it, I felt my fear take over the mechanics of my body, and quickly scurried toward it.

Just as I was about to exit, the phone on the narrow table by the door began to ring. I stopped to stare at it, unsure what to do. I looked down the hall, but didn’t dare approach Mr. Holcomb, blindfolded and unresponsive in his chair. I tentatively reached down to grab the receiver, it was an old-style phone with a curvy silhouette and a turn-dial. I put the phone to my ear and heard a voice come through the static on the other end. It sounded like Florence, but with a deadpan, monotonous tone. “Go back... ...stairs... ...and... ...door.” 

“Errrmm... I’m having trouble hearing you, would you mind repeating?” I hoped my voice carried through the receiver, but I was shaking so much it wasn’t quite lined up with my mouth anymore.

“Go downstairs... lock... door... ...should’ve warned y-” 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the shadow of a hand slam down onto the top of the phone, effectively disconnecting the call. I didn’t wait to see who or what it was, turned on my heels and raced down the narrow stairs to the sisters’ flat, closing and locking the door in one swift move. I leaned my back against the door to catch my breath, and only then did it dawn on me whose voice it was on the other end of the line... It had sounded like Florence, but darker... it had to be Winifred! But... what was she going on about? 

I eventually gathered my wits about me and made my way to the sofa. I made a fire in the fireplace, letting its warmth, light, and gentle crackling sounds calm my nerves. I piled a few blankets on top of me and lay staring at the ceiling, wondering what on earth was going on in the flat upstairs. Winifred’s voice echoed in my head as I drifted off to sleep: “Should’ve warned you...”

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

Be sure to check in next week for the next part of the story!

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.  

In today’s special episode I will share my original story, The Gathering. This story was inspired by childhood Thanksgiving gatherings, which we celebrate in October in Canada. Extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents would gather at my Great Aunt Marselle’s house, which had belonged to her father before her, on the outskirts of Quebec City.

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

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Melissa on Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

 Things with Wings productions presents – A Special Thanksgiving episode of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In today’s special episode I will share my original story, The Gathering. This story was inspired by childhood Thanksgiving gatherings, which we celebrate in October in Canada. Extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents would gather at my Great Aunt Marselle’s house, which had belonged to her father before her, on the outskirts of Quebec City. 

This is the same house in which I encountered the ghost of Jack. You can hear that story in an episode called Jack’s Room, which was the very first Fantome Friday episode in season 1. Unlike my encounter with Jack’s ghost, our Thanksgiving gatherings were quite pleasant and featured mounds of food, often cooked from traditional family recipes, a selection of desserts from the patisserie, cousins to play with, which as an only child was a lot of fun for me, and a series of rooms filled with antique furniture and ancient family trinkets to explore. A few days ago, with the prospect a blank Friday in my calendar for The Skylark Bell, I asked my husband if he had any thoughts on how to integrate ghosts into a Thanksgiving story. Our conversation led to the story you are about to hear...

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

Every Thanksgiving they gather. They come from near and far, bearing dishes and gifts and smiles. They cook, they eat, they converse, they embrace, and then they go back to where they came from.

They gather in the kitchen and prepare Great-Grandmother Elisabeth’s fancy sandwiches. She looks over their shoulders, and notes they forgot to add the celery salt. They reminisce about how Elisabeth once single-handedly prepared an entire meal for twelve and barely broke a sweat. Elisabeth remembers that day, she was exhausted and relieved when everything turned out as well as she had hoped, she smiles at the memory.

Next they make Auntie Laurette’s meat pies. They clap the flour off their hands, and it floats into the air, landing on their noses on in their hair. They carefully roll the dough just so, the way they were taught years ago, and laugh as they tell the story of the time Auntie Laurette burned the pies, all those years ago, and no one said a word as they quietly choked down the dry, brittle meal, thankful for the many jars of green tomato chutney served to accompany it. Laurette sits in the corner, quietly observing, she was always a little shy.

Now it’s time to prepare Great Aunt Carmen’s fudge. They recall how she perfected the recipe, whisking the boiling mixture non-stop for fifteen minutes, and they wonder how in the world she did it well into her eighties. Once the fudge is poured into the pan and left to cool, they open jars of marmalade painstakingly made from Grandma Rachel’s recipe and spread it between the layers of the rich vanilla cake before covering it in thick, creamy frosting. All the while they tell tales of Carmen and Rachel’s childhood, how they would ride in a horse and carriage to visit their summer home on the island, and how one summer their father gifted each of them a pet hen... tales from another time, entirely. Rachel and Carmen stand on the other side of the counter, tall and proud, listening to the stories they themselves told a hundred times over.

It is now time to set the table. Great-Grandpa Donald watches as his mother’s silverware is set atop the table with special care given to the placement of each utensil. The dark burgundy tablecloth and matching napkins were a wedding gift he received when he and Rachel married. They are adorned with intricate embroidery around the edges, and still look nearly new despite decades of family gatherings. Donald looks at Rachel from across the room and their eyes lock for a moment as a lifetime of memories passes between them.

In the vestibule, the twins make faces at each other in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror was hand-carved by Grandpapa Alfred in his youth. Alfred looks on at the giggling children, his heart aglow, family always was his pride and joy. On the bench behind them a mother braids her daughter’s hair the way Nona Maria taught her when she was a girl. Just as she is finishing up, the girl’s younger cousin requests to have her hair braided the same way. Nona Maria sits on the end of the bench, a gentle smile forming on her lips as she recalls her own mother braiding her hair when she was that age. 

In the storage closet at the back of the house someone opens an antique trunk and lifts out three metal trivets and two bronze candle holders. Uncle Jack stares on. It was his trunk, before. The trunk followed him to war, and it followed him home. Now it houses rarely used holiday fancies; lace table coverings, silver serving trays, tapered candles and the like. The festive tableware in the trunk is such a stark contrast to the horrors of war. Jack watches as the finishing touches are put on the table setting and grins, everything is perfect.

At last, it is time to gather and share the sandwiches, meat pies, fudge, cake, and various other dishes prepared for the celebration. At the children’s table, the twins scoop endless piles of mashed potatoes onto their plates, one turning his into a snowman, the other turning hers into a volcano erupting with peas and gravy. One-by-one, the smallest boy sneaks his carrots under the table to the dog patiently waiting there, both of them grateful for the other’s existence. The girls with the braids sit next to one another in their matching dresses. The younger girl imitates the older girl, holding her pinky up as she sips on her tea. She doesn’t much like tea, but she fully intends to keep that to herself.

At the main table, the adults share stories as they pass platters around. No one seems to mind the scattering of breadcrumbs on the tablecloth. Their conversation gets louder as the meal wears on, their laughter drowning out the sound of the silverware clinking against the antique china dinnerware. They share stories of new jobs and old jobs, new loves and old loves, new worries and old worries, things that happened this year and plans they have for next year. They clink their glasses, sharing their well-wishes for one another, all while the food, lovingly prepared while enjoying each other’s company, slowly disappears from their plates.

Behind them, the ghosts of Great-Grandmother Elisabeth, Auntie Laurette, Great-Aunt Carmen, Grandma Rachel, Great-Grandpa Donald, Grandpa Alfred, Nona Maria, and Uncle Jack look on, grateful that their names are still spoken, that their stories are remembered. Grateful that they live on in the memories and traditions of their family. They think back to the days when it was them preparing and eating the Thanksgiving Meal while telling stories of their grandparents, aunts, and uncles. They stand tall and proud, surrounded by the sights and sounds of family, thankful for what has come to be, and for what is still to come.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me over the next few weeks for a series of very special episodes as we celebrate the 1 year anniversary of Songs from The Skylark Bell, the official soundtrack to the podcast. The episodes will feature track-by-track commentary with the inspiration and method behind each song. An extended version of the episode will also be available exclusively to Patreon subscribers. 

Speaking of Patreon, I am preparing my annual Subscriber holiday gift, a wooden doll ornament inspired by a character from the upcoming season of The Skylark Bell - Skyedive. There’s still time for you to join if you’d like to receive one, just click the link in the show notes. As a Patreon subscriber you’ll also get early access to future podcast episodes and downloads of all my original music including Songs from The Skylark Bell. 

Don’t forget to follow me on social media, primarily Instagram and Facebook, and more recently Mastodon, to stay up to date on current projects and upcoming episodes. Again, all links can be found in the show notes.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on Apple Podcasts, and/or a rating on Apple podcasts or Spotify. This helps my story gain visibility among the numerous podcasts out there, and it also makes me smile. I also appreciate referrals, is there someone in your life who enjoys the eerie and unusual? Send them a link to the podcast! Downloads for The Skylark Bell have skyrocketed recently, and that is thanks to all of you.

Speaking of thanks, on this holiday focused on gratitude, I want to express how thankful I am for my family, the warmth of our home, our health, and our love and respect for one another. I am also thankful for the opportunity to work on my various creative projects, and how they allow me to connect with fellow creatives. Last but not least, I am thankful for you – without you these stories and songs quite simply would not exist. 

So thank you, as always, for listening, and if you are celebrating, have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 5 – Marius – in which Farfalla and Marius finally meet for the first time.

This week's podcast partner is The Nightcap Nebula: https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1672430903?ign-itscg=30200&ign-itsct=lt_p

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 5 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode, Farfalla had a strange encounter with a mysterious woman who seemed to avenge her after years of mistreatment at the hands of her schoolmates.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 5 – Marius – in which Farfalla and Marius finally meet for the first time.

Today’s podcast partner is The Nightcap Nebula – If you’re a fan of the eerie and inexplicable, be sure to check out fellow Boopod Network member The Nightcap! The name may sound familiar as we’ve worked on a collaboration in the past which yielded my story Mrs B’s haunted Trinket Shoppe and their fantastic episode about haunted objects. Check the snow 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.

June 12^th 1923,

It has finally happened.

The rest of the school year went by faster than I would have thought. Priscilla’s hair eventually grew back but she was so ashamed of how she looked she mostly kept to herself, and Sadie was sent home after “the incident” and never returned, so I didn’t have to put up with their rude comments and mean pranks. I graduated from The Aviary just last week and am so relieved I never have to see those cold stone walls again. Mama and Papa came to my graduation ceremony. Mama says I’m a lady now. Maybe she’s right, we’ll see…

But that isn’t the big news. I had a fitful night last night. I don’t remember if I had any dreams, I haven’t hung up Isadora’s dream catcher since I got back from school, but something prevented me from getting restful sleep. Then I woke up this morning knowing today was going to be the day. I don’t know how I knew; I just knew. 

As the sun began to set I started feeling nervous, so I took a walk out to the apple orchard and climbed my favourite tree. I sat for a long while watching the sky turn from lilac to pink to deep yellow and orange, then closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift, quietly calling out to him.

I heard him before I saw him. The thud of hooves on the dirt path between the trees. I was smiling before I even opened my eyes. I watched him for a moment before he got close enough, then I simply said hello. I think I startled him. He looked up at me with wide eyes, then said something about a Magpie. I thought it was strange in the moment, but I didn’t give it too much thought.

I didn’t know then that it was a name. 

I didn’t know that it was her name. 

Farfalla hops down from the tree with expert agility. “There are no Magpies around here,” she says as the man dismounts his unusually large horse and walks to her. She feels butterflies take flight in her stomach at the sight of him. “My name is Farfalla,” she says, her eyes running over his perfect features, dark curls, and gray eyes, “and I’m guessing you must be Marius?” Her father had mentioned the mysterious Marius several times throughout the week and had told her he would be their dinner guest earlier in the day. She didn’t think much of it in the moment. At the time, she didn’t realize it was going to be… him.

Marius stands in stunned silence for a moment and Farfalla worries perhaps she has done something wrong. There is a strange look on his face, like a mix of sadness and… recognition? Finally, he nods and clears his throat before sticking his hand out toward her. “Yes, Marius… Marius Corbeau,” he says, smiling. Farfalla shakes his hand, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth.

“It’s very nice to meet you at last, Mr. Marius Corbeau,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you, my father has taken quite a liking to you and your work.” 

“Your father has been very good to me since I came here, I am very grateful to him,” he replies. They stand in silence for a moment, then Farfalla suggests they make their way toward the barn so his horse can get settled in before they head inside for dinner.

“What is your horse’s name?” she asks, noting the huge animal’s unusual colour combination. It has a velvety smooth black coat with a striking white mane and tail.

“This is Cormorant, my loyal and trusted friend,” says Marius, running a hand down the horse’s neck. Farfalla gets a pleasant shiver watching his hand glide on the horse’s smooth coat. “I hear you have just returned from boarding school,” he says, making conversation.

Farfalla tells him about Priscilla and Sadie, and they laugh and laugh. Then she tells him how much she disliked being at the school and how much she missed running through the fields at Meadow Lane. “I used to love exploring as well,” says Marius, “I missed class on more than one occasion to go check out the ruins at the old mill!” he laughs.

“The mill here in town?” asks Farfalla, confused. The mill is still operating and is definitely not in ruins.

Marius gets a strange look on his face, then shakes his head, “Oh, I meant the ruins of the mill in the town where I grew up,” he says. 

Farfalla nods and smiles at him. They’ve come to the barn door, and she pulls it open, heaving it to the side. She leads Marius to an empty stall, and he walks Cormorant into it. She stands back and watches as Marius whispers to the horse before stepping out of the stall. “I’ll be back soon, old friend,” he says, then turns toward her and smiles. “Shall we?” he asks, extending an elbow toward her. Farfalla does her best to temper her nerves as she grabs hold of his arm to walk back toward the house.

They sit across from one another at dinner, and she spends the entire meal fixated on him. A couple of times she feels Paloma’s foot kicking at her under the table when her interest in Marius becomes a little too noticeable, causing her to blush and stare down at her plate for a few minutes.

At the end of the evening Farfalla walks him back out to the barn. “You have a lovely family,” he says to her as she swings the barn door open to let them in.

“Yes, I’m very fortunate,” she replies. “My dream, someday, is to have such a family of my own.” Farfalla catches herself then and blushes profusely. She hadn’t meant to be so forward. Somehow, she feels so comfortable with Marius she tells him things she’s never told anyone else. He replies kindly and puts her at ease, then invites her to go for a ride the next day. Farfalla watches as he disappears down the lane into the darkness then heads back inside to help her mother wash up before going upstairs to her room. She sits in front of her vanity brushing her hair while staring dreamily at her reflection. A soft knock at her door brings her back to reality.

“Come in Paloma,” she says, already having guessed it is her sister on the other side of the door.

Paloma rushes in giddily and plops herself on the edge of Farfalla’s bed. “Oh Farfalla, isn’t he just dreamy?!” she asks, clutching her hands together and batting her eyelashes. Farfalla can’t quite tell if she’s being serious or if Paloma is teasing her.

“Who are you talking about?” asks Farfalla, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

Paloma rolls her eyes at her and drops to the floor at Farfalla’s feet. “Marius!” she exclaims, “I am entirely convinced he’s quite smitten with you,” she adds, taking both Farfalla’s hands in her own. Farfalla smiles and feels heat rise into her cheeks. The truth is, she fell in love with Marius the moment she laid eyes on him.

“Okay girls, time for bed!” shouts Mrs. Shearwater from the bottom of the stairs. 

“Goodnight, Falla, sweet dreams,” says Paloma in a teasing voice. She kisses her sister on the cheek and skips down the hall to her own room.

Farfalla finishes brushing her hair then blows out her candle before climbing into bed. She lays in the darkness replaying the evening in her mind. Marius appearing on the path below her perch in the apple tree, the moment they stood face to face for the first time, his smile as they told funny stories, the way his hand ran down the side of Cormorant’s neck. 

The thought of him creates a flurry of emotion in her; excitement, joy, warmth, love… and something else. Something that she pushes to the deepest recesses of her mind. Fear.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 6 – The Skylark Bell, in which the infamous bell finally makes its first appearance.

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 on spotify or a review on apple podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. 

You can also connect with me on facebook, Instagram, mastodon, or Patreon, and you can find more information as well as  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 read Chapter 31 – Dealan-de - in which Lucas has a terrifying encounter with the mysterious woman that has been flitting in and out of his and Magpie’s lives for years

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Generally Spooky: http://www.generallyspooky.com

Another podcast of note, The Grim Cities: https://anchor.fm/thegrimcities

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 31 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie realises she is the one who saved Lucas from the car crashed that claimed his parents’ lives when he was a child.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 31 – Dealan-de - in which Lucas has a terrifying encounter with the mysterious woman that has been flitting in and out of his and Magpie’s lives for years

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a paranormal podcast I quite enjoy called Generally Spooky. I’d also like to mention another podcast called The Grim Cities which touches on eerie and inexplicable occurrences in the Twin Cities and beyond. If you enjoy spooky podcasts, it is well worth your time to look them up. Check the show notes for links.

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

Lucas stands in the forest, unsure what to do next. Now that their plan has worked, at least to the point where Magpie was able to travel from present day Scotland, he feels a bit lost. The gnawing thought at the back of his mind that they didn’t really think this through starts taking hold. How would he know if Magpie was successful in preventing him and Cormorant for going for a ride that fateful day? Would he come back to Carnifex House and find her, Manon, Alfred, and Cormorant, all restored to the age they were when he left? Was it still 2049 right now, or had he also somehow slipped back 30 years without realizing it? “There’s only one way to find out,” he says out loud as he starts walking in the general direction of Carnifex House.

It is almost dark by the time Lucas finally walks out from the shadows of the forest and into the field that stretches between the tree line and Carnifex House. He pushes his exhausted body on, hopeful that he will find Magpie, his Magpie, waiting for him when he returns. Lucas’ heart sinks as he gets closer to the house and finds it dark. It is exactly as it was when he and Magpie left this morning. The caretaker’s cottage sits a little further down the field, equally silent and desolate.

Lucas lets himself in the back door, the silence of the house closing in on him. “Magpie, where are you?” he whispers. He wanders into the living room and starts a fire in the fireplace, then makes his way to the kitchen to warm up some soup, even though he isn’t hungry. Finally, he curls up on the sofa with a blanket and falls asleep.

The next morning, Lucas is half expecting Magpie to show up at the front door, or come down from upstairs, or be walking back from the paddock behind the house… but the house sits in the same state as the night before. Lucas decides to pull on his boots and go back to the forest, hoping perhaps Magpie has reappeared there. 

He walks across the field and is about to enter the forest when a small voice pipes up from behind him, “I told you not to go into the forest.” Lucas turns around and sees a small boy with large blue eyes peeking from behind the rock that marks the boundary of Carnifex land. The boy looks vaguely familiar, and it takes Lucas a moment to realize where he’s seen him before, at the beach the day he and Cormorant disappeared! It was only a few years ago for Lucas, but in this boy’s timeline it has been 30 years, he should be an adult by now! Lucas stands there, staring at the boy, who stands there staring back. “Where’s your big, weird horse?” asks the boy after a long stretch of awkward silence.

“He… he didn’t come back, when I came back,” stammers Lucas.

The boy nods like he understands exactly what Lucas means, “That happens sometimes,” he says. “Are you trying to go into the forest to find him?” asks the boy.

Lucas shakes his head. “No, I’m trying to find my… wife,” he says, wincing at the pain the word inflicts on his heart. 

“Oh,” says the boy, “did she go into the forest too?” he asks, his gaze never leaving Lucas’ face. Lucas nods, and looks down at the ground. “I think Dealan’dè tricked her. I think she tricked both of you,” he says.

“What?” asks Lucas, looking back up from the ground, but the boy is gone. Lucas tries to remember the boy’s name. His father had called for him when it was time for them to leave that day on the beach. It was a short name, unusual… Ash! That was it! “Ash? Are you still here?” he says, leaning to look behind the rock, but all he finds is grass and wind. Lucas turns around and walks back toward the house, he can come back to the forest tomorrow, right now he needs some time to think.

The next morning, Lucas decides to head back to the forest. Magpie hasn’t returned and nothing in his current timeline has changed. Something has gone wrong; he can feel it in the core of his being. He grabs a satchel and fills it with food and a bottle of water before slinging it over his shoulder, then slips his feet into his boots and heads out, walking through the field with determination. When he comes to the first line of trees he walks in without hesitation, but after a few more steps he stops to look around. The forest looks different than it did before. He clearly remembers the overgrown path curving the opposite way last time he was here. He stands still, unsure which direction to go. Suddenly, something falls from high above his head and lands at his feet. Lucas looks down and sees an acorn. He stares at it for a moment, almost as if he’s expecting some mythical creature to come crawling out of it, but the little acorn just sits innocently on the ground. Lucas shrugs and takes a few steps. On a whim, he turns around, picks up the acorn, and tucks it into his satchel.

Finding sudden motivation, Lucas makes his way deeper into the forest, in the general direction of the arch, to the best of his knowledge at least. He pushes deeper and deeper in, to the point where his feet start to ache, his legs are getting tired, and his arms sting from being scratched repeatedly by errant branches and twigs. Lucas is about to give in to his aching body and sit on a log for a break when he hears the mesmerizing singing a little further down the path. Picking up the pace, Lucas continues forward, and soon finds himself in the small clearing with the arch. Relief floods through him when he sees a woman standing beneath it with her back to him, her wild red hair flowing down her back.

“Magpie! I knew you’d come back!” he says, breathless, but filled with joy.

The woman turns around. Her lips are pressed together tightly, but in his head, Lucas can hear her voice, “I. Am. Not. Magpie!” Magpie’s name echoing as the woman’s haunting song turns into a shrill, high-pitched sound like a thousand whistling tea kettles. The woman’s face becomes twisted with rage and Lucas steps back, terrified. “Farfalla?” he whispers, confused. The Farfalla he left behind in Pocket was a beautiful, happy young woman. Who is this creature, who seems to be able to send thoughts into his mind? Who can hypnotize anyone she chooses with her song? Who seems to be able to control time and space and distance?

“Dealan-dè,” the name echoes in his head. The druid that everyone in Pòcaid has feared for hundreds of years, the one who is responsible for The Vanishings. “Dealan-dè tricked her, she tricked you both…” the boy, Ash, had said.

Lucas sees a flash of silver as the woman takes an object out from the folds of her robes. She holds it high above her head and smashes it to the ground. A blinding flash of light causes Lucas to shield his eyes as his surroundings fade away. He stays crouched low to the ground, shaking. He has no notion of how much time has gone by when the sound of trotting hooves finally makes him look up. He is still outside, leaning against the side of a wooden building, his feet firmly placed on a dirt road. Lucas stands up and walks around the building to see if there is a sign on it that might help him figure out where he is. His heart stops when he sees “Bunting’s General Store – Now Open!”. He is in Pocket, that much he knows. He walks up the steps and enters the store.

“May I be of assistance?” asks a man from behind the counter. Lucas is disoriented, the inside of the store looks completely foreign to him. He turns to the man and notes how dressed up he is, with pleated pants, a shirt and a vest. On his face is a large mustache that curls at either end, like something out of a turn-of-the-century photograph.

“I was hoping to find a newspaper,” stammers Lucas, feeling grossly out of place.

“Right over there, son,” says the man, pointing to a small stack of papers behind Lucas.

Lucas thanks him, walks over to the table and picks up a paper. He feels a mounting sense of panic when he sees the date, Monday, July 8^th, 1895.

Lucas rushes out of the store and starts running toward Meadow Lane, he needs to get back to the oak tree, to try and make it back to his own timeline, or Magpie’s timeline, any timeline but this one!

The dust from the road settles down in a cloud around him as he stands by the road at the bottom of Meadow Lane. The house is under construction, he can see a group of men sawing boards and hoisting them up to create the beams for the ceiling. 

Lucas’ heart sinks as he realizes the vast field in front of the house is bare, the oak tree has not even started to grow.

He is trapped. 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 32, Today’s Special, in which Magpie once again finds herself in the town of Pocket, where she comes to a startling, and devastating realisation.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Generally Spooky. Listen to tales from Scotland’s history, legends, and stories. If you’re enjoying the supernatural side of The Skylark Bell, and share a love of Scotland with our characters, be sure to listen to General Spooky. 

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

In today’s episode we read Chapter 16 – Le Nightfall - in which Magpie begins to worry after Lucas and Cormorant don’t return from their ride, and Manon provides some very unsettling information.

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

The Activity Continues (podcast): https://linkin.bio/theactivitycontinues

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 16 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas and Cormorant step under a mysterious arch in the woods and inexplicably find themselves back in the town of Pocket.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 16 – Le Nightfall - in which Magpie begins to worry after Lucas and Cormorant don’t return from their ride, and Manon provides some very unsettling information.

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

“Perfect!” says Magpie, sneaking a small taste of pasta sauce off the end of the serving spoon. The sauce is gently simmering in a pot, the fragrant scent of basil and fresh tomatoes wafting through the kitchen. She grabs the pot of boiling pasta next to it and dumps it into a strainer, the hot steam shooting up from the sink and fogging up the window. She starts absentmindedly humming a little tune as she puts the garlic bread in the oven. 

“Okay, what’s next?” she says out loud, looking at the chaos surrounding her, “Ah yes, the frosting!” she exclaims, pointing a finger in the air! She resumes her humming, but it is quickly drowned out by the sound of the mixer beating the butter, sugar, cocoa powder, and espresso into a luxurious mocha frosting for the cupcakes she baked earlier.

The oven dings to indicate the garlic bread is ready just as Magpie is frosting the last cupcake. She quickly tosses some mixed greens from the garden with a homemade vinaigrette, then glances at the clock. Her brow furrows, she thought Lucas would be home by now. Hopefully he’s not too far out, she doesn’t want their dinner to get cold.

Magpie steps out onto the patio, squinting into the quickly darkening field, but she doesn’t see any sign of Lucas and Cormorant. Brushing off the small tinge of worry at the back of her mind she steps back inside to grab cutlery and napkins, then comes back out to set the table. Still no sign of Lucas. Magpie bites her lip. “Don’t be such a worry wart,” she whispers to herself. She decides to start cleaning up the kitchen. She starts by scrubbing the pots and pans, then wipes down the counter, puts the extra food away, straightens up the utensil drawer, cleans out the fridge… still no sign of Lucas.

Unable to ignore the mounting concern that is gnawing at her, Magpie decides to head outside. She sits on the patio, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, questions swirling in her mind. Where is Lucas? Did he get lost? Is he injured somewhere? Did he just lose track of time while exploring like when they were kids? 

A cold wind picks up and Magpie wraps the blanket around herself more tightly. She can’t tell if she is shivering from the cold or if her nerves are getting the best of her. Magpie decides to walk toward the pasture, maybe Lucas is getting Cormorant settled in for the night and just hasn’t come back to the house yet. She grabs a lantern from the patio and starts making her way across the grass toward the paddock. She’s just coming to the gate when something on the wind catches her attention. She leans in, listening closely. “What was that?” she whispers to herself. Magpie closes her eyes and focuses on the sound. It sounds like a woman’s voice, but ethereal, echoing and coming from every direction, singing a tune without words. Magpie can only catch intermittent pieces of it, but the tune sounds familiar. She digs hard through her memories but can’t quite put her finger on it. The singing fades away and Magpie is left alone with the wind and an empty paddock. Chilled, she decides to head back to the house and wait for Lucas inside.

Magpie makes a fire in the fireplace and settles onto the sofa with a book from the bookshelf. She piles a couple of blankets on her lap and tries her best to focus on the story, but her mind keeps wandering. Eventually she gives up on the book and just sits silently, staring out the window. 

A knock on the door startles her, Magpie didn’t realise she’d fallen asleep. She shakes her head and pushes the pile of blankets off her legs. Sitting up, she sees bright sunshine pouring into the windows. Disoriented, it takes Magpie a moment to realise it’s morning. “Lucas!” she thinks, suddenly remembering that he didn’t come home last night. The knock on the door, it must be Lucas, perhaps he lost his keys and had gotten mixed up in the dark on his way home. Magpie feels relief wash through her as she races to the door. “Lucas, I was so worried!” she says, swinging the door open with glee. Magpie’s heart sinks when she sees Manon standing on the front step.

“Good morning, Magpie. Is everything okay?” asks Manon, the bright smile falling from her face.

Magpie feels her stomach sink. “It’s Lucas, he went out for a ride with Cormorant yesterday afternoon, and he never came home,” she says. Manon gets a look on her face that Magpie can’t quite decipher. 

“May I come in?” asks Manon, “I think we need to talk.” 

Magpie places a cup of coffee and cupcake in front of Manon and joins her at the small table in the kitchen. “Are you not eating?” asks Manon, noting the empty placemat in front of Magpie.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite,” replies Magpie, her stomach in knots. Manon gives her an understanding nod. When she first arrived, Manon called Alfred who immediately began putting together a search party. So far, they had found no sign of Lucas and Cormorant on the beach or in the fields surrounding Carnifex House. Alfred is now going to the village to check in with the business owners.

Manon heaves a deep sigh, “I was hoping I would never have to have this conversation,” she says, her face grim.”

Magpie feels her heart start beating a little faster. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Manon looks up at her, a sad look in her eye, “This isn’t the first time someone has gone missing from Carnifex House.” 

Magpie leans back in her chair, reeling. Lucas has gone missing. She hadn’t put those words together in her mind yet. He hadn’t come home for dinner, he took a wrong turn, maybe he was lost… but missing. Lucas was missing. The word put fear in her heart.

Manon hesitates, then looks Magpie squarely in the eye, “It last happened a few years after we moved here.” Magpie gasps, why hadn’t Manon told her? As if reading her mind, Manon continues, “Our son Julien was playing with one of his friends, a lively little boy with big blue eyes. I was watching them from the kitchen window while I was cooking, but then the phone rang, and I got distracted. Eventually when I looked back outside, I saw only Julien. I walked over to him to ask where his friend was, and he said his friend had gone into the woods.” Manon takes a small break, lost in what is clearly a painful memory. 

“Did they ever find him?” asks Magpie, already knowing the answer to her question.

Manon shakes her head. “His parents were devastated. The entire village helped them search for the boy, but he was never found. It was like he had never even existed. Not a trace of him anywhere,” she says, sadly. “His mother blamed the spirits of the druids who used to live on this land. She thought they had taken her son somehow. Some say she never fully recovered and spent the rest of her life calling out to Dealan-dè to return him.”

“Is there any truth to it? What would make her think that?” asks Magpie, suppressing a shudder.

“There have been so many stories about the druids and their magical spells handed down through generations… perhaps it was easier to blame them than to accept the fact that sometimes terrible things just happen,” answers Manon, a strange look on her face.

Magpie feels like Manon is holding back, “What aren’t you telling me?” she asks.

“That little boy may have been the last person to disappear mysteriously, but he was not the first…”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for a special episode featuring my original story The Other Rachel, inspired by my Grandmother who will be turning 106 years old in just a few days. This strange and mysterious story is filled with nostalgia, and I’m very much looking forward to sharing it with you. The following week we'll continue with Wingspan chapter 17, Le Corbeau, where Lucas has a strange dream, and wakes up to even stranger circumstances.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts. 

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called The Activity Continues. Amy and Megan are fantastic hosts who discuss episodes of paranormal television show The Dead Files. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Thank you, once again, for listening. I'm Melissa Oliver and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 15 – Gateway - in which Lucas and Cormorant take a turn that will change the course of their lives, and Magpie’s, forever.

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 15 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas happened upon a small antique shop where he found an exact replica of the Skylark Bell.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 15 – Gateway - in which Lucas and Cormorant take a turn that will change the course of their lives, and Magpie’s, forever.

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

Cormorant’s hoof beats echo on the road. Lucas looks up at the ever-darkening sky, a small sense of worry starting to build in the pit of his stomach. How did he lose track of time like this? It was only early afternoon when he walked into the antique shop… at least he thought it was? Whatever the case, it is past dinnertime now and if he doesn’t hurry, he’s going to have to find his way home in the dark. They’ve reached the top of the cliff now, Goldcrest Manor rising regally to the left, steadfastly watching over the town below, and a thick wooded area stretching to the right. Lucas knows Carnifex House is directly on the other side of those woods, if he could cut through them, he might get back home before it is completely dark out. 

Suddenly, a red deer comes racing out of the woods just a few paces ahead of them. It stops in its tracks, and turns toward them, staring. Cormorant stands at attention, ears pointed straight ahead, every muscle at the ready should the situation warrant a quick getaway. “Chevreuil,” thinks Lucas, conjuring an image of Manon in his mind and smiling. The deer breathes out heavily, two clouds of condensed air forming at its nostrils, then pivots and runs back into the woods. Lucas and Cormorant take a few cautious steps forward and Lucas sees a faint path leading into the woods where the deer disappeared from view. “Well, I’m going to chalk this up to fate, if it’s good enough for the ‘chevreuil’ it’s good enough for me!” he says to the horse, pulling on the reins to guide Cormorant onto the path. Cormorant seems uneasy at first, but he and Lucas have formed a strong bond over the past few months, and he always does what his rider asks. The large horse steps hesitantly into the woods. If it could talk, it would probably ask Lucas what he thinks the deer was running away from in the first place…

Lucas and Cormorant have only been in the woods a few minutes and Lucas already feels doubt rising from deep in the pit of his stomach. It’s darker in the woods, the canopy above them filtering out most of the light, and the path doesn’t go straight across toward Carnifex House, but rather winds its way around some of the larger trees. Lucas can hear the rising chorus of crickets and night creatures, and he can smell the earthy scent of dead leaves as a low-lying layer of fog rises from the ground, brought on by the cooler evening air. 

A shudder runs through Lucas as he recalls the small boy on the beach earlier in the day. What were his exact words? You shouldn’t go into the woods? “It’s just a coincidence…” he says out loud, his voice sounding small among the ancient, towering trees surrounding him. Lucas glances behind him, wondering if they should turn around, but the path disappears from sight around the bend a few paces back. He decides to press on and he and Cormorant advance in silence, the only sound the shuffling of dead leaves and the gentle thud of Cormorant’s hooves on the dirt path. They’ve been walking for what feels like an eternity in the dimming light when Lucas hears the sound of chimes up ahead. Relief floods over him, they must be coming to the end of the woods and are probably approaching someone’s farm! With renewed energy he pushes Cormorant forward.

They come around a bend in the path and Lucas sees a tall arch made of branches and vines spanning over the path like a rainbow. It is more than large enough for he and Cormorant to walk under, but something deep inside tells him to proceed with caution. Lucas hears the chimes again and looks up. Tied to the top of the arch is a collection of trinkets, not unlike the ones at the antique shop; spoons, bells, windchimes, metal chains, precious stones and gems, all dangling from a variety of strings and ribbons, creating a strange symphony as they encounter one another when the breeze blows through. “How utterly bizarre!” whispers Lucas.

Noting that visibility has been greatly reduced in the time he and Cormorant have been walking through the woods he presses the horse to keep moving forward through the archway. Cormorant puts up a bit of a fuss but eventually concedes. As they pass through the arch, the wind picks up, making the noise of the tinkering objects above grow louder. The branches of the surrounding trees bend and stretch, their leaves creating a sound like the ocean. Lucas closes his eyes as the wind pushes up a cloud of dust from the path. He can still feel Cormorant’s body beneath him in the saddle, but he can no longer tell if they are moving or standing still. On the wind he can faintly hear a woman’s voice singing. Eyes still closed he strains to listen, and gradually the voice gets louder. It sounds surreal, mystical almost, not quite human. Lucas feels dizzy and disoriented, like his mind and body are separating, and his mind is being pulled toward the sound of the voice. He feels a sense of peace wash over him, and feels himself floating away on the sound waves, mesmerized. 

The wind slowly fades away, taking the singing with it, and Lucas takes a moment to come to his senses. He notes that he is still on Cormorant’s back, and the horse is standing perfectly still.  “What just happened?” he says to the horse, but Cormorant remains still and silent.

Lucas finally opens his eyes and sees a dusky sky above. They are no longer in the woods! He squints his eyes, still irritated from the dust, and notes that he and Cormorant are standing in a field next to a tall oak tree. In the distance he can see a road, and some houses. Something about the scene feels familiar to him but his mind still feels foggy. 

Suddenly, a crow caws loudly from a tree branch above, startling Cormorant and sending the massive animal galloping forward.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouts Lucas, holding on for dear life. He manages to quiet the horse after a few paces and pulls it to stop. They are now standing on a gravel road. Lucas catches his breath before hopping off Cormorant’s back. He leads the horse up a nearby driveway, hoping to find someone to point him in the direction of Carnifex House. Magpie will be beside herself with worry at this point!

Lucas walks a few paces alongside Cormorant before glancing up at the house ahead. He feels a mixture of confusion and horror wash over him as he realizes what he is looking at. Standing before him, washed in the last fading light of day, is Magpie’s old farmhouse in Pocket. Lucas stops in his tracks, his entire body trembling. He hears the ringing in his ears growing louder as he stands staring at the impossible scene before him. A man steps out the front door of the house and starts walking toward him, just as Lucas loses consciousness.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 16, Nightfall, where Magpie begins to worry after Lucas and Cormorant don’t return from their ride, and Manon provides some very unsettling information.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 7 – Pocaid - in which Magpie and Lucas arrive in the quaint little Scottish town of Pocaid, but the welcome isn't as warm as they hoped.

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 7 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie had yet another strange, very realistic unexplained experience as she and Lucas were on the ferry taking them from to the island.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 7 – Pocaid – in which Magpie and Lucas finally arrive in the quaint town of Pocaid on the Isle of Skye, and encounter a strange reaction from the residents at the mention of Carnifex House.

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

It feels like their driver has been expertly navigating the long, winding, narrow roads forever when suddenly Magpie and Lucas find themselves driving along the coast, the salty smell of the sea drifting into the open car windows.

As they come around the bend Magpie lets out a gasp, just ahead is a quaint seaside village, each row house painted a different colour, the gray of the steep cliff rising behind them creating a stark contrast despite being marred by the bright green of the odd tree. A large stone manor stands perched atop the cliff, overlooking the town and the ocean beyond.

“Welcome to Pòcaid! Sure is somethin’, ain’t it?” says the driver, a knowing smile on his face. Clearly this isn’t the first time he’s seen the reaction of newcomers as they first drive into town. “That up there is Goldcrest Manor and Goldcrest Gardens, been there for centuries…” he says, nodding toward the top of the cliff. “Would you like to stop in town for a moment, get your bearings before I take you up to the house?” he asks

“Getting out of the car for a moment sounds great.” Says Lucas, making eye contact with Magpie to confirm she’s on board. Magpie promptly nods in agreement.

The driver parks along the seaside, across from the rainbow of row houses and steps out.  Magpie and Lucas join him, the wind blowing their hair and carrying the driver’s voice as the starts telling them about the town. “Along the main street you’ll find the post office, Crake’s general store, the gift shop… then there’s The Capercaillie Art Gallery, lots of amazing artists ‘round these parts!” he says proudly. “Then if you’re hungry there’s the Red Kite Café, they have a great seasonal menu. Next to them are some offices – lawyers, accountants and the like – then the Whimbrel Inn, and last, but certainly not least, is the Skye Blue Bakery, it’s the oldest bakery on all the island! You won’t find better bread and morning buns on the mainland, that I can assure you!” The love of his land can be heard in the driver’s voice, which makes Magpie and Lucas even more excited to go check everything out. They thank him and head off.

“Where shall we start?!” asks Magpie

“How about we go in order from left to right?” suggests Lucas

“Works for me!” she says, as they start walking.

A sign above the door reads “Mr. Crake’s Odds n’ Ends” in large bright blue letters with “General Store” printed in white underneath. A small bell signals their arrival as they step through the door. The store looks larger on the inside than they would have guessed. It clearly serves as a grocery store and pharmacy as well as providing basic household needs like towels and cleaning supplies. Then there are the “odds n’ ends” mentioned on the sign – everything from horse riding boots to cat toys, tools and office supplies… this is definitely a one-stop shop! 

“How are you doing this fine day?” says a pleasant voice as a large man with a thick silver beard makes his way around the counter.

“Hello! We’re great, thank you for asking!” replies Magpie. 

“Anything I can help you find?” he asks. The man’s demeanor and personality are so inviting they instantly make Magpie and Lucas feel comfortable. “I know the store can look a bit messy to newcomers, but I know exactly where everything is! Just last week Joe Dotterel was in here looking for a fairy castle for his daughter’s birthday and guess what, I knew exactly where to find one! Poor Joe had to pick his jaw up off the floor, he was so sure he had me with that one!” The man lets out a belly laugh that echoes off the walls of the store, making some of the knick-knacks on the pegs behind him flitter back and forth.

“We’re actually just looking around for today,” says Lucas. “We’re new here, though I’m sure you noticed,” he adds shyly.

“Aye, had an inkling maybe you weren’t from these parts,” says the man, his smile warm and inviting. “Well, I’m Mr. Crake, got that sign outside the door to remind me in case I forget.” He says, chuckling at his own joke, his huge hands splayed across his protruding midsection.

“I’m Magpie, and this is Lucas,” says Magpie, smiling back at him.

“Lovely to meet you both, and welcome to Pòcaid, I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. Will you be staying at the Whimbrel Inn?” he inquires.

“No, actually, we’re moving into Carnifex House,” answers Magpie “It used to belong to some ancestors of mine.”

At this, the man’s smile vanishes from his face and his brow furrows. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you both, I’d better get on with my work,” he says, rather shortly, before heading back behind the counter to reorganize some pegs with varying office supplies.

“Okay, nice to meet you…” says Magpie awkwardly as she and Lucas exchange a look of confusion and head back toward the door.

“Did you see how he reacted when you mentioned Carnifex House?” asks Lucas as they step back out onto the sidewalk.

“Yes, it was very strange. Maybe there’s some ancient rivalry between his family and mine or something,” shrugs Magpie. “I don’t want to read too much into it, I’m sure it’s nothing,” she adds, mostly to convince herself.

They walk past the gift shop, peering in the window to see a myriad of trinkets; local woolen goods, tartans, stuffed animals shaped like highland cows and sheep, blankets, jewelry. “Let’s come back here to buy some gifts to send back home when we have more time,” says Magpie. Lucas nods in agreement. They amble past the art gallery, which is closed, its limited hours posted on a small tidy sign in the door. The Gallery’s oversized display window features a large painting of a white and gray bird with black wings and red eyes. Magpie shivers slightly at the sight of it, beautiful but intimidating. 

Next door to the gallery is the Red Kite Café, an easel on the sidewalk boasting about the daily specials in perfect cursive handwriting. 

Cullen Skink

Pies n’ a pint – (with vegetarian options!) exclamation point, written in parentheses

fresh fish n’ chips with mushy peas

Carissa’s famous cauliflower curry

and for dessert:

Cranachan with local berries & honey

“I don’t even know what some of those are!” says Lucas, laughing. Magpie giggles in agreement.

“But I’m excited to find out!” she adds.

Just then, a waitress walks up to them. “Hullo!” she says pleasantly, “will you be dining with us today?” 

“Not today, but we are curious, what is Cullen Skink?” asks Magpie.

“And Cranachan?!” pipes up Lucas.

The waitress laughs wholeheartedly “Ah! Well, Cullen Skink is a bit like chowder, but heartier and smokier… and better!” she adds with a wink, whispering to them from behind her hand,    “and Cranachan is a dessert made with berries, honey, whiskey, oats and whipped cream… it’s like eating a sweet little cloud” she ends.

“That all sounds wonderful!” exclaims Magpie. “If we had more time, I would take one of each of everything right now, I’m starving! But we need to get to Carnifex House before dark,” she adds.

The woman immediately takes a step back, recoiling from Magpie. “Well, we’ll see you some other time then,” she stutters with a forced smile before turning and walking swiftly back into the café.

“What on earth…?!” says Lucas “Magpie, that’s twice now… something is going on.”

Magpie grabs his hand as they keep walking. They are almost at the end of the street, having raced past the office building and the inn, with only The Skye Blue Bakery left to check out. As they are approaching the door a hand appears from behind the glass and quickly flips the “open” sign to “closed”. Without skipping a beat, the shades in the windows on either side of the door drop violently. 

Dismayed, Lucas and Magpie glance at each other before turning back. They can no longer deny there is something about Carnifex House that the people of Pòcaid aren’t telling them. Perhaps, the best thing to do at this point is head up there to find out what it is for themselves. Magpie and Lucas cross the street and walk back to the car, the driver leaning on the hood looking out at the beach. “Did you have a nice visit?” he asks.

Magpie nods quietly as they get into the car. The driver revs up the engine and the car turns onto the steep, winding road that will take them up the cliff to Carnifex House.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 8, Carnifex House, in which Magpie and Lucas finally reach their destination, and lay eyes on Carnifex House for the first time.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

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.

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 read the chapter 38 – Skye Dive – in which Magpie and Farfalla's plan is set in motion.

This week's podcast partner is Cozyland: http://www.cozylandpod.com

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 38 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Magpie and Farfalla came face to face and devised a plan to end the time loops once and for all.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 38 – Skye Dive – in which their plan is set in motion.

Today’s podcast partner is Cozyland. Hosted by my dear friend Amy and me, Cozyland takes peek at those movies that make us feel warm inside. The ones that often have predictable plots and character traits that repeat from one film to the next. From Hallmark Holiday movies to films about food, fashion, and travel, to the cozy mysteries we like to dive into both in book and TV format... cozyland has all your comfort needs covered. Check the show notes for a link to the Cozyland podcast.

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

We didn’t get up from that table until every step of the plan was clear to both of us. 

She really thought this through. She’s brilliant. Like Elisabeth. Like me.

Part of me is afraid this won’t work, that I am going to lose her like I’ve lost everyone else in my life. I would take on the task myself, but it is impossible. I cannot cross my own timeline in this form. She is our only hope. We can’t keep going on like this, something needs to be done.

We waited until it was night, then walked to Meadow Lane hand in hand. It pained me to see the house so disheveled. The place where Paloma and I laughed and played, where Papa spun us in the air at the end of his arms, where Mama would shout to us that “Dinner’s ready!”. I thought back to the days when Cousin Bruno and Auntie Freda would come to visit, he would whip out his camera to photograph the trees and animals, and Auntie Freda would throw apples from the porch, too afraid of the wildlife to get any closer. 

Strangely, after I left Meadow Lane it seems as though I thought it would stay the same forever. Yet, unbeknownst to me, time slowly ravaged it, and I found myself shocked that it wasn’t in the same condition today, nearly a century later, as the day I left. It is nonsensical, I know, but nostalgia is a matter of the heart, not the mind.

Magpie had to remind me that time was of the essence, or I would have fallen deep down the rabbit hole of memories. We noted the gentle breeze that was thankfully swinging the Skylark Bell back and forth on its hook where Magpie had placed it mere hours ago. I did allow myself a moment to stare at it and think back to the day Marius gifted it to me. I must admit I had a brief moment of doubt knowing that what we were about to do would all but ensure Marius and I would never meet, but I swallowed it down. The most I can hope for is that I will not remember any of these lifetimes, that I will have no recollection of Marius at all. Once cannot pine for something one has never known.

We walked to the Oak Tree, and I circled my arms around its massive trunk. The tree was even larger than I remembered. I felt its life pulsing beneath the bark and smiled. Finally, it was time for me to play my part in this plan. I held Magpie in my arms for a long time before instructing her to place her hand on the Oak Tree. She told me she thought she could feel a heartbeat and I smiled. I asked if she was ready and she nodded, so I started singing that mythical song, and something strange happened, the tree started singing along, its harmonies weaving in and out, cresting and falling, sending Magpie to a different time and place. 

She disappeared about 3 minutes ago, and I have been sitting here with my head leaning on the tree, listening to our synchronized heartbeats, wishing, and hoping for only one thing: To forget.

~~~~~~

Magpie stares in awe at the archway that stretches over the forest path. She remembers if from her previous lifetimes but seeing it in person gives it whole new meaning. It is truly a work of art. She gives herself a moment to get her bearings, unsure of which direction she should take. Suddenly, a red deer appears on the path ahead.

“Hello Ru,” she says, smiling. Farfalla had mentioned she would do her best to somehow send him to guide her. The deer turns and takes quick, graceful strides along the path between the trees. Magpie scurries to follow it, hoping it isn’t tricking her into going deeper into the woods.

Finally, they reach the tree line and Magpie sees the fields that stretch to Carnifex House, and the large rock that separates their property from the neighbouring farm. Magpie turns to the deer. “Thank you,” she whispers, leaning close to its face. The deer’s soft, knowing eyes tell her all she needs to know. If she succeeds, she will somehow be helping it live a better, happier life too. Somehow it has gotten trapped in these endless time loops with her and Farfalla. Magpie watches as the deer disappears back into the forest.

“Hullo,”

The small voice startles Magpie, who spins on her heel to look behind her. A small face is peeking out from behind the rock. “Hi Ash,” she says, smiling at the boy. 

The boy’s big blue eyes light up for a moment, but quickly find themselves filled with concern. “You need to hurry, she’s almost at the cliff,” he says, pointing to an area beyond the field. 

Magpie gives the boy and encouraging smile and nods. “Thank you,” she shouts over her shoulder as she begins her race against time. She can feel the slick wetness of the morning dew coating the grass beneath her feet as she races toward the cliff. Everything feels surreal. She has had so many visions, so many dreams... It’s hard for her to distinguish between those and reality. But this is the plan, this is where she is supposed to be, and she knows exactly what she must do. Real or not, this is her only chance.

Magpie sees Farfalla ahead, white gown and red hair both blowing in the wind as she races toward the edge of the cliff. Magpie remembers seeing her before, from a vantage point down below, perhaps in a boat. Was that real? Was it a dream? She’s almost certain it’s a memory.

To Magpie’s dismay, Farfalla stops running and stands at the edge of the cliff, her arm stretched back in preparation to fling the bell over into the sea.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” shouts Magpie at the top of her lungs, but her words are instantly carried away on the wind. She recalls that the earth, the water, the air... the world!... had heaved when that bell hit the crashing waves below. Whether it was a dream or a vision or reality, she knows she has to stop that from happening. This is the only way to close both Farfalla’s time loop and her own. If the bell never hits the water, young Farfalla won’t travel back in time and will never create the bell in the first place. There won’t be a silence at Meadow Lane, Lucas will never disappear, Marius will never exist... 

Magpie keeps running, as fast as her feet will take her, and watches in horror as Farfalla’s arm swings forward and the bell is released from her hand. Magpie sees a shard of sunlight reflect off it as it soars into the air, as if in slow motion. She keeps running to the edge, not slowing down, not stopping. She keeps running even though she can no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. She stretches out her hand as far as it will go and grasps the bell, her fingers closing tightly around it. She brings it in close to her chest and heaves a sigh of relief, but the feeling of joy is short-lived as she comes to the realization that she is falling, falling, falling…

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 39 – Nothing – in which Magpie finds herself at a crossroads.

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 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.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 36 – Crossing the Line - in which Magpie, after decades of living in Pocket under Farfalla’s identity, finally crosses paths with a familiar face.

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Paranormal Exposed:

FULL TRANSCRIPT: 

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

In our previous episode, Magpie was finally reunited with Lucas for the last time, allowing them both to gain closure before he passed away.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 36 – Crossing the Line - in which Magpie, after decades of living in Pocket under Farfalla’s identity, finally crosses paths with a familiar face.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of another spooky podcast I quite enjoy called Paranormal Exposed.

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

Magpie is carrying several jars of blackberry jam in a basket, taking slow shuffling steps toward Tuffeto’s. She’s not as strong and limber as she once was, and the basket feels heavy.

“Good morning, Farfalla,” says Mr. Tuffeto pleasantly as she walks in the door, “I’ve got your package ready to go right here, just a moment,” he says, placing the last of the cupcakes in the display case before stepping behind the counter.  

Magpie hears the bakery door open behind her, followed by light footsteps on the hardwood floor. Her heart jumps when she hears a familiar voice say, “Oh my, the smell in here is absolutely divine!”

“Fresh baked bread will do it every time,” says Mr. Tuffeto, turning his attention to the woman.

Magpie can feel her heart shattering into a million pieces. She hasn’t heard her mother’s voice in nearly 60 years. She swallows down the lump in her throat and blinks back the tears that have sprung in her eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to skip the line, please go ahead,” says Mrs. Phaeton, noticing Magpie standing against the wall. Magpie continues to stare straight ahead, knowing she will break down if she turns to look at her mother’s beautiful face.

Mr. Tuffeto, sensing awkwardness, asks Mrs. Phaeton “What brings you in today?”

“My daughter and I are having a dinner date tonight, I thought I’d stop in for a baguette and perhaps some dessert,” she replies.

Mr. Tuffeto points her in the direction of the cupcakes, then grabs a baguette from the basket on the counter behind him and places it by the cash register. Finally, he brings Magpie’s package over while Mrs. Phaeton is busy choosing desserts from the glass display case. Magpie hands him the basket with the jars of jam and scurries away, tears still stinging her eyes. She shuffles home as quickly as her century-old legs will allow. Once inside her house she collapses into her rocking chair and pulls the green shawl over her knees. Only then does she allow her tears to flow. She has always known this day would come, but she has spent so many years lost in the blur of her daily routine, she lost track of time. “And so begins the end…” she says to herself between heaving sobs.

Magpie stays home for a few days, terrified of running into her mother again. Finally, realizing she can’t stay hidden forever, she makes her way to The Early Bird for breakfast, but instead of her routine shuffle to and from the diner she is on high alert, constantly looking around. 

She can’t remember the exact day she first encountered Farfalla in her youth, it has been almost 90 years. She knows at some point she will come face to face with herself, and the thought sends a chill down her spine as she recalls Lucas’ final words, “Crossing timelines sparked the silence.” After a few weeks of business-as-usual, Magpie starts to let her guard down. Perhaps the events won’t repeat exactly, perhaps things will be different this time.

On a warm summer day, she decides to spend a little extra time on her front porch before heading to The Early Bird. She sits quietly, soaking in the sun, throwing pieces of dried corn to the little chipmunk that has taken residence under the flagstone walkway on her front lawn. Finally, she starts to feel hungry and makes her way to the diner.

“Farfalla, you’re late!” teases Mrs. Kestrel by tapping her watch as Magpie walks in the door. Magpie smiles at her as she slowly makes her way to her usual booth at the back of the restaurant. She takes her time savouring her usual blackberry waffles and sweet orange tea, watching as the residents of Pocket come and go. Of all the places in Pocket, The Early Bird has pretty much remained the same in the 53 years since she landed here, and it provides her with a sense of comfort and security.

Finally, Magpie is ready to go home. She stands and walks slowly across the dining room to the exit. She pushes the door open and steps out into the light of day, the wind blowing her long white hair wildly around her head. It takes her a moment to realize there is someone standing in front of her. A wave of shock runs through her body when she recognizes her younger self; wild red hair, a spattering of freckles across her nose, bright blue eyes staring at her, opened as wide as they will go. It is only a fleeting moment. Magpie pushes past and walks as quickly as her old feet can handle. 

It has happened. The day has come. She feels the electricity in the air, and that invisible heaving of the earth beneath her feet. The crossing of timelines. The silence at Meadow Lane will start to spread now, it has all been set in motion. The memories come to her in a flash, one after the other. Next, she will see her younger self and Lucas having a picnic on the front lawn of the library. She recalls how, back then, she had felt sorry for Farfalla’s lonely existence. Little did she know…

Magpie finally reaches her house and lets herself fall into one of the chairs on the front porch, not having the strength to find her key, unlock the door, and let herself inside. She sits for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Something is tingling at the back of her mind, something off, something wrong. 

A blackbird lands on the porch railing, staring at her with its round shiny eyes. Slowly, Magpie realizes what it is that is bothering her. That day she and Lucas had a picnic, just after she had seen Farfalla across the street, a flock of birds had flown overhead and one of them had dropped a blackberry on her lap. She had placed the blackberry in the picnic basket, but later on it had disappeared, leaving a small silver feather-shaped key in its place. A key that had eventually unlocked the box in which the Skylark Bell was stored, beneath the secret floorboard at Meadow Lane. At the time, and for many years later, she and Lucas had presumed Farfalla was the one behind this magic trick, like she was gifted with special powers of some sort.

Magpie is well aware she has no such powers. While she is friendly with the birds on her porch, she certainly cannot control how and where they fly, or when. Nor can she transform a berry into a key. But, if she wasn’t responsible for the strange occurrences, then… who?

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 37, The Beginning of the End, where Magpie, still living as Farfalla and knowing she is running out of time, tries to warn her younger self in a final attempt to set the timelines straight.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Paranormal Exposed. Listen to the skeptic host’s take on paranormal stories. If you enjoy the the more ghostly side of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check out paranormal exposed.

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 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 read Chapter 19 – One Step Forward, One Century Back - in which Lucas comes to terms with the fact that he has travelled back nearly a century to early 1920s Pocket.

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

Horror Roulette Podcast: http://www.horrorroulette.com

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 19 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Manon Sarcelle recounted the mysterious disappearances of several people in a conversation with Magpie.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 19 – One Step Forward, One Century Back - in which Lucas comes to terms with the fact that he has travelled back nearly a century to early 1920s Pocket.

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

Lucas has no notion of how long he’s been sleeping. The past several hours, or days, are a haze… a kaleidoscope of blankets, muffled speaking around him, sipping soup from a mug, the crackling of a fire nearby. Finally, today he feels a little more clearheaded, and he sits up in bed to get his bearings. He is in a small, simple room that feels vaguely familiar. He notes a wooden dresser and wardrobe, with matching nightstand by the bed, a small wooden chair in the corner, and a handmade rug on the floor. On the nightstand he sees an antique oil lamp and a carafe with water, a half empty water glass next to it. A gentle knock on the door startles him, and the door slowly creaks open to let a smiling woman with gentle brown eyes into the room.

“Good afternoon, Marius. How wonderful to see you sitting up, you must be feeling a bit better!” she says happily. “Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps some stew? Or maybe a cold washcloth for your face?” she asks.

Lucas feels disoriented. He looks out the window and sees a familiar scene outside; Mirror Pond in the quarry, and Meadow Lane to its left, a blooming apple orchard behind it and people working in the fields on either side. “Wh-where am I?” he asks.

“Oh dear, please forgive me, of course you must feel a little disoriented. You are just on the outskirts of a small town called Pocket. My name is Charlotte, Charlotte Carnifex. My husband Edward and I live here with our son James,” she says. 

Just then, Lucas hears the sound of a small bell and feels a sudden pressure on his feet at the end of the bed. He turns to look at sees a small cream-coloured cat with a brown face, paws, and tail. The cat gives him a knowing look with its striking blue eyes. “Scarlet!” he whispers under his breath.

“Oh! This is Cerise, my cat! She doesn’t like to feel left out, follows me absolutely everywhere!” laughs Charlotte.

Slowly, the veil is lifted from Lucas’ mind. The impossibility of the situation sending him reeling… He has time travelled. He is in Pocket. It must be sometime in the 1920s. Charlotte and Edward Carnifex are the owners of what would eventually become Magpie’s house. Scarlet the cat, whose… ghost, for lack of a better word, would eventually visit Magpie in the future, is here now, alive and well, living under her original name of Cerise. How any of this is possible is far beyond his comprehension and trying to sort it out is far too overwhelming. Lucas decides to keep things simple. They think he is Marius Corbeau, so be it. He will assume the name until he can find a way home, a way back to Magpie.

“You know, some stew and a cold washcloth sounds great,” says Lucas, smiling at Charlotte.

She nods and turns toward the door. As she is about to step out, she mentions “Oh, you’re probably wondering about your horse, we brought him to the stables next door, he is safe and well cared for. What an incredible animal he is, I’ve never seen anything like it! Where is he from?”

“Cormorant… He came with me… from Europe…” stammers Lucas, realizing that the stories he heard about Marius and his horse are actually playing out as written. He starts to think of how those stories end, but pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind. He would be back home with Magpie in his own time long before any of that took place. 

Later that day Lucas feels well enough to get out of bed and explore his surroundings a little. Around the corner from his room, he sees the stairway to the attic in its original form, before Edward walled it off when they left the house in the terrible winter of 1925. He realizes that Magpie’s closet hasn’t been built yet, that it will probably be created at the same time as the attic stairway is hidden. Lucas heads up the staircase to the attic, flashbacks of he and Magpie just a couple of years ago… or 90 years into the future depending on how you look at it… bouncing around in his mind. The attic is relatively bare, though the cradle with James’ name engraved on the side is up there, along with a rocking horse and dress form. He walks to the small round window that looks out the front of the house and sees Meadow Lane in the distance. 

Lucas is lost in thought when a sound behind him catches his attention, the bell on the cat collar.  Cerise walks up to him and rubs up against his legs.  “Hello old friend,” he says to the cat “Long time no see.” He bends down to scratch its ears and the cat purrs loudly. “Alright, why don’t we head downstairs,” he says. The cat looks up at him with its large blue eyes, like it knows everything about everything; the past, the future… He wishes it could tell him how to get back home.

“Ah, hello son! Back up and at ‘em, eh?” Edward Carnifex is sitting at the dining room table as Lucas is coming down the stairs.

“Yes, feeling much better sir, thank you so much for your kindness and hospitality,” replies Lucas.

“Make no mention of it, here in Pocket we help each other out!” he replies. “Charlotte told me you’ve come all the way from Europe, you and your beast of a horse!”

“Yes, that’s right,” replies Lucas. Technically, it’s not a lie… he just hasn’t mentioned that along with the distance he also travelled back nearly 100 years and has no idea how it happened.

“Are you just passing through or will you be staying in town for a while? If you’re needing work, I’m a carpenter and have been looking for an apprentice, I reckon you’d do a fine job,” he says, smiling warmly.

“To be honest with you, I haven’t quite decided what I’m going to do just yet, but for the time that I’m here I’d be honoured to learn from you and work by your side,” he says. Just then a boy, perhaps 14 years old, saunters into the room, his blond hair rebelliously pushing off his head in different directions.

“Marius! I’d like you to meet our son, James! I’ve asked him to be my apprentice, but he has other notions… likes working with numbers and papers and the like this one, he’ll make a fine businessman or accountant someday I reckon!” he says, playfully ruffling the boy’s hair.

“It’s nice to meet you, James,” stammers Lucas, in awe that he is shaking hands with the boy who would grow up to be Magpie’s Great-Great-Grandfather. The whole situation is surreal!

“Nice to meet you as well, sir!” says the boy, smiling pleasantly, his handshake firm.

“I’ve been meaning to check on my horse,” says Lucas “might you show me where to find him?” he asks.

“Sure thing!” says James, motioning toward the back of the house. 

Lucas steps around the large dining room table, the same one that will still be in the room nearly 100 years later when Magpie and her mom move into the house. They walk through to the kitchen where Charlotte is busy baking pies and cleaning pots and pans. She smiles at them as they walk through. Lucas notes with amazement that the antique stove is also the same one he saw at Magpie’s house. He shudders at the impossibility of it all and follows James out the back door.

“We don’t have stables at our house, but we keep our horses next door at the Starling’s farm, so we brought your horse there too. He’s something else ain’t he?!” says James as they step between the fence rails separating the Carnifex’s house from the one next door. At the sound of his last name, Starling, Lucas freezes in his tracks.

“What did you say?” he asks.

“I said he’s somethin’ else ain’t he? Your horse I mean! Never seen anything like it!” repeats James.

“No, I mean after that, did you say the Starling farm?” asks Lucas.

“Oh yeah, they live next door. Nice folks. Always there to help if you need it. I’m sure you’ll meet them sometime. The youngest boy, Gordon, he’s always out and about exploring. We go to school together, but he misses a lot of days, goes out poking ‘round the fields and woods like he’s discovered a new continent or sumthin’,” says James, laughing.

Gordon. Gordon Starling. Lucas remembers the name from his Grandma Gemma’s ancient family photo album. She’d point out the different people in the photos, remembering most of their names, even the ones she hadn’t met. She used to refer to him as Grandpa Gordon, which means he is Lucas’ Great-Great-Grandfather!

“You comin’?” shouts James, now several paces ahead of Lucas. Reeling, Lucas nods, and follows him into the field behind the house he was living in with his grandmother only a few months before.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 20, Moonlight, where Magpie and Lucas live parallel lives across time and space. 

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, this gives the show more visibility so others can find and enjoy it as well. You can also support my work through a donation via your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes and so much more! Check the show notes for links.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Horror Roulette. Em and Nick are fantastic hosts who discuss paranormal events and true crime. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Thank you.

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 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 will hear the story of The Redheaded Hitchhiker. There have been many counts of this apparition over several decades spanning from the 1960s to today. You can hear more about these real-life accounts by listening to Haunted UK podcast. Our take, however, looks at the story from a different perspective... that of the ghost himself!

RELEASED BOOPOD NETWORK BRIDGEWATER EPISODES:

The Nightcap: https://open.spotify.com/episode/5v8a6ZAcqzAObnB8Zcp8ZH?si=gsvVnq-oRXKRzCMMg8vWGA

Haunted UK: https://open.spotify.com/episode/50nqVyMn1x49mNC2WnflGv?si=N77SJPXQQFO9zaGoZ9Vp1A

UPCOMING BOOPOD NETWORK BRIDGEWATER EPISODES:

Mums, Mysteries, & Murder (October 18th): https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

Spilling the Crime (October 20th): https://linktr.ee/spillingthecrime

Shittin' Bricks (October 21st): https://shittin-bricks.captivate.fm/

Paranormal Exposed (October 26th): https://www.instagram.com/theparanormaltruth/

The Activity Continues (October 28th): https://www.podpage.com/the-activity-continues/

OTHER BOOPOD NETWORK PODCASTS:

Generally Spooky: https://generallyspooky.com/

Horror Roulette: https://horrorroulette.com/

Murder Roadtrip: https://anchor.fm/shannon-quinn6

Haunted or Hoax: https://hauntedorhoax.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

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT: 

Things with Wings Productions presents: A Boopod Network Special Collaboration with The Skylark Bell. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

As some of you may know, The Skylark Bell is proud to be associated with the Boopod Network of paranormal and true crime podcasts. Spooky Season has arrived! Join us in celebrating throughout the month of October with the Boopod as we host a one-of-a-kind collaborative project spanning 8 different podcasts. Each podcast will release one episode covering an aspect of the mysterious Bridgewater Triangle area. If you haven’t heard of the Bridgewater Triangle, we suggest you first listen to the project’s introductory episode by The Nightcap. Links to all participating podcasts and the episodes released so far as part of this collaboration are available in the show notes.

The Bridgewater Triangle is located in Massachusetts, USA, and is known for various eerie and unexplained occurrences ranging from ghosts, aliens, and cryptids to crimes, cults, and even native American lore.

In today’s episode, we will hear the story of The Redheaded Hitchhiker. There have been many counts of this apparition over several decades spanning from the 1960s to today. You can hear more about these real-life accounts by listening to Haunted UK podcast. Our take, however, looks at the story from a different perspective... that of the ghost himself!

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

The little girl stands in the middle of the road, the glare from the headlights of the oncoming car illuminating the pale blue of her dress. She waves her arms frantically in the air, a desperate attempt to get the driver’s attention. The car continues on its forward trajectory and drives straight through her. 

They didn’t see her. Again. They never see her. They didn’t see her the first time either, not until it was too late. The girl had watched from the side of the road as the frantic driver leaned over her lifeless body lying on the pavement. She’s been at the side of the road ever since, repeating the grisly scene over and over with each passing car; invisible to every last one.

I chuckle as I watch her walk dejectedly back to the gravel shoulder on the side of the road. We’ve been sharing this makeshift home for decades now. Ever since.... well, we don’t need to talk about that. I was here before her, of course. I saw it all go down. I made it all go down... but we don’t need to talk about that either. Not Yet.

I’m Jim. Jim Favreau. You’ve probably never heard my name, but I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of me. I appear to have been dubbed The Red-Headed Hitchhiker. 

It’s so funny, I spent years doing all the right things: Working hard, raising a family, farming the land, feeding the people... I went to church, I volunteered at the soup kitchen, donated money to the poor when I had it... I did everything right, and life did me wrong. 

It only took a moment. One stand-still moment in time. My entire life, all 43 years, all the joy and heartache, all the blood, sweat, and tears, all for nothing. In one millisecond, it was finished. Over. At least, the living was over. The... after... that was just beginning. 

At first, I stayed by the side of the road, confused. I was still decked out in my farm clothes: A red and black checkered shirt, blue jeans, and work boots. Nothing about me looked different, but everything had changed. Apparently, I died instantly when the tractor hit me as I was bent fixing the flat tire on my truck by the side of Route 44. I stood by the side of the road for what felt like a lifetime, then eventually I wandered up and down along the shoulder, but every time I would reach the mile markers on either side of where I died, I would be zapped back to my starting point. A mile of road, that was my turf. 

I spent years alone, watching as cars drove by, cars broke down, cars swerved around deer... cars with businessmen, briefcases, mothers, children, luggage, dogs with their heads out the windows. It took a little time, but I realized after a while that the dogs could see me. Their ears would perk up, and some would even bark. After decades alone by the side of the road, I started to form an idea in my mind. Maybe, just maybe, if the dogs could see me, I could get the people to see me too. That’s how it all started. Never underestimate loneliness, it can make the best of us turn into the worst.

The first time, I stood by the road and stuck my thumb out. Maybe if someone saw me and picked me up, I could escape the confines of this small stretch of highway. I stood there for hours from dawn to dusk until night enveloped the road and the forest behind me. I was about to give up when I saw headlights in the distance. The car was moving fast. I set one foot onto the pavement and jutted my arm out, thumb in the air. The car showed no sign of slowing down. As it whizzed by, I placed my hands on either side of the passenger window and leaned my face against the glass. The man turned his head and looked at me, saw me! In that moment something came over me, something broke, the me that I had been all my life, decades ago, the kind, hardworking, family man, disappeared in the blink of an eye. In that moment, I became free, free of all expectations, free of all inhibitions, and I started to laugh. I laughed and laughed like a madman. The release was enthralling! The power to scare this man was intoxicating, and I wanted more!

After that first time, I had several unsuccessful attempts at being seen. It took almost 5 years before it happened again. I was standing by the side of the road in the dark, my thumb haphazardly stuck out without much hope of success. To my amazement, the car slowed and pulled over a few feet ahead of me. I walked to the car and let myself in, dazed and in disbelief. Perhaps I would finally escape this place! The man started asking me questions... where I’m from, where I’m going... I kept quiet for the longest time, until I could feel him squirming with discomfort, then I turned to him and grinned. Not the friendly grin I used to offer the pastor or the baker in my Other Life, but the grin of a man with nothing left to lose, including his life. The man slowed down and drove onto the shoulder. I noted the mile marker just a few feet ahead of us... I was so close! The man began to demand that I get out, and as the car passed the mile marker I felt him, his car, and my surroundings fade away. I let out a bitter, echoing laugh.  In a flash I was back where I’d started.

It took me decades to perfect my craft. I had finally found my new calling: Scaring people. There’s something about fear, about being the cause of fear, that gives me great energy. The more frightened people become the more I am capable of. Over and over again I would scare people as they drove down Route 44. Sometimes I would follow them as they walked to a service station looking to mend a broken-down car, sometimes I would simply vanish when they stopped to pick me up, sometimes I would get in their car and laugh and laugh and laugh. I even discovered a neat trick over time, I learned to make my voice come out of the car radio. That stunt really put fear in their bellies!

One of those times, I hopped in the passenger seat of a car driven by a woman. She didn’t stop to pick me up, I just dropped in. She began screaming when she saw me, and I started to laugh. Our chorus of screams and laughter filled the entire car as she stared at me in horror. It was in that moment that she hit the girl. The little girl in the pale blue dress who had stayed out too late playing in the woods by her grandparent’s farm. The little girl who had finally wandered onto the road and was waving her hands at the oncoming car for help. The little girl who died almost exactly where I died, in almost exactly the same way. 

I’m watching her now, starting her routine again. Over and over. She steps onto the road, waving her arms frantically. The cars go through her, every time. They never see her. I giggle and let myself into the car, relishing the panic in the driver’s eyes. The little girl walks dejectedly back to the side of the road, and I laugh and laugh and laugh...

Thank you so much for listening.  Please be sure to follow the podcasts within the Boopod Network to enjoy all the episodes pertaining to The Bridgewater Triangle. Up next in the collaboration is Mums Mysteries and Murder on October 18^th, they will cover the murder of Mary Lou Arruda which occurred in the Freetown-Fall state forest.

Then, join me next week for a special collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast where they share a real-life paranormal experience for which The Skylark Bell re-writes a fictional account. Be sure to check the show notes for links to all Boopod Network and Collaborating podcasts! 

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Here is a list of Boopod Network Podcasts:

Mums, Mysteries & Murder

Generally Spooky

Murder Road Trip

Haunted Or Hoaxed

Shittin’ Bricks

Horror Roulette

The Activity Continues

Spilling The Crime

Paranormal Exposed

The Nightcap

Haunted UK

and of course... The Skylark Bell

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.

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 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.

Today's Skylark Special episode features the first 4 chapters of the new book I am writing titled The Tales of Ledia Roy.

As you may know, in January we will begin reading SkyeDive, the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy. With the end of the Skylark books in mind, I’ve started writing a brand-new book, which will likely also turn into a series, called The Tales of Ledia Roy. The first book is called Now You See Me, and today we’ll be reading the first 4 chapters. I hope you enjoy this new story, with new characters, new scenery, and new adventures. If you enjoy this episode and want to read more, I am releasing chapters as I write them exclusively on Patreon, where you can join for as little as $1/month – $12 for an entire year of unlimited access to all my content: Music, Writing, and early access to podcast episodes. It’s a great value and it helps support my work.

PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

KO-FI: https://ko-fi.com/theskylarkbell

WEBSITE: https://melissaoliveri.com/the-skylark-bell

INSTAGRAM: @theskylarkbell

FACEBOOK: /theskylarkbell

TWITTER: @melissaoliveri

MUSIC by CANNELLE: https://melissaoliveri.com/cannelle-music

MERCH: https://melissaoliveri.com/store

Now, back to our new friend Ledia, here's a synopsis, to give you an idea of where things are headed:

Ledia Roy is neurodivergent, a musician, and a happenstance clairvoyant. After years of trying to earn a living in music, her big break comes from the unlikeliest of places when a friend interviews her for his indie magazine and asks about how seeing ghosts has inspired her songwriting. Somehow, the article ends up in front of an overseas producer, and Ledia is hired to star as the resident psychic alongside two Scots doing a travelog-style television show about Scotland’s history. Of course, all is not coming up roses. In fact, things are coming up thistles! First her co-star Hamish is displeased that the production company has hired someone who isn't Scottish, and her other co-star, Mac, is charming if you like the brooding, secretive type. Then she has a series of strange encounters with a dark-haired man who insists he knows her, despite Ledia never having set foot in Scotland previously. Of course, when dealing with ghosts there are bound to be risks, and sometimes even consequences. Follow Ledia as she navigates her new surroundings, and the people in them, both living and dead.

Okay, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink…  and listen the tales of Ledia Roy.

FULL TRANSCRIPT UNAVAILABLE DUE TO LENGTH

Thank you so much for listening. Tune in next week for a fantastically spooky tale in collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast, which we’ve dubbed The Haunted Skylark. The story is called The Cellar, and was inspired by a real-life paranormal experience shared with me by The Haunted UK and which you can hear on their podcast. The Skylark Bell’s take on things comes with a twist, as we tell the story from the ghost’s point of view.

THE HAUNTED UK PODCAST - https://www.instagram.com/hauntedukpodcast/

The Skylark Bell and The Tales of Ledia Roy are brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and feature original music by Cannelle. I would love for you to join me on Patreon for additional content and be sure to follow my social media accounts where I share regular updates and previews. All necessary links are in the show notes.

Before I go, I’d like to give a shoutout to a few other podcasts. First and foremost is The Boopod Network of paranormal and true crime podcasts, with whom I recently did a collaboration. Next up are a few other podcasts I very much enjoy: The Grim Cities is a fun and well-researched true crime and paranormal podcast that focuses primarily on stories in the state of Minnesota – but I promise you, these guys do such a great job you’ll enjoy their work no matter where you live! Also, a friendly reminder that if you like stories from Minnesota, or if you enjoy hearing real-life tales of bootleggers and mobsters, Volsteadland is a phenomenal, deeply researched podcast delivered with wit and perhaps the occasional drink. Next up is Radio Leven from Scotland – unlike most of the podcasts I listen to, this one is not paranormal or spooky, but it’s hilarious and amazing none-the-less! I love listening to the banter and those amazing accents. This podcast has made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion! Another amazing, and different, podcast is Something, Rather Than Nothing – where host Ken Volante interviews artists of all disciplines about what art means to them and its role in the world. I was lucky enough to sit down and chat with Ken for his podcast last year and it was a deep and fascinating conversation. If you like to philosophize about art and creativity, this is the podcast for you! 

THE GRIM CITIES: https://anchor.fm/thegrimcities

VOLSTEADLAND: https://linkin.bio/volstead_land

RADIO LEVEN: https://anchor.fm/radioleven

SOMETHING (Rather Than Nothing): https://somethingratherthannothing.podbean.com/

BOOPOD NETWORK PODCASTS:

Shittin' Bricks - https://linktr.ee/shittinbricks

The Activity Continues - https://linkin.bio/theactivitycontinues

Generally Spooky - https://linktr.ee/generallyspooky

Mums, Mysteries & Murder - podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

Paranormal Exposed - https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

The Nightcap - https://linktr.ee/thenightcappodcast

Haunted or Hoax - https://linktr.ee/HauntedorHoax

Spilling the Crime - https://linktr.ee/spillingthecrime

Horror Roulette - https://horrorroulette.com/

Murder Roadtrip - https://anchor.fm/shannon-quinn6

Dark Tales from the Road - https://linktr.ee/darktalesfromtheroad

Certainly Strange - https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnSaYTGjIX6td-nfxOPnMOZ_ZtTqKmDag

One last shoutout to a completely different entity, I’d like to share that The Skylark Bell has a posting in Witches Magazine out of the UK. Witches Magazine is an absolutely beautiful and enticing publication and The Skylark Bell is proud to be featured in the Witches Notice Board, and thrilled to see that we’re in great company with a collection of other mystical, magical, creative people and businesses. Please take the time to check out the Autumn issue that has just come out, it’s the perfect thing to curl up with this spooky season.

WITCHES MAGAZINE: https://www.witchesmagazine.com/

Anything podcast or business related I’ve mentioned is purely out of my love and respect for them, and a desire to share so others can find and enjoy their creations.

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

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.

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 15^th 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.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 18 – The Vanishings - in which Manon elaborates on past instances of people disappearing from Carnifex House

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

The Haunted UK Podcast - https://www.instagram.com/hauntedukpodcast

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 18 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas had a strange dream which involved he and Magpie getting married by a mysterious woman. He then woke up in a room at Magpie’s old farmhouse in Pocket with none other than Charlotte and Edward Carnifex caring for him.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 18 – The Vanishings - in which Manon elaborates on past instances of people disappearing from Carnifex House

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

“The Vanishings, that’s what the villagers call them,” says Manon, a sad look in her eye.

“Many years before Julien’s friend vanished, a little girl also disappeared. She and her older brother were playing hide and seek outside, and only the boy returned home…” she lets the words hang in the air for a moment. “When his family asked him where his sister was, he said he didn’t know. That he hid behind a rock at the edge of the forest while his sister was counting. After a few minutes he saw his sister follow a red deer into the woods. He called out to her, but she didn’t listen, it was like she was sleepwalking. He said that he heard a woman singing, but it didn’t sound human, and then he felt a little dizzy and laid down. When he woke up it was getting dark, so he hurried home.” Manon leans back in her chair and takes a long slow sip of coffee.

Magpie leans back in her chair, soaking in this new information about Carnifex House. If someone had told her that she was moving to a place where multiple mysterious disappearances had occurred, she never would have believed them. What are the odds, after what she went through at Meadow Lane, that she would move to yet another place with inexplicable occurrences? And now Lucas is gone. Missing. Vanished.

“So, how many people have disappeared like this?” asks Magpie, trying to put the pieces together, still holding out hope that Lucas will walk through the door at any moment. Alfred had already reached out to tell them that no one in town had seen or heard from Lucas and Cormorant.

“The villagers don’t much like to discuss these things, I’ve only heard a few stories over the years, without much detail. But every time there is this strange singing or music involved. People seem to wander into the forest that grows between Carnifex House and Goldcrest Manor. That forest belongs to Carnifex House as well, but no one ever ventures there.”

Magpie furrows her brow, she hasn’t paid much attention to the forest, mostly viewing it as an obstacle between their farm and the main road winding down the cliffside toward town. A thought begins to wind its way into Magpie’s mind. 

“What is it Magpie,” asks Manon, seeing the shift in her facial expression.

“Lucas told me he was going to ride down to the beach then follow the coast to the main road and come back up that way. If he lost track of time and was running late, maybe he decided to cut through the forest to get back here…” Magpie lets the thought hang in the air.

Manon shakes her head. “There aren’t any clear paths through the forest, I can’t imagine he would attempt something like that,” she says.

“But we’ve checked the fields, the beach, the town with no sign of him. No one has looked in the forest. What if he’s there? What if he’s hurt? Or trapped?” pushes Magpie, fighting the urge to put on her shoes and go herself.

“It would be very difficult to find someone in the forest, as I said, there are no clear walking paths, and the visibility is very bad,” she says, holding strong.

Magpie feels her frustration mounting. She would do everything possible, search every inch of the entire Isle of Skye, to find Lucas. “Could we at least gather people to check the perimeter of the forest? Maybe call his name? Something? Anything?!” she says, desperation in her voice.

The sound of the front door startles them both. Magpie whips her head around, her heart soaring at the thought that Lucas has come home. She feels her hopes plummet as Alfred walks through the dining room to the kitchen.

“Alfred, Magpie thinks there is a chance Lucas may have gone into the forest,” says Manon, her even gaze on Alfred’s face as he pulls a stool up to the table.

“Ah,” says Alfred, letting the single syllable swirl around the room, his eyes never leaving Manon’s face.

“What aren’t you telling me? Why aren’t we running out right now to try and find him?!” Magpie is doing everything in her power to keep from shouting.

Manon turns back to Magpie. “The people of Pòcaid will not go in or near the forest,” she says simply. “They say that land belongs to Dealan-dè, the powerful druid woman, and that those who venture into the woods never venture out. The boy’s mother wouldn’t even venture in there to look for her son. Beware the Carnifex, they say, those who go in never come out.”

“Is that why the people in town were so wary of us when we first came here and told them we were moving into Carnifex House?” asks Magpie, finally putting the pieces together, “they think Carnifex house is cursed somehow?”

Manon nods her head, “They were like that with us when we first arrived as well. Over time they got to know us, and we grew to have a civil, if not warm, relationship with the people of Pòcaid. But you must understand, there are the people of Pòcaid, and there are the people from Carnifex House. We are not one of them, and they are not one of us,” she says, firmly.

“Why didn’t any of this come up before? Why didn’t you tell us? Maybe if he had known he wouldn’t have gone into the woods!” says Magpie, unable to hold back the tears that are now winding their way down her cheeks.

“We did not think there was any truth to the stories. Even when Julien’s friend disappeared, we concluded that perhaps he went to the beach and got washed away with the tide. We never believed the stories, we thought they were just that, fables, like one reads to children at bed time,” says Alfred, laying his hand on top of Magpie’s as Manon hands her a tissue.

Magpie wipes her eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m not upset with you. I just can’t believe this is happening. I feel so… so… helpless!” she says.

“I will go the neighbour’s house and borrow Rose, remember Rose the horse? Then I will walk along the main road where it meets the woods and look for any sign of Lucas or Cormorant, any sign that anyone has entered the woods in the last day or so. A horse of Cormorant’s size would leave hoofprints at best and broken twigs at worst,” says Alfred encouragingly.

“Thank you,” whispers Magpie, unable to muster up enough energy to speak any more loudly.

Alfred nods at her and gets up from the stool. “Be careful,” says Manon, standing to give him a warm hug. He nods at her as well and turns to leave. 

Magpie jolts at the sound of the front door closing.  “Should I call my mom?” she asks, unsure of what to do next. Her heart sinks at her next thought. “What about Grandma Gemma, how am I going to tell her, Lucas is all she has!” At this, Magpie lets the tears flow freely. How could everything go so very, very wrong?

“Why don’t you and I put on our boots and walk along the tree line on this side of the forest, it will do us good to get some fresh air, and this way we will see if there are any signs of Lucas or Cormorant on this side of the woods, oui?” asks Manon. Magpie catches her breath and wipes the tears from her face with the back of her hand. She nods and stands up on shaky legs. “It will be alright, Magpie, no matter what, everything will find its way in time,” she says, taking Magpie’s hand. Magpie looks at her quizzically. “What is it, did I say something wrong?” she asks.

“No, not it all, it’s just that… an old friend once said those exact same words to me. Everything finds its way in time,” answers Magpie.

“Then your friend was very wise,” says Manon, with a gentle smile, “Come, let’s get going while we still have several hours of daylight.”

They gather their things and head out the back door, walk past the paddock and across the fields to the edge of the woods. Magpie sees a huge rock where two of the fields intersect.

“This is the rock that the boy was hiding behind when he saw his sister wander into the woods,” says Manon, nodding toward it. “The rock is a marker, so the landowners know where their land ends and the neighbouring farm’s land begins,” she adds. “There are rumours that it was used as part of druid rituals centuries ago, but of course no one knows whether there is any truth to that.”

Magpie walks up to the rock, feeling the rough, mossy surface with her hands as she circles behind it before crouching down, imagining that she is the little boy playing hide and seek. She feels the familiar tingle of a vision coming on, and sure enough out of nowhere a small boy appears next to her, crouching low to the ground, his eyes fixed on something near the line of trees ahead. Magpie follows his gaze and sees a small girl with a simple brown dress and leather lace-up boots, her hair tangled by the wind, walking toward the forest. As she steps beyond the first line of trees the boy stands up and takes a step out from behind the rock. 

“Shelta!” he calls, his small voice quickly getting carried away by the wind, “Shelta! I’m over here!” he shouts, waving his arms wildly in the air. Magpie watches as the girl disappears into the darkness beyond the tree line, then she turns her attention to the boy, he is looking around like he is trying to find the source of a sound. Suddenly his knees go weak, and he sinks to the ground, then his eyes get heavy. The boy in her vision fades away just as he is going to sleep.

“Magpie, is everything all right?” asks Manon, peeking around the rock at Magpie. 

“I think we should start over there, at the tree line,” says Magpie, pointing to the spot where the girl walked into the forest, never to be seen again.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 19, One Step Forward – One Century Back, where Lucas comes to term with the fact that he has travelled back nearly a century to early 1920s Pocket.

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’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, behind the scenes videos, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Haunted UK that covers a variety of Unexplained and Paranormal Events. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Thank you

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.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 37 – The Beginning of the End - in which Magpie, still living as Farfalla and knowing she is running out of time, tries to warn her younger self in a final attempt to set the timelines straight.

This is the last full chapter of Wingspan. Next week will feature an epilogue which also serves as a prologue of sorts to the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy – the book is called SkyeDive and will begin airing right here on The Skylark Bell podcast in January of 2023. 

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip: https://anchor.fm/shannon-quinn6

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

In our previous episode, Magpie, still living as Farfalla, came full circle and encountered both her mother and her younger self.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 37 – The Beginning of the End - in which Magpie, still living as Farfalla and knowing she is running out of time, tries to warn her younger self in a final attempt to set the timelines straight.

This is the last full chapter of Wingspan. Next week will feature an epilogue which also serves as a prologue of sorts to the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy – the book is called SkyeDive and will begin airing right here on The Skylark Bell podcast in January of 2023. 

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Murder Roadtrip.

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

Today is the day. She is sure of it. Magpie sits in the booth at the back of the diner, waiting. The residents of Pocket have gathered here, fearful, panicked even. They have noticed that the silence has left the limits of Meadow Lane, which it had been confined to for nearly one hundred years. The have noticed the swings in the park no longer squeak, the grass in the fields on the edge of town no longer blows in the wind. Pocket is slowly but surely being frozen in time. The silence is spreading.

Last night, Magpie spent hours laying in the dark trying to decide what she should do. She wants to tell her younger self the truth, that Farfalla never returned to Pocket in 1962, having miraculously survived the shipwreck in Scotland. There is no Farfalla, at least there hasn’t been for a very long time. There is only herself, only Magpie. But… if she does that, will it alter the future? Young Magpie was successful in ending the silence at Meadow Lane and saving the town. If she changes anything about the events of that day, could it have a domino effect that would incur a tragic outcome? 

On the other hand, if Magpie knew from the beginning that this was her fate, decades of heartbreak and loneliness, would she perhaps choose a different path, perhaps even have a chance of a long, happy life with Lucas? If so, at what cost? Is she willing to sacrifice the entire town of Pocket, for a chance at her own happiness?

Magpie had stayed awake until the sun’s orange glow began to filter through the sheer curtains of her bedroom. She had risen from her bed and emptied out the bag of birdseed, filling the birdfeeders on her porch to the brim, for the last time, making sure to leave a few handfuls on the ground for the little chipmunk. She had pulled her notebook out from under the mattress, the last remaining relic of her previous life, her real life, and separated the pages from the binding, pinning each of them to the walls of the spare bedroom in chronological order. Knowing they would not be found until… after.

Now she sees Young Magpie in the doorway, wild eyed, and beckons for her to join her in the booth. She proceeds to tell her the story of Meadow Lane, word for word, the way she remembers it being told to her nearly 90 years ago. “Now fly, sweet bird,” she says at last, leaning back in her booth, exhausted. She watches as Young Magpie runs out the door and down the road, hoping she has made the right choice. She shuffles past the crowd that has filled up the dining room and slowly walks home. 

Once inside her house, Magpie pulls a storage box from the hall closet and begins putting together the package she will leave behind for Magpie. She packs what is left of her sketchbook, keys to her house, the deed to Meadow Lane, and a letter she found in a collection of items that she had taken with her from Lucas’ room at the Brighthaven Care home after he passed away. He had somehow come into the possession of a letter from Charlotte Carnifex to Farfalla’s sister, Paloma, that mentions Carnifex House.

Magpie holds the letter in her hand for a long time, hesitating. If Young Magpie and Lucas never go to Scotland, perhaps this entire time loop and the silence at Meadow Lane can be avoided. This is her chance to cut off the head of the Ouroboros. Magpie folds the letter and hides it in a book about native bird species.

Last, Magpie places her diary into the box. It is a last-minute addition. She figures if she can inform her younger self of the truth, tell her the entire story, perhaps things will be different. She couldn’t risk making any changes to the timeline prior to the silence and Meadow Lane being resolved, but she doesn’t see why she can’t try to save herself a lifetime of heartache once it’s over. 

Finally, the packed box sits on top of the dining room table. Magpie sits down to compose her final letter to her younger self. She seals the envelope and writes “Magpie” on the front, then places the envelope on top of the box and tucks the pencil in her pocket. She can still remember Mrs. Kestrel handing her the box as she stood in shock at the front of the diner that day. Today. Today but 90 years ago. Magpie lays her hand on top of the box, trying to enjoy the sense closure, but something at the back of her mind is bothering her.

The final sketch that had magically appeared, the one with “I AM NOT FARFALLA” scribbled on it, how had it gotten there? Who left it?

Magpie can feel her breath coming in shallow bursts. On shaking legs, she makes her way to the rocking chair in the spare room and wraps the green shawl around her shoulders. She sits and looks around at the sketches on the walls, each one depicting a moment of her life, and feels her eyes get heavy.

Just as she is about to give in to the fatigue that has taken over her, she gets a tingling feeling, like a cross between the sensation just before she has a vision, and the light, floating feeling she felt when she time traveled. She opens her eyes, and sees a woman standing in front of her, her long red hair curling down past her shoulders, her white robe skimming the floor. Her piercing blue eyes are fixed on Magpie as a cruel smile curls up the ends of her mouth. In her hands she is holding the book in which Magpie had tucked the letter from Charlotte Carnifex, the letter than had sent Magpie and Lucas to Scotland. She pulls the letter out from the between the pages of the book, and slowly makes her way to the dining room. Magpie can see her through the open doorway and watches in horror as the woman opens the box and places the letter inside before lifting Magpie’s diary out.

The woman walks back into the room and crouches down, so she and Magpie are face to face. “Nothing finds its way in time,” she says, her ethereal voice circling the room.

“Farfalla?” whispers Magpie breathlessly.

“There is no Farfalla, there hasn’t been for a very, very long time, only Dealan-dè,” replies the woman.

Magpie’s eyes widen in horror as reality comes crashing down around her. Lucas was right. Dealan-dè had tricked all of them into doing her bidding, using them as pawns in her cruel game of fate. “The Skylark Bell rings only for the Skye Lark Belle”. The truth had been there all along, engraved onto the bell itself. Dealan-dè was the original Skye Lark Belle! She had controlled every single part of their story, right down to where and when they would exist.

Magpie puts an abrupt stop to her swirling thoughts. There is no time left for why or how, she can tell she is fading fast. Magpie whips her hand out from under the shawl and grips the woman’s arm tightly. The woman looks down at Magpie’s hand, surprised. Before the woman has a chance to react, Magpie starts singing the mystical song, the one that had allowed her to time travel before. Just as she feels herself floating, she reaches out and grabs one of the sketches from the wall. 

Magpie opens her eyes just as the door slams. She is standing in the corner of the same room she and Dealan-dè were in just a moment ago. The green shawl is draped over the back of the empty rocking chair, which is surrounded by bare walls. The wind blows the sheer curtains through the open windows. Magpie shuffles across the room to the chair. She pulls the pencil from her pocket and scrawls her message on the back of the sketch. She can hear a hushed whisper coming from the other side of the door, and her heart glows as she recognizes it.

“Lucas…” she whispers as everything fades to black.

She is out of time.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 38, Epilogue, where we learn a little more about the events that occurred after Magpie’s passing. Next week’s episode will also include more information about upcoming special episodes, collaborations, and what to expect for season 3 and beyond.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Murder Roadtrip. Our hosts travel alphabetically through the U.S. delving into strange tales from each state. If you enjoy the strange atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll definitely want to check them out.

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

12^th 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.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 20 – The Music Box – in which a day of celebration turns rather dark, rather quickly.

This week's podcast partner is Bluestep Audio:

INSTRAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/bluestepaudio/

EMAIL: bluestepaudio@hotmail.com

Outro Music: Elliot Under Glass (instrumental) - Composed and recorded by Cannelle, Mixed and Mastered by Bluestep Audio, featuring special guests Steven Holloway on Rhythm Guitar, Drums, and Triangle, and Anthony Freeman on Lead Guitar and Bass.

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 20 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla had a strange encounter with a boy on the beach while out with Frannie and Felix.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 20 – The Music Box – in which a day of celebration turns rather dark, rather quickly.

Today’s podcast partner is Bluestep Audio located in Halesowen UK. Bluestep Audio has mixed and mastered several songs for The Skylark Bell composed by myself under my stage name Cannelle. Theyu provide professional services with great attention to detail and impeccable results. If you’re looking for the highest quality audio for your podcast or music, be sure to reach out to them. Contact links are in the shownotes.

I would also like to acknowledge La Fete de la St Jean Baptiste, which takes place on June 24th and has been embraced as a holiday strong in cultural identity in my native Quebec, Canada, which has inspired many of the scenes throughout The Skylark Trilogy. 

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

October 16^th, 1799

The people of Pòcaid have kept me busy with “performances” of late, calling me in for people who, I have no doubt, are simply suffering from a common cold. But I do my duty, plop that ridiculous crown on my head, and sing them the French lullaby Audrey Tourtereaux taught me all those years ago.

I have discovered something, however. Something of great value. There are times when singing the same song grows tiresome, so I instead sing the song of the Oak Tree, and those times I’ve noticed the song seems to have an effect on the people in the room. When I finish, they are all staring at me with unseeing eyes. One time I told one of the little boys in the room to spin around, and he did so, as if in a daze, almost like he was sleepwalking. It was quite curious, but I presumed he was simply a very obedient child. I was intrigued enough, however, to try it again. So, the next time I was called in for a performance, I sang the song of the Oak Tree, and this time when it ended I asked the maid to take a drinking glass from the tray on the bed and smash it to the floor. To my amazement, she followed my request without hesitation. When the lady of the house came bursting in asking what was going on, the maid blinked and looked at the shattered glass on the floor, hopelessly confused. She had no recollection of any of the events leading up to that point. I took the blame for the glass, and of course all was forgiven. 

The villagers love me, I can do no wrong.

~~~~~~

“Frannie, it’s your turn,” says Donald Carnifex, handing his daughter an object wrapped in layers cloth. Frannie’s face lights up, she just watched Felix unveil his gift from their father, a collection of horses and soldiers carved out of wood, each painted in bright colours. She carefully pulls the cloth off the object, and holds it up at eye level, unsure what to do next. “It’s a music box,” says Mr. Carnifex. “Here, let me show you how it works.” He places a small metal key in the back of the box and turns it. A playful tune emanates from the box, to everyone’s delight, especially Frannie’s. 

“Oh Papa, it’s magic!” she breathes, “May I try?”

“Of course! I’m glad you like it,” he says, handing her the key. Frannie places it in the hole and cranks it a few times. The music begins to play over the soft whirring of the small motor inside the box. 

Frannie cranks it two more times before jumping in her father’s arms. “Oh Papa, I’ve missed you so!” she says.

“Me too!” shouts Felix, both of them running to their father and throwing their arms around his neck.

Donald has been away on business for weeks. He travelled to the mainland, and eventually on to other parts of Europe, collecting gifts for the children along the way. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, giving them each a pat on the head. “Now Frannie, that music box is very rare and very special, promise you’ll be careful with it,” he says.

“I promise Papa,” she replies, cradling the box in her hands like a baby bird. She runs her fingers over the carved wood, feeling the flowers engraved around the edges of the top. 

“Nurse Betsey, why don’t you head upstairs to help the children wash up for dinner,” says Isabella. 

“May we bring our gifts upstairs with us?” asks Felix, not quite ready to put down his toy soldiers.

“You can bring them up to put them away. It’s no longer time to play,” says Nurse Betsey in her dry, cracking voice as she lifts herself out of her chair.

“Perhaps you’d like to enjoy dinner as a family, now that Mr. Carnifex has returned,” says Farfalla.

“Nonsense, you’re family now too,” replies Isabella with a wave of her hand.

Farfalla can feel Nurse Betsey bristle at Isabella’s words. She plods up the stairs behind the children, her body stiff as a board. Farfalla glares at her back until she disappears on the landing. She’s found Frannie in tears on more than one occasion and found Felix by the beach throwing large rocks furiously into the water just last week. Neither one of them wanted to talk about what happened, but Farfalla could tell Nurse Betsey was involved.

“Isabella told me how you have helped with the children in my absence. We are both very grateful,” says Donald.

“They are both an absolute joy, I truly love spending time with them,” replies Farfalla, turning her gaze away from the stairway and back to Donald and Isabella.

“They enjoy spending time with you as well. Felix still talks about your picnic at the beach, and Frannie has spent weeks painting the seashells she collected. She displays them on the windowsill in her bedroom,” smiles Isabella.

“We are very fortunate to have you here,” adds Donald, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. She turns her face toward him and they look at one another lovingly. Farfalla remembers she and Marius looking at one another that way, and feels a sinking feeling in her heart. 

Suddenly, a loud crash on the ceiling above their heads followed by a piercing scream shakes her out of her memories. Farfalla, Isabella and Donald rush up the stairs in unison. Isabella reaches the doorway to the children’s room first. “What in the world?!” she exclaims.

“Oh Frannie, your music box!” says Donald.

Farfalla creeps up behind them and looks over their shoulders. Frannie is crumpled on the floor, weeping. In front of her, pieces of the music box are strewn about the floor. Felix is cowering in the corner, a terrified look in his eyes.

“What happened here?!” demands Isabella.

“Well, it would appear Felix here was jealous of his sister’s very rare and special gift,” begins Nurse Betsey with a sneer, “so he held it up over his head and smashed it to the ground!”

Farfalla watches as Felix’s eyes grow wide with shock. Isabella lets out a gasp, “Felix, how could you?!” she shouts. “Nurse Betsey, please take Felix into the next room and administer a suitable consequence for his actions,” she says sternly, her eyes cold as ice.

“No, Mama, please! It wasn’t-“ he begins, desperation in his little voice.

“Come now, I think we’ve heard enough from you!” says Betsey, grabbing him roughly by the arm and dragging him out of the room before he can say anything else.

Farfalla watches Frannie intently, she is crying so hard she can’t speak. Farfalla pushes past Mr. and Mrs. Carnifex and sits on the floor next to her. She slowly begins picking up the pieces of the music box and collecting them in the skirt of her dress. “You know,” she says in the most calming tone she can muster, “Mr. Crake down in the village is quite handy, he has that shop, Crake’s Clocks. I bet he would be willing to try and fix this for you.” Frannie looks up at her with teary eyes, and Farfalla is shocked to realize Frannie isn’t crying over the music box. It isn’t sadness on her face, it’s fear. Farfalla leans in closely and whispers in her ear, “Did Nurse Betsey smash your music box?” she asks. Frannie gives her a very faint nod. Farfalla can feel the rage boiling inside her. She bites her lip and inhales deeply to regain her self-control. 

“I apologize, Miss Skye, perhaps it would be best if we sent some dinner home with you and gathered together to celebrate Donald’s return tomorrow night,” says Isabella, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Farfalla nods and stands up. She steps into the hallway and is about to go downstairs when she hears a cry from down the hall. She hears a loud smacking noise and another cry. Felix! Nurse Betsey must be exercising some kind of punishment for breaking the music box, even though he did nothing of the sort. Farfalla’s fists clench as she walks down the stairs, Felix’s cries of pain echoing behind her. 

This is the last time Nurse Betsey hurts these children, she thinks to herself.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 21 – Sea Bird – in which Farfalla uses newfound skills to avenge the Carnifex children.

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.

Please keep listening for an instrumental version of my song Elliot Under Glass, which was mixed and mastered by Bluestep Audio and features additional instrumentation by Steven Holloway and Anthony Freeman.

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

In today’s episode we read Chapter 8 – Carnifex House - in which Magpie and Lucas finally reach their destination, and lay eyes on Carnifex House for the first time.

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 8 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie and Lucas encountered several of the residents of Pocaid who had strange reactions upon finding out the pair are planning to occupy Carnifex House.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 8 – Carnifex House - in which Magpie and Lucas finally reach their destination, and lay eyes on Carnifex House for the first time.

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

The driver carefully navigates the steep climb up the cliff behind the village of Pòcaid. Magpie watches in wonder as they pass the massive exterior stone walls of Goldcrest Manor, which is perched on the cliffside overlooking the ocean. Radiating from the South side of the manor is a vast, perfectly manicured garden stretching out as far as the eye can see. 

They continue down a winding road, only lightly dotted with the odd house, for quite some time before turning onto a long, narrow dirt lane. Up ahead, Magpie can see the two-story house at the end of the path. Its exterior walls are made of stone, weathered by decades, maybe even centuries, of wind and cold sea air. Magpie feels a bit of unease and wonders if Lucas is also noting the similarities to Meadow Lane – which also had a long dusty path leading from the road to a weathered two-story house. She turns to look at him and he meets her glance with a smile and a wink. 

As they work their way up the lane, Magpie swallows a lump in her throat. Coming into view behind the house she can see the ocean, stretching for miles, just like in the vision she had as she and her mom were packing. Rubbing her arms to tame the goosebumps that have risen, she tries to brush off the eerie sensation and put herself into a positive mindset. “This is a fresh start, a brand-new adventure. Be positive!” She tells herself.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” asks Lucas.

“I’m excited to start this new adventure!” she answers, smiling. “With you,” she adds, shyly. Lucas blushes slightly but holds onto her gaze. Magpie takes a deep breath, “Okay, let’s do this!” she says, opening the car door.

As Magpie and Lucas are stepping out of the car a tall slim woman in jeans and a light sweater makes her way toward them, her short dark hair blowing in the blustery Scottish wind. She gives them a warm smile before introducing herself. “Hello! I am Manon, Manon Sarcelle, my husband, Alfred, and I are the caretakers of Carnifex House. Welcome!” she says.

“It’s so nice to meet you! I am Margaret Phaeton, but everyone calls me Magpie, and this is my friend Lucas!” replies Magpie. “If you don’t mind my asking, your accent doesn’t sound Scottish, where are you from?” she asks.

The woman laughs warmly, “After all these years I thought my accent was gone, but no…” She chuckles again before continuing, “My husband and I are from France. Nearly 25 years ago we saw an advertisement in our local paper looking for caretakers for a remote property in Scotland. We were young and ready for adventure, very much like you!” she says, smiling at them both in a way that makes Magpie’s cheeks flush.  “We packed our bags and never looked back; it was fate!” She heaves a nostalgic sigh before continuing, “Time feels different here, it goes by fast and slow all at once. It seems like yesterday our son, Julien, was only a little boy running along the beach, now he is in Paris to study… but he plans to return in a few years so we can retire and return to a place with warmer weather and more sun.” she says.

“That’s wonderful!” Says Magpie “It sounds like you’ve had many wonderful years here.”

A shadow passes briefly across the woman’s face, but she quickly regroups and claps her hands. “You are probably excited to take a look at the house, yes?!” she says, walking with purpose toward the front door, Magpie and Lucas following closely behind. “My husband and I live in the small cottage in the field over there,” she says, pointing behind the home with one hand as she is opening the door with the other. “Bienvenue…” she says to them as the door swings open. 

Magpie and Lucas step into Carnifex House. Magpie isn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. The interior walls of the house are composed of the same stone as the exterior. Large, ancient wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, hovering over the stone floor which has been covered with a variety of area rugs. Straight ahead of them is a staircase which presumably leads to the second story bedrooms. To their right is a large living room that stretches from the front to the back of the house and features a large stone fireplace with a heavy mantle on which several family photos are perched. There is a couch and two rocking chairs in the front part of the room, and an antique writing desk at the back of the room under the window which overlooks the back fields and, in the distance, the ocean.

“Come this way, I will show you the kitchen, you are probably hungry after all that travel!” says Manon, leading them through a doorway on the left. They step into the dining room, which also has a large stone fireplace, a round dining table, and an antique hutch showcasing a set of dishes decorated with a delicate floral pattern. They cross the room and step through another door into the kitchen. To their left is an antique stove, much like the one at Magpie’s house in Pocket. Across from the doorway is a large porcelain farmhouse sink placed under a window that looks out at the rolling hills behind the house, and the ocean beyond. To their right is a small refrigerator, and tiny two-person breakfast table. Tucked away in the corner under the stairs is a tiny bathroom. “Shall I make you some sandwiches, and perhaps heat up some soup? My husband Alfred went to town this morning to get some provisions, we thought you might want to rest once you arrived,” she says kindly.

“How very thoughtful of him, and yes that sounds wonderful,” says Lucas as he pulls out a chair for Magpie at the tiny table.

“So, when is the last time anyone actually lived here?” asks Magpie, gently lowering herself into the small wooden chair.

“Ah it has been decades, I think it was in the 1960s or 1970s, long before we came here,” replies Manon, pouring soup into a pot and grabbing a cutting board on which to slice the bread. “Sometimes we have family come to visit, or the house gets rented out to tourists, but mostly it’s just us,” she says, speaking a little more loudly above the sound of the knife slicing through the thick crust. “I picked these tomatoes from our greenhouse this morning, this will be a very good lunch for you.” she says, focused on her task.

“If you don’t mind my asking, who has been paying your salary all these years?” asks Magpie, a little confused. 

“The house was left in a trust, and everything is handled by the lawyers here in Pòcaid,” she says. “The Carnifex family were very successful businesspeople on the mainland, this was a vacation home,” she adds, ladling hot soup into two bowls. “My understanding is they planned for the care for this house until it came back into the possession of a descendent of theirs. I believe they thought it would happen much sooner… but no matter, you are here, now,” she turns, smiling, two plates in hand, each boasting a large sandwich of freshly baked bread and juicy red tomatoes.

Magpie and Lucas eat voraciously. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was!” exclaims Magpie. 

Lucas leans back in his chair; his plate and bowl empty save for a few breadcrumbs. “That is hands-down the most delicious sandwich I’ve ever had. Thank you so much!” he says.

“You are most welcome! Now that you have eaten, perhaps a short walk outside before I leave you?” asks Manon as she is gathering their plates. 

“That sounds lovely,” says Magpie, excited to take in the view from the back of the house. They step through the back door of the kitchen onto a small stone patio. Magpie closes her eyes and breathes in the cool, fragrant sea air, then opens them again to take in the view. Behind the house are rolling fields. In the distance, off to her left, she can see the caretaker’s cottage, a small white building with a thatched roof that looks like it is from a different century. Beyond that she can see the ocean bay below, and across from it the mountains in the distance. The scene is lush, and vast, and new, and Magpie can’t believe she is actually standing here. 

“I was speechless the first time too,” says Manon, staring off into the distance with a look on her face that tells Magpie she’s reminiscing about her arrival at Carnifex House a quarter century ago.

A loud horse whinny makes Magpie and Lucas jump. “Are there horses around here?” asks Magpie.

“There is one horse,” replies Manon. “Years ago, there were many, but now he is the last one.” She turns to them with a sad smile. “Would you like to meet him?”

Lucas and Magpie nod and they set off away from the house. They are getting closer to the paddock when they hear a man’s voice echo across the field calling Manon’s name. “Oh, that is my husband Alfred, he will need help unloading the supplies. You can go ahead to the paddock and the horse will come to you,” she says, as she is walking away toward the caretaker’s cottage. She turns to look over her shoulder and adds, “his name is Cormorant!” 

Magpie and Lucas, almost at the paddock gate, stop in their tracks and look at each other, wide eyed. 

“Cormorant… that was the name of Marius Corbeau’s horse! What are the odds?!” Says Lucas in a stunned voice. 

Just then a gigantic beast comes up to the gate where it stops abruptly, letting the cloud dust it kicked up billow away on the breeze. Magpie and Lucas stare at the huge animal, their mouths hanging open in shock. Cormorant stands behind the gate, staring back at them, the wind ruffling his white mane and tail as his black coat shimmers in the sunlight.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 9, The Lark Festival, in which Magpie and Lucas explore the local Lark festival of Skye.

Before I go, I’d like to thank Phaeton Starling Publishing for this fantastically eerie story, as well as Cannelle for composing eerie, mood-setting 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 your podcast provider or by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more! Checks the show notes for links.

Thank you

In today’s episode we read the chapter 8 – The Silence, in which we learn what sparked the mysterious silence at Meadow Lane.

This week's podcast partner is Mums, Mysteries, and Murder: podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/mums-mysteries-murder/id1578866284

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 8 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode, Marius vanished in the terrible snowstorm of 1925.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 8 – The Silence, in which we learn what sparked the mysterious silence at Meadow Lane.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Mums Mysteries and Murder. If you enjoy true crime with a side of belly laughs then this is the podcast for you! Marti and Effie explore stories from their combined homelands of Australia and Scotland, which almost ensures they’ve covered some cases you haven’t heard before. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to Mums Mysteries and Murder.

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

May 3^rd, 1925

Everything has changed. 

It’s not just that Marius is gone. The light, the wind, the rain, it has all changed. Normally the lilac and the apple blossoms would be filling the air with their sweet scent at this time of year, but not this year. Normally, the foxes would be playfully hopping out of their burrow, and birds would be singing from the highest tree branches, but not this year. Normally, the grass would be turning green, young leaves would appear at the end of the tree branches, tulips and daffodils would be blooming, but not this year. Normally, I would be happy and joyful, singing and dancing, celebrating spring and getting ready to wed Marius, but not this year. Or any year. I feel no joy, only heartache. 

Of course, Marius was never found, but you knew that already. You know everything. Well, almost everything.

Papa and Mama have decided we should leave Meadow Lane. Perhaps the Carnifex family was right to leave when they did, perhaps we should have done the same. Perhaps Marius would still be here if we had.

I went to the Oak Tree to say goodbye this morning. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. There was no sound of wind blowing through the branches, no birds chirping, I didn’t even hear my shoe scrape against the thick bark as I climbed to my favourite branch. There was no haunting tune and no heartbeat. Perhaps what Isadora Finch told me, how her people believe everything has a spirit, even rocks and trees, is true. Perhaps, like Marius, the spirit of the Oak Tree is gone. 

I wonder sometimes if, perhaps, my spirit is gone too…

~~~~~~

“Falla, it’s time to go!” Mrs. Shearwater’s voice echoes up the stairs. 

Farfalla is sitting in front of her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. Her face looks so much older now, sadder. She puts her hand against the cool glass to hide her reflection. Her notebook sits open in front of her, she re-reads her last workds "I wonder sometimes if, perhaps, my spirit is gone, too...". A tear slips down her cheek and lands on the word "spirit", causing it to blur. Farfalla closes the book and shoves it in the drawer of her nightstand. She turns to take one last look at her room, the room where, not so long ago, she was dancing and singing with joy. She feels for the silver chain around her neck, and the feather ring looped onto it. She couldn’t bear to have the ring on her finger as a constant reminder of Marius, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of not having it close, so she slipped it back onto the chain, just like she had the day Marius proposed in the apple orchard.

“Farfalla, it’s time to go!” comes her mother’s voice again, more insistent this time. 

Farfalla is about to leave when she hears the Skylark Bell ring outside her window. The sound is striking, she hasn’t heard the bell ring for weeks. Almost like there hasn’t been any wind to blow it around. If she’s honest with herself, she had all but forgotten about it. She opens the window and carefully removes the bell from its hook. A wave of grief washes through her as she remembers unwrapping Marius’ gift to her. She runs her finger along the Skylark’s wings and circles the vine down to the bell. 

Farfalla reaches under her bed for the decorative feather box that the bell had once been stored in, the one her father originally commissioned Marius to build. She turns the feather key in the lock and lifts the lid off the box. She places the bell inside with great care, then closes the lid, turns the key to lock the box, and slips the key onto the silver chain around her neck, next to the feather ring and tree charm.

Farfalla pushes her area rug off to the side and feels around the floorboards for the plank with the notch in its side. When she and Paloma were children, they discovered a secret compartment under the floor, and used to hide small treasures under there. Then one day Paloma reached in and felt a mouse scurry between her fingers, so they stopped using the secret compartment as a hiding place. Farfalla lifts the board and carefully places the box in the space beneath it. She kisses her fingers and touches them on the top of the box. “I love you, Marius. I will always love you,” she whispers, before easing the plank back into place and pulling the rug back on top. She stands, grabs her travel case, then steps into the hallway and closes her door, for the last time.

Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater have decided to move to the city with Paloma, to Paloma’s delight. Farfalla has chosen to stay behind in Pocket. Audrey Tourtereaux spoke to her parents, and they’ve agreed to let Farfalla live in the small apartment above the bakery for a modest sum. For work, Farfalla has approached several residents in Pocket about dressing their flower beds and window boxes. The Buntings are paying her quite handsomely to decorate the gardens at the general store, and they’ve put up a flyer advertising her services on their community bulletin board. 

Several months go by, and Farfalla is doing quite well for herself. She gets a contract with the library to decorate their planters and front entrance for the fall, and they’ve asked her to put together some decoration ideas for the holiday season as well. She dresses the window boxes on The Early Bird restaurant and the owner, Mrs. Kestrel, is so impressed she asks Farfalla to design the flower beds at her house on the edge of town. Before long most of the flower beds in Pocket are overflowing with beautifully coordinated flowers and plants, all with Farfalla’s signature style. She takes pride in her work and is grateful for the kindness of her fellow townspeople and the trust they’ve placed in her.

After a year of living on her own Farfalla begins to fall into a routine and feels a sense of normalcy return to her life. She regularly joins Audrey Tourtereaux for tea on the patio behind the bakery, and during the summer she attends a few larger gatherings with Isadora Finch, the Starlings, and Willy and Emma Bunting. They reminisce about “the olden days”, always careful to avoid any mention of Marius. Farfalla spends the holidays with Audrey’s family, enjoying their traditional French-Canadian cooking and songs, and for the first time in a long time she feels something akin to joy. 

Winter comes and goes without incident, to the relief of everyone in town, and Farfalla is excited to get started on her springtime projects. She walks down the street, breathing in the scent of the hyacinths, and feels a semblance of happiness. The past year of living independently, forging her own path, staying connected with her friends, earning fair pay for doing a job she enjoys, has brought some comfort to her, and helped heal her heart. Just when it feels like everything is falling into place, talk of “the silence” begins.

At first Farfalla notices a subtle change in the people of Pocket. Hushed whispering that stops suddenly when she enters a room. Sideways glances from people at the diner or the general store. Then come the cancellations; first Mrs. Kestrel cancels Farfalla’s services for both her home and the diner, then a few smaller clients follow suit. Finally, the library informs her they will no longer be needing her services, and lastly Mr. Bunting tells her they can no longer afford to hire her due to budget issues, but his tone indicates this is merely an excuse.

“Audrey, do you have a moment?” she asks one day, spotting Audrey on the sidewalk outside the bakery. They haven’t gotten together for tea since last autumn, but Farfalla chalked it up to the winter months not being conducive to social gatherings on an outdoor patio. Audrey looks around nervously and nods her head, but signals for Farfalla to follow her around the corner to the back of the building. 

“What’s going on?” asks Farfalla, perplexed at her friend’s strange reaction.

“People in town are talking…” begins Audrey, clearly uncomfortable. Farfalla waits patiently for her friend to continue. Audrey lets a long silence hang between them, like she is hoping Farfalla will just drop the subject, before finally continuing. “They’re saying there’s something strange going on at Meadow Lane,” she says at last.

“Meadow Lane? No one has lived there in over a year, what are they saying is going on?” she asks, her heart suddenly skipping a beat.

“Well, Mrs. Kestrel says that last month while her nephew was visiting, he walked up the lane to go climb the big tree but came running back a moment later crying and screaming that he couldn’t hear anymore. Mrs. Kestrel says his mother stepped onto the property to see what he was talking about, and she fainted almost immediately. They packed their things the next day and neither one of them has said a word since,” finishes Audrey, taking a deep breath.

“That’s very strange… it doesn’t even sound possible! But, even if it’s true, why is everyone acting strange around me?” asks Farfalla.

At this Audrey stares down at the ground. “They think you caused the silence.” 

The six short words send Farfalla reeling. “What? Why would they think that?!” she asks, at once feeling horrified, scared, and angry.

“They think you cursed the property after Marius disappeared. They say it’s strange how you prefer to spend your time with plants and animals instead of people. They’re afraid of you,” says Audrey, somberly.

Farfalla is afraid to ask her next question, but she needs to know. “Are you afraid of me too, Audrey?” Farfalla feels her heart sink as she sees her friend turn to look away.

“Audrey, we need your help with these pies!” comes Mrs. Tourtereaux’s voice from the window behind them. 

“I have to go. I’m sorry,” says Audrey, hurrying past Farfalla.

The rumour spreads like wildfire over the course of the next few weeks, and by the time summer comes Farfalla has been completely cut off from everyone in town. She goes about her day quietly, using what little money she has saved up to buy food and supplies from the general store, and keeping to herself in her tiny apartment. She doesn’t dare to go back to Meadow Lane to see what everyone is talking about. She convinces herself that doing so would give credence to their fantasy. But deep down Farfalla knows, the real reason she doesn’t want to go back to Meadow Lane is because she’s afraid the stories might be true. She felt the silence the day she left; it had wrapped itself around the Oak Tree like a blanket. Once again Isadora Finch’s warning had come true, “There will be a long silence,” she had said that day several years ago. 

Never in her wildest dreams did Farfalla think one day the entire town would shut her out and accuse her of being a… Witch? Sorceress? What did they think of her, really? She knows she didn’t do anything to cause the silence, so where did it come from?

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 9 – An Old Friend – in which someone from Farfalla’s past reappears just when she needs him most.

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 ad free episodes as well as digital 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.  

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.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 22 – Goodbye Gemma - in which Magpie flies back to Pocket to visit her mother and attend a memorial for someone very special, and begins to come to an unbelievable conclusion regarding Lucas' disappearance.

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is The Nightcap: https://linktr.ee/thenightcappodcast 

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

In our previous episode, Magpie and Julien Sarcelle spent some time together, and Lucas met Farfalla Shearwater at last.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 22 – Goodbye Gemma - in which Magpie flies back to Pocket to visit her mother and attend a memorial for someone very special.

Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called The Nightcap.

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

Magpie sits up in bed and looks around at the walls of her old room, it feels like she’s traveled back in time. The room strangely feels both foreign and familiar. This is Magpie’s first time back in Pocket since she and Lucas set off for Carnifex House 3 years ago. It is a bittersweet return. Lucas’ Grandmother, Gemma, has passed away, and Magpie has flown in to pay her respects. 

The smell of pancakes rouses Magpie from her bed. She throws on a bathrobe and slippers and heads downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning, sweet bird!” says Mrs. Phaeton.

“Hi mom, this smells amazing! What are you making?” asks Magpie, suppressing a yawn as she takes a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“I made blackberry chocolate chip pancakes, Gemma’s specialty,” says her mom, a nostalgic and sad smile on her face. Magpie presses her lips together, feeling the lump in her throat.

“It’s so sad she died never knowing what happened to Lucas. I feel so guilty,” says Magpie, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Oh honey, I agree it’s incredibly tragic, but it’s not your fault. You’ve done everything you can, and she never stopped being grateful that Lucas had you in his life. She always held hope that he would someday return, and I do too,” says her mom, coming around the counter to give her a warm, comforting hug.

They eat their breakfast, catching up on local gossip, then Magpie heads back upstairs to get ready for the service. She digs her shoes out of her suitcase, then opens the door to her closet to grab her dress. She sees the opening at the back of the closet that leads to the attic, and the memory of her and Lucas climbing up those stairs seizes her heart like a clenched fist. Tears instantly spring up in her eyes, but she blinks them back decisively. This trip is going to be difficult, there will be many hard moments to come, she will have to work hard to keep it together.

“Ready to go?” asks her mom gently as Magpie is coming down the stairs. Magpie nods and they head out to the car. 

The memorial service is being held on the front lawn of the library in downtown Pocket. As they pull up, Magpie realizes that every resident of Pocket seems to be in attendance, as well as some people she doesn’t recognize who have probably come from the neighbouring town of Brighthaven, where Gemma volunteered at a nursing home for several years. They sit and listen as person after person steps up to share their memories of Gemma. Magpie ponders stepping up as well, but she just doesn’t feel like she can do it without breaking down, so she sits quietly and listens to everyone else’s stories. As the service is coming to an end, Mr. Swift claps his hands and uses his booming voice to inform the crowd that refreshments are available inside the school for those who want to keep sharing their memories of Gemma.

“Would you like to go?” asks Mrs. Phaeton.

“I suppose I should. I don’t know what to expect though. Do you think people blame me, for Lucas’ disappearance?” she asks, a small tremor in her voice.

“Oh love, of course not! All this time I’ve only ever heard people sympathize. When I run into people in town, they always ask how you are doing, and ask me to pass along their best wishes. You have nothing to be afraid of,” replies Mrs. Phaeton in a soothing tone.

With that they make their way to the school cafeteria, where an unending spread of homemade baked goods and sandwiches covers several of the long tables. Everyone in town has come together to honour Grandma Gemma’s memory, and Magpie feels a warmth in her heart. She stops to chat with Mr. Bunting from the General Store, then Mr. and Mrs. Tuffeto stop by to shake her hand and ask about life in Scotland. Across the room Magpie spots the old waitress from the diner, who musters up the friendliest nod she can. Magpie is tremendously relieved by the kindness being shown to her by everyone in town.

“With all the socializing, I didn’t get a chance to eat! What do you say we grab some lunch at The Early Bird?” asks Mrs. Phaeton.

“Perfect,” replies Magpie, turning her face to the sun as she and her mom start walking down the main road toward the restaurant. Magpie soaks in the sights and, more importantly, the sounds of Pocket. She recalls that fateful day when the silence started spreading from Meadow Lane toward the town. The day she entered the house on Meadow Lane to find and ring the Skylark Bell. She lets her mind drift for a while, lost in a swirl of memories. Magpie is startled out of her reverie by the sound of the bell above the door as she and her mom walk into the diner. They sit in the booth at the way back of the dining room, the same one Farfalla was sitting in the last time Magpie saw her.

“First, blackberry chocolate chip pancakes, now blackberry waffles and sweet orange tea!” giggles Magpie, “That’s what I call indulging!” She and her mom enjoy a genuine laugh. It feels good to be together again. Mrs. Phaeton visited Magpie in the weeks following Lucas’ disappearance, but the past year and half has been a whirlwind as she worked at converting the house at Meadow Lane into an artist’s retreat and gallery.

“What became of Farfalla’s house?” asks Magpie, suddenly remembering the small house around the corner from Tuffeto’s Bakery.

“Oh, the loveliest young family moved in, the Jacanas. They have two little girls and one boy, just the sweetest kids you’ll ever meet,” answers her mom, “they have taken over making blackberry jam and selling it at the market, and Mr. Jacana also builds birdhouses and other wooden decorations, he’s very talented!” 

They finish their food and Mrs. Phaeton settles up with the waitress before they start walking back to the old farmhouse.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you around Meadow Lane, you won’t believe how different it looks after all the renovations! I’ve got an author and a musician staying there right now, it’s a lot of fun sitting and chatting with them in the evenings when I bring dinner over,” says Mrs. Phaeton. “But for now, I think it’s time to go to Gemma’s house. In her will she stated you could choose any belongings you like, then the house will be sold, and the proceeds sent to the nursing home in Brighthaven.”

Magpie gets a solemn look on her face. Her mom had explained the arrangement to her over the phone before she left Carnifex House, but she had pushed any thoughts of going through Gemma’s house… Lucas’ house… to the back of her mind. Now she and her mother find themselves at the bottom of the driveway next to the mailbox with the name Starling printed on it. Magpie stretches out her hand and runs her fingers over the letters. This is the exact spot where she first met Lucas all those years ago. She bites her lip, fighting the lump rising in her throat and the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. Her mom, sensing the sadness emanating from her, grabs her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before guiding her up to the front door and into the house.

They take their time going from room to room, starting with the second-floor bedrooms. Magpie collects a few things from Lucas’ old room; his high school diploma, the rubber boots he always wore on their excursions. She notices a small stuffed bear sitting on the bed. “You look like you’re waiting for Lucas to return,” she says, picking it up gently, “aren’t we all…” she sighs, holding the bear tightly to her chest before putting it into her bag of keepsakes. In Gemma’s room she chooses a beautiful pastel silk scarf that she remembers Gemma wearing at their high school graduation. On the main floor she walks through the living room, not feeling a particular attachment to anything, but a book on the bookshelf catches her eye. She places her finger at the top of the spine and pulls it out. It is a brown, leather-bound book, admittedly very old, with “The Skye Lark Bell” written on it in gold letters. Magpie gasps, remembering an old dream she had of a woman at Meadow Lane reading this book to her children. She pushes the book back onto the shelf, not wanted to bring something home with her that causes such chills down her spine.

“Almost done?” asks Mrs. Phaeton, walking in from the dining room.

“Just about, I just wanted to walk through the kitchen, maybe hang on to that pancake griddle,” says Magpie with a wink.

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time,” says her mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek before walking out the front door.

Magpie walks into the kitchen, running her hand along the counter where Lucas had slid a plate of pancakes toward her the very first time she came to his house. It takes her a few tries, but she finally finds the cupboard that houses the pancake griddle and carefully slips it out.

“Alright, that’s it I guess,” she says out loud, her words echoing around the empty room.

Magpie is just about to leave when she remembers the collection of old photographs on the kitchen wall, where a photo of Marius Corbeau once stopped her in her tracks. It was just after she’d had a vision of Marius falling off his horse at Mirror Pond during a snowstorm. Magpie looks at the photo now, leaning in more closely and taking her time. The horse, the man … If Lucas was just a few years older than the last time she saw him, his hair a little longer, if he was about the age he would be now… A shudder runs through Magpie as something dawns on her: Marius doesn’t just look like Lucas, they could practically be the same person.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 23, The Birthday Bell, where Lucas visits the Shearwaters at Meadow Lane to celebrate Farfalla’s birthday.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called The Nightcap. Listen to tales of the unusual, and unexplained. If you enjoy the strange atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

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

In today’s episode we read Chapter 34 – The Letter - in which Magpie receives a mysterious letter requesting she visit a nearby care home.

The Skylark Bell is 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 Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

This week's Boopod Network podcast partner is The Nightcap: https://www.instagram.com/_the_nightcap_/

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 34 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, after Lucas’ final attempt at returning to his own timeline fails, he turns his back on Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 34 – The Letter - in which Magpie receives a mysterious letter requesting she visit a nearby care home.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called The Nightcap.

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

It has been 8 years since Magpie landed in Pocket and began living as Farfalla. She has fallen into her routines and keeps herself busy knitting and cooking. When Monsieur Tourtereaux retired last year and sold his bakery to Mr. and Mrs. Tuffeto she wrote a note to introduce herself and came to an agreement with them that she would provide blackberry jam for them to sell in exchange for a small loaf of bread every other day. From the very beginning they treat her with kindness and respect, not harbouring the fear and mistrust that most of the local residents do, perhaps because they are not native to Pocket. Occasionally Mrs. Tuffeto sneaks one of her beautiful cupcakes, or a canister of herbal tea into the package with Farfalla’s bread, and they provide her with bird seed when they go to the neighbouring town for supplies.

Magpie is walking home from the diner, as is her custom. It is a beautiful spring day, the Magnolia in front of Tuffeto’s is in full bloom, as are the tulips and hyacinths, and she inhales deeply to collect their perfume off the breeze. She glances at the front porch of Tuffeto’s and, sure enough, her package is in a large paper bag waiting for her. She climbs up the steps to collect it, waving at them through the window before heading back down and turning the corner to get to her house.

As she reaches her front door, Magpie sees an envelope tucked in the crack between the door and the wall. She puts her package down at her feet and takes the envelope, turning it over in her hands to see what is written on the front. Her heart skips a beat when she sees who it is addressed to.

Margaret Phaeton

Her real name. Not just her name, Magpie, but her real given name. No one knows her real name here, not a soul. She hasn’t even been born yet! There is no address on the envelope, no stamp, nothing to indicate where it has come from or who sent it. Magpie turns and looks around nervously, half expecting someone to be watching her, but her quiet little street is deserted. She unlocks the door with a trembling hand, gathers her package, and steps into her house, closing and locking the door tightly behind her. She places the letter on the dining room table and busies herself with putting away the bread and bonus cherry turnovers that Mrs. Tuffeto has packed in her bag. She puts on the kettle and grabs a mug from the cupboard, selects an herbal tea with lavender to calm her nerves, and stands by the stove waiting for the water to boil, her eyes fixed on the mysterious white envelope on the table. 

Finally, the whistle of the kettle startles her back to reality. She turns off the burner and pours the steaming water into her cup before walking over to the table and taking a seat. She takes a deep breath and picks up the envelope, running her eyes over the ornate cursive handwriting on the front, before carefully running her finger along the seal to pry it open, and slipping out the folded piece of paper contained within.

Mrs. Phaeton, your presence is kindly requested at the Brighthaven Care Home at your earliest availability. This is an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention. Thank you.

The letter itself is written with a typewriter and remains unsigned. Magpie frowns. Brighthaven?! She’d only been there a handful of times back when she was in high school, usually for events or to go shopping with her mother. She had no connection to it otherwise. Who could have possibly sent this letter, and how do they know her true identity?!

Magpie folds the letter back up and returns it to its envelope, then places it in her pocket for safe keeping. She doesn’t want it getting into the wrong hands. After all this time it would be very troublesome for her if people were to find out she isn’t actually Farfalla. She ponders how she can even get to Brighthaven, it is too far to walk, and she doesn’t have a vehicle. “I’ll ask Mr. Tuffeto to bring me with him next time he goes for supplies,” she says out loud as she grabs her notepad and pen to jot down her request. At first it was difficult to remain mute, but she has grown accustomed to finding other ways to communicate with people when the need arises. “There,” she says, holding up her note. She slips on her shoes and walks to the corner to deliver her request to the bakery.

Two days later, Magpie is riding in the passenger seat of Mr. Tuffeto’s delivery truck. She smiles as he sings along with the songs on the radio, and looks out the window at the sunlit fields and beautiful country houses. Finally, they pull up to the Brighthaven Care Home, a large beige brick building that had once served as a convent.

“I’ll come back to pick you up at 3pm, okay?” says Mr. Tuffeto, making eye contact with her to ensure she understands him. Magpie nods and lets herself out of the truck. 

She stops to look up at the building, the sunlight reflecting from its many windows. It is surrounded by ancient trees, their leaves reaching far above the roof of the 3-story building, and Magpie can hear a chorus of birds welcoming the day. Statues stand guard in multiple alcoves in the front of the building, she counts six of them. They are surrounded by windows, each framed with bright white shutters, their glass reflecting the bright green of the budding trees. 

Magpie walks nervously to the massive oak door, its wood carved with intricate symbols, and gives the brass door knocker three loud taps. A moment later she hears echoing footsteps on the other side, and the door swings inwards. Magpie is surprised to see a small woman dressed all in white, down to her shoes and socks, with a veil covering her hair. Magpie’s brow furrows as she briefly wonders if she is in the right place. The woman notices her confused expression and smiles. “I’m Sister Agnes. Please, come in,” she says, her voice soft and reassuring. She gestures toward the space beyond the door and Magpie steps inside. She takes a moment to marvel at the art hanging on the walls, then lets her gaze travel over the beautifully tiled floor, and the architecture of the ornate pillars and woodwork throughout the hall. “Most people don’t realize that several of us nuns stayed on to care for the residents here after the convent was converted,” she explains. She pauses to give Magpie time to take in the space, then asks “Are you here to see someone in particular?” 

Magpie nods and pulls the envelope out from her pocket. “Ah, I see. Yes, follow me,” she says, and walks at a fast pace down the hall then up a grand staircase to the second floor. She guides Magpie down a long hallway to the very last room and knocks gently on the door before turning the knob and swinging it open. The room inside is dark, all the shades are drawn. The nun steps through the door, disappearing into the shadows beyond.

 “Mr. Corbeau,” she says, her voice echoing into the hallway, “your guest is here.”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 35, Closure, where Magpie finds out the identity of the person who requested her presence at the care home.

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 on Spotify or a review on Apple Podcasts, they help give the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called The Nightcap. Listen to tales of the unusual, and unexplained. If you enjoy the strange atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, and this is The Skylark Bell Podcast.

**DISCLAIMER - This episode contains mention of smoking and death and may not be appropriate for younger children**

In today’s special episode we will hear the story of The Other Rachel. This story was inspired by my grandmother, who turned 106 years old earlier this week. I don’t want to give too much away, but rest assured that there is an unusual, somewhat spooky, and definitely mysterious element to the story.

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 episode of The Skylark Bell. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

In today’s special episode we will hear the story of The Other Rachel. This story was inspired by my grandmother, who turned 106 years old earlier this week. I don’t want to give too much away, but rest assured that there is an unusual, somewhat spooky, and definitely mysterious element to the story.

Now, it’s time to grab a blanket and a warm drink, we’re getting started.

The Other Rachel

It will seem hard to believe, but the first time I saw her I didn’t recognize her. In my defense, I hadn’t seen her in nearly 50 years. People seem to think fifty years is a long time. Half a century. I am 105 years old now, my life has surpassed the length of an entire century. The world would be unrecognizable to her, if she could see it, but I have lived through the changes gradually, they aren’t as staggering as they seem when comparing today to my starting point of 1916.

But let me start at the beginning. Not the beginning of my life, that would take far too long, but rather the beginning of the unbelievable, inexplicable, most unlikely three decades of my life. 

I had moved into a small ground floor apartment the previous week. The apartment was located inside a converted school, and the complex only rented out to people of retirement age. It felt like I had come full circle when I toured it; looking out the living room window I could see the second-story apartment across the street where I had raised my family, decades ago. 

The first time I saw her she was on the balcony. I was sitting in my rocking chair by the window enjoying some quiet time before bed. I noticed the small orange light of her cigarette glowing as she smoked. I could see her silhouette outlined by the light of the window behind her. Something about her felt familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The reality was far too unimaginable at this point. She finished her cigarette then lingered a moment, like she was relishing her time outside before going back through the door to whatever waited for her on the other side.

Nearly a month went by before I saw her again. This time it was daytime, and she was sitting on the steps that lead from the second floor to the street, listening to what sounded like a baseball game on the radio. She looked like she was talking to someone, but there was no one else there that I could see. I pushed my curtains aside and leaned closer to the window to get a better look. To my great embarrassment she lifted her head and met my gaze. I quickly stepped back and pulled the curtains closed. It was only a moment before I heard a soft knock on the window. I reluctantly pulled the curtains back again and slid the window open. “Hello,” she said, taking a puff of her cigarette, “my name is Rachel. My family and I moved into the apartment across the street last month.”

I stared at her, speechless, recognition washing over me like one of those rainstorms that comes out of nowhere, leaving you no option but to get soaked. I thought maybe I’d died, and my life is flashing before my eyes. Or maybe I was asleep and dreaming.  Or maybe... maybe...

“Lovely to meet you,” I managed to stammer, “I only recently moved in as well.”

“I hope your children helped get you settled in,” she said, a smile curving her mouth as she stomped her cigarette out on the sidewalk with an old-fashioned kitten-heeled shoe. 

I took a moment to look over her short-sleeved floral dress with buttons down the front. It was the height of mid-1940s fashion. Oh, how I had loved that dress. I remember sewing the buttons back on after a hard tug by one of the children made them pop off. “Yes, they are wonderful children. I’m very proud of them,” I replied, my heart pounding.

“That’s great to hear,” she said, looking back up at me. 

“Do you have children?” I asked her, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, I have two boys and another little one on the way,” she replied, placing a hand on her abdomen. Of course! It was so long ago; I hadn’t thought about it in years. Everything had happened so fast; my father-in-law passing away, moving in with my mother-in-law, our two children in tow and another on the way. “Well, I should be getting back, it’s lovely to meet you Mrs...” her words snapped me out of my memories. 

“Mrs.... Rachel, just call me Rachel,” I told her, hesitating only for a moment.

“Rachel it is, a lovely name.” She winked as she said it, then turned to walk back across the street. I watched her go up the steps, focusing on her shoes. I remembered those shoes, too; my sister Carmen had bought them for me for Christmas in 1945. It was a bittersweet Christmas that year as some celebrated with loved ones who had returned from the war, and others grieved those who had not. I watched as the apartment door closed behind The Other Rachel, then stayed in my chair for a long time, reminiscing about Christmases gone by in that second-story apartment. Back then I would wait until the children had gone to bed on Christmas eve, then pull out the tree, the decorations, wrap the gifts, and do the cooking and baking. I’d work into the wee hours of the morning to get everything ready, and they would wake on Christmas morning believing in magic.

I watched The Other Rachel, about a month later, walking home from the tramway stop down the street, carrying her bag on her arm. She must be coming home from her shift at Birk’s, I thought. I had spent decades working in the iconic Birk’s Jewelry store alongside my sister Marselle, earning $1/hour for my troubles. I would take the streetcar from Des Erables street around the corner from my apartment and get dropped off just steps away from the shop’s location in Old Quebec. The Other Rachel turned to look toward my window as she walked by, and I waved. She smiled and sauntered over. “Hello dear, how was your day?” I asked her.

“It was lovely, my friend Pierre stopped by the store to buy his mother a necklace. He told stories and we laughed and laughed until the manager gave me a stern look... and then we laughed some more,” she giggled. 

I smiled fondly. Pierre had been a young boy when I first met him. Years ago, he and his family would come to the café where I was a waitress, and I would sneak him ice cream when his parents weren’t looking. He eventually moved to California and became a Hollywood actor, but he never forgot his roots. He would always make a point to stop by and say hello to me when he would come back to Quebec City to visit his family.

Another month went by, and I notice a pattern; The Other Rachel’s appearances seemed to coincide with the full moon. We continued our monthly visits over the course of many years, my small apartment window always between us. I was there to celebrate with her when her, my, our, eldest son got married, and I was able to celebrate the birth of my next 3 children once again. It was a strange, amazing, beautiful thing and I didn’t stop for a moment to question how or why. On the days between our visits, I would see the current residents of the apartment, the ones in modern clothes with their modern strollers, modern cars, and modern haircuts, going about their lives. I watched life outside my window like a carrousel, waiting for my favourite horse to pass by.

“I must tell you this story,” she had said to me one day, barely able to keep a straight face. I encouraged her with a nod, wondering which memory her tale would conjure. “Last night I got home late from work, we had a very special client who stayed for some time after we closed the store. I was a little frazzled making dinner and set the oven to a much hotter temperature than I meant to. By the time I peeled, cooked, and mashed the potatoes and trimmed and cooked the beans, I opened the oven to find the roast black and burnt! It was far too late to prepare a new dinner. The meat was tough and dry, and as I sliced it, I couldn’t help but think I’d never hear the end of it from my mother-in-law...” here she pauses, a mischievous gleam in her eye. She had told me a few stories about life with her mother-in-law. Never delving too deeply into just how challenging the situation was, but I remembered it well. Isabella and I never did get along. She would turn off the radio in the middle of the baseball game, or put away photos and trinkets I would display on dressers and bookcases. I would find the trinkets in drawers and put them back out, and she would hide them again, and the cycle would repeat until finally the trinkets disappeared permanently, presumably thrown away. “I held my breath as I served everyone dinner, and sure enough she had something to say...” The Other Rachel draws out the end of her story for suspense. I wait patiently, already knowing what she is about to say. “...and she told me it was the BEST roast she’d EVER had!” At this The Other Rachel roars with laughter. It was quite unlike her to step out of her more rigid, stoic stance. I sat in my rocking chair watching her, surprised, until finally I felt my shoulders shaking back and forth and I joined her in what the French call un fou rire. I was still chuckling about the whole thing when I went to bed and dreamed of all the lost trinkets that had been made to disappear by my mother-in-law over the years. 

A few years later, The Other Rachel asked if any of my children had served in the armed forces. I told her my eldest son and his boys were part of the military, which was not exactly an answer to her question, but also not a lie. People rarely spoke about World War II once it was over, but for some reason it was on The Other Rachel’s mind that day. She told me a story about her brother-in-law, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the mention of his name, not out of spite but out of an almost comical sense of exasperation. My husband had been unable to fight in the war, but his three brothers did, and the one The Other Rachel was referring to had a tendency to go AWOL.

“So here we are, riding the train from Montreal, and Donn tells me to go sit with him. At first, I didn’t understand why, then it dawned on me that appearing to be part of a couple would help him avoid suspicion. My husband sat a few rows back and I sat in silence next to my brother-in-law, hoping no one would ask for our papers. In all those years he never did get caught!” She sighs the sigh of a mother with a hopelessly naughty son. Perhaps this brother-in-law explains some of the mother-in-law’s moodiness, I thought with a quiet giggle.

“My mother-in-law passed away yesterday,” she added, as if reading my mind. I sat silently for a moment, waiting to see if she would say more, but that was that. I offered her my condolences, which she accepted with a nod before slowly walking back up the steps to her apartment. 

My mother-in-law had passed away in the late 1950’s. I still remember the dress I wore to her funeral, and the cold wind at Mount Hermon Cemetery in Sillery, standing at the family grave nestled between two tall Scotch pines planted in honour of their Scottish heritage. I sat for a while thinking about Isabella and the constant state of conflict we had lived in for the better part of 13 years. My husband had been planted squarely in the middle of that small-scale war. I would ask him to pass along my message to her and she would do the same, and he would nod and smile at each of us and keep all the information to himself, a sort of makeshift peacekeeper. In hindsight, perhaps the loss of her husband, that terrible grief settled deep in her soul, had turned here into such a difficult person. Perhaps before she had been a brighter, lighter, happier person. Perhaps she felt like her life was in a tailspin, like the life she had known was disintegrating before her eyes, like she had completely lost control. Perhaps I simply didn’t have enough life experience to empathize back then...

“Those suitcases better be packed by the time I get back!” 

The sound of her voice made me instantly perk up. I had been in a slump for a few of weeks, having broken my leg in a fall while walking to the market on Cartier Street. I painstakingly made my way to the window and pushed the curtains aside to see her weary but smiling face on the other side. I scanned my memory for a trip we may have made around this period in time, but my brain was a little foggy from the pain medication. “Where are you off to?” I finally asked, giving up on my quest.

“We’ve promised the kids a trip to the World Fair in Montreal,” She replied, a mixture of excitement and exasperation in her voice. Of course, Expo ’67! How could I forget?! It was such a magical trip; the cutting-edge technology and design, the crowds milling about with a look of amazement on every face, the sights and sounds, the food... We would talk about that trip for years to come. The unusual structures like the Terre Des Hommes and Habitat 67 that were part of the pavilions at the exhibit still stood to this day, iconic pieces of Montreal architecture.

“How exciting!” I breathed, envious of the adventure that awaited her, an adventure that was so distant in my past.

“It will be if I can get everyone packed up and out the door! On that note, I need to go pick up my pay cheque. It’s lovely seeing you,” she waved before rushing off down the street.

I didn’t see her for a few of months after that. I spent some time with my sisters, and celebrated Easter with my family. When summer came, we drove to the Island of Orleans to buy fresh-picked strawberries, the best berries in the world, no contest! I made jam and marmalade for everyone; my children, my sisters, the Sgobbas who lived down the street, Mme Méo who lived around the corner and had been a friend to me for years, and Mrs. Maher who lived upstairs. The warmer months passed by so quickly, it wasn’t until the cooler weather returned that I realized how much time had gone by since I’d last seen The Other Rachel.

“Gordie, don’t you eat the tops off those mille feuilles! Linda, keep an eye on him!” I heard her shout from outside my window one day. I laughed and laughed. My son, Gordon, had a habit of stealing the iced tops off the flaky custard pastries when no one was looking. 

“Good afternoon, Rachel,” I said, joining her by the window.

“That boy, he’s a handful!” she laughed, her love for him clearly present in her voice. “Say, I was wondering, have you ever travelled to Europe?” she asked. In an instant I knew precisely why she was asking. 

“Yes, I’ve travelled to Spain,” I told her. “Why do you ask?” I added, trying to keep our incredible situation to myself.

“My sister and I are travelling to Spain and Portugal next month!” she answered excitedly. I smiled at her attempt to keep her giddiness in check. She was usually so serious, and no-nonsense, I relished these almost childlike moments of wonder in her, they were far too few and far between.

“You will have a wonderful trip. The food, scenery, and people are all lovely,” I told her, drifting off into memories of that very trip with my sister Marselle. We had eaten late at night, enjoyed the most amazing coffee on the hotel balcony first thing in the morning, watched the sun rise from the beach... 

“Well, I should be going before Gordie gets into some other kind of trouble,” she said, still grinning from ear to ear. I waved goodbye as she scurried home to check on her mille-feuilles. I made a point to walk down to Paolo’s Patisserie on Rue Cartier that evening to pick up a mille-feuille for myself, and that night I went to bed with visions of flamenco dancers and Portuguese sunsets in my head. Just before falling asleep, I made a mental note to call my sister Marselle the next morning to check in, we hadn’t spoken in a few days.

I didn’t see The Other Rachel the following month. I knew she was on her trip, so I didn’t think much of it, but I didn’t see her again for several months after that either, and began to worry until I remembered what happened at the end of that trip. A vicious bout of sciatica had put me in a wheelchair, a condition that took nearly eight months to resolve.

When I finally saw her again it was autumn. I heaved a sigh, relieved the spell had not been broken after all. She walked more gingerly, but still held her head high, and looked impeccable in her long coat and a pair of leather gloves. “Hello Rachel,” I said through the open window. She jumped a little, as if I had startled her. She turned toward me, a look of distraction on her face.

“Oh hello,” she said, regaining her composure. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked her, scanning my memory for the events which transpired fifty years prior that may be cause for her concern. Before I could put my finger on it, she filled me in.

“Have you been listening to the radio?” she asked, “they’re saying the army is coming. There will be curfew. They’re saying a politician has been kidnapped!” Of course. The October Crisis. So much time had gone by I had put it behind me, but it was a frightening spell in Quebec History when some extremists took things too far. My heart sank as I thought of the politician who would later be found dead. I quickly reminded myself to keep quiet about it. 

“Ah yes, very concerning indeed. I’m sure you and your family will be safe,” I smiled at her reassuringly. She nodded, still a little unsure, and bid me farewell as she carefully crossed the street, her gait noticeably affected by the sciatica. I watched her with a sinking heart, knowing there was something far more terrible coming her way than the October Crisis.

A few months later she came to my window, her face ashen and streaked with makeup where tears had run down her face. My stomach clenched. I thought I was prepared. I knew it was coming. I had thought of nearly nothing else the past three months, yet I couldn’t help but feel my heart break all over again. As much as I tried to forget, I remembered this day as if it were yesterday. This horrible, tragic, traumatic day. 

“Oh Rachel, I don’t know what I’m going to do...” she had whispered through my window. 

“Listen to me very carefully. It may not seem like it today, but it’s going to be okay. You will be okay, and your children will be okay. Life will be okay. Trust me.” 

She had looked at me then, her gaze even with mine as if, for a moment, she knew exactly who I was. I stayed perfectly still, unsure of what would happen next. She nodded quietly and turned her gaze to the ground. Eventually she took a deep breath and looked up to the sky before whispering “My husband died today.”

“I remember,” I whispered, too quietly for her to hear. Fifty years I had lived on without him. I wanted to hold her then, to comfort her, but we had only ever talked through the window, and I was afraid to break the spell. After a while she squared her shoulders and lifted her head. She bid me goodnight and walked proudly back to her apartment. I remember the moment, half a century ago, when I decided there wasn’t time for feelings and pity, that I would swallow it all down and continue moving forward and raising my family. I stared out the window well into the night, remembering the pain, the tears, the fear filling up the walls of the second-story apartment across the street. As I watched I saw a hazy figure take shape on the balcony. I recognized him instantly, looking dapper in his limo driver uniform with a cap on his head, leaning on the railing smoking a cigarette. He blew out a plume of smoke and his silhouette dissipated along with it. “Goodbye Don,” I whispered for the first time in 50 years. 

I spent the next several months letting her lead the conversation. Some days she would focus on the children; another getting married, another grandchild being born... other days she would be very quiet, the grief she had swallowed down finally rising to the surface. Over time our conversations returned to what they had been: She sharing current events while I reminisced. 

 “My dearest Rachel,” she said one day, a look of nostalgia on her face, “I’m moving.” The announcement hit me like a kick in the gut. “Our landlord has decided to sell the building, and the new owner is requiring us to leave so he can make renovations,” she continued. “I’ve found a place for us down on Ste Foy Road.”

My heart sank. We had been meeting almost monthly for nearly thirty years. It never occurred to me that our conversations would end at some point. I hadn’t calculated which year it was, exactly, that I had been forced to leave the small apartment that members of our family had occupied for nearly seventy years. I remembered my son had tried to purchase the building, but the bank had denied his loan application. The new apartment The Other Rachel was moving to cost nearly double the rent and I remembered the stress and financial worry of those subsequent years. I shook my head back to the present moment. I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye, not only to her, but to the life I had lived in that second-story apartment across the street. I swallowed the lump in my throat as tears sprung up in my eyes. “I wish you the very best, Rachel,” I whispered to her.

“I’m only moving a few blocks away. I will come back to visit,” she said, clearly emotional about the home she had known nearly three decades, and perhaps a little sad about leaving me, the old woman in the window. Little did she know...

I nodded quietly and watched as she walked across the street for the last time, the sound of her shoes echoing off the sidewalk. “Goodbye Rachel,” I whispered.

I never saw her again. Every full moon I stayed up late into the night, looking for that silhouette and the small orange fire of a cigarette, but the balcony remained silent and empty. A few weeks ago, a For Sale sign appeared on the railing, quickly followed by a Sold sign. Then, last week a construction crew arrived and began filling a dumpster with pieces of wood and drywall as they gutted the interior of the apartment. Once they finished, the next crew came in to rebuild, then movers brought furniture and appliances, and finally a new family arrived: Two adults with a small child and another on the way.

To this day, I sit in the living room of my small apartment staring aimlessly out the window as yet another new family goes about their life, oblivious to my existence, or to the existence of those who came before them. I sit and remember my children when they were children, my husband, my mother-in-law, the burnt roast, Expo ’67, the flamenco dancers, long workdays at Birk’s, the magic of Christmas morning, my sisters - now long departed, and the few moments of quiet sitting on the balcony after the children had gone to bed... I sit and dream. I sit and reminisce. I sit and recall the life I lived in that second-story apartment, when I was The Other Rachel.

Thank you so much for listening.  I look forward sharing the next chapter of Wingspan next week so you can find out what Magpie and Lucas have been up to. Remember, Patreon subscribers get early access to all podcast episodes, and downloads of all my original music as Cannelle, plus illustrations, behind the scenes videos, and more. You can subscribe for as little as $1 per month to access all my content. Check the show notes for links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts, I love interacting with my listeners. 

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review on Apple Podcasts, and/or a rating on Apple podcasts or Spotify. This helps my story gain visibility among the numerous podcasts out there, and it also makes me smile.

Lastly, I’d like to wish everyone who does, or can celebrate Mothers Day a lovely day. My own mother passed away when I was young, but since I became a mom over 13 years ago the day is no longer a sad one. That said, I know it can be a difficult day for many, and my heart goes out to  you.

Thank you, as always, for listening.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 31 - Skipping Stones – in which Farfalla begins to devise a plan for revenge.

This week's podcast partner is Volsteadland: https://linkin.bio/volstead_land

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 31 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla returned to the moment she was thrown off the cliff by the residents of Pocaid.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 31 - Skipping Stones – in which Farfalla begins to devise a plan for revenge.

Today’s podcast partner is Volsteadland. Hosts Amy and Heather take you to the deepest, darkest recesses of prohibition era Minneapolis while exploring the fascinating real life story of famous Twin Cities mobster Kid Cann. Even if you aren’t familiar with Minneapolis, or Kid Cann, this is a fascinating tale that you won’t want to miss. Just check the show notes for a link to Voslteadland.

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

The last time I woke in this bed was the morning they took me away and threw me off a cliff.

I didn’t intend to sleep so long, but it is early morning still. I should be able to sneak away unseen. Before falling asleep I made my way into Carnifex House, and I watched Frannie and Felix as they slept. I hold no ill will toward Frannie, she didn’t know what would happen when she told her parents about what I did to Nurse Betsey. Had I known she was there that day, watching, I never would have carried out my plan. But that is all in the past now… 

It’s a funny expression, isn’t it? “All in the past”. As if the past is a set thing, an unmovable point on a line. I suppose to most people it is, but not to me.

Today I set a new plan in motion. The Vanishings. I haven’t even started, yet the stories have been told for generations. I can only conclude that this will not be the only time I make someone “vanish”. From what I can gather, I have quite a reputation to live up to.

Well, I can hardly become the stuff of legend looking like this. It was painful glancing in the mirror this morning. I hadn’t seen my reflection since the day before I was pulled from this cottage. Was it 5 years ago? Longer? I’ve lost track of how much time I spent with the tribe. My hair has grown so long and so tangled I had to find shears to clean it up after the comb broke in my hand. There are small creases at the corners of my eyes and mouth now that weren’t there before. My dress, despite my best efforts to clean it, looks dingey and worn, so I took a fresh gown from the wardrobe. I remember wearing it to one of the fancy dinners Donald and Isabella Carnifex put on. It’s a beautiful, crisp white gown with lace along the cuffs and neckline. I think this will be a good look for Dealan-dè.

The sun will rise soon, it is time for me to go.

I will wait for him on the beach.

~~~~~~

The cool breeze whips Farfalla’s fiery hair around her face. The white dress billows around her legs as the waves lick her feet. She is looking out at the sea, still dreaming of her daughter on the other side. She has tried repeatedly to let go of that dream, but somewhere deep inside here it remains, surfacing when she least expects it. However, this deep desire to be with her child may help her in her quest today.

“Hullo again,” says the small, now familiar voice. 

“Hi Ash,” says Farfalla, turning to the boy. She scans the beach behind him and is relieved to see he has come alone. “I told you I’d see you again,” she says, winking at him. 

Ash grins and nods. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two flat stones. He tosses one of them across the water and it skips 6 times before sinking. “Would you like to try?” he asks. Farfalla nods and grabs the stone from his hand. She holds it up to her mouth and whispers something before launching the stone across the water. The rock skips at least a dozen times before disappearing from view.

Ash turns to her, his large blue eyes even wider than they already were. “How did you do that?” he says, incredulous.

“I kindly asked the rock to skip,” she answers in a very matter-of-fact tone. “You could do it to,” she adds slyly.

“Really?” asks the boy, still in stunned disbelief.

“Sure! I can teach you everything I know,” says Farfalla, crouching down to the boy’s level.

“Would I have to go into the woods?” asks the boy, getting suspicious.

“Well, yes. That is where my school is,” says Farfalla, choosing her words carefully. “It’s a beautiful place, with tall trees, and my friend Ru would love to meet you. He’s a red deer,” she adds, hoping to win over the boy with the promise of a new pet.

“A real red deer?! Does he let you pet him!” asks Ash, no longer trying to hold back his excitement.

“More than that, he speaks to me,” says Farfalla, reeling the boy in. “In fact, he told me he would wait for me at the edge of the woods, I bet he’s there right now, by the big ancient rock, do you know which one I’m talking about?” she asks.

“Yes, it’s the one I was hiding behind the first time we met,” he says. “I was playing hide and seek with Felix. I told him I saw you, but he didn’t believe me, and he never wanted to play with me after that. Everyone thinks I’m strange,” he adds, sadness in his voice.

“Well, I think you’re perfectly wonderful and I would love to play hide and seek with you, or any other game you choose. But I need to get back home soon. Ru will be waiting for me,” she says, standing up. “It was nice seeing you again, Ash,” she says, turning to leave.

Ash hesitates as Farfalla takes a few steps up the beach then shouts “Wait!” Farfalla smiles, then turns toward the boy, an innocent look on her face. “I’d like to meet Ru, and I’d like to learn how to skip stones clear across the bay like you can,” says the boy. 

“Then all you need to do is follow me,” she says, reaching down to grab the boy’s hand. 

They walk across the beach and through the fields. At the edge of the woods Farfalla calls to Ru who appears almost immediately. “Ru, this is my friend Ash,” she says to the deer. The deer looks suspiciously at her, as if it is questioning her motives more so than assessing the small stranger.

“Hullo Ru!” says the boy with a tinge of intimidation in his voice. He reaches a hand up and gingerly pets the deer’s face.

“Ru says he’s very pleased to meet you, and he says he will lead the way through the forest,” says Farfalla. The boy doesn’t hesitate for a moment and falls in line behind Ru. Farfalla walks behind them to ensure they are not followed. They walk for nearly an hour before Ash begins to tire. Farfalla picks him up in her arms and carries him the rest of the way, relishing the feeling of once again holding a child in her arms. By the time they reach the gateway the boy has fallen asleep. She places him gently on the ground with a rolled-up blanket beneath his head.

Farfalla calls to the birds and ask them to bring her feathers and soft grass to make a bed for the boy. Within minutes a flock of birds drops off the requested materials and Farfalla gets to work building a cot for him. Her task complete, she gently places the boy on his bed and covers him with the blanket. She sits back and watches him sleep. The sharp pain of nostalgia hits her in the chest as she recalls watching Elisabeth sleep in her bed at Paloma’s city apartment the night before she and James left for Scotland. Farfalla stretches out on the ground next to the boy and falls asleep, dreaming of her old life. For so long she called it her real life, but now she isn’t quite sure what is real anymore.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 32 – Her Prison, Her Fate – in which Farfalla requests of favour from an old friend.

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 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.

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 3

NOTE: If you have not listened to Volumes 1 and 2 of this 4-part miniseries, please pause this episode, and go listen to the first two 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 two installments of this story, I strongly suggest you hit pause on this episode and go listen to volume 1 and volume 2, otherwise this episode won’t make much sense. 

In last week’s episode, Marie rescued a kitten named Jones, and made the startling discovery that Mr. Holcomb had been labeled a missing person decades prior.

Now, get settled in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s dive back into the story.

I didn’t need to worry about waking the next morning as Jones took it upon himself to serve as an alarm clock when he felt it was time to be fed. “You little rascal, you’re just loving this aren’t you?” I teased as I placed a bowl of turkey pieces with a strong pour of gravy in front of him. I was about to go take a shower when the phone on the kitchen wall rang so loudly I was sure the neighbours three houses away could hear it. I grabbed my chest with my hand and waited a moment to catch my breath before lifting the receiver off the hook. “Hello?” I asked tentatively. 

“Oh, hello Marie dear, this is Florence,” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I was simply calling to let you know we plan on returning home early tomorrow morning. I trust things are going well?” she asked.

I could still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but I managed to compose myself enough to reply. “Yes, everything is great. Mr. Holcomb is quite lovely. Oh, I should probably tell you, I found a stray kitten that I’m caring for, I hope that’s okay?” I figured I should probably make mention of the fact that I’d brought an animal into their home.

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line, and I grew nervous that Florence was displeased. “That’s quite alright dear. I’m sure Jones is thoroughly enjoying spending the holidays with you,” she eventually replied, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Right then, we’ll see you in the morning,” she added before promptly ending the call.

I put the phone back in its cradle. Something about the conversation was bothering me... I stood barefoot on the cold ceramic kitchen floor running the conversation through my head again, then it finally hit me: How did Florence know the kitten’s name was Jones? On cue, Jones wandered into the room and rubbed up against my legs. I picked him up and held him at arm’s length. Of course! Jones had a name tag, perhaps Florence had seen him before, maybe he even had a reputation for visiting neighbourhood homes and getting a few extra meals out of it. “I knew you were a rascal!” I giggled. I pulled him in and bumped my nose against his, mesmerized by those unearthly amber eyes, before gently placing him back on the ground.

I showered and put on a festive sweater and some dressy trousers before heading upstairs to join Mr. Holcomb for Boxing Day breakfast. I told him about the rowdy boys and the kitten, and how Jones and I had eaten Christmas dinner by candlelight before I spent a couple of hours reading Alice in Wonderland in the reading room. I was itching to ask him about the newspaper clippings, but something about his expression stopped me. His brow was knit, and his eyes had turned that stormy charcoal grey again. I realized then that I’d been speaking non-stop since we’d sat down, so I quieted myself and waited for him to speak.

“So... Jones is here now,” was all he said. I nodded but wasn’t sure if he noticed as he seemed to be staring off into space. I let the quiet linger between us, hoping he would elaborate, but his lips remained tightly pressed together.

“Mr. Holcomb...” I began, unsure of how to broach the subject. 

“Your questions will all be answered in due time, my dear Marie,” he said, sparing me the trouble of asking. “There are things that should not be known before one is ready to know them...” he mused obscurely, still with that faraway, stormy look in his eyes. I didn’t dare ask him to elaborate, I would just have to be patient. We spent the rest of breakfast speaking of innocuous things; childhood Christmas gifts, funny stories about relatives falling off chairs or spilling food and drink on one another at holiday parties. Though we only talked about surface things, the conversation was merry, and Mr. Holcomb’s eyes progressively morphed from steely grey to an appealing feathery white.

It was past noon by the time I got back downstairs to the sisters’ flat. Jones meowed at me in greeting and climbed up my shin to be picked up. I curled him into my arms like a baby and stared into his eyes, bordering on chartreuse in the midday light, while feeling the soft rumble of his purring against my chest. I felt the weight of the world disappear then, there was such comfort in the softness of his fur and his desire for companionship. 

A sudden chill passed through the air causing Jones and I to shiver in unison. “I think I’m going to run a bath,” I said, lowering him to the hardwood floor. “Don’t worry, I have no expectation that you will want to get anywhere near the water,” I laughed. “Why don’t I make a fire in the fireplace for you, and you can wait for me on the sofa with a blanket?” I suddenly became aware that I was speaking to Jones as though he were human and felt simultaneously ridiculous and grateful that there was no one around to hear. I got Jones settled then made my way to the bathroom. I took the time to admire the vintage Art Deco tile pattern on the floor and walls before turning the hot water faucet on the claw foot tub to its maximum, then adding a bit of cold water and two capfuls of green apple bath bubbles. I placed a thick fluffy towel and a bathrobe on a nearby wooden stool in preparation for the aftermath of my soak, then draped my clothes over the edge of the sink before carefully slipping into the steaming hot water. I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet, fruity fragrance while listening to the crackling of the bubbles.

I sat quietly in the tub, keeping thoughts of cloudy eyes and mysterious disappearances at bay, choosing to think instead of what I would prepare for dinner and which tea from the three forbidden tea canisters I would brew first. Eventually the water grew uncomfortably tepid, and the skin on my fingers began to wrinkle. I used my toe to pull the chain attached to the bathtub stopper and let the water drain a moment before standing to step out of the tub. The towel and bathrobe were both luxuriously plush, and I relished the warm, cozy feeling of being wrapped in them. I walked to the living room and rooted through my weekender bag for a fresh change of clothes. Jones was fast asleep on the sofa, curled up on a throw pillow with the glow of the fire reflecting off the sheen of his velvety fur.

I made my way to the kitchen and perused the pantry and refrigerator contents for inspiration. I grabbed some zucchini, carrots, peas, and broccoli from the fridge and a box of pasta out of the cupboard. With a little butter, cream, and spoonful of flour I could whip together a mean pasta primavera, there was even a block of fresh parmesan cheese in the fridge to top it all off. I still had leftover rum raisin cake and custard for dessert. “That will pair perfectly with a cup of forbidden tea!” I chucked to myself out loud in the empty kitchen. I set to work making a roux and roasting the vegetables. My mum had always loved my pasta primavera; the secret was roasting the vegetables rather than boiling or steaming them, the caramelization added a lovely depth of flavour to the dish. 

“Jones, time to eat!” I called as I placed a bowl of shredded turkey with a dollop of cream sauce at his place setting across the table from me. I set my plate on the table as well, then gave each of us a generous sprinkle of parmesan. “Now I don’t want you to think this is what you get to eat every day, this is a Boxing Day special, okay?” I said to him as he hopped onto the table. I patted the top of his head then sat down to eat. A flood of memories of suppers with my mother came to me as I took my first bite. I could see her smile, hear her laugh... what I wouldn’t do to see and hear her again...

Jones finished his meal long before I did and stretched out in front of the stove, rolling onto his back to let its warmth tickle his belly. I cleared the table and quickly did the washing up, then put the kettle on. While waiting for the water to boil I unwrapped the rum raisin cake, cut a generous piece and placed it onto a plate. “Perfect timing!” I exclaimed as the kettle sounded its whistle. I turned off the stove, then stood in front of the shelf with the three glass tea canisters, I hadn’t yet decided which one I was going to brew. I noticed a label at the bottom of each one, and squinted to read the ornate cursive handwriting in hopes it would help inform my decision. I started with the canister to the left, the tea inside was black and appeared rather nondescript. “Dark Moon, sounds like something Winifred would come up with!” I said, laughing at my own humour. I moved on to the next canister, the tea inside was shades of purple with delicate dark pink rose petals mixed in, its label read “Violet Storm”. Intriguing! The last canister was filled with a mixture of gold tea leaves, yellow and orange flower petals, and citrus rinds, the label on that one read “Golden Sunset”. 

I pondered a moment longer, and decided Violet Storm sounded like a good accompaniment to rum raisin cake. I gingerly lifted the canister off the shelf and placed it on the counter. I popped open its lid, and the aroma of lavender, elderberry, hibiscus, and a strange sickly-sweet smell I couldn’t pinpoint rose from its contents. I found a scoop in the utensil drawer and placed three spoonfulls into the infuser part of the teapot, then poured the boiling water in and stepped away to let it steep for a few minutes. I walked to the stove and crouched next to Jones, running my hand over the sleek fur of his body. He looked up at me with those amber eyes and blinked that slow blink cats do when they’re rather satisfied with their circumstances; a full belly, a warm napping spot, and a human to do their bidding. I finally admitted to myself that I’d grown unusually attached to this kitten over the past couple of days, as though we were kindred spirits from the start.

“Tea time!” I said as I stood up. I poured tea from the pot into the teacup Mr. Holcomb had gifted me. I left the teacup on the counter while I brought my plate of cake and the little pot of custard to the table. Then I grabbed the saucer with the teacup precariously balanced on it and held it up to my face, breathing in the steam. The unidentified sweet smell was even more pungent now, and I desperately wondered what it would taste like. I shifted the saucer to my other hand and grabbed the teacup by its delicate handle, slowly lifting it to my mouth. 

Suddenly, a loud slam came from behind me. Startled beyond belief I jumped and spun on my heel. Before I could wrap my brain around what was happening the teacup flew out of my hand and went crashing to the floor, leaving the echo of a shattering sound ringing through the kitchen. I stared in shock at the purple streak of tea spreading across the black and white tile of the floor.

“I told you not to drink the tea!”

I gathered my wits about me and looked up. Standing a few paces away was Winifred. She had a small cut on her hand, presumably from when she slapped the teacup out of my grasp. It took me a moment to notice Florence was standing directly next to her. “Oh dear,” breathed Florence, looking at something behind me with sadness in her eyes. I turned and saw Jones voraciously drinking from the puddle of tea on the floor.

“Oh Jones, that’s not for you!” I said, bending to pull him into my arms.

“It’s too late,” croaked Winifred. I instantly recognized the voice on the phone that stormy Christmas Eve night in Mr. Holcomb’s flat. What in the world was going on?!

“I- I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” I stumbled over my words, both nervous and embarrassed. 

“Winifred felt strongly that we should come home early,” said Florence. “It’s probably best that you go home now, Marie,” she added. Her voice was neutral, neither kind nor unkind, neither soft nor stern. I sheepishly bent to clean up the mess of broken porcelain on the floor. “Leave it,” she said. I kept my gaze glued to the floor and withdrew to the living room to tidy up and pack my things.

As I made my way into the hall Jones sauntered over and looked up at me with those glorious glowing yellow eyes. I pondered whether I should scoop him up and take him with me, but Winifred came through the doorway to the right and stood between us, her inky eyes piercing into my soul, and slowly shook her head no. I muttered an apology and made a swift exit.

I wallowed in self-pity and embarrassment for a few days, then decided to leave the confines of my flat to take a walk. I wandered through the woods where the crows cawed to one another as though saying “Look at that ridiculous girl, a guest in someone’s home and doing as she pleases with no regard for them!” I felt disgraced, and disappointed in myself. Making a cup of tea seemed like such a small, innocuous, harmless thing at the time, but clearly it wasn’t, clearly there was a valid reason why the sisters had forbidden it... and I should have respected their wishes.

I wandered aimlessly, stopping at one point to select a drink at the local café. I stared hopelessly at the menu board, unable to make up my mind, and finally settled on some iced tea, then chuckled bitterly at the irony of my selection. My walk eventually took me to the top of Dimly Court. I looked down the street past the brick row houses and perfectly manicured shrubs, hesitating. Would it be out of place for me to walk by? The sisters were hermits, the odds of one of them seeing me were rather low. I decided to take my chances and turned onto their street. 

Every window covering at 51 Dimly court was drawn, but I could see Jones’ silhouette sitting on the windowsill, the patterned chenille of the drapes hanging behind him like backdrop. I stood in front of the window, admiring the velvety sheen of his coat. “Jones!” I whispered as loudly as I dared. The kitten turned his head and I gasped. I instinctively took a step back and nearly tumbled off walkway. In the place of those glorious golden eyes that I had stared into just days before were two orbs filled with a swirl of thunderous grey clouds. The cat’s head suddenly darted back and forth as though watching something behind me. I turned to look but there was nothing there. I stood on the empty street watching him get increasingly agitated. “Oh Jones, what happened to you?” I choked. Suddenly, the curtain was pulled aside and Winifred’s pallid face came into view, that eternal streak of red lipstick still across her mouth. Her carbon-coloured eyes locked firmly on me as she pulled the kitten into her arms, then she quickly stepped back into the shadows from whence she came. The curtain closed behind her, a supple but effective barrier between us.

I trudged back home in slow, plodding steps, my head hung low. My mind, however, was in overdrive. Jones’ eyes were now in the same condition as Mr. Holcomb’s... what on earth could have caused it? I let different scenarios play out my head, then stopped dead in my tracks as it hit me: The tea! It had to be the tea! That would explain why the sisters had instructed me not to drink it. Jones had lapped it up after it spilled on the floor, and now he had a storm in his eyes. I let the swirling thoughts keep coming; perhaps Mr. Holcomb had ingested some of the tea as well, and that’s how he ended up the way he did. I suddenly remembered the glimpse of him I’d caught the night of the storm when he’d sat rod-straight in his chair, a blindfold strapped across his eyes. My next thought sent a shiver down my spine... What was it he was avoiding looking at that night? What was it, exactly, that Jones and Mr. Holcomb were able to see with those cloudy eyes that I apparently could not? I shuddered as I realised how closely I had come to joining their ranks.

I spent the next few days alone, only going out for the odd walk in the woods and to do a bit of shopping at times when I was least likely to encounter other people. Thankfully, I didn’t have to return to work until after the holidays. I rang in the new year by myself in my dark living room, doing my best to ignore the cacophony of the festivities outside the walls of my apartment. I simply wasn’t in a celebratory mood, and other people’s cheer was the last thing I needed.

I woke at the crack of dawn the first day of the new year with the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. I heard the sound of a car door outside my window, and got out of bed, tugging my twisted nighty back into place. I slid into my fuzzy slippers, then walked to the living room so I could look out the front windows. My stomach clenched instantly. There, standing immobile on the walkway to my apartment building, a black 1940s style car parked behind them, were the twins. Winifred was dressed all in black with a black strip of fabric draped over her eyes, which made her white powdery makeup and smear of red lipstick stand out even more. In complete contrast, Florence was decked out in a floral dress with a long brown chequered coat draped over her shoulders. The sisters’ arms were laced together, presumably so Florence could guide Winifred who surely couldn’t see much, if anything, with the blindfold. Florence locked eyes with me, then carefully and deliberately bent down to place a brown leather-bound book onto the pavers of the walkway to my building. She gave me a small nod, then the pair turned and methodically walked back to the old-fashioned car. Florence helped Winifred get in her seat, then walked to the driver’s side, and eased herself behind the wheel. I watched, equally confused, and mesmerized, as the pair drove off.

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

Be sure to check in next week for the final portion of the story!

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. 

In today’s episode we read the chapter 27 – Trial by Fire – in which a betrayal has devastating consequences.

This week's podcast partner is Shittin' Bricks: https://linktr.ee/shittinbricks

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 27 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode we witnessed the creation of The Skylark Bell per instructions provided by the Ancient Oak.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 27 – Trial by Fire – in which a betrayal has devastating consequences.

Today’s podcast partner is Shittin Bricks, proud members of the Boopod Network who hail from Australia. Kat and Dom lend a hilarious perspective to true crime and the unexplained, you won’t regret giving them a listen. Just 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 elixir.

I think it was part of the plan.

I don’t know what was in that elixir. I did not prepare it, and I don’t believe Cailleach did either, but it was the first step in someone’s master plan.

Let me go back a few steps. After the ceremony, the festivities truly took off. The booming thud of the drums resonating inside my rib cage as I danced and spun around the fire with the other tribe members. Erskina painted my face in the same warrior pattern Cailleach decorated me with when I first met her. We threw herbs in the fire to burn off negative energy, we sang, we feasted, saluted the bounty of nature. We laughed, and we loved, and we communed with the elements; fire, water, earth and air. 

It was a dizzying blur of sounds, shapes and colours. As I recall it now, I can’t remember specific details, who did what, who was where, it’s like the tribe and the ceremony itself were all melded into one, all moving together as one force. It was the most powerful, most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.

It occurred to me, some time into the celebrations, that I hadn’t seen Corbin since I noticed his strange behaviour by the fire. I decided to try and find him, despite feeling slightly unsteady from the effects of the elixir. I walked around the clearing, checked inside his work tent, then his living tent. I should have noticed right away that most of his belongings were gone, I should have realized what it meant, but my head was clouded by that blasted drink.

After circling the encampment for some time, I ended up next to the Ancient Oak. “Climb up,” I heard it say. So, I did…

~~~~~~

Despite the effects of the elixir, Farfalla expertly climbs up to her preferred branch in the Ancient Oak and leans her head against its trunk. “Hello, old friend,” she whispers, conjuring a memory of Marius greeting Cormorant in the barn at Meadow Lane. She breathes in the fragrant sage-tinged tendrils of smoke wafting up from the fire below and closes her eyes.

“They’re coming.” The Ancient Oak’s words cause her to open her eyes immediately. 

“What? Who’s coming?” she whispers. Farfalla looks around in the fading light of the setting sun. From this vantage point she can see the fields surrounding the forest and make out some of the forest paths through the canopy of the trees below. Once they’ve adjusted to the light, her eyes catch glimpses of movement through the trees. She squints down, trying to understand what she is seeing. Between the branches of the Ancient Oak, she sees a man on the edge of the clearing. He is wearing heavy armor and holding a sword in his hand at the ready. Soldiers. Their encampment has been found. Farfalla feels her heart racing as she watches the soldiers circle the clearing, barely visible through the shadows of the forest. “Cormag!” she shouts down to the crowd below, “Cailleach! Soldiers! Soldiers are here!” her words are drowned out by the beating drums, stomping feet, and singing of the celebration. “I have to warn them!” whispers Farfalla.

“Stay here,” commands the tree.

Before Farfalla has a chance to debate, the soldiers descend violently on the tribe. Farfalla turns away, crying openly at the screams and shouts below. “I can’t abandon them!” she says to the tree.

“There is nothing you can do; this is their fate. Our fate,” replies the tree.

Farfalla, determined to at least try to help, begins to climb off her branch when something below catches her eye. Corbin. He is standing in the clearing, scanning the area, looking for something. Why isn’t he running? Wonders Farfalla. Suddenly he looks up and sees her. Farfalla beckons for him to come up. Perhaps if he joins her in the tree, he’ll be safe!

Corbin lifts his arm and points to her. “Up there!” he shouts. Farfalla’s brow furrows in confusion. Who is he talking to? She needn’t wait long for an answer. Within seconds two soldiers appear by his side. Farfalla feels her heart sink and her rage rise. It was Corbin. He betrayed the entire tribe. He knew everyone would be together for the ceremony and distracted by the ensuing celebration. The elixir! He must have put something in it to weaken their senses, turning the entire tribe into easy targets! Furious, Farfalla looks toward the large branch hanging over their heads. “FALL!” she shouts with all the air in her lungs. There is a mighty crack as the branch breaks free from the Ancient Oak and crashes onto Corbin and the two soldiers, instantly throwing them to the ground, where they remain, unmoving. 

A nearby soldier turns to look, then glances up at the tree. His eyes meet Farfalla’s, and a shiver runs down her spine. His gaze is filled with power, arrogance… and hate. He marches decisively to the fire and pulls out a long branch. He signals for the other soldiers to do the same, and together they circle the Ancient Oak. The first soldier counts down in his language, a language Farfalla doesn’t understand or recognize. He reaches the end of the countdown, and the soldiers push their burning branches toward the Ancient Oak. Farfalla, crushed, realizes this is what her dream was foreshadowing. Another dream, nightmare, becoming a reality. First there was water, now there is fire. 

Farfalla sobs as she hears a painful cry emanate from the tree. The flames lick at its dry leaves and eventually spread to its branches. She stays in place, frozen in fear, until she feels the bottom of her robe singe. She climbs above the line of fire and looks down. The flames are spreading quickly. She looks around desperately, unsure of what to do. There is no way for her to climb down and has climbed far too high to jump. Even if she did jump, the soldiers ransacking the encampment below would be on her in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately for her, but fortunately for the forest, there are no other trees nearby for her to jump into. 

Suddenly Farfalla sees flames stretch like long glowing fingers and grasp the bottom of her robe, determined to consume it. She quickly pulls her arms out of the sleeves and slips out of the robe, watching as it drops then gets caught on a burning branch. The beautifully embroidered birds, flowers, and deer disappear within seconds as the flames tear through the fabric. Mesmerized by the sight, Farfalla barely notices as the flames reach the branches just below her. She eventually feels the heat beneath her feet and scurries up as high as she can to get away from the rapidly spreading fire. There is no escape. There is nowhere to go. This is the end.

“The bell,” says the Ancient Oak, its strained voice barely above a whisper, “use the bell.”

Farfalla lays her hand against its trunk and fishes the bell out from the folds of her gown. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have protected you; I should have protected all of them!” The words spill out between heaving sobs.

“This was our fate. It was written long ago. I will live on, you know that. You know the entire story. You may not remember it, but it is there, deep inside of you,” whispers the tree. “Now, use the bell, you only need to get to tomorrow. Then the work will begin. You remember my instructions?”

“Yes, I remember,” whispers Farfalla. She holds the bell in her shaking hands and closes her eyes as the Song of the Oak Tree softly surrounds her like a warm blanket. She feels the strange sensation of her mind and body separating. Then everything goes dark.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 28 – Under the Same Sky – in which Farfalla picks up the pieces after the devastating attack on the camp.

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 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 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.

Today’s episode of The Skylark Bell was made in collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast. It is a little different than what you’ve become used to at The Skylark Bell; it is recorded in Audio Drama format as a phone call between two characters, and features an introduction and voice acting by the host of The Haunted UK podcast. Fair warning, this episode may also be slightly scarier than a typical episode of The Skylark Bell.

Story and Script by The Haunted UK

Find The Haunted UK podcast's 2021 Halloween Special here *We suggest listening to this FIRST*: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0bvnvqkUCIxmFA2DWuomp2?si=f4LImIeoTJ6zKeMJa6WUlg

Find The Haunted UK podcast on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hauntedukpodcast/

The Skylark Bell is 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 Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings productions presents – A Special episode of The Skylark Bell, in collaboration with The Haunted UK Podcast. I’m your host, Melissa Oliveri.

Before you begin this episode, I strongly suggest you hit pause, and go visit The Haunted UK podcast’s 2021 Halloween Special episode, the link is in the show notes. It is a fantastic episode retelling a story that will give you chills. Then, come back here for an epilogue of sorts... 

Now, today’s episode of The Skylark Bell is a little different than what you’re used to, as it is recorded in Audio Drama format as a phone call between two characters, and features an introduction and voice acting by the host of The Haunted UK. This episode may also be slightly scarier than a typical episode of The Skylark Bell.

Alright, you’ve been warned! Now go grab a blanket and a warm drink, and let’s get started.

Halloween 2021 saw the Haunted UK Podcast publish a bonus episode which told the unbelievable story of an author and his terrifying experience with something completely out of the ordinary. Going by the name of Robert Crawford, this individual tried to gain some sort of normality back into his life...but those experiences on an isolated farm in England’s Peak District would continue to haunt him every minute of every day.

Little by little Robert's life began to fall apart because of the impact of what he'd witnessed, and also the fact that Gwen and Bernie knew where he lived. He had no idea what had happened to both of them after he left the farm on that final fateful night.... did they both get out of the tunnels under the barn... or did they die down there?? Every day was a waiting game.... would someone come looking for him to make sure that he never spoke of what he saw?

Just how long had the existence of this bloodline of creatures been kept secret, and how many actually knew about what was going on at the farm. Maybe it was paranoia, but since the events witnessed by Robert Crawford had happened, he began to record his phone calls and document any events which he felt were strange.

From his diary notes he mentioned a number of times that he felt that he was being followed, but never actually saw anyone. He also says that his house phone would ring a number of times every day, but nobody would speak... there would just be light breathing. Was this someone from the farm, or was it someone else entirely? Crawford would have his phone disconnected and would then rely completely on his iPhone, which few people had the number for.

What you are about to hear is a telephone conversation which allegedly took place a few months ago. The audio file for this conversation was on a USB drive which had been posted in a padded envelope. We've taken the liberty of re-recording this conversation to protect those involved and to also keep the real name of the farm under wraps. There was also a written note enclosed which simply read "Seek out the Book of Aldaraia".

After a little bit of digging regarding the book mentioned in the note, the Book of Aldaraia is also known as the Book of Soyga....or The Book That Kills. It's not known who actually wrote this book, but it was part of the extensive library of John Dee until his death in 1608. Legend has it that a medium by the name of Edward Kelley was used by John Dee to help translate the book, which was mostly in Latin, in 1582.

Kelley offered John Dee the chance to speak to the Archangel Uriel to help him decode the most mysterious sections of the book, which are around 40,000 seemingly randomly distributed letters. Not satisfied with the secrets of magic, divination, spells, incantations, and details regarding demonology already discovered within the book, John Dee wanted the key to unlock the code within these characters. When he asked Kelley to instruct the Archangel Uriel to give up the code he refused, telling him that only the Archangel Michael could truly decode and translate the full potential of the book.... and that wasn't something that was going to happen. The contents were just too dangerous.

So, what mysterious powers lay behind these layers of random letters? It's still unknown today, but John Dee devoted his entire life trying to crack this code and upon his death in 1608, the book went missing... until 1994. Where had it been? What was it used for, and what did it have to do with what went on at the farm? The book resides in the British Library to this day.

Here is the phone conversation, make of it what you will...

(iPhone rings and Robert Crawford answers.)

Robert: Hello (short period of silence)...Hello...

Laura:  Is this Robert Crawford??

Robert: Ermm..who's asking?

Laura:  My name is Laura Arden....I work at the Natural History Museum in London...in the Department of Medieval and Latter Antiquities...so sorry to call so late, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something?

Robert: Sorry, but how did you get this number? Are you American??

Laura: Canadian actually....ummm...well, a little research and access to some databases and I managed to find you. You're a really difficult guy to track down considering you're an author.

Robert: Well, I prefer to keep as much of my life as private as possible. What is it you wanted again?

Laura: I just needed to ask you a few questions about something that I think you may be able to help with......you can look me up online at the museum if you like....

Robert: No, no,...there's no need for that. I just don't get many phone calls nowadays, that's all.

Laura: So....do you think you could help me out??

Robert: ..Sure, yes, I'll try my best....This isn't about a book signing is it??

Laura:  No, no, no....although I have read a couple of your books, but no....I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to help me get to the bottom of something that I found while I was on vacation...it may have something to do with you.

Robert: I suppose so...but I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be, but fire away

Laura:  Ok...bit of a strange question for starters, but do you have any interest in the occult...witchcraft...black magic...things like that?

Robert: Well if you say you've read a few of my books then you'll know that I sometimes dabble in those topics....look, what's this about exactly, and how can this have anything to do with me??

Laura:  Well it's not just about something that I found, but more about the location it was found in....and I think you can give me some valuable information about this location.

Robert: Ok, look it's late and I don't want to come across as being rude, but can you just get to the point please??

Laura:  Ok...fair enough.....Have you ever been to Manor Ridge Farm Mr Crawford??

(a long silence)

Laura:  Hello??...Mr Crawford...Hello??...are you still there??

Robert: Yeah..I'm still here....how do you know that name??

Laura:  Have you been there...or not Mr Crawford?

Robert: Look, there's nothing I can help you with Laura...it's been lovely talking to you but I have things to...

(Laura cuts in)

Laura: (more forcefully now) HAVE YOU BEEN THERE OR NOT???

Robert: ....yes...I was there around a year ago.

Laura:  Good...now we're getting somewhere. So what circumstance led you to Manor Ridge Farm??

Robert: In all honesty...I had writers block while I was working my next book. I needed a change of scenery...something to snap me back in to focus. I found a cottage for rent on the farm and hired it. The different views, the atmosphere, the clean air...it was supposed to help but....well...it didn't.

Laura:  So what happened??

Robert: Hold on...how do you even know I was there? Are you working with the police or something?

Laura:  Police???..no..it's..it's nothing like that. As I said..I was on vacation and found something.

Robert: So why don't you enlighten me as to what you've found...and why were YOU up at that farm??

Laura:  I was on a week long hiking vacation in the Peak District. I planned to get as many of the trails under my belt as possible...same as you, take in the views, absorb the atmosphere...get away from the city. I'm not really someone who enjoys being in other people’s back pockets if you know what I mean? I prefer my own company at times and this vacation was one that I was going to go on alone.

Robert: So you came across the farm as a place to stay??

Laura:  Yes...but not because I'd organised it. Weather had turned bad, and it was getting late. I was literally in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain and it was getting dark. I saw a farmhouse with lights on in the distance so I headed towards it. The owners told me that they didn't take in visitors...don't get me wrong, they weren't nasty...far from it, they were really helpful. They told me that Manor Ridge Farm had a cottage that they hired out, I should head there and see if they could help, so I did.

Robert: So you make your way to the farm....then what?

Laura:  Well, I got to the main house and I saw a cottage opposite a barn further up the driveway, so, assuming that this was the place, I knocked on the door and was greeted by a woman...I'd say she was in her fifties...maybe sixties...had a patch covering one eye. She introduced herself as Gwen and seemed friendly enough. When I asked about the cottage she was more than happy to help, but something seemed off....I didn't know what it was at the time...but something just didn't seem right.

Robert: Was there anyone else in the Farm House...a man maybe...or outside??

Laura:  I never saw anyone other than Gwen...anyway, she said that the cottage hadn't been let out for a while so was in a bit of a mess, but I was welcome to stay the night if I wanted. Well, there was no way that I was going to stay out in the rain overnight, so I jumped at the chance. She gave me the key and walked up to the cottage with me and quickly showed me around...that's when she started to make me feel uncomfortable.

Robert: In what way? What did she do?

Laura:  She just suddenly said that she needed to go, and I was to stay in the cottage and not come out until morning. She said that many people had gone missing in the area because they didn't know the hills and the weather...it was just really creepy. Anyway, she just took off towards the barn and I thought that was strange because the weather was getting really bad...why not go back to the house?

Robert: You didn't go back out there did you??

Laura:  No, not right away...I wanted to get out of my wet clothes, get changed and get warm. I had a few chocolate bars in my pack, but was really hungry so I started to hunt around to see if there were any cans of soup or something like that to eat...but there wasn't anything....so that's when I decided to go down to the farm house.

Robert: I can't believe you went back out there...especially down to the house. If you've managed to track me down and link me to that place then surely you know something of what went on there...if not...why are you calling?

Laura:  I'm getting to that....so...I went down to the main house, and by this time it was dark, pouring with rain and the wind was really getting strong. As I got to the front door, I noticed it was wide open...so I stepped inside and called out for Gwen...but there was no answer...and then the smell hit me...a kind of blood-like metallic smell. I went into the kitchen and....well it looked like something had been torn to pieces. It was definitely an animal...but that was all I could make out. I began to feel sick and knew that I had to get out of there as quickly as possible...and that's when I saw the book on the floor.

Robert: Book!!! What book?? You hung around because of a book??

Laura:  This wasn't any ordinary book Robert...from the markings on the front of the leather cover I knew it was old...so I grabbed it and ran for the front door. I took a look around, didn't see anyone so then ran for the cottage and locked myself inside.

Robert: Why didn't you phone the police?? Why didn't you.....no signal....you didn't have a phone signal did you?

Laura:  No...my phone was the first thing I checked when I'd locked the front door. I was trapped there until the morning and there was no way that I was going back down to the main house after what I'd seen.

Robert: Well at least you were safe for the time being...when I was there I wasn't so lucky. It was Bernie who came for me with a....well...that's in the past now. So what was so special about this book?

Laura:  At the Museum we have archives of extremely old, rare and precious books...bibles, authors first volumes, writings from kings and queens of the past...and books about the occult...the supernatural...black magic...witchcraft. Some of these books go back to at least the 1500's and their contents are still considered by some to be highly dangerous...but this book was more than just a book...it was a diary. A diary of generations of individuals who had been blessed by a specific bloodline.

Robert: Blessed!!! I don't think you realise exactly what you were dealing with there Laura. What I saw at that farm challenged every single thing that I thought was pure and simple fiction...what I encountered, firsthand, wasn't something that was blessed...it was something that every man, woman and child should only encounter in their nightmares...but there it was...right in front of me...and it was being protected...coverted...aloud to exist.

Laura:  But yours was an accidental encounter Robert....if you hadn't discovered that cave system then none of this would have happened...

(Robert cuts in)

Robert: How do you know about the cave??? Who told you about that?? Is my name in that book??

Laura:  Yes, it is, everything that happened over the time period that you were at the farm was recorded, first by Bernie, then by Gwen. I'm assuming that you know what happened to Bernie after you left them both locked up in the tunnels under the barn?

Robert: You make this sound like all of this was intentional...as if I wanted this to happen. Do you know what this whole experience did to me? It left me alone...I lost my partner...my publishing deal...my confidence...my life. I hardly leave the house, never socialise. I'll tell you what I think happened to Bernie shall I? Bernie was murdered by whatever that thing was that Gwen turned into...but if I say what I know it is...then it makes it real...and it can't be. It just can't be. When I was taken down into the tunnels by Bernie, at gunpoint might I add, I was never supposed to come back out...it was only down to chance and luck that I made it out alive....so...I ask you again...why do you need my help?

Laura:  I'm so sorry Robert....I never meant to make you feel that way. What you went through was horrific, but here we both are...armed with the experiences and facts that prove that what was only considered to be something from folklore...is in fact real...I can't quite believe that I'm actually saying this myself...but it's true. If I were to go to my head of department with this book and this story.... they’d have me committed...but you've seen these things...you're the only one who knows what Gwen really is....a Werewolf...a Lycanthrope...a shapeshifter.

Robert: STOP!!! Stop....please....I can't help you....I've tried desperately for the last 12 months to try and forget what happened but it's impossible. If I had the chance I'd go back to the farm and simply kill Gwen and put an end to all of it....but I can't...I can't go back there.

Laura:  Listen...I get it...I really do, but there are far more people at risk now. As mad as all of this sounds it was Bernie that kept the lid on all of this by knowing when to take Gwen down to the tunnels to lock her away when the condition started to take over. Reading in the book, Bernie had documented that Gwen had escaped a number of times and attacked animals on the hills...she almost made it to the village one time....

(Robert Interupts)

Robert: I know!!!...Bernie explained all of this. He told me that it was him that used to take her down there to feed...to isolate her away from others...to protect her. But Bernie isn't there anymore...so who's locking her away now when she needs to feed...who's protecting her now?? Why haven't we had headlines in the newspapers of some rampant wild animal attacking people on the hills and in the villages?

Laura:  Because she's doing it herself. Gwen had written entries into the book stating that after she had woken from the last transformation in the caves, she found that she'd killed Bernie....ripped him apart. She managed to find her way out of the tunnels via the cave system that you found the entrance to up on the hillside. She had to wait until darkness to make her way back to the house where she cleaned herself up, opened the trap door in the barn, and took care of Bernie's body. Then she waited...waited to see if you, the police, or both would turn up...but nothing.

Robert: Who was I supposed to tell? Who was going to believe a story like that...you?? It's only after you've read that book that you finally realise what's actually out there...but all you're basing your opinion on is my testimony and what's written down. All of this could be lie...you haven't actually seen it...have you?

Laura:  .....yes....I have.

Robert: But you said that you locked yourself away in the cottage after you came from the house...did you go back out??

Laura:  Yes...I had to....

Robert: What do you mean you had to??? What happened??

Laura:  I'd made sure that everything was locked up tight after what I'd seen in the farmhouse, and I'd bedded down in the living room on the couch. I grabbed the book I'd found and started to leaf through it.... I couldn't believe what I was reading, there were details of ancient ceremonies, symbols, potions and treatments that had been passed down from generation to generation over the span of hundreds and hundreds of years.... all with the same one goal: to rid the beast from within, to cure the condition. It seems that no one actually knows where this bloodline started, but in a passage from the late 1900's written by a man named Harold Thomas Anderson, he mentions a cave system in Romania where he was due to travel to find the "Primal". Whether this was a person or a creature isn't confirmed....and there are no other entries from this man in the book, but he was definitely part of the bloodline. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. So, I'm lying on the couch when I begin to hear something moving from outside of the rear of the cottage, as if someone was bumping into stuff and knocking it over.

Robert: Did you see what what it was??

Laura:  Not at first no. I ran upstairs and looked out of one of the rear bedroom windows, but I couldn't see anything. I initially put it down to the wind and rain, until I heard a loud screaming sound. This wasn't the sound a human would make, it sounded animalistic...guttural...as if something was in terrible pain. It sounded as if it was coming from outside the front of the cottage this time, so I ran across the landing and into the master bedroom and peered out of the window....and I saw it....it was Gwen....she was naked, crawling across the floor of the barn trying to get to an opening in the floor....but as I watched I could see hair growing, slowly covering her body...joints bending in ways that seemed impossible....more screams pierced the air as the process continued....then it happened.

Robert: What happened??

Laura:  She saw me, she looked straight at me.

Robert: Oh my god....what did you do??

Laura: At first, I was completely frozen to the spot. Both of our stares fixed at one another; mine terrified, hers furious, full of rage. Her eyes looked black, and her face was... it was changing... changing right in front of me. She then rose herself up onto all fours and started to walk towards the cottage. I've never felt fear like that in my life, watching something like that slowly walking over to the place that you hope will keep you safe, but knowing that it will never be a match for it.

Robert: Jesus Laura....I can remember knives being in the kitchen. Did you manage to get hold of something to try and defend yourself with?

Laura:  Yes...one of the knives. I figured that she was either going to try and get through the front or back door, so I ran downstairs and pushed the large wooden dresser across the back door to try and buy me some time...then I went to the front door and looked out of the window. I couldn't see her, she was out there somewhere but I couldn't see her. Then something hit the back door and I heard glass shatter. I quickly closed the living room door and pushed the couch up against it, not that it would have provided much resistance against her, but it went quiet again.

I stood up against the front door with tears starting to stream down my face. I was mentally broken....I couldn't believe the situation that I'd found myself in, and I couldn't see how I was going to get myself out of it. I couldn't call my mom and dad to tell them that I loved them...to hear their voices...to have that comfort...I was going to die here...and there wasn't anything that anyone could do to help me.

Suddenly there was a huge bang at the front door, so powerful that the door frame moved. I pushed back at the door screaming for her to go away. Another bang came and it was clear that the door wasn't going to last long. I pushed as hard as I could and gripped the knife, readying myself to use it if I had to. Then another huge blow came against the door and it finally buckled. An arm, covered in grey/black hair came around the door and grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm outside....then I felt searing pain as teeth pierced my skin and bit down hard into my arm. I screamed again louder, and pulled as hard as I could to get my arm back inside the door but it was no use....this thing was so strong. A clawed hand reached inside the door against the frame to try and push the door open. I immediately raised the knife using my other arm and plunged it into the hand.

I pulled it back out to strike again but a huge scream came from her and she let go of my arm and the door closed with me falling against it and onto the floor. I sat there, back up against the door waiting for her to smash into it again and finish the job off...but there was nothing. I plucked up the courage to look out of the window but she'd vanished....I had no idea where she'd gone.

Robert: How bad was your arm??

Laura:  There were four deep pucture wounds and a few shallower ones. It looked worse than it actually was with all of the blood, but I needed to clean it up. I waited for what seemed like hours, but when I was pretty sure that she wasn't coming back I got hold of my back pack and my first aid kit. I used a towel from the kitchen to take care of most of the blood and then pushed the sofa back against the door. It was just a matter of a couple of hours before daylight and then I'd be gone...or so I thought.

Robert: What do you mean "so you thought"....she didn't come back did she??

Laura:  No...well...not exactly. I watched the sunlight fill the cottage as morning broke and I wasn't going to hang around, so I grabbed my stuff, packed my bag and got ready to get the hell out. I figured I'd go out the back way and get across the fields as quickly as I could and try to make it to a road. Hopefully I could hitchhike to a town or village from there.....but then there was a knock at the front door....it was Gwen. She asked me to open the door. She assured me that nothing would happen....but also that we needed to talk....urgently.

Robert: What did you do?? Did you let her in??

Laura:  I didn't have a choice. What was I going to do....stay in the cottage for the rest of my life? I opened the door, slowly at first, then wider. She could see that I had the knife in my hand and I told her that I would use again if I had to. She said there was no need....she wouldn't harm me. She reached out her hand....it was bandaged up now...and she asked for the book back. I handed it over and that's when she began to speak. She explained that the book had details of potions which could delay the effects of the condition. When her husband was around she never needed them, because he would take care of her when the urges came.

It was her dog that she had killed in the farmhouse when I found all of the blood in the kitchen with the book. The hunger, as she called it, became so overwhelming that she couldn't control it and the remedy that she'd mixed was in the tunnels under the barn...that's where she was trying to get to when we saw each other. For years her and Bernie searched for a cure to stop her condition, and while she never told me how she'd become infected, she did tell me that the bloodlines stretched around the world....and all of the infected are looking for that illusive cure....and now so am I.

Robert: What do you mean?? Why would you be helping her find a cure after what she did to you??

Laura:  Because her bite has now infected me....and I now need to find that cure....and you're going to help me.....and Gwen....

Robert: What....are you mad?? Why the hell am I going to put myself at risk yet again to help you or Gwen!! She almost killed me, and you're asking me to.....I'm sorry Laura, but even though none of what happened was your fault, you're both on your own... (silence)... Laura... Laura are you still there? Do you understand what I'm saying to you???

Laura:  It's a nice part of the world you live in Robert....not many houses around....nice and quiet....

Robert: What are you talking about?? How do you know where I live....are you threatening me?? I can leave here right now and you'll never find me.

Laura:  I don't think so Mr Crawford....why don't you take a look outside your window....you see that silver car across your driveway? Well I've been here since this call began, and I'm not leaving until you make a decision...the right decision. And also, don't think about trying to leave using the backdoor....because there's someone you may well remember who'll be waiting for you in your garden. The hunger is getting strong Mr Crawford....and whilst Gwen and myself have a remedy that we can drink to delay the inevitable...we don't have to drink it...and you're the only one who knows what we are....and if we have to permanently silence you then we will.

Robert: If you try to get in here I'll call the police.

Laura:  The Police!!! What will they do to help you? You'll be dead before they even arrive. So what it's to be Robert?? Are coming back to the farm to take care of us.....or are we coming into your house to take care of you?? You've got 2 minutes to decide...and if you hang up we'll be inside before you know it. All of your questions will be answered in time, and I give you my word that you'll be safe...but you need to make the right decision...so...tick-tock, tick-tock....time is running out....

To be continued.....

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for the last Skylark Special episode of the year, a touching story called Elliot Under Glass, and please be sure to subscribe to The Haunted UK podcast if you haven’t already, the content and sound quality are unbeatable.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a rating and a review, it’s quick and free, and incredibly helpful in giving the podcast visibility so others can find and enjoy it.

If you’d like to support my work, you can subscribe to Patreon or Ko-Fi for exclusive content and advance access to podcast episodes. You can also follow me on social media so we can stay in touch, all necessary links are in my bio.

Once again, thank you for listening, On behalf of myself and The Haunted UK podcast, we wish you happy... or spooky if that’s your thing... holidays.

The Skylark Bell is 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

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

Melissa on Mastodon: https://mastodon.social/@melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

FULL 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 Seasons 1 and 2 as we prepare to for SkyeDive the third and final book in The Skylark Trilogy.

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

SEASON 1 

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 property, 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, 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.

SEASON 2

Season Two, Wingspan, saw Magpie, Lucas and Mrs. Phaeton flying to London for Mrs. Phaeton’s art exhibit. From there, Magpie and Lucas continued their voyage across Scotland to the Isle of Skye and Magpie’s ancestral family property, Carnifex House.

Still plagued by visions that seemed increasingly real, Magpie slowly settled into life on the outskirts of the small Scottish town of Pocaid, but a visit to a local Festival throws her for a loop, as she feels increasingly connected to the very first Belle of the Lark Festival of Skye – also known as the Skye Lark Belle. None-the-less, things were relatively quiet and enjoyable at Carnifex House until Lucas went missing. Unbeknownst to Magpie, he had been transported back in time to 1920s Pocket, living under the assumed name of Marius Corbeau, and being cared for by Charlotte and Edward Carnifex in the farm house that Magpie and her mother would eventually move into nearly 90 years into the future.

Meanwhile, back in modern times on the isle of Skye, The caretakers of Carnifex House, Alfred and Manon Sarcelle, finally tell Magpie about the stories permeating the community for generations, about a mysterious druid woman named Dealan-de, who is said to be the cause of multiple Vanishings.

Magpie and Lucas pine for one another for a time, but eventually move on. Lucas connects with Nathanial Shearwater, and eventually falls in love with and becomes engaged to his daughter, Farfalla. Magpie meets Alfred and Manon’s son, Julien, and they marry. 

In the terrible winter of 1925 Lucas is inexplicably transported back the forest near Carnifex house and rushes home to Magpie, only to discover he has travelled into the future, and Magpie is now twice his age. They devise a plan to repair this glitch in their timeline and pick up where they left off, but the plan fails, and Magpie finds herself in 1960s Pocket, where she assumes the identity of Farfalla and lives out her days.

A mysterious letter summons Magpie to the convent in Brighthaven, where she discovers a 90 year old Lucas who explains he was sent back in time to the 1800s. He explains that he was the one who sparked the silence at Meadow Lane when he crossed timelines with his younger self, after which he tragically breathes his last breath.

Magpie devises a plan to warn her younger self not to go to Scotland in an attempt to spare herself the heartache of the criss crossed timelines and losing Lucas, but her plan is thwarted by the mysterious Dealan-de. 

We end Wingspan with a note from the mysterious woman herself, who appears fixated on ensuring the sequence of events remains unchanged.

We will explore her story in this third and final book, SkyeDive.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we begin the third season of The Skylark Bell podcast by reading book 3, Skyedive, where we will explore the life of Farfalla, from her happy, ideallic childhood at Meadow Lane through the sequence of events that will transform her into something else entirely...

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’re both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work through a one-time donation via your podcast provider or by subscribing to Patreon where you get early access to ad-free episodes as well as digital downloads of the music, artwork, writing, recipes, and more!

Once again, thank you for listening. I’m Melissa Oliveri, and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

This week's podcast partner is The Activity Continues: https://www.podpage.com/the-activity-continues/

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 4 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode, Farfalla celebrated her 16^th birthday and was gifted a Dreamcatcher by her friend Isadora.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 4 – The Aviary Finishing School for Girls of Distinction, in which Farfalla must return to boarding school and face her nemesis.

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.

September 3^rd, 1922

I don’t want to go. 

I’ve been dreading the end of summer, not because I don’t love autumn, but because it means I have to leave Meadow Lane to go back to boarding school. Mama insists we get a proper education so Paloma and I can become “ladies”. I don’t want to be a lady; I want to be a mystical being like The Skye Lark Belle! I want to sing with the birds and run with the deer and play with the foxes. I don’t want to be in a building learning how to sit properly and how to sew and how to write letters… I know Mama and Papa had long discussions about this in the beginning, Papa thought I could stay at the farm and help him out with chores, but in the end Mama won.

There is no Mirror Pond at boarding school, no apple orchard, no Oak Tree, no fields to run in. Only a large stone building with a wrought iron fence all the way around it. Inside, the building is filled with fancy wood trim and stained glass and the floors are always pristine since no one here ever plays in the mud or gets dirty. Sometimes we go on “excursions” which means we walk to the museum or the library. I’d rather walk to the creek and find some frogs to catch. 

Paloma is excited, she loves boarding school because it’s on the outskirts of the city. She sits in the window and watches the streetcars go by. “Someday I will ride on one of those to get to work!” she says almost every day with that goofy dreamy look in her eyes. I wish I enjoyed this as much as she does, time wouldn’t go by so slowly.

The only time Papa stepped in was when they headmistress suggested I cut my hair into a short bob like some of the other girls, she said it would make me look more “presentable”. Papa said I was perfectly presentable as is. He then bought me a fancy comb and told me to do my best to tame my hair while I’m at school and that I could let it run wild again when I came home in the spring.

Spring seems so far away now. Time cannot go by fast enough…

~~~~~~

“Falla, did you pack your shoes? I don’t see them in here!” says Mrs. Shearwater, digging through Farfalla’s travel case.

“I have them right here, Mama,” says Farfalla, her voice indicating she is not happy to be packing. Mrs. Shearwater ignores her tone and grabs the shoes from her hand. She expertly slips them into the case and places the dresses and slips back in their place before closing the case and latching it.

“I’m all packed up!” comes Paloma’s chipper voice from the doorway. “Falla, isn’t this exciting! I can’t wait to see the library, I heard they added a whole new wing!” Farfalla forces a smile, she doesn’t want to put a damper on her sister’s joy, even if she doesn’t share her excitement.

“Okay the horses are ready to go!” Papa’s voice floats up the stairs. 

The girls make their way outside with their travel cases, Mrs. Shearwater following closely behind with a picnic basket. “I’ve packed you some lunch for the road, be careful not to spill on your dresses!” she says, handing Farfalla the basket once she has settled into the horse cart. “I love you! Be good girls now and I’ll see you at holiday time!” she says, waving as they start heading down the lane.

Farfalla takes one last longing look at the Oak Tree, its branches have already lost most of their leaves, and it looks like it is waving goodbye at her. Her heart feels heavy as they turn down the road toward the train station.

“Chin up Falla, you’ll be back home in no time, and that tree’s not going anywhere,” says her father with a wink. She leans her head on his shoulder. They ride in silence most of the way, stopping for lunch at the halfway mark to enjoy the sandwiches and fresh fruit Mrs. Shearwater packed for them. Finally, Farfalla and Paloma board the train. Farfalla feels tears pricking her eyes as the train pulls away from the station, its piercing whistle like a sword plunging into her stomach. They arrive at their destination and walk a few short blocks to the school. Farfalla’s heart sinks even deeper when she sees the sign at the end of the long, gated driveway: The Aviary, Finishing School for Girls of Distinction. “I’d distinctly like to be finished with this school,” she mutters under her breath. 

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the rural folk,” says a high-pitched nasal voice behind her. 

Paloma spins on her heel, her fiery eyes filled with anger. “Well, I see you haven’t gotten any nicer over the summer, Sadie Rhodes,” she seethes.

“Now, now little one, don’t be so sensitive, she didn’t mean anything by it,” says another girl, her perfect blonde hair pinned into a fancy twist at the back of her head.

“Hello Priscilla,” says Farfalla, too sad to put up a fight. Priscilla Ponceroy and Sadie Rhodes are her nemeses. They’ve been going out of their way to make her time at The Aviary even more miserable than it already is. Her first year there they locked her in a bathroom, getting her in trouble for being tardy. Then there was the time the hid her shoes, so she had to spend the entire day in her stockings, earning her a meeting with the headmistress about “how to be responsible for one’s belongings”. Try as she may she has never been able to get the girls off her back.

“Come on, Falla, let’s go,” says Paloma, confidently grabbing her travel case and marching through the gate to the main entrance.

On the first day of school the students settle into their rooms and unpack, then go to a general assembly where Headmistress Tangella-Newsome gives the same speech about her expectations and how each of them will have arrived a girl and will leave a lady. Then they go to the hall for dinner before retiring for the evening. Farfalla feels relief wash over her as she steps back into her room. Priscilla sat behind her at assembly and kept kicking her chair, trying to get her to react so she would get in trouble. Farfalla was able to ignore it for the most part, but it made her stomach tighten with anger. Then at dinner Sadie put a worm in Farfalla’s soup, causing her to shout which earned her a glare from the cafeteria attendant and a sharp “Ladies don’t shout!” from the headmistress. 

Now Farfalla stretches on her bed and closes her eyes, picturing the Oak Tree and the fox cubs at Meadow Lane. She looks up at the dreamcatcher that Isadora made for her hanging from the headboard of her bed, she hasn’t had the water dream since it was given to her, so she brought it with her to school, just in case. Farfalla’s eyes get heavy, and she lets herself drift into a peaceful sleep. She has no idea how much time has gone by when her eyes open suddenly, as if something has caused her to wake. She feels her heart pound, but she doesn’t know why. The room is completely dark save for the bit of moonlight shining through the window. There it is again, a soft footstep in the hallway outside her room. Farfalla creeps out of bed and places her ear on the door. Nothing. She carefully turns the knob and eases the door open. She peeks her head out and sees a woman stepping out of Priscilla’s room. The woman turns to look at her, smiles, and puts a finger to her lips. Shhh. Before Farfalla can process what is happening the woman vanishes into thin air. 

Farfalla steps back into her room and quickly closes the door. Her heart feels like it is going to beat right out of her chest. How did the woman just… vanish?! “I must be dreaming,” says Farfalla out loud, her voice sounding strange in the silent room. She walks back to her bed on shaky legs and gets under the covers. She pulls the blanket up to her chin to try and dispel the chill that is going through her. Finally, she falls asleep again. 

The next morning Farfalla is woken by a scream. She can hear commotion in the hallway and the headmistress’ voice shouting “Who is responsible for this?!” Farfalla eases her door open and steps out into the hallway. A hand flies to her mouth when she sees Priscilla, her hair has been shorn within an inch of her head, and she is standing in the middle of the hall, weeping. 

Suddenly Lillian Merle comes running down the hall waving her arms in the air. “Headmistress! Headmistress! It was Sadie! Sadie Rhodes! I found the scissors a big pile of hair on the floor of her room!” 

At this Sadie’s eyes grow wide, “I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!”.

“Miss Ponceroy, go to your room and do your best to make yourself presentable. Miss Rhodes, follow me,” says the Headmistress sternly, tapping her walking stick on the ground. 

Farfalla lets herself back into her room and closes the door behind her. She sits on the edge of her bed replaying the events of last night in her mind. There’s something familiar about the woman she saw last night, but Farfalla’s mind is foggy from lack of sleep, and she can’t figure out it. She pours some water from the pitcher by her bed onto her hands and taps her cheeks to help wake herself up. 

Farfalla lets her thoughts swirl as she paces back and forth on the hardwood floor on the small room. Finally, the school bell rings, indicating it’s time for her to head downstairs. She stops and looks in the mirror to make sure she is “presentable” and lets out a gasp as realization hits her. The woman, the one who seems to have taken revenge on the girls who have been so unkind to her, who smiled at her before disappearing into thin air, the woman’s face looks familiar because it is practically identical to her own!

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 5 – Marius, in which Farfalla and Marius finally meet.

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 read the chapter 14 – Look to the Skye, in which James and Farfalla make their way to the Isle of Skye to claim Carnifex House.

This week's podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/shannon-quinn6

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 14 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla and James brought Elisabeth to stay with Paloma in preparation for their trip.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 14 – Look to the Skye, in which James and Farfalla make their way to the Isle of Skye to claim Carnifex House.

Today’s podcast partner is Murder Roadtrip, also members of the Boopod Network of paranormal and true crime podcasts. This podcast takes listeners on a weekly roadtrip across the US to discuss true crime and the occasional spooks through each of the 50 States. Check the show notes for a link to the Murder Roadtrip podcast.

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

August 17^th, 1932

I started missing Elisabeth the moment our train pulled away from the city. I thought of her the entire ride to the coast. Crossing the ocean on the ship felt absolutely endless. The waves made me queasy and unsteady on my legs even after we finally reached the shore nearly two weeks later. 

The train ride across the stunning landscape of mainland Scotland helped ease my woes a bit. James and I spent a romantic night in Glasgow, walking the cobblestone streets and enjoying a lovely dinner before retreating to our hotel room. The next morning, I bought a postcard at the hotel gift shop and mailed it off to Paloma, then we went to the small café across the street where we were served a proper Scottish breakfast. At noon we packed up our suitcases and headed to the station to catch a train to the coastal town of Smeòrach (SHMUR-arch).

Upon our arrival we went directly to the boarding house. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Harrier were very kind. Their daughter Callie immediately offered me a bouquet of wildflowers.  Her curly auburn hair reminded me of Elisabeth’s, and my mother’s heart soared the rest of the day. The Harriers gave us a tour of the village, and we enjoyed dinner with them at a local pub called The Copper Hen. They explained the ferry schedule and told us old folk tales from the region that involved a myriad of mystical creatures like faeries and selkies and sirens. I went to bed with images of girls dancing on the beach with wildflower crowns in their auburn hair swirling in my head. 

I wonder what Elisabeth has been dreaming about.

Now it is morning, and we must take the ferry. I cannot bear the thought of getting on another boat. The sickening smell of the sea makes my stomach churn. I am having some regrets about this trip. It has been wonderful for James and I to find our way back to each other again, but I didn’t realize my soul would ache for Elisabeth like this, and I didn’t realize the deep-rooted fear of water that is in me.

I hear the sound of the ferry horn now, and the boat has shifted away from the shore. At least we have almost reached our destination, it won’t be long now, only a few hours. Setting foot on the shore will bring me great relief.

~~~~~~

Farfalla grips the railing tightly and stares out at the endless stretch of water ahead. Crossing shouldn’t take much more than an hour, only a fraction of the travel she and James have endured to get to this point. James is accustomed to traveling for work, this trip has not consumed him with worry and exhaustion the way it has for Farfalla.

“The woman at the ticket counter mentioned an award-winning bakery in the village, what do you say we head there first when we reach the island?” he asks, gently rubbing his hand along her back.

Farfalla turns to him and smiles. Despite her feelings about the trip itself, spending time alone with James has allowed them to rekindle their relationship. Whatever their future may hold, she is glad she will be sharing it with him, and Elisabeth, of course. “That sounds wonderful,” she whispers, leaning in for a kiss. 

They turn to look back out at the sea, standing side by side on the deck of the ferry as it cuts through the choppy waters. James points to a point far ahead and says “I see land, we’re getting closer!” Farfalla squints, and sure enough she can see a dark mass rising out of the water straight ahead. 

The ferry ploughs through the water, steadily bringing them closer and closer to the island. Tall, jagged cliffs eventually come into view, rising from either side of a small port with docks reaching out of it like outstretched fingers. Farfalla feels relief wash over her, and she is stunned at the realization that deep down inside she didn’t think they would actually make it. She had pushed the thought to the deepest reaches of her subconscious, but it was always there. She scans the shoreline, noting the white houses haphazardly strewn across the green fields. She sees fishing boats bobbing close to the shore, and a flock of gulls circling close to the docks, probably looking to score some food left behind by the fishermen. Her eyes travel to the base of the cliffs, and she watches the waves crash repeatedly against the rock. She lets her gaze run up the rock to the top of the cliff, and gasps as she sees a woman standing at the very edge, her arm stretched behind her as far as it will go. Recognition sets in almost immediately. It is the same woman she saw walking out of Priscilla Ponceroy’s room all those years ago. The woman who looks just like her. Farfalla’s eyes grow wide as the woman swings her arm forward and flings something over the cliff’s edge with all her might. The sun reflects off the surface of the object as it spirals down toward the crashing waves. 

Farfalla instinctively grabs James’ arm and points to the woman with her other hand. James, confused, looks down at Farfalla’s hand, feeling the searing pain of her death grip shoot up his arm to his shoulder. He glances at her face and follows her pointing finger to look up at the cliff. He sees tall grass billowing in the breeze on top of the wall of rock. “Falla, what is it?” he asks, puzzled.

“The woman- ” she begins. Just then the object hits the ocean. The water, the boat, the cliffs, the entire island, perhaps the entire world, heaves and James is ripped away her grasp. She can feel herself soaring through the air, like in slow motion. She hears the sickening crack of the boat being torn to shreds. Followed by the screams and splashing of people being thrown into the sea. The smell of burning wood fills the air, mixing with the salty scent of the sea. Her eyes focus on the blue sky above her, the wispy clouds floating overhead completely oblivious to the horror occurring below. 

Farfalla gasps as her body hits the icy water. She sinks below the surface before she can comprehend what is happening. Panicked, she shifts her head from side to side, looking for help. Something, someone, anyone! She regains control of her body and thrashes her arms around, battling against the undertow, trying to make her way back to the surface, but the current pulls her deeper and deeper under water, spinning her body around like a ragdoll. Finally, she feels herself sink into the sandy bottom of the sea, her arms stretched out on either side. Her fingers brush up against an object in the sand nearby, and she grasps it with what little strength she has left. She looks up toward the surface of the water and sees the sun’s rays piercing their way through to caress her face. 

On the other side of the world, in the field in front of Meadow Lane, the Oak Tree emits a silent sound, a song that no one hears. The soundwaves carry across the ocean and plunge to its depths, wrapping themselves around Farfalla’s body as her white gown and red hair float softly around her.

She gives up her fight then and releases the last breath of air from her lungs with one word: “Elisabeth”. She closes her eyes, shutting out the sun, and lets the darkness fall over her. Just like in her dream.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 15 – The Dark, The Day – in which we find out what happened to Farfalla after the horrific accident.

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 read the chapter 28 – Under the Same Sky – in which Farfalla looks back on the path that brought her here as she picks up the pieces.

This week's podcast partner is Certainly Strange: https://open.spotify.com/show/1stSYQC9Sqox9TwbU48Dof?si=ct4_QX_NQh6hHZHxZ9eyVA&utm_source=copy-link&nd=1

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 28 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode the camp suffered a devastating attack that left Farfalla as the last one standing.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 28 – Under the Same Sky – in which Farfalla looks back on the path that brought her here as she picks up the pieces.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod network member Certainly Strange. An attempted murder on a ghost, cursed paintings burning houses down, and lighthouse keepers disappearing without a trace. The world is filled with astonishing stories that will make you think "I don't know what’s going on here, but it is certainly strange!" Join host Nemo on a journey through the strangest parts of our history. Check the show notes for a link to the Certainly Strange podcast.

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

Embers.

When I opened my eyes, it was daylight. The bell was still clutched in my hands. I couldn’t believe the scene before me. Everything was gone. Again. All that was left of the encampment, the roaring fire, the celebration, was embers.

It feels like my life is an endless loop of loss and betrayal.

All around me, around my singed boots and the frayed hem of my gown, smoking embers from the fire, and devastation. Most of the tribe members were taken away, their hands tied together behind their backs with rope. The lucky ones were left behind, their bodies sprinkled throughout the clearing that, only a few hours ago, was a scene of joyful celebration. The tents are gone, burned to the ground, or ransacked and torn apart. All that I have left is the Bell. Thankfully, the Bell. 

It took me a long time to find the courage to turn and look at the Ancient Oak. I wept, then, at its blackened, bare branches. Its trunk marked with black soot, scarred from bottom to top. I trembled as I let my eyes climb to its towering height, remembering its final instructions to me. 

I walked to its base and placed my hand on its trunk, desperate to feel its heartbeat, to hear its voice, its song, but the Ancient Oak was silent.

“I can’t do it,” I remember saying out loud, my words echoing around the clearing, bouncing off the piles of ash and debris.

The Ancient Oak remained silent.

Finally, I dug deep inside myself and walked slowly across the clearing to the other side, a safe distance away from the tree, before fulfilling the tree’s final requests.

~~~~~~

Farfalla’s gaze glosses over what is left of the encampment. Her eyes land on the crumpled bodies of the few tribespeople who were left behind. She recognizes Cormag and Cailleach, their bodies laying next to one another, the feathers from their headdresses scattered around them. She pulls a smoldering branch from the embers and uses the blackened end of it to draw an Ouroboros on the backs of their robes. She then takes a small pouch from the pocket of her gown and delicately sprinkles a mixture of herbs in a circle on their backs. She bends to place a hand on each of them, and softly sings the song of the oak tree. Birds begin to gather in the surrounding trees, quietly watching her strange ritual. Her small, private ceremony finished, Farfalla stands and gives her teachers a moment of silence before speaking her first command. “To dust,” she says, a single tear falling down her cheek. The fabric of Cormag and Cailleach’s cloaks sinks to the ground as the bodies they once covered instantly disintegrate. “Now fly, sweet birds,” whispers Farfalla as she lifts their robes into the air to release the ashes piled beneath them. She circles the encampment, repeating the ritual for each of the fallen while the birds watch quietly from the edge of the clearing.

Her task complete, Farfalla lifts her tired, tear-stained face toward the top of the Ancient Oak. She notes that the gray sky is now visible between the tree’s bare branches. Farfalla walks to the tree and places a hand on its trunk. There is no pulsing heartbeat, or song, or instruction today. The Ancient Oak stands in silence. 

Once again, Farfalla finds herself alone, but this time she is not vulnerable, not lost. No one will ever hurt her again. Now she is the one in control. A coldness washes over her and she feels her heart harden. She walks across the clearing and turns to face the tree, then inhales deeply before launching her next command. “Fall.” She pronounces the word forcefully, her voice void of emotion. 

A tremendous, thundering sound fills the air and echoes through the forest and surrounding fields to the sea on either side as the tree begins its slow-motion fall to the ground. Farfalla watches as it lands, its massive expanse of branches covering the entire encampment. Dust and soot lifts into the air as the Ancient Oak’s trunk crashes into the earth. Farfalla stands perfectly still as the cloud of debris floats around her. Once it has settled, she gives her next command. “Break.” Within seconds, the branches of the tree separate from the trunk, falling to the ground. 

Farfalla gets to work, collecting the branches into piles, organizing them by size. She works for hours, never noticing the night fall, and the sun rising again the following morning. She works in the dark, like something not quite human, with eyes like those of a nocturnal creature. Finally, her task completed, she looks at the tree’s tremendous trunk, and gives her third and final command. “Split”. Again, a deafening cracking sound fills the air. Farfalla watches as the trunk splits lengthwise, like a lightning bolt has struck it, then another strike, this time cutting the trunk into quarters, then on and on until the tree’s trunk has been broken down into an endless pile of logs. Farfalla goes to work piling the logs in the center of the clearing where, only one night prior, there had been a raging fire around which she had danced. Again, she spends hours working, somehow adorned with superhuman strength. 

It is dusk by the time her task is complete, and Farfalla lights the fire with a flick of her fingers. She doesn’t even think twice about the inner workings of her new abilities, her full command of nature and the elements. The orange glow of the flames flicker across her emotionless face.

Farfalla tosses the robes of the tribespeople into the fire and watches them disintegrate before she finally lays on the ground and allows her body to give in to sleep. She sleeps straight through the night and through the next day, finally waking in the wee hours of the following morning. She stands and stretches, preparing for the monumental task ahead. She runs the Ancient Oak’s instructions through her mind. She circles the clearing one last time. There is nothing left here now. No tents, no people, no fire, no tree. Only piles of branches, and dirt, and ash. 

Farfalla begins with the largest branches, and twists them together, securing them with vines that she uses like ropes. She wipes the sweat off her brow as she works, threading the branches together to form a wide arch laying on its side. Next, she weaves the smaller branches between the larger ones, building onto her frame and making the arch wider and stronger. She continues this way, working most of the day, adding more and more to the arch until it spans across a large portion of the encampment. 

Finally, daylight begins to fade, and Farfalla stops to rest. She forages for berries and mushrooms in the forest, and dips her cupped hands into the cool, clear water of the creek nearby and drinks in quick, desperate, thirsty gulps. She returns to the encampment and sits in the center of the clearing. Ru the red deer appears at the edge of the forest and stands perfectly still, quietly assessing the damage. “Hello, old friend,” she whispers. The deer walks to her and bends its head down, so they are eye to eye. “Tomorrow I will need your help. Tonight, we rest,” she says. The deer snorts in acknowledgement, then turns and saunters back into the shadows of the forest. Farfalla lays down on her back and looks at the sky above. Through the empty circle in the forest canopy that had once been filled by the massive spread of the Ancient Oak she can see the moon, only a small shard away from being full, and a scattering of stars twinkling with varying degrees of brightness. Somewhere, some time, Elisabeth is under the same sky. Paloma, Mama, Papa… Marius. They are all under the same sky. Farfalla waits for the thought to warm her heart, but the only thing she feels is cold, firm resolution.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 29 – Embers to Ash – in which Farfalla learnes the agonizing truth about The Ancient Oak, and herself.

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.

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 today’s episode we read the chapter 15 – The Dark, The Day – in which we find out the unimaginable reality of what happened to Farfalla after the accident.

This week's podcast partner is Volsteadland: https://linkin.bio/volstead_land

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 15 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Tragedy fell as the boat that James and Farfalla were travelling on shattered into the sea, leaving Farfalla to sink to the depths of the water.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 15 – The Dark, The Day – in which we find out what happened to Farfalla after the accident.

Today’s podcast partner is Volsteadland. Hosts Amy and Heather take you to the deepest, darkest recesses of prohibition era Minneapolis while exploring the fascinating real life story of famous Twin Cities mobster Kid Cann. Even if you aren’t familiar with Minneapolis, or Kid Cann, this is a fascinating tale that you won’t want to miss. Just check the show notes for a link to Voslteadland.

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

All is dark. 

I cannot tell if I’ve died. I cannot tell if I’m breathing. I cannot tell if I hear music, or voices, or a ringing in my ears. I cannot tell if I am moving or if I am still, if I am surrounded by water or by air, or by sand. I cannot tell if I feel arms around me, or waves, or wind.

My only thought is Elisabeth. My darling, beloved Elisabeth. If I focus all my attention, all my energy, all my being on her, perhaps there will be light…

… … …

I hear something. Voices. Shouting. Crashing waves.

I can feel air burning through my lungs. I can feel pain as my body sucks it in and pushes the water out. I can see a flicker of orange light through my closed eyelids, I think it is the sun. I think I can open my eyes. 

I think I am alive.

~~~~~~

“Over here!” shouts the man, waving an arm at the group of people further down the beach.

They rush over and stop short when they come to the body. The woman is laying in the sand, her white dress clinging to her wet body. Her red hair is splayed out in the sand like a crown. Around her neck is a silver chain with trinkets attached, a charm in the shape of a tree, a silver ring, and a small key shaped like a feather. There is nothing else around her to indicate who she is or where she has come from.

“Is she…” asks a woman, not daring to finish the sentence. The man shrugs, and gently kicks at the red-haired woman’s foot. At that precise moment the woman inhales deeply, emitting a loud raspy sound that startles the small group and causes them to jump back.

Farfalla blinks hard, blinded by the bright sunlight. She stays on the ground, trying to catch her breath. She can feel the pressure of the wet sand under her back. She must be on a beach. Her head hurts as she tries to recall what happened. She remembers being on the ferry, coming to Scotland, with James. James, her husband. There was a woman on top of the cliff, she threw something, and when it hit the water… Farfalla moans as a piercing headache stretches across her forehead like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, she thinks of Elisabeth. “Elisabeth,” she mumbles, struggling to sit up. A large, rough hand reaches out to help lift her into a sitting position. She can see the hazy outline of a person in front of her. “Elisabeth,” she croaks, a pleading tone in her voice.

“S’alright miss, dunnae worry yourself, you’re safe now,” says a man’s voice above her, his words garbled by her throbbing headache and the ringing in her ears. He crouches down to her level and comes into focus. Farfalla stares at his weathered face for a moment, noting his thick gray beard and gentle blue eyes. She blinks several times, then turns to look around. She can see the beach stretching on either side of her, and jagged stone cliffs reaching up into the sky. Ahead of her are fields dotted with the odd house, each connected by a winding road. She painfully turns her head to look back toward the water. Where are the docks? Where are the fishing boats?

“The boats…” she tries, but her throat is too raw to say anymore.

“Come, love, let’s get you some dry clothes and a cuppa tea, aye?” says a petite, older woman standing nearby. The woman nods at the men next to her, and they walk over to Farfalla. She feels their arms wrap around her and pull her to her feet. Now that she is upright, she can see there is a horse and cart parked on the road across the beach. Where are the cars? she wonders. James organized for a driver to take them from the docks to Carnifex House. She remembers him making the phone call from the hotel in Glasgow. The driver’s name was Geoffrey. Farfalla looks around the beach again. Where are the other passengers? Where is the ferry boat? If something happened to the boat, shouldn’t there be debris on the beach? She turns toward the water again, scanning the horizon for any sign of the ferry, the people… or James.

“Have you ever seen her before?” whispers the weathered-face man to the younger man standing next to him. The younger man shakes his head. “It’s like she just walked out’ the sea,” continues the older man. He and the younger man give one another a knowing look and the older man’s lips press together tightly.

“What’s this?” The woman’s voice brings Farfalla back to the present moment. The woman is holding up Farfalla’s clenched fist. Confused, Farfalla loosens her grip and looks down at her outstretched hand. Her hand immediately begins the tremble. The item her fingers brushed up against in the bottom of the sea. The last thing she felt before everything went dark. The mysterious item from her recurring dream, the one she never got a chance to see. In all the commotion she had forgotten all about it, but here it is now. Shining silver in her outstretched palm is The Skylark Bell. The same bell Marius had given her for her birthday all those years ago, the same one that hung in her window at Meadow Lane until the day she and her family left, the same one she herself had placed in a locked box and hidden under a floorboard in her old bedroom. Farfalla can hear the ringing in her ears progressively get louder. She feels a wave a nausea and dizziness rise from her feet to her head. She hears one of the men shout “She’s going to faint!” as someone leans in to catch her, then everything goes dark.

The man cradles Farfalla in his arms and carries her up the beach to the road. Another man helps him life her into the cart, and the old woman places a folded blanket under her head for support. “Here, take my flask. She’ll need a drink to steady her nerves when she wakes,” says the man with the weathered face. One of the men and the old woman settle into the front of the cart. The man makes a clicking sound with his tongue and taps the long reins on the horse’s back. Farfalla’s body jolts from side to side as the horse and cart start working their way up the long, steep, winding road.

The old woman turns back and stretches her arm to take the bell still loosely held in Farfalla’s hand. She rubs some sand off the surface with her thumb and holds it close to her face, squinting to make out the words engraved on it. “The Skylark Bell rings only for The Skye Lark Bell,” she reads, her pitch going up with every word. An audible gasp escapes the man sitting next to her. “It’s her!” she whispers, turning to the man, wide eyed.