A Skylark Special - I Met Him on the Train

Fri, 05 Jul 2024 05:00:00 +0000

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

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

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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I met him on the train

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

                  I met him on the train

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

I tentatively turned the page.

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

 

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

 

 

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

I met him on the train...

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

 

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

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

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Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - Vol 4, The Man with a Storm in His Eyes

Fri, 12 Jan 2024 06:00:00 +0000

The Man with a Storm in His Eyes – Volume 4

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

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

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

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

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Dearest Marie,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take care,

Florence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now we’ve come to today. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...and it’s all so beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - Vol 3, The Man with a Storm in His Eyes

Fri, 05 Jan 2024 06:00:00 +0000

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.

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Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

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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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

A Skylark Special - Vol 2, The Man with a Storm in His Eyes

Fri, 29 Dec 2023 06:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

A Skylark Special - Vol 1, The Man with a Storm in His Eyes

Fri, 22 Dec 2023 06:00:00 +0000

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.  

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A Skylark + Boopod Special - La Corriveau (a tale of French-Canadian Lore)

Fri, 27 Oct 2023 05:00:00 +0000

Today's episode was created as part of a collaboration with the Boopod network of true crime and paranormal podcasts. In it, we explore a deep, dark tale pulled from the folklore of my native French Canada: La Corriveau, a favourite of Ranconteurs in Quebec’s oral storytelling tradition.

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:

Marie-Josephte Corriveau, later dubbed La Corriveau after her execution in 1763, is synonymous with tales of witchcraft and hauntings in French Canadian folklore. Stories of La Corriveau terrorizing visitors to the area of Old Quebec where her body was hanged in a metal cage have been told for centuries, and persist to this day in the minds of many Quebecers.

The discovery of her cage in 1851 at a local church cemetery revived people’s imaginations and inspired stories that appeared in several print books, both as novels and as part of short story collections at the time. Since then, the character of La Corriveau has appeared in songs, films, theater productions, and artwork such as sculptures and paintings.

In the oral storytelling tradition of Quebec La Corriveau has been depicted as a murderous witch who killed up to 7 husbands. In more modern times, starting in the 1960s and 70s, with both the feminist movement and the Quebec Nationalist movement, Marie-Josephte Corriveau became both a symbol of English Oppression and a victim of a Patriarchal Society.

THE FACTS

Born in 1733, Marie-Josephte Corriveau had 10 siblings, all of whom died at a young age. She married a man named Charles Bouchard at age 16 and had 3 children before becoming a widow 11 years later. Just over 1 year after Charles’ death, she remarried. Her second husband, Etienne Dodier, was found dead in his barn a year and a half later, with extensive injuries to the head. Initially, it was concluded the injuries he sustained were from a horse’s hooves, but suspicion and rumours of homicide quickly spread through town due in part to Mr Dodier being at odds with both his father-in-law and his wife.

At this point in history, Quebec was known as New France, and had recently fallen under British rule. Upon hearing the rumours, the British Military, who was in charge of maintaining order, opened an investigation into Dodier’s death. At the conclusion of this investigation, Marie-Josephte Corriveau and her father Joseph are arrested. They are brought before a military tribunal composed of 12 English officers and presided over by Lieutenant-Colonel Roger Morris. The court finds Joseph Corriveau guilty of murder and condemns him to death, while Marie-Josephte is found guilty of being an accomplice and condemned to 60 lashes and having the letter M branded onto her hand. 

On the eve of his execution, Marie-Josephte’s father allegedly confessed to a priest that he was only an accomplice to the murder, and that his daughter was the actual perpetrator. Marie-Josephte Corriveau was brought back to court, where she confessed to killing her husband with an ax while he was sleeping due to his poor treatment of her and his abusive ways. The court found her guilty of murder and not only condemned her to death, but specified that after her execution her body should “Hang in Chains” – this was the actual verbiage used at the time. This punishment was new to the inhabitants of New France as it did not exist while the area was still under French rule. Joseph Corriveau, Marie-Josephte’s father, was retried, found not guilty, and released.

Marie-Josephte Corriveau was executed on the grounds where the Quebec Parliament now stands near the Plains of Abraham, the battlefield where the French lost to the British. Her body was placed in a metal cage and put on public exhibit for 5 weeks after which a British commander gave the order for her body to be taken down and buried “wherever they see fit” was the quote.

THE LORE

Marie-Josephte Corriveau was one of the first people in New France to have their body exhibited in a metal cage. This lit the imaginations of the population which spun legends that have lived on ever since in Quebec’s oral storytelling tradition. The trouble with oral storytelling, though, is that it turns into a game of telephone, and over the years La Corriveau’s body count went from one husband to seven, and her character went from being a simple murderess to an evil witch with supernatural powers.

The discovery of the cage that had contained her body in a local cemetery in 1851 sparked newfound interest in her story and reactivated the legends and lore surrounding it. Authors created fictionalized accounts of a supernatural Corriveau hanging in her cage, terrorizing passersby as she pleaded with them to take her to a witch’s den on the neighbouring Island of Orleans. She was also depicted as having a deep knowledge of poisons, and was rumoured to be a direct descendand of Catherine DesHayes – better known as La Voisine – an infamous serial killer in France in the mid-1600s.

It was rumoured that La Corriveau had also killed her first husband by pouring molten lead into his ear while he slept. She was said to have been a very jealous woman and found her husband to be too much of a libertine, and so doled out her punishment. She was depicted as a psychopath and said to be without feeling or remorse when, first, her father was prepared to take the fall for the murder of her 2^nd husband, and eventually when she herself was found guilty of his murder. 

As the legend goes, La Corriveau, from the very first night her body was put on exhibit, would leave her cage and follow passersby. Other iterations suggest she would visit a nearby cemetery to feast on freshly buried bodies. It was also rumoured that anyone who passed by her cage and stopped to gawk would then be cursed with either accidents, psychotic breakdowns, or death.

Accounts from local inhabitants tell stories of hearing a woman screaming, as if being tortured, along with the terrible, macabre sound of iron creaking, even long after the cage had been taken down and buried.

THE CAGE

Upon its re-discovery in 1851, La Corriveau’s cage was exhibited in Montreal, Quebec City, and even on Broadway in New York City where it was purchased by non-other than PT Barnum. Damaged in a fire at Barnum’s American Museum, the cage made its way to the Boston Art Museum via an associate of Barnum’s named Moses Kimball. Upon Kimball’s death in 1899, the cage was donated to a Museum in Salem, Massachusetts. It wasn’t until 2013 that the cage was rediscovered and finally returned home to Quebec when it was acquired by the Quebec Museum of Civilization. It is still stored there today in a controlled environment to prevent its decay, and is occasionally put on display for the public. 

Perhaps, in those times, La Corriveau, once again put on public exhibit, comes out of hiding to follow an unsuspecting visitor who has lingered and stared just a little too long for her liking...

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A Skylark Halloween Special - The Cemetery Ghost

Fri, 20 Oct 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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...

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Skyedive - Epilogue

Fri, 13 Oct 2023 05:30:00 +0000

Today we read the final chapter of the Skylark Trilogy, the epilogue to SkyeDive, in which we catch a glimpse of the world after the timeloops have been closed, and get a hint at who was truly pulling the strings all along.

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

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

In last week’s episode Magpie found herself at a crtossroads in a place called Between, and made the choice to travel to what comes After the pivotal moment she jumped off the cliff to stop The Skylark Bell from creating hers and Farfalla’s time loops.

Today we read the final chapter of the Skylark Trilogy, the epilogue to SkyeDive, in which we catch a glimpse of the world after the timeloops have been closed, and get a hint at who was truly pulling the strings all along.

Before we dive into the story, I want to give a special mention to my dear friend Amy, without who this podcast, and the last two books in the Skylark Trilogy, wouldn’t exist. Amy is the one who sparked me into releasing a story I had shelved for the better part of a decade, as a podcast. She lit a spark that turned into a roaring fire in the form of 2 additional novels. From the bottom of my heart, thank you Amy for this incredible adventure. 

Just like Magpie, I don’t know what comes After, but my hope is that it involves publishing The Skylark Trilogy in print, digitial, and audiobook format, so you can enjoy the full story without interruption and at your own pace. I am also working on a brand new book, which may turn into a series, called The Tales of Ledia Roy, that I am very excited to share with you. All these projects take a lot of time, effort and funds. If you are able to support me either through a donation, or by subscribing to Pareon or Ko-Fi, know that every penny will go directly toward moving this and future creative projects forward. I am excited for all of us to discover what lies ahead – in the After.

Now, for the last time in the Skylark universe, it’s time to get settled in… grab a blanket, and 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. She looks around the main floor of the house, taking in the vintage wallpaper, the wooden beams on the ceiling that support the second floor, and the old stone fireplace. She sets down her box next to her mother’s and walks over to the fireplace to take a closer look at a framed photograph on the mantel. “Is this Great-Great-Grandmother Farfalla?” she asks, pointing at the photo. 

Mrs. Phaeton walks over with a glass of water and hands it to Magpie before squinting at the photograph. “Indeed, I believe it is! And that is her husband, James, standing next to her, and the little girl at their feet would be my grandmother Elisabeth!”

“Isn’t it amazing that our family has such a rich history with this place?” breathes Magpie. 

Mrs. Phaeton wraps her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “So, I’ve been thinking about a name...” she begins. Magpie turns around, a look of doubt on her face. In the past, her mother has thrown out some rather... unconventional... ideas to say the least. “It came to me in a dream, believe it or not!” she laughs, “Okay, ready?” she asks. Magpie nods and rolls her forearms one over the other to indicate she is ready for her mother to get to the point. “Drumroll please....” Mrs. Phaeton pats her palms against her thighs “How about, The Lark and Bell Artist’s Retreat?!”

Magpie’s brow furrows. Why does the name sound so familiar?

“You don’t like it,” says her mother, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“No, I love it, mom! It’s perfect,” replies Magpie, hugging her mom. A sudden knock at the door startles them both. “I’ll get it,” says Magpie, “You see if you can find some dishes and napkins.”

Magpie opens the massive wood door. Behind it stands a boy about her age. He’s somewhat shyly holding his hands behind his back. “Hi, I’m Lucas,” he begins, “I live across the road with my grandmother. She asked me to bring you these and wants to know if you need anything,” he says, handing Magpie a box wrapped with a purple ribbon.

Magpie takes the package and motions for Lucas to come in. She places the box on the counter and gently unties the ribbon. Inside she finds a few jars of blackberry jam, a hand-knitted blanket, some cookies, and a book wrapped in tissue paper. She gently releases the book from its wrapping and reads the title: The Skye Lark Belle. An inexplicable shiver runs down Magpie’s spine, and she does her best to shake it off before turning back to the boy.

“My grandmother says Farfalla gave it to her years ago when she was young. Farfalla said it was her favourite book growing up. Grandma said she felt like you should have it,” explains Lucas.

“What is it about?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.

“Here’s some money, why don’t you go find us some supper?” interrupts Mrs. Phaeton as she walks in from the kitchen.

“Mom, this is our neighbour, Lucas. He and his grandmother live across the road, and he brought us a welcome gift,” explains Magpie.

“How kind! Thank you, and it’s lovely to meet you,” says Mrs. Phaeton. “I’d better get back to work, I’ve unpacked four boxes and so far the most useful thing I’ve found is a spatula!”

“Well, I’ve been assigned a mission. Which restaurant in town would you recommend?” asks Magpie, turning back to Lucas.

At this, a smile teases the corner of Lucas’ mouth. “There’s only one restaurant in town, it’s called The Early Bird, but if you want something from there, we’d better hurry, they close in an hour. I’ll tell you the story of The Skye Lark Belle along the way,” he says, turning toward the door.

Magpie shouts goodbye to her mother and she and Lucas step outside into the warm evening air. The orange glow of the setting sun wraps itself around them. Lucas turns to look at Magpie as they amble down the main road, gravel crunching under their feet. “So, The Skye Lark Belle had red hair and blue eyes, just like you,” he begins, “they say she had a beautiful voice that could calm even the most frightened child, almost like she could hypnotize them. No one is quite sure how she arrived in their village, but after she arrived, she never left and lived to the ripe old age of 105!”

“That’s amazing!” breathes Magpie.

“After she died, the villagers decided to honour her memory by holding an annual festival and crowning a new Skye Lark Belle each year. Some say the original Skye Lark Belle was a mystical creature, that she came from the ocean, and that’s why she had such healing powers.” 

“What an amazing story!” says Magpie, intrigued, “I can’t wait to read the book.”

Lucas glances at his watch and says, “Enough about that, it’s getting late, we’ve gotta fly!”

Magpie and Lucas keep chatting as they make their way down the gravel road toward town, leaving a cloud of dust trailing on the breeze behind them. 

~~~~~~

Across the ocean, in the middle of a vast forest, an ancient oak tree reaches for the moody, grey sky. The wind picks up, blowing through its rusting leaves and causing them to spiral to the ground. A flock of birds lifts from its multitude of branches, forming a blanket of moving wings that temporarily blocks out the daylight before scattering off toward the ocean.

From deep within ground, at the tip of the tree’s roots, a melody begins to form. The sound travels upward through the oak’s trunk and out through the tips of its branches. It soars over the forest toward the fields, valleys, and mountains until it blankets the entire island. The melody stretches across the ocean like a hand reaching for something it desperately wants, crossing over the shore on the other side. Just as the sound is about to wrap itself around Magpie like fingers clutching a precious, coveted item, a woman with long silver hair steps forward to intervene. 

She stoops down to place something at the base of the tree, then stands and lays her hand flat against its trunk. “You must be patient; it is not yet time...” she whispers, the blue streaks painted on her face moving with each word. The melody retreats, reluctantly retracting back across the ocean, through the branches, and down the trunk to the roots before dissipating back into the earth. “Don’t worry, her time will come,” adds the woman before vanishing into thin air, leaving her gift behind.

At the base of the tree sits a small silver bell, its outside etched with a spiral of skylarks swirling into infinity.

Thank you so much for listening.  Sharing The Skylark Trilogy with you has been an incredible, inspiring adventure. It has given me the opportunity to connect with amazing, creative people and create both partnerships and friendships. 

Thought the story of The Skylark Bell is over, I have many more stories to tell, and one of my favourite things in the world is working Easter Eggs into my work, so plan on hearing from some of the Skylark characters in future stories and books. There are several Easter Eggs hidden within The Skylark books themselves, I will share a document detailing them on my Patreon page. 

Please consider following me on social media so we can stay in touch – I keep active accounts on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, as well as occasional postings to TikTok – I would love to connect with you, and you can stay updated on what the future will bring to The Skylark Bell podcast.

The Skylark Bell has been brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle, which is my stage name. You can find all the music from the podcast on major streaming platforms and BandCamp, I’ll provide a lin in the show notes.

 Creating and sharing The Skylark Bell trilogy has taken a lot of time, effort and funds. If you are able to support me either through a one-time donation, or by subscribing to Pareon or Ko-Fi, know that every penny will go directly toward moving this and future creative projects forward. Patreon and Ko-Fi subscribers get access to bonus and exclusive material, and will be the first to receive an complimentary copy of The Skylark Trilogy in Audiobook format once available.

Remember that leaving a rating and a review helps boost the The Skylark Bell’s visibility on podcast platforms, which allows others to discover the story – why not help share the joy?!

Lastly, if you’d like to sport some Skylark Bell merc, head over to my website, www.theskylarkbell.com – there you’ll find links to two print-on-demand sites with various designs that can be applied to everything from stickers, posters, clothing, mugs, notebooks and more.

I’ll be sure to include a list of all necessary links in the show notes.

Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast, and I will be back very soon with more magical, mystical stories to share.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 39, Nothing

Fri, 13 Oct 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 38, Skye Dive

Fri, 06 Oct 2023 05:30:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 37, Here's the Plan

Fri, 06 Oct 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 36, Time Loops

Fri, 29 Sep 2023 05:30:00 +0000

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

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

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~

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

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

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

~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 35, Roadblocks

Fri, 29 Sep 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 34, Shelta

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 05:30:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 34 – Shelta – in which Farfalla has an unexpected encounter that will stop her in her tracks. 

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

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

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

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 34 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode we finally got answers about the mysterious disappearance of a child on the outskirts of Carnifex Land that Magpie had a vision about in Book 2 – Wingspan.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 34 – Shelta – in which Farfalla has an unexpected encounter that will stop her in her tracks. 

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Paranormal Exposed – you may recognize the name from our past collaboration about haunted objects released for Halloween of 2022. Paranormal exposed takes a look at eerie and unexplained events from a sceptic’s point of view. Be sure to check the show notes for a link to their show.

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

She stopped asking for her parents after a few weeks.

The first morning she woke up whimpering a bit, but I had Ru take her for a stroll and the distraction was just what she needed. I provided more sweets and a warm meal, then sang her to sleep. The second morning she woke up crying again. This time, I coaxed a rabbit into her tent. She couldn’t resist the soft, sweet creature, and spent the rest of the week cuddling and talking to it. Things kept on like this for a while. Luckily, I had several tricks up my sleeve. 

Eventually, she grew attached to me. I rocked her to sleep most nights and sang her Audrey Tourtereaux’s French lullaby. When she grew older, I taught her to cook, to sew, to build a shelter, cut firewood... Things I felt she would need in life. She made the most beautiful dresses and coats and became quite adept at foraging for food and creating delicious meals for us. The years went by in the blink of an eye. Before I realized what was happening, she became a teenager. I didn’t want to admit to myself that it would soon be time to let her go. I had grown to love her almost like a daughter. But I would often find her pining for love, companionship, and peers her own age. It wasn’t fair for me to deny her that joy. I questioned myself daily whether the time was right, then one day fate stepped in.

We were walking along the beach. I stopped to look out at the ocean, my mind always turning to Elisabeth. Shelta continued on, collecting seashells into her hand-woven basket. She had taken to making jewelry out of them. I stared at the rolling waves, dipping my toe in the sea, hoping those specific drops of water would someday grace the shores on the other side of the world where, perhaps, Elisabeth would encounter them. 

Suddenly, Shelta cut into my daydream with an excited shout. “Look! Look what I found!” she called, waving her arms at me. My heart stopped when the object in the sand came into view. All these years later… The Skylark Bell. Shelta picked it up and turned it over in her hands. I stood frozen in shock. Of course, I still have the bell I created during my time at the druid encampment. The one whose powers were forged that fateful night when the tribe was decimated and the Ancient Oak was burned, but I never expected to see this bell again, the one that flew off the cliff with me that day, then sank with me into the sand at the bottom of the ocean before slipping out of my hands.

“How old do you think it is?” Shelta had asked, her voice filled with enthusiasm. I told her it looked like an ancient artifact, perhaps even from Druid times. I knew then what I needed to do. The bell would protect her. It was time to let her go. The process was gradual. I cautiously guided her to places and times where she would encounter the right kind of people so she could reenter the world. Finally, one day she announced she had met a man who owned an antique shop and they had fallen in love.

I wouldn’t see Shelta again for years.

There were others. Many others. I found some at the beach, some in the fields, some by the woods… Each one plucked from a different time then returned to a time other than their own so as to keep my mystique intact, but always ensuring they would continue their lives safe and happy. After Shelta, I crafted a special elixir that I would administer on the children’s last day with me, so they would forget our time together. The last vanishing was Charlie. He was a friend of the boy who lived at Carnifex house, the caretakers’ son. After Charlie left, I took a break. I hadn’t found myself alone for several years, and I took some time to revisit my life. My thoughts always went first to Elisabeth, then to Marius. I bathed in it for years, the endless circle of Elisabeth and Marius, love and broken hearts.

Then one day, I saw him.

~~~~~~

Farfalla stands frozen in place at the edge of the woods. She blinks several times, unable to believe her eyes. Walking through the fields of Carnifex House on the back of a black horse with a white mane and tail is Marius. She watches as he awkwardly coaxes the huge animal in figure eights, then practices stopping and going a few times. Eventually, he turns and heads back toward the paddock. Farfalla stays at her post until darkness sets in, unable to comprehend what she has just seen. How could Marius be here? Now?! Marius would be 120 years old by now, the scene she witnessed today is an impossible one!

Farfalla spends the next few days observing the Carnifex fields from the edge of the forest. Sure enough, she sees Marius and Cormorant riding through the tall grass, the wind blowing those familiar dark curls. She’s run her fingers through that hair countless times, she would recognize it anywhere. 

On the fifth day Farfalla sees something that makes her heart sink. Once again, she sees Marius and Cormorant, but this time they are accompanied by a woman on a dark bay mare. As the woman approaches, Farfalla’s breath catches in her throat. It’s almost as though she is staring at a younger version of herself. She watches as they talk and laugh. She sees the way he looks at the woman, the depth of his love for her is evident. On the breeze she hears the woman call him Lucas, and her brow furrows. She’s certain she is looking at the same man, and not a descendant or relative. Why is this woman calling him Lucas? 

A moment later he responds by calling the woman’s name. Magpie… Each echo of the word inside Farfalla’s head feels like a nail being hammered into her heart. Magpie. The very first time they met, when he glanced up and saw her in the apple tree, the first word out of his mouth was Magpie. Now Farfalla understands why. He thought she was this woman. A wave of painful comprehension washes over Farfalla. Marius hasn’t met her yet. Somehow, some way, he will time travel back to her youth and they will meet and fall in love. Then he will disappear. 

But… perhaps it doesn’t have to be this way! Perhaps she can change things. Farfalla turns and walks swiftly back to her forest home, ready to set her plan in motion. She keeps an eye on him from a distance, waiting for the right moment. Finally, one day she hears him tell Magpie he and Cormorant are going for a long ride. 

Farfalla ponders how she can possibly send Marius to 1920s Pocket. It dawns on her suddenly that she needs the Skylark Bell. Not hers, but the old one, the one Shelta found on the beach. Shelta’s husband passed away shortly after they married, but she has carried on with the daily task of running the antique shop. Shelta is an old woman now, and she is startled when she sees Farfalla looking the same as she did decades ago. Farfalla strikes a deal with her; Shelta will receive a trunk full of antiques and relics, and in exchange she is to give the Skylark Bell to the young man with the dark curly hair. Shelta agrees with little hesitation, she still feels a deep nostalgia about her time with Farfalla despite all the years they’ve spent apart, and the additional merchandise will help her shop stay afloat.

The first part of her plan put in place, Farfalla heads back to the forest to speak to Ru. She instructs him to lead Marius into the forest. She will take care of the rest. 

Farfalla is on pins and needles the rest of the day. Finally, the sun begins to set, and she watches from a distance as Marius walks into the antique shop. He exits quite some time later, and he and Cormorant begin ascending the winding hill that leads to the top of the cliff above Pòcaid. Ru races onto the road as instructed, and Marius follows him back into the woods. Now it is Farfalla who has a role to play. She follows Marius and Cormorant as they walk the winding path in the woods. Finally, they come to the arch. She sees him hesitate, but he eventually moves forward. Farfalla waits for the precise moment Marius and Cormorant are under the arch then begins to sing the song of the Oak Tree. She watches as he looks around, an expression of uncertainty on his face. The breeze picks up, swinging the trinkets she attached to the arch back and forth. The metal spoons, cups and bells collide and create a cacophonous symphony. Farfalla begins to sing more loudly, and she feels the elements shift. She sees Marius squeeze his eyes shut before, just a moment later, he simply disappears.

Farfalla heaves a sigh of relief. Now the next step is to warn her younger self, to prevent Marius from ever disappearing. She isn’t entirely sure how to go about it, but she will find a way.

She and Marius will be together, no matter what it takes.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 35 – Roadblocks – in which Farfalla learns that her powers as Dealan-dè have limits.

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

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 33, The Vanishings

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 32, Her Prison, Her Fate

Fri, 15 Sep 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 32 – Her Prison, Her Fate – in which Farfalla finds herself in a predicament that forces her to ask for help from someone she thought she’d never see again.

This week's podcast partner is Cannelle: http://www.cannellemusic.com

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

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

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

In last week’s episode Farfalla tricked Ash into following her into the forest as part of her plan to gain revenge on Mayor Sandpiper.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 32 – Her Prison, Her Fate – in which Farfalla finds herself in a predicament that forces her to ask for help from someone she thought she’d never see again.

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 only meant to keep him with me for a few days, initially. Just long enough to give his father a scare and make him think about what he did to me, and probably to others before me. I wanted to ensure he wouldn’t do it to anyone else. 

As much as I have tried to harden my heart, my mother’s instinct has resurfaced, and I am finding joy in having Ash around. I bring him all the best things I can find. Toys, chocolate… He loves Ru, they take long walks through the forest. 

I eventually stopped fooling myself into thinking I would ever bring him back.

We spend our days together, learning and laughing. I’ve taught him to read and write, to make elixirs and salves, to coax plants into growing, to commune with nature. I’ve taught him geography, told him stories of my time at Meadow Lane. I’ve told him about trains and automobiles, to his great delight. 

We have raced through the forest by moonlight. We’ve gone swimming in the ocean with the sea creatures and sea birds for company. We’ve danced in the fields beneath a stormy sky letting the rain soak through our clothes and spinning wildly as water whips off our wild hair. 

Not once has he asked for his parents. In fact, he never speaks of them at all. I was surprised by this initially, as his father did seem to care for him a great deal that day by the cliff. But I have come to understand, the rare times we’ve broached the subject, that the kindness his father showed him that day was all for show. Behind closed doors, their relationship was very different. 

I told myself I had saved him from a terrible fate. 

I didn’t know his terrible fate was me.

~~~~~~

Farfalla’s face is washed with worry as she leans over the boy, his body seeming even smaller than usual as he shivers under the blankets she has piled on top of him. His face is porcelain white, and beads of sweat are accumulating on his brow. She wipes some salve onto his forehead with her fingers and tries to get him to drink some of the elixir she made using herbs and oils just as Cailleach taught her all those years ago. She lifts the boy’s head and puts the cup to his lips, but he is too weak to drink.

“Ash, darling, I need you to fight. I need you to be strong,” she whispers. The boy moans softly and his head lulls to the side. The situation is dire. Without some kind of intervention, the boy won’t survive the night. Farfalla scoops him up in her arms and carefully navigates the path between the trees to the arch. A moment later, a breeze picks up, and Farfalla starts singing the song of the Oak Tree as she rocks the boy back and forth in her arms. She feels the familiar dizzying feeling of her mind and body separating and closes her eyes. She feels the boy stir slightly in her arms as the sound fades away. 

“Coigreach!” Farfalla’s eyes spring open. She sees a young girl pointing at her, eyes wide. Coigreach. Farfalla recalls the word from her time with the tribe. It means Stranger. 

“Help!” she says, nodding toward the pale boy in her arms, “Cuideachadh!” she adds, remembering the word for help in their language.  The girl turns and runs toward a tent at the back of the encampment. Farfalla recognizes it instantly and walks purposefully toward the structure. A young woman with jet-black hair steps out of the tent just as Farfalla is about to burst through the opening. She is much younger than the last time Farfalla saw her, but still recognizable. Cailleach. Farfalla thrusts the boy’s pale, limp body toward the woman and the woman takes him in her arms without hesitation, then disappears into her tent. Farfalla is about to follow her when she feels hands on her shoulders pulling her back. She turns to see a tall man, his gaze fixated on her, his eyes filled with distrust. “Cormag!” she says, smiling. How amazing to see him so young, decades before he would become the leader of the tribe. At this, the man takes a step back, his brow furrowed. Farfalla seizes the moment and scurries into the tent.

Inside, young Cailleach is tending to Ash, her expert hands applying salve to his chest while her assistant swirls a bowl of burning sage around the room. Farfalla sits quietly in the corner, letting the woman do her work. Farfalla may have grown more powerful than her teacher, but even at this young age, Cailleach is wiser and more knowledgeable when it comes to healing. The woman turns to Farfalla and speaks. It takes Farfalla a moment to translate: Now we wait.

The hours flow at a glacial pace. Farfalla never leaves Ash’s side, constantly staring at his small pale face which shows no sign of improvement. At long last Cailleach returns, runs a hand along his cheek, and shakes her head. There is nothing more she can do. Farfalla weeps. She lets the wave of grief wash through her and eventually lays flat on the dirt floor, void of emotion, void of energy, void of hope. She finally gives in to sleep, holding Ash’s tiny hand in her own.

Farfalla wakens as the early morning light filters into the tent. She sits up and checks on Ash. He is breathing short, shallow breaths now. His time is running out. Farfalla feels the swell of hopelessness and grief rising from the pit of her stomach when a thought occurs to her. A horrible though. A brilliant thought. 

She scoops the boy back up in her arms and rushes out of the tent to The Ancient Oak. “I know you can hear me,” she hears the words echo in her head. “Ash is going to die, I need you to help us,” the swirling echo of her voice is almost unbearable, but she feels a shift in the breeze that gives her the strength to continue. Farfalla starts humming the familiar tune. She can feel heat emanating from the Skylark Bell in the pocket of her gown. The notes rise and fall through the air, surrounding them like an invisible cloak.

Finally, the world goes silent and Farfalla is left standing in the clearing, her arms heaving from the strain of holding Ash tightly against her chest.

“Welcome back.” The voice startles Farfalla and causes her to spin on her heels. To her great relief she sees Cailleach standing just a few paces away, her long grey hair tumbling down her shoulders. It takes Farfalla a moment to reconcile this woman with the younger version of her she was with only a few hours ago.

“Cailleach, I need your help,” she begins.

“The boy’s time has simply come.” Cailleach cuts her off.

“You owe me,” Farfalla swallows her anger, but the words still come out forcefully and her eyes narrow to slits.

Cailleach remains silent a moment, assessing the situation. “Fair enough,” she sighs, “which tree shall we use?”

Farfalla feels the stress fall from her shoulders. She looks around the clearing and spots a tree a few paces away. Its tall straight trunk and bright leaves give promise of a long life. “This one,” she says to Cailleach, nodding in the tree’s direction.

“Very well,” replies the old woman. “You know what to do.”

Farfalla gently lays Ash on the ground, noting that his lips are losing their colour. There isn’t much time. She turns to the tree and shouts “Fall!”. With a thundering crack the tree tips and comes crashing into the clearing. Farfalla rushes to the jagged stump jutting out of the ground. The trunk of the Ancient Oak had been smooth when it was her turn, but there is no time to smooth this one down. “Pick up the boy and take my hand,” says Cailleach. Farfalla hesitates for only a moment, then does as she is told. In a flash, she feels the earth move under her feet. She instinctively closes her eyes and tightens her grip on Ash. “Put him down, quickly,” comes Cailleach’s voice. Farfalla opens her eyes and sees the tree’s trunk has been smoothed down. The tree itself is neatly stacked in pieces nearby. It’s like they’ve travelled a few hours into the future and all the necessary work has been done. Farfalla wonders about the inner workings of what just occurred, but there is no time to waste. She carefully places Ash on the stump and takes a few steps back. Cailleach’s lips start moving. Farfalla can very faintly hear a few words, but the secret spell isn’t meant for her, so she gives Cailleach the space to do what is necessary to save Ash. Or, at the very least, the essence of Ash. 

At long last Cailleach goes silent. The air remains perfectly still, not a breeze nor a bird. Then it begins. The tree begins to grow around Ash’s small body. A process that should take years, decades, centuries even, occurring in the blink of an eye. It is quite the sight to see, especially after having lived through the experience from the inside. Finally, the tree has regained its full height and canopy.

“Hullo,” comes a small voice from behind Farfalla. She spins around and her heart soars at the sight of Ash’s large blue eyes, sparkling like his illness had never happened. “I feel funny,” he says.

“Yes, my darling, I know,” she replies, pulling him close. “Let me take you home, and you will feel much better,” she adds. 

Farfalla feels a hand clutch her arm, the strength of the grip sending searing pain all the way to her shoulder. “In a few years two people will come upon you in the forest. They will have been sent there at my command. They are to be his guardians. You will show them kindness and respect and let them do the task I have assigned to them,” says Cailleach, her tone leaving no room for discussion. “We are even now. Don’t ever come back here again.”

Farfalla nods, then walks hand in hand with Ash to the Ancient Oak; her prison, her fate… and asks it to send them home.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 33 – The Vanishings – In which Farfalla begins to live up to the stories about Dealan-dè

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 31, Skipping Stones

Fri, 08 Sep 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 30, Back to the Cliffside

Fri, 01 Sep 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 29, Embers to Ash

Fri, 25 Aug 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 28, Under The Same Sky

Fri, 18 Aug 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 27, Trial by Fire

Fri, 11 Aug 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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

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 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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 26, The Making of a Bell

Fri, 04 Aug 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 25, A Chaotic Swirl of a Dream

Fri, 28 Jul 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

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---

Skyedive - Chapter 24, Time

Fri, 21 Jul 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 24 – Time, in which Farfalla learns to navigate her new surroundings.

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

Contact: theskylarkbell@gmail.com

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

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

In last week’s episode Farfalla found herself rescued by an ancient, mystical group of people and brought to their secret forest hideaway.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 24 – Time, in which Farfalla learns to navigate her new surroundings.

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

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

I don’t know what year it is. 

My best guess is that I have been here for over a year, as I recall two solstice celebrations, but I have no idea what today’s date is.

When I asked Cailleach she let out a small laugh and told me that dates don’t matter. Though they do measure daylight and seasons, they don’t track the minutes, hours, days, and years like we did in my time. They cohabitate with nature in a way I’ve never seen before, it is strikingly beautiful.

Cailleach explained to me that her people inhabited the mainland for many years, but eventually strangers came, and her people were chased away, hunted down, converted, or... worse. I felt this betrayal deep in my bones as I remembered the people of Pocket, and more recently, Mayor Sandpiper completely disregarding my existence. 

Cailleach’s tribe, the last of its kind, escaped to the island. They settled deep in the woods, and spent many years learning from the land. There was something special in the forest here, a wisdom that their people had been seeking for generations. They had been slowly unpeeling the layers of this knowledge through education, exploration, and sometimes simple luck, but here in the forest Cailleach’s tribe felt they had arrived at the source of this wisdom. The ground itself tingled under their feet as they made their way between the trees. They happened upon the clearing one day and have been settled here ever since. Cailleach’s people learned how to manipulate their surroundings, first by willing food to grow in barren soil, or with very little sunlight.  Then they discovered they could control some of the animals around them and get them to help their tribe survive by warning them of approaching strangers or showing them where to find food. When she told me this part my heart started pounding as I recalled the sea bird by the cliff with Nurse Betsey. She told me they had even devised a way of making their encampment invisible to outsiders, who would just walk by as if they weren’t there.

I was eventually let in on their most closely guarded secrets. Cailleach didn’t tell me right away. I spent months learning her healing techniques, medicines, salves, and tinctures made from the bounty of the forest. Then she taught me to communicate with the animals. We started out with small forest animals, first mice then martens. Then we moved onto birds, she saved the owl for last. Finally, we moved onto the red deer, which was evasive most of the time, but would come to her if she called a certain way. By the time we were finished, my abilities in controlling the animals surpassed hers. I would take walks through the forest with the red deer by my side, and we would share our secrets.

Finally, one morning, Cailleach woke me just before sunrise, and walked me to the edge of the forest. She told me her people had unlocked the most important, and dangerous, ability of all. Very few tribe members were taught how to practice it, but she said I had a special calling, and that she would teach it to me. How to control distance… and time.

~~~~~~

 “For many years our people inhabited the mainland” says Cailleach, her gaze scanning the horizon, “but many of us were hunted down as we escaped and tried to settle elsewhere. Our little tribe is the last of our kind, hidden deep in the woods. We spent many years living in fear, until one day someone came to us who could ensure our teachings would continue forever. A person who would exist throughout time, the time before us, and the time after us. A person who could insert our teachings into every living, breathing thing in the world, from a blackbird to an acorn,” she says plainly, as if her words make perfect sense. Farfalla stands beside her in confused silence. “When you were pulled out of the water, your heart was filled with anger and a thirst for vengeance,” she says, “I trust that you have now healed, so I may teach you this final lesson. If my teachings were to fall into the wrong hands it could have… disastrous consequences.” With that, the woman turns on her heel and heads back into the forest. Farfalla lingers for a moment, her fingers scanning the horizon for any sign of life outside the forest, but she sees nothing. She turns and hastens her step to catch up with Cailleach.

They wander through the thick mass of trees on a winding path that Farfalla has never seen before. She is surprised by this because she has spent countless hours exploring the forest and prides herself in her keen sense of direction, but the more they walk, the more she feels like they’ve been travelling in a winding circle. At last, they come around a bend and Farfalla sees a tall arch made of branches and vines stretching across the path. The arch is high enough for a tall person on a large horse to comfortably pass under. “Where are we? What is this place?” she asks.

Cailleach smiles at her, “We’re at the encampment,” she says, an air of mystery hovering around her. Farfalla furrows her brow and looks around. There is no clearing to be seen, no tents, no fire, no women dancing or men in long white robes, only the two of them and this arch. “This is our encampment in a different form, a different time, long after I, and the rest of our tribe, have returned to the earth to feed the trees. This is a gateway, and only those who are chosen can see it, and pass through.”

Farfalla is thoroughly confused at this point. What is this old woman on about? An invisible gateway made of sticks that allows time travel?! For the first time since her arrival here she begins to doubt everything. Farfalla begins to think perhaps she, herself, has lost her mind. “I don’t understand…” she begins.

“You will,” Cailleach cuts her off, “come.” The old woman grabs her hand and takes her under the arch. The wind picks up, making the branches of the surrounding trees bend and stretch, their leaves creating a sound like the ocean. Farfalla closes her eyes as the wind creates a cloud of dust with dirt from the path. On the wind he can faintly hear a melody, it only takes her a few notes to recognize the song of the Oak Tree. Gradually, the song gets louder. It sounds surreal, mystical almost, not quite human. Farfalla feels a wave of dizziness wash over her, like her mind and body are separating. She feels a sense of peace wash over her as everything goes dark, just like when she was under water, and she lets herself float away on the sound waves, mesmerized. 

The wind slowly fades away, taking the song with it. Farfalla remains perfectly still, eyes closed, while she regains her senses. Out of nowhere she hears a flurry of sound and activity; people speaking, beating drums, feet stomping on the ground. She can feel the heat of a fire nearby, its acrid smoke filling her lungs with every breath mixed with the now-familiar smell of burning sage. Farfalla opens her eyes, and her jaw drops in shock. They are standing in the middle of the encampment under the ancient oak tree. “How… what… how did we get here?” she asks, incredulous.

“We were always here, the place never changed. We did not travel any distance,” Cailleach turns to look Farfalla squarely in the face, giving Farfalla a moment to draw her own conclusion.

“We didn’t travel any distance, but we did travel through time,” says Farfalla. Cailleach nods, her gaze never leaving Farfalla’s face. “I’ve done this before, twice now,” says Farfalla, “but I didn’t really have control over it, and I thought… the bell, I thought I needed the bell. Then the song, the song of the Oak Tree,” she stammers, working through the pieces of the puzzle and trying to fit them together.

“Oh, my dear, you will not find all the answers today. But suffice it to say that the song of the Oak Tree as you call it, originated right here, in a much earlier time. We all heard it that day when our tribe found this clearing,” she says, slowly stretching her arm out to point at the towering, ancient oak in the center of the clearing. “As for the bell, I believe that was a collaborative effort between the two of you,” she says, still pointing at the tree. Farfalla stares at the Ancient Oak, confused, then looks back to Cailleach, who nods in the direction of the tree.

Farfalla walks a few steps closer to the tree’s trunk. She lays her palm flat against it and feels the deep grooves of its bark, much deeper than the Oak Tree at Meadow Lane. She can feel throbbing beneath her hand, like the tree has a pulse. She grasps the lowest branch and pulls herself up, then looks down at Cailleach, who is standing below, a small crowd of tribe members gathering around her. Farfalla looks back up through the infinite branches of the ancient oak. She pulls herself up the next branch, and the next. Finally, she chooses the perfect place to sit, closes her eyes and leans her head against the tree’s trunk. She hears a faint heartbeat and the song of the oak tree emanating from it, ever so softly, like a lullaby. She stays perfectly still for a long moment, basking in the familiarity of the sounds. Eventually, she opens her eyes to look around. From this vantage point she can see above the canopy of the forest, and the view stretches to the ocean on almost every side. As if looking through translucent layers of time, she can see Carnifex House in a field nearby, wavering as if looking through a wall of steam on a hot day. Her heart aches for the way her time there ended. How she had loved being the Skye Lark Belle, Ms. Skye, as Felix and Frannie had lovingly named her. She blinks and the house is gone, replaced by vast, empty fields. 

“I need something from you,” the voice comes to her, unbidden, like a whisper directly into the inside of her ear. Farfalla startles and nearly loses her balance on the tree branch. She lays a hand against the tree trunk and hears the words again, “I need something from you”. 

From the ground below, Cailleach watches as Farfalla begins her first conversation with the Ancient Oak. A first of many. Cailleach turns and walks back to her tent. It is out of her hands now.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 25 – A Chaotic Swirl of a Dream, in which Farfalla dreams a kaleidoscope of images from her paste, present, and future.

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

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Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Chapter 23, Deja Vue

Fri, 14 Jul 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 23 – Déjà vu – in which Farfalla finds herself in a horrifyingly familiar situation.

This week's podcast partner is The Nightcap Nebula:https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1672430903?ign-itscg=30200&ign-itsct=lt_p

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

In last week’s episode Farfalla was found guilty of bringing harm to Nurse Betsey and pushed off the edge of a cliff in punishment.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 23 – Déjà vu – in which Farfalla finds herself in a horrifyingly familiar situation.

Today’s podcast partner is The Nightcap – 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.

Perhaps it was all a dream. The part with the villagers and the Skye Lark Belle. Perhaps it was only moments ago that I fell off the boat taking James and me to the island. Perhaps I am dreaming. Perhaps I am dying.

The water is cold. So cold I can’t think. I can’t function.

I think my hands are still tied behind my back. 

So, it wasn’t a dream. 

My hands. I am holding something. The bell. Frannie secretly handed me the bell. The bell and the song, they can get me out of here. It’s like déjà vu. I can see rays of sunlight filtering through the water. I can feel myself sinking into the sand. Again.

The Oak Tree. I must think of the oak tree, and the song. I must sing. I must sing in my mind and hold onto the bell. 

I will think of Elisabeth, my darling Elisabeth. Perhaps this time I will return to a time and place where we can be together.

I can feel the sand under my back now. I think this is the part where everything goes black. I don’t like this part… It’s so lonely. I’m tired of being lonely.

~~~~~~

Farfalla feels hands reach down and grasp her by the shoulders, pulling her out of the darkness. She feels water rushing around her as she moves upwards. Finally, she breaks through the surface and heaves a deep, raspy breath. The familiar, searing pain shoots through her lungs. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, afraid of what she will find when she opens them. She takes a moment to catch her breath and calm her nerves, falling to her knees and letting them sink into the sand. I am on a beach, she thinks. She feels someone unbind her hands, and she slowly brings her arms forward, her shoulders screaming in pain. She finds the courage to open her eyes and looks down at her hands, her fingers outstretched. She can see a pattern of spiraling skylarks imprinted into her skin. The bell! She had been gripping it so tightly in her hand it left a mark. But where is the bell now? Panicked, Farfalla scans the ground around her and runs her outstretched hands through the sand, but the bell is nowhere to be found. 

Finally, Farfalla looks up at the person who pulled her out of the ocean, but she can only see a tall silhouette against the blinding light of the sun. Suddenly the scenery around her begins to spin, and she feels her body falling into the sand as everything goes dark, again.

Farfalla can hear soft voices around her, speaking a language she cannot understand. She takes a moment to get her bearings. She is laying on a straw bed, she can feel the hollow stalks of straw poking through the thin fabric covering it. She cautiously opens her eyes and looks up. She appears to be in a makeshift tent type structure framed with branches. The voices hush, and Farfalla turns her head in the direction they had been coming from. She sees a tall man dressed in a long white gown, not unlike her own gown, though his isn’t covered in blood and dirt. Next to him stands a tall woman her long, blonde hair formed into a thick braid that rests on her left shoulder. The man approaches her bedside and kneels, so they are almost at eye level. He speaks words that make no sense, guttural sounds, gibberish to her. He then looks at her expectantly. He has asked her a question. Farfalla attempts to sit up, but her head immediately begins to throb. He places his large hand gently on her chest and pushes her back down, shaking his head. She closes her eyes, exhausted, and gives in to the darkness once again.

Farfalla has no idea how long it has been since she last opened her eyes. Hours? Days? This time she sits up successfully and takes note of her surroundings. She can smell smoke in the air, there must be a fire nearby. There is no one in the tent with her, so she takes her time scanning the small, mostly empty room. Across from her bed she sees a small table on which sits a collection of small bowls, each with different herbs or oils in them. Next to the flap that serves as a door she sees a pair of sandals sitting on the dirt floor. She looks down at the floor near her bed and sees a pitcher and cup filled with water. She takes the cup and empties it in one gulp. She hadn’t realized how parched she was. She grabs the pitcher and refills the cup, emptying it of its contents in a millisecond. She is refilling the cup a third time when the man walks into her tent. He smiles at her, and gestures for her to continue. Farfalla fills the cup and takes a few more gulps before putting it down. She stands up, taking a moment to ensure her legs can carry her, then takes a few tentative steps around the room. Confident that she is steady on her feet, she turns to face the man. He says a few words that she doesn’t understand, and gestures for her to follow him out of the tent. 

The scene before her takes Farfalla’s breath away. She is both amazed and disheartened. Clearly, she has travelled even farther back in time, away from Elisabeth. She is in a clearing in the woods, the thick canopy of tree leaves above heavily filtering the sun. There are several tents erected around the perimeter of the clearing, and in the middle an ancient, towering oak tree stands guard. Nearby, several pots hang from branches that reach across from one side of a roaring fire to the other. She can smell sage burning, and hear women chanting, their words unintelligible. She follows the man as he walks closer to the fire, and as they round the corner of her tent she sees the women dancing, their long hair in intricate braids with flowers and feathers woven into them. Farfalla stops in her tracks, hypnotized by their movement, their sound, and the fragrance of the burning sage. The man stops next to her, amused at her amazement. After a short while he taps her on the shoulder, and they continue their excursion.

He takes her to a much larger tent at the opposite end of the encampment. There, they find an old woman sitting on the ground at the back of the tent, her silver hair untamed and falling down her shoulders in ringlets. She looks up at Farfalla and smiles, gesturing for Farfalla to sit across from her. She says a few words to the man, and he exits the tent.  Farfalla takes a seat across from the woman, and they face one another in silence for a while. Just as Farfalla is about to get up, unable to take it anymore, the woman holds a hand up to her chest and says “Cailleach, Cailleach Oidhche”.

Farfalla struggles to repeat the words. “CAlia HAYshuh” she says, awkwardly. The woman nods sympathetically. Farfalla lays her hand on her own chest and says “Farfalla” then puts her hands together and flutters her fingers like a butterfly. 

The woman smiles at her. “Dealan-dè,” she says. Something about the word rings a bell, and Farfalla tilts her head to the side trying to recall where she’s heard it before. It takes her a moment, then realization sets in. It was the boy on the beach. He insisted they had met, but that her name had been Dealan-dè then. The old woman, Cailleach, reaches her hand out and swipes three of her fingers down Farfalla’s cheek. Farfalla can feel something wet clinging to her skin. The woman then dips her fingers into a bowl filled with a type of blue paste, and runs her forefinger above Farfalla’s brow, then down her chin. She then proceeds to draw the same pattern on her own face. They are like two sides of a mirror, one young, one old. She dips her fingers in the blue paste one more time and draws an incomplete circle on the surface of the wooden plaque laying before her. She then draws a serpent’s head, mouth stretched open, where the line of the circle had stopped, and forms the end of the other line into a serpent’s tail which stretches into the inside of the open mouth. “Ouroboros,” she says. Farfalla stares at the image of the serpent consuming its own tail. An endless loop.

“I am the healer of my tribe,” says Cailleach suddenly in perfect English. Farfalla is shocked, she was beginning to think she would never find anyone to understand her. “I have grown old, and I am tired. It is time for me to share my knowledge with a new healer. I believe that person is you,” she says. Farfalla is too stunned to reply. “Let’s go for a walk,” says the woman, smiling. Farfalla stands up and helps the woman to her feet. She holds her arm as they exit the tent, and the woman guides her to a nearby path that winds its way into the woods.

“Where did you learn to speak English?” asks Farfalla, finally regaining control of her voice.

The old woman looks at her slyly, a mysterious smile teasing the corner of her mouth. “You taught me, my dear. A long time ago,” she says, waiting for Farfalla’s reaction. 

“I… that doesn’t make sense!” replies Farfalla, completely at a loss.

“It will, in time,” says the woman as they press on into the depths of the forest.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 24 – Time, in which Farfalla navigates her startling new reality.

Before I finish, a tiny note on today’s episode. I like to hide little easter eggs in the story, there are many throughout all 3 books, and I plan on releasing a document detailing them once we’ve reached the end of the trilogy. But for today I’d like to share this one. The name Cailleach Oidhche means Tawny Owl, and translates more literally to "The old woman of the night" - as you have probably already noticed I like to incorporate bird references into the story, and this name seemed perfect for a wise old woman like Cailleach. 

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 22, Trial by Water

Fri, 07 Jul 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 22 – Trial by Water – in which Farfalla’s actions catch up with her.

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

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

In last week’s episode Farfalla used her control over a Sea Bird to send Nurse Betsey over the edge of a cliff.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 22 – Trial by Water – in which Farfalla’s actions catch up with her.

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.

November 1^st, 1799

I felt a rush. 

Like a gust of wind rushing through my body.

Not just because I succeeded in ridding the children of Nurse Betsey, but because I realized that I have the ability to make both people and animals to do my bidding. That feeling when the seabird flew, full force, in the direction of my pointing finger, having immediately heeded my command… It thrilled me!

After I left the cliffside I went to find the children. First, I found Felix hiding behind the horse shelter, a favourite hiding spot of his. Then we made our way back toward Carnifex House where we found Frannie sitting in the grass near the back door. She seemed somewhat out of sorts, very quiet, perhaps because I took so long to find them, or maybe she was simply tired from outdoor play all afternoon. Felix asked where Nurse Betsey was, and I told him she had been called to fulfill another task. I could have sworn I saw Frannie bristle at my words, but it was probably just my imagination.

We enjoyed a lovely dinner after which I came back to the sweet solace of the caretaker’s cottage. I have found peace here. Perhaps, if I am honest with myself, I could even find joy here.

Yesterday I did not get a chance to see the children as I was called out to perform for a family across the island whose child had fallen out of a tree and lay unconscious. I sang for them, but the child did not wake. The parents began to fret, so I sang them to sleep instead, then let myself out.

Now I am sitting at my desk looking out the back window at the vast expanse of the ocean. Somewhere on the other side, in another time, is my darling Elisabeth…

~~~~~~

The sound of fists banging on the door of the caretaker’s cottage startles Farfalla, sending a streak of ink across the page. She looks down at it, furrows her brown, rips the page out of her book and throws it into the fireplace. The banging strikes again, even more persistent than the first time. Farfalla marches across the room, ready to give a piece of her mind to the person on the other side. She swings the door open and freezes in her tracks, mouth agape. On the other side of her door is a crowd of people, led by a man she vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place. 

“May I help you?” she says, swallowing the annoyance threatening to spill into her voice.

“Take her,” he says simply, nodding his head in Farfalla’s direction. Before Farfalla has time to react two large men with bulging arms grab her and bind her wrists behind her back.

“What in the world-?!” She exclaims as the men pull her out the front door of her house. She whips her head around frantically. What is happening? In the crowd she sees Donald and Isabella Carnifex, the children peeking from behind their legs. Farfalla zeroes in on Frannie’s tear-stained face. “Frannie!” she calls, desperately, “Isabella! What is happening?!” 

“Better to gag her, ‘case she tries to sing the lot of us off the edge of a cliff!” says the man who appears to be their leader. Farfalla feels a wave of shock, fear, and nausea wash over her. They know. But… how?! Before she can say another word a dirty, foul-tasting strip of fabric is strung across her mouth and tied tightly to the back of her head, then she is pulled forcefully across the grass and thrown into a horse cart. She lands with a thud and searing pain pulses through her right shoulder.

“Not so high n’ mighty now, are ye?” says a familiar voice. Farfalla shuffles her body around so she can turn and look at the driver’s seat of the cart. Looking down at her smugly is Agnes Sutherland, her husband John sitting next to her facing forward, his back rigid.

“Take them to the clearing,” says the man who just a moment ago had been banging on her door. The cart pulls away, and Farfalla turns over so she can stare at the sky as they travel for what feels like an eternity. She notes the perfect shade of blue, and the bright white of the contrasting clouds. Such a beautiful day. Finally, the cart comes to a stop, and she is lifted out and dragged across a field of stubbly, dry grass and thrown to the ground in the middle of a circle formed by most of the people she’d encountered since her arrival in this place, this time. 

She awkwardly gets to her feet and slowly turns, taking in every face. She sees the Brackenridge family, whose daughter Elisabeth was the first one Farfalla sang for. Next to them are other families for whom she performed over the years. She sees the Carnifex family again, and near them the man who appeared to be the leader of this witch hunt. Next to him, Farfalla recognizes the small boy with the large blue eyes who had approached her on the beach a few months ago. He had said his father was the mayor. This realization sends Farfalla’s heart pounding. The mayor has spearheaded this arrest, and all these people are here for some sort of trial.

“I, Stuart Malcolm Sandpiper, Mayor of the town of Pòcaid, proclaim this trial to be open and call our first witness, Miss Frances Annabel Carnifex,” says the man, puffing out his chest like a bird. Isabella Carnifex pushes Frannie into the circle, nodding at her to keep moving when the small girl looks back at her in fear. “Now Frannie, you told your parents that you saw Ms. Skye with Nurse Betsey two days ago, standing near a cliff. Can you tell us what happened?” says Mayor Sandpiper, looking down at Frannie from his towering height. Frannie sniffles, looks at the ground, and nods her head. “Go on dear, tell everyone what you saw,” he prods.

Frannie takes a deep breath and looks at Farfalla, devastation in her eyes. “I heard Ms. Skye singing. She sings real’ pretty! I saw Nurse Betsey walking, she looked like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. Nurse Betsey got real close to the edge of the cliff and I got scared she would fall, but she turned around at the last momet,” says Frannie, her little voice shaking. There is a long pause before the mayor prompts her to continue. “Then a sea bird landed on the rock that I was hiding behind, and Ms. Skye looked at the bird, and pointed at Nurse Betsey and told the bird to fly. Then the bird flew at Nurse Betsey, and she fell off the cliff.” Frannie begins to cry, and tries to continue between heaving sobs, “Nurse Betsey was so mean to us, Felix and I, Ms. Skye was only trying to help, she would never hurt anyone!” 

“That’s quite enough!” says Donald Carnifex, marching over to his daughter, now a hapless heap on the ground, and carrying her back to the edge of the circle.

Farfalla can feel tears streaming down her cheeks as guilt takes a grip of her heart. Frannie had been there, she had seen the whole thing. Farfalla’s guilt is quickly replaced with anger. I did it to help you! she thinks. She and the children were close, especially Frannie, and this ultimate betrayal brings back the feeling of rage she felt when the people of Pocket accused her of placing a curse on Meadow Lane.

“Next, we have several witnesses who can attest to the fact that Ms. Skye’s healing powers are not what they seem,” continues Mayor Sandpiper. One after the other, several people she had been called to perform for testified that their loved ones didn’t heal, and in some cases that their loved ones had died. Of course they did! Thinks Farfalla They needed medical attention, not singing! Finally, a man she recognizes as the butler for the house where she hypnotized the woman into taking laudanum claims he heard her singing and saw the lady of the house walk into the kitchen in a daze and pour a hefty serving of laudanum in her tea, all while “the selkie”, as he called Farfalla, was singing in her ear.

“People of Pòcaid, the evidence has been laid out before you. I believe there is no doubt as to the accused’s guilt. The Sutherlands claimed to have found a Selkie, when in reality they brought us a Siren!” At this, a collective gasp escapes from the crowd. A few of the townspeople edge closer to Farfalla to get a better look. 

Suddenly, Farfalla feels a tug on the bottom of her dress. She looks down to see Frannie’s little tear-stained face looking up at her. “I’m so sorry Ms. Skye, I didn’t know…” she begins. Farfalla does her best to nod. “Here,” says Frannie, slipping something into Farfalla’s bound hands, “Felix snuck this out of Agnes Sutherland’s pocket. He’s quite good at doing that,” says Frannie. Farfalla holds the object in her hands and feels around. She feels grief and relief hit her all at once. Frannie has handed her The Skylark Bell. “I remember you told me about your bell, and how special it is. Then one day I heard Mrs. Sutherland bragging that she had taken it from you.” Tears slip out of Farfalla’s eyes. She does her best to convey her gratitude to Frannie.

“Is there anyone who wants to speak on behalf of the accused?” shouts Mayor Sandpiper. Farfalla turns her head back toward him, then looks hopelessly around at the townspeople. Surely one of them will speak up! What about Margaret Brackenridge? She had improved after Farfalla’s visit! As had dozens of others! She had helped them, and now they were forsaking her! A silence hangs over the clearing, and Farfalla can feel her heart beating faster and harder with every second. Her fear is quickly replaced by seething rage. How dare they?! How dare they use her for their own benefit and then throw her away like a ragdoll? Nurse Betsey was an evil, horrible person! Didn’t that count for something? “Alright, then the accused is found guilty. Take her to the cliffside!” shouts Mayor Sandpiper triumphantly. He lifts his son, the boy from the beach, into his arms. The boy makes eye contact with Farfalla and nods his head toward the edge of the forest where a large stone stands to delineate between two fields. Farfalla turns her head to look and gasps through the fabric in her mouth. Standing by the rock, a sad, sympathetic look on her face, is the woman Farfalla had seen years ago at boarding school. Farfalla blinks in disbelief, and when she reopens her eyes, the woman is gone. 

The two large men who had hauled her out of her house earlier this morning now grasp her arms again, and drag her across the clearing to the cart, her bare feet scraping across the dry, stubbly grass. She is once again. thrown into the back of the cart, exacerbating the pain in her shoulder. This time Agnes doesn’t bother to look down at her, and the cart takes off. Farfalla painfully shifts her body into a sitting position. She looks down at the bottom of her white dress, covered in blood from the scratches on her feet. How can this be happening? Everyone in town loved her! I am the Skye Lark Belle! She thinks, confusion, disbelieve and devastation swirling through her mind. She turns to look behind the cart and sees a parade of people following behind.

“Sink the siren!” shouts Mayor Sandpiper, his son now sitting atop his shoulders.

“Sink the siren!” chants the crowd. 

“Sink the siren!” shouts the mayor, and the crowd responds. Their chants grow louder and faster until the cart comes to an abrupt stop at the top of the cliff. 

The mayor lifts the boy off his shoulders and gently sets him on the ground, ruffling his hair. “You stay here, Ash, there’s a good boy,” he says before taking long strides across the cliff top. The two large men lift Farfalla out of the cart and hold her there, awaiting further instruction. She looks down at the boy, who takes a step closer to her. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “you’ll be back.” Farfalla’s brow furrows, but she is pulled away before the boy can say anything more. She looks up to see the mayor gleefully gesturing toward the edge of the cliff. The villagers follow closely behind, resuming their chant of “sink the siren”.

Farfalla can feel the cold sea air pick up as they near the edge of the cliff and a shiver runs through her. It is November, and she is barefoot in a light cotton gown, not at all fit for the weather. She can hear the waves crashing below, and gets a sinking feeling as understanding comes to her. A bitter laugh escapes her throat and catches in the rank fabric in her mouth. They’re going to throw me back in the water, back to where I came from, she thinks. All those years of having the same dream, what are the odds it would come true... twice?!

Agnes Sutherland steps forward and hands something to Mayor Sandpiper. He turns and Farfalla can see the silver crown of twigs and vines in his hand. He plops it on top of her head, twisting it around so it tangles in her hair, then roughly pulls the gag form her mouth. “Any last words, Siren?” his tone is dripping with arrogance, he is thoroughly enjoying this. 

“I suggest you hold your son very close tonight,” whispers Farfalla, defiantly meeting his gaze. The mayor takes a step back, clearly shaken, and nods to the two large men, ever at the ready to do his bidding. The men grasp her shoulders and turn her around to face the crowd. Farfalla’s eyes search the crowd for a friendly face; Frannie, or even the boy from the beach. The children are nowhere to be found, but at the back of the crowd, sheltered by the shadow of an oak tree, she sees the woman with the long red hair, the one who looks just like her. The woman nods at her. It will be okay. Farfalla can’t hear her, but the thought enters her mind none the less. 

“Sink the siren!” comes a shout from the crowd. The woman’s unwavering gaze and sad, but comforting smile, never leave Farfalla. The chant from the crowd grows louder, and she hears the mayor instruct the men to do it. She clutches the bell tightly in her bound hands and closes her eyes. She feels the force of their push and then an eternity of nothing but rushing air. She can feel her hair blowing violently around her face, tangling even more into the twigs of the silver crown, and her dress billowing, dampened by the mist lifting from the crashing waves below. She opens her eyes at the last second, and sees the mayor looking over the edge of the cliff above her, a smug smile of satisfaction pasted on his pale face. 

The last word out of her mouth as her body crashes through the surface of the water is “Ash”.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 23 – Déjà vu – in which Farfalla finds herself in a horrifying familiar situation.

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 21, Sea Bird

Fri, 30 Jun 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 20, The Music Box

Fri, 23 Jun 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 19, The Beach

Fri, 16 Jun 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 19 – The Beach – in which Farfalla has a strange encounter with a young boy reminiscent of a scene in  Book 2 – Wingspan.

This week's podcast partner is Cozyland: http://www.cozylandpod.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 19 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode Farfalla settled into her role both as the Skye Lark Belle and as an extended member of the Carnifex household.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 19 – The Beach – in which Farfalla has a strange encounter with a young boy reminiscent of a scene in  Book 2 – Wingspan.

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.

August 12^th, 1799

I had the dream again last night. The water dream. I don’t understand, it has already played out in real life, why would it keep coming to me in my sleep? I woke up staring at the wall above my bed, wishing I still had Isadora’s dream catcher. At least this time I didn’t sleepwalk.

The dream was slightly different in that I knew it was the Skylark Bell in my hands. I clutched it, wishing to be someplace else, while humming the song from the Oak Tree. I think somehow it was a combination of the Skylark Bell and that song that brought me here, back in time. Perhaps I could somehow return home to Elisabeth if I could get my hands on the bell. Agnes Sutherland took it from me the day of the Lark Festival and squirreled it away. I’ve half a mind to march back into her house and take it back, but despite their modest means the Sutherlands are well-liked and carry some weight in this town. I must be cautious about how I retrieve the bell, so as not to make waves.

I am bringing Frannie and Felix to the beach today. Nurse Betsey has the day off to tend to her ill mother on the other side of the island, and I offered to care for the children. At first Isabella waved her hand at me dismissively. “You don’t need to do that!” she had said. But the children begged and pleaded, and I insisted, so she relented. I asked the cook to pack us a picnic, and I’ve collected blankets for us to sit on, and some small baskets to collect rocks and seashells. 

I think today is going to be a beautiful day…

~~~~~~

Farfalla and the children skip through the tall grass of the field behind Carnifex house hand in hand. The horses in the pasture to their right are galloping around, tossing their manes in the air, thoroughly enjoying the spring sunshine and cool sea breeze.

“Miss Skye, did you like to go to the beach when you were our age?” asks Felix in his customary formal tone. 

Farfalla smiles a a pang of nostalgia grabs her. “No,” she replies, “where I lived there was no beach. But there was a pond, Mirror Pond it was called, and I liked to spend time there watching the frogs and turtles.”

“I’m not very fond of frogs,” says Frannie, scrunching up her face. 

Farfalla laughs, sticks out her fingers and pretends to chase the girl, “what don’t you like about frogs? They won’t hurt you; they just want to tickle you to pieces!” she shouts, sending Frannie racing toward the beach in a fit of giggles.

They arrive at the beach and Farfalla spreads out the blankets in a sandy area. She hands each of the children an empty bucket and smiles as they race toward the water. Felix immediately starts selecting the best skipping stones, while Frannie digs through the wet sand in search of seashells. Farfalla walks to the shore and lets the waves gently wash over her feet as they sink comfortably into the sand. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, letting the salty sea air flow through her lungs. Just a few paces away she can hear Felix and Frannie chatting about the treasures they’ve already found; “Look at this stone, Frannie, it’s perfectly round and smooth. I bet I can get it to skip 7 times!” “Felix, look at this shell, it’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen, and so shiny on the inside!” 

Farfalla smiles, if she can’t be with Elisabeth, this is the next best thing. She takes one more deep breath and opens her eyes. “Hullo,” says a small voice. She looks down and sees a young boy, his soft brown curls blowing in the wind. He is looking up at her with unusually large, bright blue eyes.

“Hi there!” she says, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

“I know you,” he says.

Farfalla furrows her brow. She’s never met this boy in her life. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” she says gently, smiling at him.

“No, it was you. At the edge of the woods. You said hello to me. You knew my name,” he speaks with such confidence Farfalla is at a loss for words. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Well, you see, it couldn’t have been me, because I don’t know your name,” she says, certain now he will admit his mistake.

“You told me that you heard my father say it, at the cliff,” he insists. 

Now Farfalla is entirely confused. What cliff? “Who is your father?” she asks, trying to sort the pieces of the puzzle.

“My father is the mayor,” he answers in a tone that makes it obvious he thinks she should already know.

“Miss Skye! Miss Skye!” she hears Frannie and Felix shout excitedly.

“That’s not your name,” says the boy. Farfalla’s heart skips a beat. 

“What do you think my name is?” she asks, afraid of what his answer will be.

“Dealan-dè,” he replies.

“Miss Skye, look what we found!” shout Frannie and Felix in unison. Farfalla turns to look at them, only a few paces away. When she turns back to the boy he is gone. She glances over her shoulder and sees him walking up the hill, away from the beach. What a strange child, she thinks.

“What did you find?” she asks as the children finally catch up to her. 

Felix holds up his bucket “Take a peek!” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice. Farfalla cautiously peeks over the rim and sees a sparkling white egg sitting on a bed of sand. 

“Hmmm…” she muses, “and you found this on the beach?” Both children nod.  “And there was no nest nearby?” Both children shake their heads no. “And you definitely did not take it from our picnic basket?” she asks, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth. At this, Felix and Frannie burst into laughter. “Come on,” says Farfalla, laughing along with them, “I think it’s time for lunch.”

They sit on the blankets and eat while watching the tide slowly roll in. By the time they finish the water is tickling the edge of the blanket. “I suppose it’s time to head home,” says Farfalla regretfully.

“Oh Miss Skye, please, can’t we keep playing outside? It’s such a beautiful day, and we’re having such fun!” begs Frannie.

“Frannie, Mama said we shouldn’t take up too much of Miss Skye’s time!” reprimands Felix in a hushed voice.

Farfalla takes them both by the hand. “Now, now, there’ll be no arguing on my watch. You are certainly not taking up too much of my time. Why don’t we bring the basket up to the house, and then we can go say hello to the horses?” The children whoop joyfully and race to the house, their arms loaded with the blankets, buckets, and picnic basket. Farfalla watches them, her heart full for the first time in a long time. It is a beautiful day.

They meet up at the gate to the paddock and the horses plod over to say hello. “I’m surprised you don’t have some kind of stable hand to care for the horses,” says Farfalla. She has seen the maid occasionally groom and saddle a horse when Donald Carnifex travels for business. The children give one another a strange look. “What is it?” asks Farfalla, noticing.

“There used to be Charlie,” begins Frannie.

“Frannie, shush! Mama said we don’t talk about Charlie!” hisses Felix.

“What happened to Charlie?” asks Farfalla, both confused and concerned.

“He went into the woods,” replies Frannie, earning herself an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Felix.

“What’s wrong with the woods?” asks Farfalla.

“We’re not allowed to go into the woods,” answers Felix, with a tone that says the conversation is closed.

“Why not?” asks Farfalla, tiring of the tedious fashion in which the bits of information are being pulled from the children.

“Because of the vanishings,” says Frannie, earning herself a glare this time.

“Vanishings?!” Farfalla exclaims. Why hasn’t she heard about this yet?

“People who go into the woods don’t come out. Papa says it’s druid magic. He says the druid lady who lives in the woods makes people disappear,”

“Well now you’ve done it, Frannie! Mama said we weren’t to worry Miss Skye with these things! Nurse Betsey will be so angr-“ Felix stops himself then.  

“Felix why would Nurse Betsey be angry with you?” asks Farfalla. Felix gives a shrug and looks down at the ground, kicking the dirt with his feet. “Does she get angry with you often?” she tries. The boy nods, and Frannie follows suit. Farfalla crouches down to their eye level and lifts their faces up with her hands. “Next time she gets angry with you, will you please let me know?” she asks. The children nod silently. “Great. Now then, how about you show me all those shells and rocks you collected at the beach?” she says, grabbing the children by the hand and walking back toward the house.

The children chatter on about their discoveries as if they’d never mentioned the vanishings or the woods, but in Farfalla’s mind she can’t help but replay the conversation. Her mind shifts to the boy on the beach. “I know you,” he had said. “I’ve seen you before, at the edge of the woods…”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 20 – The Music Box – in which a day of celebration turns rather dark.

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 18, Pocaid

Fri, 09 Jun 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Chapter 17, A Childhood Dream Come True

Fri, 02 Jun 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 16, Selkie

Fri, 26 May 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Chapter 15, The Dark, The Day

Fri, 19 May 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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

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 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.

Farfalla, semi-conscious, shakes her head from side to side. Her? Who? She wonders, too exhausted and confused to utter the words out loud. She lets the steady movement of the cart and the rhythmic pounding of the horse’s hooves on the dirt road lull her back to sleep. There will be plenty time to sort things out.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 16 – Selkie – In which Farfalla tries to get her bearings in her new surroundings.

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 14, Look to the Skye

Fri, 12 May 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 13, A Night on the Town

Fri, 05 May 2023 05:00:00 +0000

n today’s episode we read the chapter 13 – A Night on the Town, in which James and Farfalla travel to Paloma’s home to drop off Elisabeth in preparation for their trip.

This week's podcast partner is Certainly Strange: https://open.spotify.com/show/1stSYQC9Sqox9TwbU48Dof?si=ct4_QX_NQh6hHZHxZ9eyVA&utm_source=copy-link&nd=1

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

In last week’s episode James received a letter from a distant relative informing him that he is to inherit a house on the Isle of Skye in Scotland.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 13 – A Night on the Town, in which James and Farfalla travel to Paloma’s home to drop off Elisabeth in preparation for their trip.

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.

July 14^th, 1932 

I had the dream again last night.

I haven’t had the dream since we left Meadow Lane. I thought it was over. The water rushing over my head, and that interminable darkness at the end.

This time I woke to find myself on the dirt road staring at the Oak Tree at Meadow Lane in the earliest morning light. I had never ventured this far during my other sleepwalking episodes. Thankfully it was too early for anyone else to be up, and I was able to hurry home before anyone noticed I was gone. 

I have succeeded in avoiding casting eyes on Meadow Lane up until today, and the sight of it; abandoned, disheveled, forgotten… it broke my heart. I only allowed myself to stay for a brief moment while memories of my time there came flooding back; birthdays, holidays… Marius. 

I waved goodbye to the Oak Tree before walking away, and I swear I heard it singing. A soft, sorrowful song, echoing in the air around me. The song echoes in my head even now as I pack our bags.

We are leaving Pocket today.

~~~~~~

“Bye bye,” says Elisabeth, waving goodbye to the birds on the porch railing as the car pulls away. Farfalla feels something tug at her heart as they leave their house for the city. Paloma has agreed to care for Elisabeth while Farfalla and James travel overseas to settle the affairs of Uncle George Archibald and Carnifex House. Farfalla turns to glance at James, who is focused on the road ahead. He has been apprehensive about taking over Carnifex House from the moment the letter arrived. Farfalla struggles to understand why he seems hesitant, to her it sounds like a fantastic opportunity. 

“Are you excited to see Auntie Paloma?” asks Farfalla over her shoulder, turning her head to glance at Elisabeth in the back seat.

“Loma’s house! Biscuits!” says Elisabeth. James laughs wholeheartedly at this. It is no secret that Elisabeth gets more than her fair share of biscuits when she visits Paloma.

Farfalla reached out to Paloma to smooth things out just before the holidays. She felt terrible about overreacting to the hobby horse Paloma had bought for Elisabeth. They made peace easily, and spent the holidays together at Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater’s apartment in the city. It was a great relief to Farfalla since there are so few people in her life who embrace and love her. Though the people of Pocket stopped being outright cruel once Elisabeth came along, they still excluded Farfalla and her family from any community events or gatherings. James never seemed bothered by it, sharing a life with Farfalla seemed to be enough for him. 

The drive to the city goes by rather quickly. Farfalla holds her breath as they pass The Aviary Finishing School for Girls of Distinction. A shudder runs through her as she recalls the woman who stepped out of Priscilla Ponceroy’s room the night Priscilla’s hair was shorn off. She never told anyone what she saw that night, it was simply too bizarre, she figured no one would ever believe her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” says James, snapping her back to the present.

“Oh! I was just remembering my time at The Aviary,” she spits out.

“Ah, yes, I forgot you were once a Girl of Distinction,” he laughs. Farfalla giggles and turns to look at James’ profile as he navigates through city traffic. 

Finally, they pull up to Paloma’s apartment building. The tall structure reaches into the sky and Farfalla has to crane her neck to see the sun. “I don’t know how she lives here, so far away from the grass and flowers, even the trees grow far below her apartment. I don’t think the birds even fly that high!” she shakes her head.

“To each their own, my darling,” says James, circling her waist with his arm and planting a kiss on top of her head.

They enter the building and are greeted by the young man sitting behind the front desk. “Welcome back!” he says, recognizing them right away. He holds up a finger “I have something for you, young lady!” he adds winking at Elisabeth. He opens a drawer and pulls out a small cat figurine. “This belonged to my little sister, but she outgrew it and I thought perhaps you would enjoy it. His name is Peanut, by the way,” he explains, handing the toy to an enamoured Elisabeth.

“Peanut!” she says, turning the toy over in her hands. 

“What do you say?” prods Farfalla.

“Fank you!” replies Elisabeth enthusiastically. 

“You’re most welcome,” says the young man. “Will you be needing help with your bags?” he asks, turning to James and Farfalla.

“That’s very kind, but no, we just have the one suitcase,” replies Farfalla.

They gather their things and head up the elevator. Elisabeth shouts “Wheeeeee!” as the contraption starts making its way up to the 15^th floor. Farfalla can feel her stomach heaving, she does not enjoy elevator rides

“Welcome!” says Paloma, swinging the door open. She has recently been promoted at the department store where she works and with her new salary is able to afford a rather nice apartment. Tall windows look out at the building across the street and let in a moderate amount of sun. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the living room compensates for the lack of natural light. “How’s my Lissie!” she says, stretching her arms out to catch Elisabeth and lifting her into the air. “I’ve made us pasta primavera for lunch, it should be ready in just a few minutes,” she adds, turning to James and Farfalla.

They give Elisabeth a quick snack then get her settled into the guest room for a nap. Farfalla looks around the room as she unpacks Elisabeth’s bag, and notes that Paloma has added a bookshelf filled with children’s books and stuffed animals, and has hung a butterfly mobile from the ceiling and placed some brightly coloured paintings on the walls. The room is absolutely charming, and Farfalla smiles warmly at the care and love Paloma has put into it. Elisabeth falls asleep almost immediately, tuckered out from the long drive. James and Farfalla join Paloma in the dining room for lunch, then they retreat to the sitting room to talk about their upcoming trip.

“Our boat leaves Saturday, and we should arrive in Scotland around the 29^th if all goes well. Then we take a train through Scotland to the coast and a ferry to Skye. James has organized transportation by car to get from the ferry to Carnifex House,” explains Farfalla between sips of tea and bites of her biscuit.

“That sounds like quite an adventure!” says Paloma, enthralled.

“That’s one word for it,” says James, sounding less than thrilled about the prospect of nearly three weeks of travelling to get to their destination.

“Falla, I was thinking,” interjects Paloma, “if it’s alright with you, James, perhaps the two of us could go out for dinner tonight, like old times,” she says, turning to James for approval.

“Of course, I’ll stay here with Elisabeth,” says James.

“Great! Falla, go put on a pretty dress, I know just the place!” says Paloma excitedly. Farfalla steps away to change and returns a short while later wearing an airy floral dress.

“Have fun my darling,” says James, laying a kiss on her cheek. 

Paloma leads the way down the corridor, down the elevator, waves hastily at the young man behind the front desk and pulls Farfalla out the front door into the hot humid city streets. The walk several blocks to a small café on a side street, clearly this isn’t one of the tourist spots. “Les Ailes Du Ciel” reads a sign above the door. “The Wings in the Sky” says Paloma, translating, “They have the most amazing crostini, and they make a pâté that is simply divine! And wait until you see the pastries, the Mille Feuille is out of this world!” Farfalla smiles as Paloma keeps gushing about types of food she’s never even heard of. 

They sit at a small table on the outdoor patio, a small candle flickering between them. The server brings a series of small white plates with ornately decorated dishes on each. Farfalla isn’t always certain what it is, exactly, she is eating, but every bite is a revelation. “This is my favourite, it’s has goat cheese, honey, and grapes on it!” says Paloma, digging into the small toast on her plate.

“So, how are you feeling about this trip?” she asks, daintily wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

Farfalla takes a deep breath. Up until yesterday evening she was very much looking forward to the trip, but then… “I had the dream again last night,” she says quietly.

Paloma’s hands slowly drop to the table. “Oh Falla, I thought that was over!” she says, her voice filled with sympathy.

“So did I. I hadn’t had that dream since we left Meadow Lane,” replies Farfalla. “Dreaming of water like that when we’re planning to cross the ocean by boat, it just… it’s a little disconcerting,” she says.

“I’m sure it’s just nerves, this is a big trip. Everything will be fine, you’ll see,” says Paloma, reaching across the table to grab both of Farfalla’s hands in hers.

Farfalla smiles at her and takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’re probably right, but just in case, I want you to promise me that if anything should happen to me, to James and I, that you will raise Elisabeth as your own. She’s still very young, she would easily adapt.”

Paloma shakes her head, “No, Falla, I won’t even discuss such a thing. This trip is going to do a world of good for you and James, and you will return in two months’ time rejuvenated and excited for what the future holds, and you’ll bring your beautiful little girl along with you for the ride,” she says, the words spilling from her lips in rapid succession.

Farfalla stares at her quietly for a long while. Finally, Paloma nods. “Of course I will care for Elisabeth, always and forever, as if she were my own. I love that little girl more than anything in the world,” she concedes. Farfalla gives her an understanding nod. She loves Elisabeth more than anything in the world too.

“I have here an éclair for you miss, and for you our world famous Mille Feuille. Bon apetit!” says the server, placing the delicate pastries in front of each of them.

“These are delectable!” exclaims Farfalla, taking a bite of the éclair. 

Paloma cuts into her pastry and places a piece on Farfalla’s plate. “Wait until you try this!”

Farfalla allows herself to get lost in the sweet taste of the icing that tops the layers of custard and pastry. It’s a great escape for her troubled mind. She hasn’t stopped thinking about The Dream since she woke up standing by the side of the road this morning. She keeps replaying the dream from start to finish, triggering emotions at every step; first panic as she sinks deeper under water, then calm when she sees sun shining down on her from above, then the most gut-wrenching, frightening, horrible feeling of all as the dark, empty Nothing sets in.

“We should probably get going, it’s getting quite late,” says Paloma, pulling several bills out of her wallet to pay the server. Farfalla shakes her head to rid herself of her jumbled thoughts and stands up, pulling her shawl over her shoulders to alleviate the sudden chill in the air.

They amble back to the apartment building, but Paloma stops short outside the door to her unit. “What you asked me earlier, about caring for Elisabeth if something happens to you and James. Falla, do you… do you have a premonition that something is going to go wrong? You don’t have to go on this trip, you and James could just move here to the city for a fresh start.” she says.

Farfalla’s breath catches in her throat. She hadn’t allowed the thought to surface - whether her recurring nightmare is a warning of some kind. She looks Paloma in the eye and smiles, “Of course not,” she says. “This will be the grandest adventure of our lives, and we will return in no time. No time at all.”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 14 – Look to the Skye – in which James and Farfalla make their way to the Isle of Skye to claim Carnifex House.

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 12, The Letter

Fri, 28 Apr 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 11, Elisabeth

Fri, 21 Apr 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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

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 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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 10, A Wedding After All

Fri, 14 Apr 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 10 – A Wedding After All, in which James and Farfalla marry, but things don’t go quite as planned...

This week's podcast partner is The Grim Cities: https://anchor.fm/thegrimcities

This episode features the song The Wedding Dress originally composed by Cannelle for Fantôme Friday #11 in Season 1. This version has been remixed and remastered by Pink Flamingo Music Productions: youtube.com/channel/UCqt6NSbXlXVl3Ofp8jeV4IQ

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

In last week’s episode, James Carnifex came back into Farfalla’s life and the two fell in love.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 10 – A Wedding After All, in which James and Farfalla marry, but things don’t go quite as planned...

Today’s podcast partner is The Grim Cities. I discovered this podcast by accident, and I’m so glad I did! The Grim Cities covers paranormal stories from the Twin Cities area and beyond, often covering stories even I, who has lived in the Twin Cities for years, hadn’t heard of. Even if you’re not familiar with the area, the podcast is absolutely worthwhile with great research and entertaining delivery. Just check the show notes for a link.

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

March 22^nd, 1929

Today is my wedding day. 

I never thought I would write those words. After Marius disappeared, the thought of falling in love again or being in a relationship seemed so foreign to me. Impossible. I had accepted the reality of living out my life on my own, quietly, shunned by everyone in town. But life is funny sometimes, it weaves joy and sadness in and out like the creek that flows into Pine River. 

The day James Carnifex came back into town was the happiest day I’d had in a long time. The following day we went for a picnic by the fountain in Brighthaven. I made us some sandwiches and James bought some pastries from Tourtereaux’s Bakery downstairs before we left. We talked and laughed, and I felt freer and happier than I had in years. We saw one another the following day, too. Then he had to travel for business, but upon his return he came to me. We’ve spent nearly every waking moment together ever since. I relish the company. I had unknowingly swallowed my loneliness down so deeply I had all but forgotten about it, but the moment he left on that trip it came roaring back up from the depths of my being and I realized I don’t want to be lonely. I don’t want to be alone.

I spend as much time with James as possible, and it’s lovely, but I’ve surprised myself in that the thing that has brought me the greatest joy, the greatest pleasure, is the look of shock (and, dare I say, horror?) on the faces of every single person in Pocket who turned on me when the silence fell on Meadow Lane. Every person who blamed me, pushed me to the fringes of their community, treated me as a lesser person, as something to be shunned and feared and loathed. Every person who crossed the street when they saw me coming their way, or who pretended I wasn’t there when waiting in line at the store or the post office. I am finding great pleasure in shocking them, perhaps even angering them. Those who don’t think I deserve happiness. I have gone out about town with James again and again, relishing their wide eyed, open mouthed disbelief that someone would be kind to me, perhaps even love me. 

So, naturally, when James asked me to marry him, I said yes.

~~~~~~

“I will,” says Farfalla, her voice echoing in the vast, mostly empty room. She looks up at James and smiles.

“Then, it is my honour to pronounce you husband and wife,” says the officiant, sealing their fates together with a clasp of his hands. With a swish of his robes, he fades to the back of the room, leaving James and Farfalla officially married. They turn to face the hall where Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater, Paloma, Isadora Finch, Isadora’s husband Eric and their daughter Sarah are sitting, immediately causing everyone to hop to their feet and clap with joy. James takes Farfalla’s hand and leads her down the aisle to the door, her sleek white lace dress trailing to the floor. It had been Mrs. Shearwater’s wedding dress originally, and Paloma helped alter it to give it a more modern fit. Farfalla’s hair is covered with a long veil, the top of which is attached to a simple tiara that Isadora gifted her when she found out about Farfalla’s engagement. In her hands Farfalla holds a bouquet of dried hydrangeas, having been unable to come by any live flowers so early in the year.

The group walks out onto the stone steps of the hall facing the Brighthaven Town Square. “Everyone, line up, Eric will take a photo!” says Isadora with excitement. James, Farfalla and Farfalla’s family line up on the stone steps as Isadora’s husband sets up his camera.  

“Isadora, you must be in the photo as well!” shouts Farfalla, gesturing for Isadora to join them on the steps. Isadora grabs Sarah and sets the toddler on her hip as she joins the group. A fortuitous break in the clouds sends delicate rays of sunshine down on the happy couple just as Eric takes their photograph. Farfalla smiles. Everything is going to be just fine.

“Is everyone ready to go?” asks James. The group nods in unison. Their joyful chatter carries over the town square as they walk to their cars.

“Great! We’ll meet you at the diner!” shouts Farfalla over her shoulder as she gets into the car. James closes the door gently behind her then runs around the front of the car to the driver’s seat. They take a moment to catch their breath.

“Can you believe it?” he asks.

“It feels surreal, doesn’t it?” says Farfalla, feeling a childlike giddiness rising in her. She and James had been friends for many years prior to the Carnifex family leaving Pocket, but she never imagined for a moment that she would one day be his wife. Then again, she never imagined that her first love, her true love, would suddenly disappear, and that she would be forced to move away from Meadow Lane, and that the people of Pocket, the town she had lived in her entire life, would turn against her.

“Is everything alright, Falla?” asks James, noting the crease in her brow.

Farfalla shakes her head, ridding herself of the negative thoughts. She reminds herself that today is her wedding day, and she refuses to let anything ruin it. “Yes, everything is great,” she says, taking a hold of his hand. James smiles at her, gives her hand a gentle squeeze, then starts the car and pulls away from the curb. They turn onto the main road and head back towards Pocket. James parks the car on Main Street, just outside Bunting’s General Store, across from The Early Bird diner.

“And now, Mrs. Carnifex, we celebrate!” he says playfully as he grabs Farfalla’s hand and helps her out of the car. Farfalla stands up and grins at James before planting a kiss on his cheek, then they scurry across the street to meet the Shearwaters and Isadora in front of the early bird.

“Eric has gone home with Sarah so we can enjoy our lunch,” says Isadora. “Shall we?” she asks, gesturing toward the door.

Farfalla takes the lead and walks up the short walkway to the restaurant entrance. Just as she is reaching for the door handle Mrs. Kestrel turns the key in the lock. Farfalla stands on the opposite side of the door, a look of confusion on her face. She knocks gently and says, “Mrs. Kestrel, we’re here for lunch to celebrate my wedding.”

Mrs. Kestrel’s eyes narrow and her sharp voice cuts through the glass, “We’re closing due to unforeseen circumstances,” she says. With that, she turns the “open” sign to “closed” and walks away.

Farfalla stands in front of the door, shellshocked. At that precise moment, a thick cloud blows in, covering the sun and sending heavy rain drops pouring from the sky. Farfalla looks up, grateful for the rain that will camouflage her tears. She laughs then, a harsh, bitter sound that sends shivers down Isadora’s spine. 

“Come on, Farfalla, let’s leave,” says Mr. Shearwater, grabbing her by the elbow. James stands on Farfalla’s other side, ready to catch her should she stumble.

“We’ll have lunch tomorrow, I’ll prepare your favourite dishes and we’ll bring them over to your new house,” says Mrs. Shearwater in the most comforting tone she can muster.

“Chin up, Falla,” says Paloma, giving her sister a hug, “this was just back luck, it’ll be all blue skies from here on out!”

Farfalla imagines what a mess she must look like. The bottom of her dress is quickly getting covered in mud, just like when she was a child wading into Mirror Pond. Her veil is soaked and clinging to the sides of her face, and she can feel eye makeup running down her cheeks in black streaks. The people of Pocket have accused her of being a witch for years, and today she looks the part. Farfalla lets out another bitter laugh, then turns to look at the people standing around her. The only five people in the world who treat her with kindness, love, respect. The only people who speak to her, touch her, love her. She notes how their clothes are getting soaked and their wet hair is sticking to their faces as they stay out in the rain trying to comfort her. She should be feeling love for them, gratitude. 

But the only emotion running through her body at this very moment is rage.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 11 – Elisabeth, in which we meet James and Farfalla’s daughter, Magpie’s Great-Grandmother, Elisabeth.

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 9, An Old Friend

Fri, 07 Apr 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 9 – An Old Friend – in which someone from Farfalla’s past makes a surprise appearance, just when she needs him most.

This week's podcast partner is Shittin' Bricks: linktr.ee/shittinbricks

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

In last week’s episode, We saw Farfalla become ostracized from the community she had grown up with after the silence at Meadow Lane was discovered.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 9 – An Old Friend – in which someone from Farfalla’s past makes a surprise appearance, just when she needs him most.

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.

September 27^th, 1928

Two years I have spent in seclusion, hiding in my apartment, coming out only to buy food and necessities. I went to visit Papa, Mama and Paloma in the city for a few weeks last summer, and we got together again for the holidays, but that is the extent of my interactions with other people.

The people of Pocket have persisted in their idea that I caused the mysterious silence at Meadow Lane. They seem to think I have some sort of dark powers that could harm them. I have tried over and over to explain to them, tell them: “you know me, you’ve known me for years!”, but none of them will give me the time of day. The only one who remained loyal to me is Isadora Finch, but she met a kind young man, and they now have a small house a couple of towns away. We’ve been corresponding, which is nice, and she recently told me she is expecting a child! The love she has found and the life she enjoys are a stark contrast to my lonely, miserable existence. I could leave Pocket, but where would I go? I have lived here my entire life, this is my home, I refuse to be driven from it.

~~~~~~

Farfalla scurries down the steps of Bunting’s General Store and hurriedly crosses the road. The sound of a loud horn makes her spin around in fright. She hadn’t thought to look for the car and is lucky it didn’t hit her. The car pulls over a few paces ahead and a tall, fair-haired man with broad shoulders steps out. 

“Farfalla?” he asks, his voice full of surprise.

Farfalla stares at him suspiciously, no one has spoken to her in so long. Who could this man be? How does he know her name?  She takes a few tentative steps toward him, and recognition hits her like a splash of cold water. 

“James? James Carnifex?!” she gasps.

“Indeed! Gosh, it’s been years!” he exclaims, opening up his arms for a hug. Farfalla falls into his embrace, at first with apprehension, then melting into the relief of human contact, at long last. Suddenly a terrifying thought occurs to her: He doesn’t know! Once he finds out he’ll shun me like everyone else has. Farfalla quickly takes a step away from James, blinking back the tears that have sprung up in her eyes.

“Well, it’s great to see you,” she says awkwardly, and starts walking back toward her apartment.

“Farfalla, wait!” he calls, running after her. “It’s been so long, I would love to catch up. Would you like to grab some coffee or something?” he asks, catching up to her and taking a gentle hold of her arm.

Farfalla freezes in her tracks, hesitating. After thinking about it for a quick moment she decides she might as well enjoy the company while she can, he’ll be distancing himself from her soon enough. “Sure, why don’t you come up to my apartment, I just bought a fresh canister of coffee at the store,” she says, holding up her shopping bag. 

Farfalla leads the way up the stairs to her apartment and ushers him through the door. She gestures toward the small table in her kitchen, and James takes a seat. She prepares the coffee, remaining focused on her task while she thinks of what to say to James after all these years. Finally, the sound of the dark, fragrant liquid comes from the coffee pot on the stove, and Farfalla pours each a steaming cup. She places a cup and spoon at each of their place settings and carries the cream and sugar set to the table before taking her seat.

“You never said goodbye, before you left,” she begins, immediately regretting opening the conversation by bringing it up. 

James takes the words in stride. “You’re right,” he acknowledges, “If I’m perfectly honest, I was envious of your feelings for Marius. I was young and hurt, and I suppose in a way I wanted to hurt you. That wasn’t fair. Please accept my apology.”

Farfalla bristles slightly at the mention of Marius’ name, but softens as she recalls all the good times she and James had as children. She feels no animosity toward him. “I didn’t realise how you felt, James. I’m sorry that you were hurt, and apology accepted, of course.”

“So, tell me about your life, your family, where are you parents now, and Paloma?” the barrage of questions comes flying at her, making her smile. James hasn’t changed a bit.

Farfalla explains that her parents and Paloma moved to the city, but that she couldn’t bring herself to leave Pocket. She tells him about all the beautiful gardens she has worked on, then takes a deep breath and tells him about the silence at Meadow Lane, and how the people of Pocket turned on her without ever giving her a chance to explain that she has nothing to do with it. James stares at her intently, completely engrossed in her story. Finally, he leans back and lets her last words linger in the air for a moment. 

“I don’t understand this silence thing, how is that possible?” he asks.

“I don’t know, but I do think it’s real. The day we left Meadow Lane I went to the Oak Tree to say goodbye, and there was an eerie quiet there that I can’t quite explain. But James, I swear, I didn’t cause it! It wasn’t me!” she says, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“I believe you,” says James, taking her hands in his. Farfalla feels relief wash over her, at long last someone believes her.

“Enough about me, what about you? Where have you been all these years?” she asks, getting up to grab the coffee pot. She refills both their cups and sets up her coffee maker to prepare a fresh pot.

He then explains that his father passed away shortly after they left Pocket in the winter of 1925. His mother returned to Pocket the following summer, but found only loss and devastation, so they moved overseas where he went to school and got a business degree, but never felt entirely at home. His mother insisted that he never return to Pocket, that it would only bring him hardship and grief. They had countless arguments about it and finally stopped speaking to one another altogether.

“So, are you in town on business then?” asks Farfalla.

James smiles. “I was actually on my way to Brighthaven, I do have business there, but now I think I might like to stay a while.”

Farfalla feels something in her stir, something that has lain dormant for a very long time. Despite her best judgment she finds herself smiling back at James. 

“Well, I should be on my way,” he says. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re most welcome,” says Farfalla, a pang of regret hitting her now that James is preparing to leave.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast tomorrow morning? I could pick you up, we could grab some food to go and make it a picnic,” he adds, standing in the doorway.

Farfalla feels her heart begin to pitter patter. It has been so long since anyone has even acknowledged her existence, let alone treated her with kindness. “I would like that very much,” she says, trying to regain her composure.

“Very well, I will see you tomorrow then,” he replies, closing the door behind him.

Farfalla stands alone in her apartment, listening to James’ footsteps go down the stairs followed by the slam of the door. She watches from the window as he walks to his car. Just before getting in, he looks up at her and waves. In the street she sees Mrs. Kestrel and her daughter casting suspicious glances back and forth between James and Farfalla’s apartment window. Farfalla waves back at James and embraces the sense of vindication she feels when she sees shock register on the two women’s faces. They, and everyone else in town, have made her life miserable. But now she has a chance at happiness again, and she isn’t going to let anyone stop her.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 10 – A Wedding After All – in which Farfalla and James get married, but things don’t quite go as planned.

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 links.

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Chapter 8, The Silence

Fri, 31 Mar 2023 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Chapter 7, Marius' Disappearance

Fri, 24 Mar 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 7 – Marius’ Disappearance, where we relive the terrible events of the winter of 1925, this time from Farfalla’s perspective.

This week's podcast partner is Generally Spooky: 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 7 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In last week’s episode, Marius gifted The Skylark Bell to Farfalla.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 7 – Marius’ Disappearance, where we relive the terrible events of the winter of 1925, this time from Farfalla’s perspective.

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.

February 13^th, 1925

Winter has come. 

It has been the most brutal, devastating winter anyone can recall. The snow simply won’t stop falling, and it has been bitterly cold. 

Over the holidays Marius asked Papa for my hand in marriage and Papa graciously accepted. We announced our engagement to everyone just after they’d opened their holiday gifts. Mama was so happy she set aside her usual decorum and let out a loud whoop! Paloma clapped and cheered, and Papa held us both in a warm embrace for a very long time. 

Marius has been living with us since the Carnifex family moved away last month. James told Gordon Starling his parents are thinking of moving to Europe, but they may return once winter is over. I was surprised at the news; James didn’t even say goodbye to me. Still, I am so happy to have Marius living with us and our engagement no longer a secret. Despite the cold I feel warm and loved and full of hope for the future!

Not everyone has been so fortunate though. There was a fire at the Tanager’s farm, and Earl Tanager was killed. I can’t imagine how devastated his wife Phoebe must be, and their children Charlie and Marie. They were trying to keep warm with candles, having run out of firewood for the fireplace. Many families have run out of firewood. Papa cut down the trees in the apple orchard and distributed wood to as many people as he could, but that was weeks ago, and now we’ve almost used all of it. I cried and cried as he and the Starling boys hacked at the trees, there will be no fragrant blossoms this spring. Mama has promised to pull seeds from the few apples we still have in the root cellar, but it will take years for them to grow into the blooming, bountiful orchard we once had.

This morning when I came downstairs Papa was standing at the front window staring at the Oak Tree. I knew what he was thinking before he even said anything, and right away I cried “Papa, no!”. I can’t bear the thought of the Oak Tree being felled. My Oak Tree. I have heard its song, felt its heartbeat. It is a living breathing thing and I feel like if it were to die, I would die too. Marius ran into the room when he heard me shout, and Papa explained that we were out of firewood, and he was thinking of cutting down the Oak Tree. I wept and wept and begged Papa not to do it, so Marius offered to go out to look for firewood. 

I didn’t know what would happen then. 

I didn’t know Marius would never come home…

~~~~~~

Farfalla stares out at the Oak Tree from her bedroom window, relieved that it is still standing, and grateful to Marius for offering to find another source of firewood so her father wouldn’t cut it down. She places a record on the victrola and winds it. Music fills the room, and she begins dancing to keep warm. She gets lost in the sound as it wraps around her like a warm blanket, and subconsciously starts humming along, eyes closed, swaying from side to side. Finally, the victrola winds down and the music stops, but Farfalla doesn’t seem to notice and keeps dancing. Her humming turns to the song of the Oak Tree, the one she heard that day when the tree seemed to be singing her name, “Fallalala Lalalalala”. Outside her bedroom window the wind picks up and the Skylark Bell begins to ring.

In the mirror of Farfalla’s vanity a mist slowly appears, and a woman’s face gradually fades into view. The woman’s piercing blue eyes are filled with worry, and her mouth moving as if she is trying to shout a warning of some kind, but no sound comes out. Farfalla, still dancing and singing with her eyes closed, is blissfully ignorant of the woman in the mirror. 

Finally, Farfalla stops moving as the last notes of her song fade from the room. She opens her eyes and see it is beginning to get dark out. Where is Marius? Farfalla furrows her brow and hurries downstairs as the woman in her vanity mirror fades away.

“Mama, has anyone heard from Marius?” she asks, walking into the kitchen.

Mrs. Shearwater grabs a wooden spoon from a drawer to stir the stew. “Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll be home any moment now. Why don’t you sit at the table, I’ll bring you some food,” she says, shooing Farfalla from the kitchen.

Farfalla sits at the table, pushing the stew around her plate with her fork, unable to eat because her stomach is too tight with worry. She remains perfectly still in her chair for what seems like an eternity, silently staring off into space. Darkness fell on Meadow Lane hours ago, and still Marius has not returned. Farfalla may be still on the outside, but on the inside her heart is pounding and her stomach is clenched with worry. Worry and guilt. He wouldn’t have gone out if it weren’t for her. Her thoughts keep swirling in an incessant spiral that gets darker and darker by the minute. Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater and Paloma are sitting in the living room with layers of blankets over their shoulders, the small fire in the fireplace barely providing any warmth.

A loud, insistent knock at the door startles all of them. Farfalla turns to look toward the door, hoping with every fiber of her body that it is Marius on the other side. Mr. Shearwater walks to the door and cracks it open so as not to let the cold air in. He nods his head, closes the door, grabs his coat and boots and walks out.

Farfalla’s heart sinks. If it had been Marius at the door, he would have come in. Where has Papa gone? Who is at the door? “Don’t worry, Falla,” says Paloma, walking over to her and laying a blanket over her shoulders, “Papa will find Marius, and everything will be fine, you’ll see.” Paloma’s comforting words do nothing to ease Farfalla’s anxiety, she can feel deep in the core of her being that something is deeply wrong. 

At long last Mr. Shearwater comes back inside, a grim look on his face. He slowly takes off his coat and boots before walking over to the dining room table and taking a seat next to Farfalla. He takes her hands in his and heaves a sigh before speaking. “That was Gordon Starling, he was with a man I’ve never met before. They came to tell me they found Cormorant by the side of the road,” he begins. Farfalla feels tears stinging at her eyes already. They found Cormorant. That means they found only Cormorant. She hears a ringing in her ears that drowns out her father’s words as he tries to reassure her that they will go out looking for Marius as soon as morning comes and bring him home. “The man says he thought he saw him out by Mirror Pond, we’ll start our search there…” his voice trails off.

Farfalla can feel a crack spread across the expanse of her heart. She gets up from the table and wanders to the front window. She can’t see the Oak Tree in the darkness outside, but she knows it is there. How could she have been so childish? So foolish?! Suddenly, Isadora Finch’s warning echoes in Farfalla’s mind. She had said something about the tree, then the words “Beware the dark horse in the snow”. Somehow, Isadora knew, and somehow, deep inside her, Farfalla also knows. Marius is never coming home.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 8 – The Silence – in which we learn how the silence at Meadow Lane was sparked, and what lead to the house being abandoned.

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 podcast, they help give the skylark bell visibility so others can find and enjoy the story. 

If you’d like to connect, you can find me on Facebook, Instagram, mastodon, or on the contact form on my official website, the skylark bell .com. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon where you get early access to ad-free episodes as well as digital downloads of the music, and more! 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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 6, The Skylark Bell

Fri, 17 Mar 2023 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 6 – The Skylark Bell – in which the mythical object finally makes its grand entrance

This week's podcast partner is Dark Tales from the Road:https://linktr.ee/darktalesfromtheroad

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

In last week’s episode, Farfalla encountered Marius for the first time while sitting on a tree branch in the apple orchard at Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 6 – The Skylark Bell – in which the mythical object finally makes its grand entrance.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member Dark Tales from the road. Host Kayla covers weekly episodes traveling to find the weird, haunted, macabre, morbid, criminal & more – if you love the eerie atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you definitely won’t’ want to miss this! Check the show notes for a link to the Dark Tales from the Road podcast.

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

August 1^st, 1924

We are in love.

Oh gosh, to see the words written down makes my heart flutter!

Last spring Papa told Marius he could use the shed behind our house as a workshop. He works there nearly every day, joining Mama, Paloma, and I for lunch most days. I bring him tea and biscuits in the afternoon, we sit on bales of hay in the barn to drink our tea and talk about everything and nothing.

For my birthday he gifted me the most amazing treasure. He kept it a secret for months, never telling me what he was working on in that shed. My heart almost stopped when I saw it. A Skylark carved out of wood, its head twisted toward its back, a blackberry held firmly in its beak, with a vine curving all around it then down between its clawed feet. At the end of the vine hangs a small silver bell. He must have spent countless hours working on it, all for me. It’s hanging in my window right now; I can hear its sweet sound floating on the breeze. 

Marius says the bell came with him from Europe, and that it’s very old. There are larks swirling all around it in an infinite spiral, and words written in a foreign language. Mama told me she thought the words looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen them before. Finally, after several weeks she came running into my room one day, unnaturally agitated, holding The Skye Lark Belle book in her hand. She whipped it open to the spot where she’d left her bookmark and pointed to the page. “Here it is!” she said, “It’s Scottish Gaelic, the words engraved on the bell, they’re the same as the words in my book!”

I remember staring at her, stunned at the unbelievable coincidence. I asked Mama what the words meant, and she read from the book, “The Skylark Bell rings only for The Skye Lark Belle”. We looked at one another and shrugged then, neither one of us understanding what that was supposed to mean. Mama had owned that book for years; it was her mother who had brought it back from a trip overseas. She’d found it in a tiny bookshop and liked the etching of the siren on the front. For years Mama had read us only the first part of the book. The happy part. It was only recently that she let me read the final few chapters. Chapters that made me feel devastated and angry. I had grown up with The Skye Lark Belle; admired her, emulated her, grown unnaturally attached to her. It broke my heart to learn how her story ends. My story will not end that way. 

Papa and Mama have organized a big celebration tonight. It’s going to be the talk of the town, they’ve invited absolutely everyone, even Cousin Bruno and Auntie Freda! Mama has been cooking nearly non-stop the past three days, and Paloma convinced Papa to let her go to the city to get her hair cut into one of those modern bobs for the occasion.  I am going to wear my prettiest dress, the blue one that Mama got me for my birthday last month. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, and I think that will be tonight. I have a feeling this will be a night to remember for all time…

~~~~~~

Farfalla stands in the corner of the room, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. The house at Meadow Lane is filled to the brim with guests. Music floats through the main floor from the Victrola in the sitting room and people weave in and out of the dining area with plates and drinks. Farfalla hears loud laughter to her left and turns to see Paloma and Willy Bunting by the fireplace going through an old photo album. 

At long last, she sees Marius walk in the front door and her heart starts pounding. Mr. Shearwater pulls him into the house, and she sees Auntie Freda thrust a plate of stew and glass of beer at him. She giggles to herself as he tries to navigate the crowded room with his hands full. Finally, he reaches the dining table and unloads the food and drink. He looks up and realizes she is watching him. She smiles as his cheeks turn pink, and he gestures for her to meet him in the kitchen. She follows him, but moments later Cousin Bruno bursts in and insists they let him take their photograph. 

From across the room James Carnifex watches, his eyes narrowed. If Farfalla had looked his way she would have seen his jaw set in anger and his knuckles turn white as his grip on the empty glass in his hand tightened, but she is too distracted by Marius’ presence to notice. James finally puts down his empty glass and walks toward the front door. He grabs his coat off the rack, and heads home heavy-hearted.

Once the photo is taken, Farfalla and Marius sneak out the back door of the house and skip to the apple orchard, lanterns in hand to light the way in the darkness. They stop, breathless, under the branches of the tree Farfalla was sitting in when they first met. Marius takes Farfalla’s hands in his and begins, “There’s something I have to tell you…” Farfalla’s heart starts beating a little faster, could it be…?

Marius gets a faraway look in his eye and pauses, like he is focused on something in the distance. Farfalla leans over so her face is directly in his line of sight. “You what…?” she asks.

Marius looks at her then like she is the only thing in the world that truly matters. He slips his hand into his pocket and takes out a small silver ring shaped like a feather. Farfalla gasps at the sight of it, both because of its beauty, and because of what it must surely mean. Marius proceeds to ask her to be his wife, and she says yes without a second thought. She feels her heart soar as Marius picks her up and spins her around.

They agree to keep their engagement a secret until Marius can ask Mr. Shearwater for her hand, as is customary. Farfalla slips the ring on the silver chain with the tree charm that Paloma gave her for her sixteenth birthday. She can almost feel warmth radiating from it and spreading through her entire body. Nearby, Cormorant lets out a loud whinny. “Are you feeling left out old boy?!” Asks Marius, cheerfully. Farfalla suggests they go for a celebratory ride. He lifts her up into the saddle and hops on behind her. She feels like they are flying as Cormorant goes galloping through the fields by the light of the silvery moon. At long last, her prince has arrived. 

At the bottom of Meadow Lane, a figure stands watching, blurry through the veils of time that separate them. Another figure appears behind it and pulls it away from the lane, then they both fade away. A breeze picks up, sending the old creaky branches of the Oak Tree swaying back and forth as the ringing of the Skylark Bell echoes in the night.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 7 – Marius’ Disappearance, in which we relieve the terrible winter of 1925, this time from Farfalla’s point of view.

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 5, Marius

Fri, 10 Mar 2023 06:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 4, The Aviary Finishing School for Girls of Distinction

Fri, 03 Mar 2023 06:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

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Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 3, The Dreamcatcher

Fri, 24 Feb 2023 06:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 3 – The Dreamcatcher, in which Farfalla celebrates her 16^th birthday.

Something (rather than nothing) podcast: https://www.instagram.com/something_rather_than_nothing_

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

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

In last week’s episode, we learned about a strange and frightening recurring nightmare where Farfalla finds herself under water.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 3 – The Dreamcatcher, in which Farfalla celebrates her 16^th birthday.

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

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

July 8^th, 1921

Today is my birthday! 

Not just any birthday, today I am sixteen years old! Sixteen years seems like such a long time, doesn’t it? Sixteen whole years on this earth… I think Paloma is envious, she can’t wait to be old enough to move away to the big city, she says it’s not fair that I’m always two steps ahead of her. 

I’m wearing my prettiest burgundy dress, and Mama has done my hair up in braids, she says I look “sophisticated”. That’s only because she didn’t see my muddy feet before I slipped them into my shoes. I’ve invited some friends from school to come celebrate. All my closest friends; Willy and Eleanor Bunting, Isadora Finch, James Carnifex, Gilly Starling, and Audrey Tourtereaux who said she will bring a cake from her parents’ bakery. Papa insisted I also invite Gordon and Emma Starling even though they’re younger than me, he said Paloma should have some friends at the party too.

Mama has already stretched colourful streamers across the front porch, and I climbed into the Oak Tree and wrapped some around it’s trunk. I can’t be sure, but I think The Oak was smiling.

~~~~~~

Farfalla walks to the small vanity in the corner of her room. She sits on the stool and stares at her face in the mirror, squinting at the corners of her eyes and the shape of her lips. She licks her fingers and sticks a rebellious strand of hair back in place before standing up and pressing the creases out of her dress with her hands. She can feel her heart beat with anticipation, the party is about to start!

“My darling, you look quite lovely,” says her mother as Farfalla comes down the stairs.

“A beautiful young lady,” adds her father, a proud smile on his face.

Farfalla blushes. “Thank you,” she whispers. Just then she hears a knock at the door and jumps up with delight. “Our first guest!” she squeals. She races to the door and swings it open. “Hi Gilly!” she shouts, throwing herself into her friend’s arms, her enthusiasm nearly knocking the girl over.

“Happy birthday!” says Gilly, handing Farfalla a box wrapped in brown paper and decorated with a bright yellow satin ribbon.

“Hi Gordon, hello Emma,” says Paloma from behind Farfalla’s shoulder. 

The twins wave sheepishly and hand Farfalla a bag decorated with tissue paper before skipping over to Paloma.

Behind them comes James Carnifex, who hands Farfalla a small package. “This is for you,” he says, blushing.

“Thank you, James,” she says, noting how the sun is reflecting off his blond hair and turning it almost white. Farfalla blushes slightly and waves him into the house. She glances down the lane and sees Willy and Eleanor Bunting making their way toward the house, Audrey Tourtereaux walking with them and carrying a large box with bright blue ribbon. Farfalla, unable to contain herself, races down the lane, the wind loosening several strands of hair from the grip of her mother’s braids. 

“Happy birthday!” shout Willy and Eleanor in unison. 

“Bonne fête,” says Audrey in her usual quiet voice.

“Thanks everyone, I’m so excited to see you! Please, follow me!” she says, leading them up to the house. She gets her guests settled in and peeks out the window, Isadora Finch is finally coming up the lane. Farfalla races out to greet her.

“Hello Farfalla, happy birthday,” says Isadora in her calm, even manner. She hands Farfalla a contraption like Farfalla has never seen before. “This is a dreamcatcher,” she says, before Farfalla has a chance to ask, “you hang it above your bed. Our people say it catches the bad dreams in its net and only lets the good dreams through.”

Farfalla is stunned, the gift couldn’t be more timely, just two nights ago she had the water dream again. She holds up the dreamcatcher to take a closer look. It is made with a hoop of wood through which grass and string has been threaded in an intricate pattern to form a net. From the bottom of the hoop hang several strings of turquoise beads strung on strips of leather with white feathers attached to the bottom. “Isadora, this is beautiful! Did you make it yourself?” she asks in awe. Isadora nods shyly. “Thank you so much,” says Farfalla, pulling her friend into a warm embrace. “Come on, everyone is here already,” she adds, taking Isadora by the hand and leading her to the house.

“Let the festivities begin!” Mr. Shearwater’s booming voice bounces off the walls. “My darling Farfalla, let me present you with our gift before we do anything else, I think it will make a wonderful addition to your party,” he says, a secretive gleam in his eyes. 

“Close your eyes and turn around,” says Mrs. Shearwater, a teasing smile on her face. Farfalla puts her hands up to her eyes and turns around. She can hear shuffling behind her and hears her friends gasp and giggle. “Okay, turn around!” says her mother. Farfalla turns around and feels her stomach do a flip of excitement. On the dining room table is a wooden box with a large horn stretching up from the side of it. 

“A victrola! Mama, Papa, this is such a wonderful gift!” she breathes.

“I was only able to buy two records for it, but I believe you’ll enjoy them,” says her father. He places a record on the victrola and turns the crank. Like magic, music fills the room. William Bunting grabs Audrey Tourtereaux and begins dancing around the living room. Within moments Gordon, Gilly and Eleanor are joining in. Isadora and Paloma sit shyly in the corner, talking about the latest Agatha Christie novel.

“May I dance with the birthday girl?” asks James Carnifex, holding a hand out to Farfalla. Farfalla nods, hoping he hasn’t noticed the pink rising in her cheeks, and takes his hand. The pair swirls around the room, everyone bumping into one another and laughing madly. Finally, Mrs. Shearwater claps her hands and announces that dinner is ready. Everyone makes their way to the table, their loud chatter trailing behind them. They eat merrily while discussing their plans for the summer. 

At long last Mrs. Shearwater carries the box that Audrey Tourtereaux brought, sets it on the table, and opens it so everyone can see the contents. Farfalla gasps in amazement. “Audrey, this is the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen! I almost don’t want to cut and eat it… Almost!” she emphasizes, laughing. The cake is iced in white frosting and decorated with garlands of flowers and brightly coloured birds all around. In perfect cursive the words “Happy 16^th Birthday Farfalla” are written on the top in pale blue icing, the “i” in birthday dotted with a small flower. 

Mrs. Shearwater serves everyone a slice of cake. It’s as delicious as it is beautiful. Once everyone has finished eating Mr. Shearwater announces it is time for Farfalla to open her gifts. “This was sent in the post from your cousin Bruno,” says Mrs. Shearwater, handing Farfalla an envelope. Farfalla opens it carefully and pulls out a photograph of she and her cousin when she was visiting last summer, he had been very excited to explain the inner workings of his camera. Farfalla smiles warmly at the memory. 

Next, she opens the gifts that the Starlings brought over, starting with the box from Gilly which contains a beautiful dark blue leather sketchbook with a hummingbird etched on the front in gold. The bag from Gordon and Emma contains a lovely bouquet of dried flowers in a small glass vase with a yellow satin ribbon tied around it to match the box that Gilly’s gift was wrapped in. The package from Willy and Eleanor contains an intricately illustrated book of native flowers and birds. Next, she opens the small box from James Carnifex and finds a brooch in the shape of a swallow, its eyes encrusted with a bright blue stone. “Oh James, this is beautiful!” she says, pinning it to her dress. James blushes and smiles warmly at her. 

Finally, she opens Paloma’s gift and finds a long silver chain with a charm on it in the shape of a tree. “It’s supposed to be the oak in our front yard, the one you love so much,” says Paloma, leaning in to gauge Farfalla’s reaction.

“Paloma it’s absolutely perfect. Thank you so much everyone!” she says, her voice filled with gratitude. “Oh, let me show you what Isadora brought!” she adds, suddenly remembering the dream catcher. She runs to the coat rack by the front door where she left it hanging and scurries back to the sitting room. She holds it up proudly and explains how it works. She and Paloma give one another a knowing look when she gets to the part about the dreamcatcher filtering out bad dreams.

“How curious!” says the ever-practical Mrs. Shearwater.

“I think it’s lovely,” says Audrey softly, walking over to take a closer look. 

The sun begins to sink below the horizon and Farfalla’s guests start to leave one by one. Isadora is the last to go and Farfalla walks her down the lane. They get near the Oak Tree and Isadora stops in her tracks, tilting her head to the side like she is listening intently to something only she can hear. Her brow furrows, and she closes her eyes. Farfalla stands next to her, perplexed, but not daring to disrupt whatever is going on by speaking. Finally, Isadora opens her eyes and turns toward the tree, a look of worry on her face. “There will be a long silence,” she says, her gaze unwavering, “beware the dark horse in the snow.” 

“What do you mean?” asks Farfalla, her voice quivering. Her hand instinctively goes to the tree pendant on the silver chain Paloma gifted her earlier. 

“I don’t know any more than that, I’m sorry,” answers Isadora, turning to face Farfalla. “My people believe all things have a spirit in them, including trees. This one is… different. I can’t explain it. Just be careful,” she ends, lacing her arms around Farfalla in a warm embrace that does nothing to dispel the chill going down Farfalla’s spine.

“Are you sure you’re okay getting home in the dark? I could ask Papa to give you a ride,” suggests Farfalla as they part ways at the bottom of the lane.

“I’ll be fine, I’m well acquainted with the night creatures,” smiles Isadora. She takes a few steps down the road before stopping and turning around. “Sweet dreams, Farfalla,” she shouts. Farfalla waves goodbye then turns and walks back toward the house, the silhouette the Oak Tree towering above her against the indigo sky.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 4 – The Aviary Finishing School for Girls of Distinction, in which Farfalla and her sister Paloma return to boarding school, to Farfalla’s great chagrin.

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. 

I also love to connect with listeners on social media, you can find me on Instagram, Facebook, and Mastodon as well as the contact form on my website. If you’d like to support my work you can also join my Patreon, where you get early access to ad-free episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! 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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

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Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 2, The Nightmare

Fri, 17 Feb 2023 06:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 2 – The Nightmare, in which we learn more about Farfalla’s strange and frightening reoccurring dream.

Paranormal Exposed: https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

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

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

In last week’s episode, we were introduced to Farfalla as a child growing up at Meadow Lane back when it was a magical, vibrant place.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 2 – The Nightmare, in which we learn more about Farfalla’s strange and frightening reoccurring dream.

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.

November 11^th, 1920

It happened again. The Dream. The Nightmare. It’s the same one every time. I close my eyes and fall asleep and within minutes I’m under water. At first, I panic, thrash around and whip my head from side to side, as if looking for someone, anyone, to help me. Then comes the peaceful feeling. It’s very strange, but all of a sudden, I look up through the water and see the sun shining, its light undulating as it filters through the water. I let myself sink deeper and deeper, the water wrapping around me like the comforting embrace of a blanket. I drift all the way to the bottom, stretch out my hands, and feel the sand run through my fingers. That’s when I find it. I don’t know what it is, but first the tips of the fingers on my right hand brush against it, then I manage to grasp it. I clutch it tightly and pull it to my chest, and just as I’m about to hold it up to see what it is, everything goes dark.

I don’t always wake up at this point, which is the most frightening part. Often, I’m aware that I’m dreaming but everything is complete darkness. I battle and plead with myself to open my eyes, to make sure I haven’t drowned, to make sure I’m still me and I’m still safe at Meadow Lane, but sometimes it takes what feels like an eternity. I fear one of these times I won’t wake up at all…

~~~~~~

“Falla! Falla wake up!” Paloma can feel the panic rising in her voice. It’s never taken so long for Farfalla to wake from her dream, and she’s never wandered this far from the house before. Thankfully the full moon provides plenty of silvery light, and Paloma was able to see Farfalla wandering across the vast field in front of the house. They are both standing outside now, Farfalla barefoot, as a gust of wind swirls dry autumn leaves around their feet. Paloma can feel the slickness of the frost that is nipping at the grass under her boots, and she shivers, her nightgown not offering much protection against the blustery cold. “Falla, please!” she cries, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

At long last Farfalla’s sightless eyes come into focus. “Paloma? What… where are…?” She stumbles, confused, and catches herself on the trunk of a tree. Farfalla immediately recognizes the deep grooves in the bark of the Oak Tree at the front of Meadow Lane and instantly feels relief. Her protector. As she leans her head against the tree, she swears she can hear its heartbeat.

“Falla, are you okay?” asks Paloma, her voice shaky as her teeth chatter from the cold.

“I am now, thank you,” replies Farfalla, holding an arm out to embrace her sister. Paloma leans in and rests her head against Farfalla’s shoulder. 

They stand in silence for a moment before Paloma steps away and tugs on Farfalla’s sleeve. “We need to get inside, it’s cold and you’re barefoot, you’re going to get sick,” she says.

“I don’t feel cold at all,” replies Farfalla, a faraway look in her eye. It almost feels like there is warmth emanating from the Oak Tree, like it is a warm, living body. Paloma’s brow furrows, is Farfalla back in her dream state? She’s on the verge of shaking her sister to get her to come to her senses when Farfalla blinks and looks toward her. “Oh, my dear, you’re shivering! Let’s get you inside,” she says, suddenly appearing wide awake.

The girls quickly walk back to the house hand in hand and sneak through the back door into the kitchen. Farfalla drops into a chair while Paloma fills the kettle and puts it on the stove. She grabs two cups and saucers from the cupboard and places a teabag and spoonful of sugar in each. The room remains eerily quiet until a few minutes later when the silence is broken by the kettle’s piercing whistle. Paloma quickly removes the kettle from the heat and pours steaming water into the cups. They wait in silence once again as the tea steeps, then Paloma discards the teabags and pours a splash of milk in each cup. She carries the cups to the small kitchen table, then grabs a tin of biscuits from the pantry before sitting down in the chair across from Farfalla.

“Was it the same dream?” she asks, carefully taking a small sip of the hot tea. Farfalla nods and reaches for a biscuit. Paloma smiles, her sister has always had a sweet tooth. Paloma waits patiently for her sister to finish a bite of her biscuit then asks, “were you able to see the object this time?”

Farfalla shakes her head, takes a sip of tea, and looks up at her sister. “I don’t know why it keeps happening, it’s horrible!” she says, a single tear spilling down her cheek. “The worst part isn’t the part where I’m underwater, it’s after, when everything is dark. I can’t tell if I’m awake or asleep or if I… if I’ve died!” she whispers, horror in her voice.

Paloma pushes the biscuit tin across the table. Farfalla grabs a second biscuit and dips it in her tea. “Maybe you’re in some kind of in-between state, not quite asleep but not fully awake yet,” says Paloma, trying to sound calm and reassuring. Farfalla nods and takes a few sips of her tea. “You walked a lot further than the other times tonight…” begins Paloma tentatively, not wanting to upset her sister any more than she already is.

“It’s the tree…” says Farfalla, “there’s something special about it. I swear sometimes I can hear it sing, I can feel its heartbeat-” Farfalla stops herself, she hadn’t meant to reveal these things to Paloma, who surely wouldn’t understand. Farfalla looks up at her sister and see’s Paloma’s brow is furrowed in concern. “It was probably just part of my dream,” she adds clumsily, hoping this will end the conversation.

“What on earth is going on here?!” Their mother’s voice makes them both jump.

“I had a bad dream and Paloma is helping me feel better,” says Farfalla quickly.

“It’s the middle of the night! You two should get back to bed, you’ll be exhausted in the morning,” says Mrs. Shearwater, decisively placing the cover back on the tin of biscuits before carrying it back to the pantry.

“Okay, Mama,” says Paloma, gesturing for Farfalla to follow her. The girls get up and quickly head upstairs to their rooms. 

Mrs. Shearwater tidies up the teacups in the sink and checks to make sure everything is in order before heading back upstairs. Just as she is about to exit the kitchen a small object on the floor near the back door catches her eye. She bends down to pick it up and holds it near the light of her candle to get a better look. An oak leaf. She looks at it quizzically. She cleaned the kitchen floor after dinner, how did it get in here? Suddenly the leaf disintegrates in her hand, turning into a small pile of fine dust on the floor, which is quickly dispersed by a gust of wind that seemingly comes out of nowhere, blowing out her candle and washing the room in darkness. 

Mrs. Shearwater stands in stunned silence for a moment. “I’m imagining things,” she rationalizes. She laughs quietly at herself, shakes her head, and heads back upstairs to bed.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 3 – The Dreamcatcher, in which we celebrate Farfalla’s 16^th 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 or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to my Patreon or Ko-Fi page, 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 links to Patreon, my website, and social media accounts. 

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Skyedive - Chapter 1, The Fabric of Nature

Fri, 10 Feb 2023 06:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read the chapter 1 – The Fabric of Nature, in which we are introduced to Farfalla’s vibrant childhood at meadow lane.

The Haunted UK podcast: 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

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

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

Skyedive is the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy, and in it we will be revisiting the story from the perspective of Farfalla, and gaining insight on her life, and her motivations.

In today’s episode we read the chapter 1 – The Fabric of Nature, in which we are introduced to Farfalla’s vibrant childhood at meadow lane.

Today’s podcast partner is fellow Boopod Network member The Haunted UK podcast – you may recognize the name from collaborations we have done in the past.  The Haunted UK is now in its 3^rd season of exploring a variety of fascinating, and sometimes terrifying topics. Be sure to check the shownotes for a link.

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

June 24^th, 1919

Papa’s name is Nathaniel Shearwater. He’s a large, loud man, and I think sometimes people are a little bit afraid of him, but once they take a moment to get to know him, they realize he’s kind and fair. He loves Mama and Paloma and Me more than anything in the world. Papa is a hard worker; he’s gone before we wake up most days and comes home just as Mama is serving dinner. I’m sure he’s tired when he comes home, but he always takes the time to ask about our day and tell us a funny story. My favourite thing about Papa is his big, strong hands. His skin is rough from years of handling construction materials, but when he holds my little hand in his I feel safe and loved, like nothing bad could ever happen.

Mama’s name is Evelyn Anne Shearwater. Such a pretty name, isn’t it? Papa says Mama is a sensible and practical woman. Even her straight, dark brown hair is sensible. Not at all like my wild wavy bright red locks, those are about as sensible and practical as I am! Mama grew up near the city, she doesn’t love nature and animals like I do, I think she just doesn’t understand. She loves to cook and entertain, throw parties, and have guests over for dinner. She likes to make everything perfect, cooking elaborate meals and lighting the candles just so, placing the pillows on the couch in exactly the right spot. I think that may be why she likes to volunteer at the library, too, because everything is so organized. Mama and I are very different, but I love her dearly.

Then there’s my sister, Paloma. She is two years younger than I am. Paloma is a dreamer; she wants to be an artist and move to the big city. She’s not so interested in the beautiful world outside, the leaves, the animals, the clouds… she’s more interested in the world inside her head, or inside whatever book she’s reading. We don’t play together all that much, but we do love sitting by the fire while Mama reads us stories, or hopping on Papa’s lap when he comes home from work and telling him all about our day.

Then, of course, there’s me, Farfalla. Farfalla means butterfly. Did you know that already? Papa says I was aptly named since I flutter about outside all day. Mama says I muddy up my skirts too much. Paloma just rolls her eyes at me then sticks her nose back in her book. It’s fascinating how butterflies transform from caterpillars. People transform too. It’s hard to understand what happens inside the cocoon for the caterpillar to change so completely, just like it’s hard to understand sometimes how someone can go from a happy, innocent child to… something else. 

Perhaps by the end, you will understand.

Summer is my favourite season. Every morning I wake up before sunrise so I can listen to the birds. The Redwing Blackbirds are my favourite, they have such beautiful voices. Papa says I have a beautiful voice too, he says it’s “hypnotic”. I’m not sure what he means by that but I think it’s a compliment. He laughed when I told him it was the Redwing Blackbirds that taught me how to sing. I don’t tell him things like that anymore. I don’t tell anyone. Not people, anyway. Now I only tell my secrets to the birds, they don’t laugh.

Today I’m going to sit under the lilac bush and finish making my crown. The first time I tried to make one it fell apart, but now I have it figured out. I found some old bare vines that were climbing up the oak tree in the front yard, and when I tugged to get them loose a few twigs broke off the tree. I’ve been twisting the vines together and working the twigs into the spaces between them. It’s a work of art! Now I’m going to add some of the wildflowers I collected before breakfast. Daisies, buttercups, violets, I even managed to get a wild rose without pricking my finger! Maybe I’ll add some more, they smell so beautiful.

Mama has been reading me a book called The Skye Lark Belle. She always stops reading about two thirds of the way through. She says things get too sad after that part. But in the beginning, it’s happy and beautiful. The Belle wears a crown made of vines and twigs. Hers is silver, but I don’t know how to turn mine silver. They say The Belle has a beautiful voice, too, and that she is friends with the birds and animals, just like me! I wish I was The Skye Lark Belle. Mama read the book to Paloma and I last winter as well, we sat by the fire downstairs and listened to her long after the sky went dark, begging for one more chapter each time she would stop to tell us it was time for bed. Paloma didn’t want Mama to read it again, she didn’t like that Mama wouldn’t finish the whole story. So, Paloma just goes up to her room to read her own books and Mama and I sit in the rocking chairs while she reads the first part to me over and over.

Sometimes I skip over to Mirror Pond and pretend I am The Belle, walking out of the ocean. It’s such a romantic idea, isn’t it? That a beautiful woman with magical powers would walk out of the ocean one day and everyone in the village would fall in love with her? Well, at least they loved her for a little while…

Today the sky is the most dazzling shade of blue, with puffy white clouds here and there. I think Papa would say Mirror Pond is aptly named as well, since the blue sky and puffy white clouds are perfectly reflected on its surface. Sometimes I sit out on the large rock in the middle of the pond and stay perfectly still. For some reason I feel like a prince will appear on his big, brave horse and take me away to a magical land. So far it hasn’t happened, but today I’m wearing a crown, so I feel like my chances may have improved slightly.

“Falla, it’s time for lunch!” 

Somehow Mama’s voice can echo to the ends of the earth if she needs it to. No prince again today. One day he will appear, I can feel it in my bones. But for now, I should probably go home and get some lunch before Mama gets upset. She’ll already be cross that the bottom of my skirts got wet in the pond. Maybe I’ll walk through the apple orchard on my way home and see how the fruit is coming along. Then I can hide my crown inside the old shed so Paloma doesn’t get a hold of it. 

“Falla! Lunch!” 

I’d better go. 

~~~~~~

The girl races across the quarry, her long red hair trailing behind her like a flag. She skips through the fence poles into the field behind her house and races to the apple orchard. There, she slows down to a walk, closes her eyes, and inhales the sweet perfume. The blossoms dropped weeks ago, but her memory of them is vivid, and if she closes her eyes it’s like travelling back in time to spring. 

“Falla! Lunch! Now!” her mother’s voice carries on the wind, startling her out of her reverie.  The girl groans and picks up the pace until she reaches the back door of her house. She lets herself in and is immediately greeted by her mother’s exasperated face. “Farfalla Isabella Shearwater! Look at those skirts! I told you not to wade into the pond!”

“But Mama, it’s the only way to get onto the rock! And the rock is the only place to sit where I can watch the turtles and frogs and birds. When I’m on the rock it’s like I’m invisible, they act like I’m not even there. It’s magical!”

Mrs. Shearwater rolls her eyes but a smile curls the corner of her mouth. She turns away from her daughter lest she notice. “Alright my little magician, why don’t you vanish up to your room and go change out of those dirty wet clothes, then hurry down, you’ll be lucky if your lunch is even lukewarm at this point!”

The girl races up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. She opens up her wardrobe and hastily slips into a new dress before heading back down to the dining room.        

“Hi Falla! I already ate all my lunch, but I’ll still sit with you,” says her younger sister.

“Thanks, Paloma,” says the girl, lowering herself into her chair. She smiles at her sister and digs into the plate full of freshly roasted corn on the cob.

“Oh Farfalla, you eat like a wild child!” says her mother, walking into the room, “I think you’ve been spending too much time outside with the animals!”

Farfalla looks up at her mother, pieces corn stuck to her face. She sheepishly takes her napkin and wipes her mouth. “Sorry Mama, I’m just very hungry.”

Her mother’s face softens as she leans in and kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Perhaps next time you’ll come home on time for lunch so you’re not so hungry,” she says with a wink.

Farfalla sheepishly finishes her food and brings her plate to the sink. She and Paloma do the washing up and she heads back outside. The fox cubs come out of their den to play in the afternoon, and she doesn’t want to miss it. She runs to the front yard and climbs up the big oak tree, the perfect perch from which to watch the foxes frolic and play. 

Farfalla leans her head against the trunk of the tree. It has been a steadfast friend her whole life, always standing guard. A protector. Sometimes, if she sits very still, and stays very silent, she swears she can hear a haunting tune emanating from it, like it is singing her name.

“Fallalala Lalalalalaaaa…”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Chapter 2 – The Nightmare, in which we learn more about Farfalla’s strange and frightening reoccurring dream.

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 both greatly appreciated. You can also gain access to ad-free episodes of the Skylark Bell by supporting my work on Patreon – you’ll also get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, and more! 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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Prologue: For the First Time, Again

Fri, 03 Feb 2023 06:00:00 +0000

Skyedive is the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy, and I am so excited to share it with you starting today!

In today’s episode we read the prologue to the story – For the first time, again -   which, if you’ve been following along, will feel vaguely familiar, but with a surprising twist!

Cozyland: http://www.cozylandpod.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

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

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

Skyedive is the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy, and I am so excited to share it with you starting today!

In today’s episode we read the prologue to the story – For the first time, again -   which, if you’ve been following along, will feel vaguely familiar, but with a surprising twist!

Today’s podcast partner is a new podcast I created with my friend Amy from The Activity Continues and Volsteadland. It’s called Cozyland and features amy and myself discussing our favourite cozy movies from hallmark holiday films, to films that feature food and travel... be sure to check the show notes for a link.

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

June 12^th, 2015

“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.

“I’m bushed,” 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 before adding, “what do you say we order a pizza and call it a day?”

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, again…

Magpie makes her way down the road, gravel crunching under her feet. This time, she remembers everything. It took her several lifetimes to figure it out. The endless loop. The Ouroboros. In the beginning she thought she was having psychic visions;     premonitions, contact with the past. Now she understands everything. They weren’t visions at all. They were memories.

Magpie reaches the bottom of the driveway leading to the house next door to hers, and notes the name Starling on the mailbox. She turns to look across the road at the house on Meadow Lane and waits, expectantly. This time, she hears the footsteps come up behind her, and she smiles. 

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” says a voice behind her.

Magpie turns around to face the boy. “Hello Lucas,” she says. The boy’s gray eyes get wide and his black curls bounce back and forth as he shakes he his head.

“How… how do you know my name? Are you psychic or something?” he asks, stunned.

Magpie smiles, “Something like that,” she replies with a wink. “As for Meadow Lane, I’ve already been there. Many times.”

Magpie basks in Lucas’ stunned silence for a moment before grabbing his arm. “Come on, I’m heading out to grab a pizza, you can give me a tour of the town.”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week as we truly embark on the journey with Chapter 1 – The Fabric of Nature, in which we discover a young and vibrant Farfalla living at Meadow Lane in its glory days. 

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.

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Season 1 & 2 Recap

Fri, 27 Jan 2023 06:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Skyedive - Teaser Trailer

Fri, 20 Jan 2023 06:00:00 +0000

Teaser Trailer for Skyedive - Season 3 of The Skylark Bell podcast.

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - Elliot Under Glass (A Carefully Built Pretend)

Fri, 30 Dec 2022 06:00:00 +0000

Today we’ll be reading a story called Elliot Under Glass. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. You may experience pang of nostalgia, a longing for the magic of childhood, but ultimately it is commentary on gratitude, and living life to the fullest.

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 Skylark Special Episode in collaboration with A Carefully Built Pretend podcast. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

Today we’ll be reading a story called Elliot Under Glass. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. You may experience pang of nostalgia, a longing for the magic of childhood, but ultimately it is commentary on gratitude, and living life to the fullest.

Have you ever looked deeply into a snow globe and wished with all your might that you could go inside? Maybe it’s a snow globe with a dashing unicorn, flowers laced in its flowing mane and tail. Or perhaps it’s a holiday snow globe with a jolly Santa surrounded by his elves and a mountain of toys. Or maybe it’s one of those snow globes that someone brought back from a trip, with the Empire State Building or the Eiffel Tower inside. You give it a shake and watch the glittery snow swirl around and fall gently toward the bottom, dreaming you could be taken away to the magical space inside the snow globe.

Now what if I told you that sometimes... well, at least one time... there was someone inside the snow globe wishing they could get out?! You don’t believe me, do you? Well, let me tell you the story of Elliot Under Glass...

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a brand new song by Cannelle composed exclusively for this story.

So grab a blanket, a warm drink, a handful of wishes, and let’s get started.

No one is quite sure how Elliot got inside the snow globe. Some say he was put in there when a mystical creature cast a spell on him, others say he grew from a seed or grain of sand, others think maybe he hatched out of an egg. Whatever the case, Elliot had never known a day outside of the snow globe. He wasn’t completely alone in there, he had a doll, a toy train, a plate of cookies, and a glass of lemonade. But the one thing he didn’t have, was a real friend.

Tony loved Christmas. Every year he would spend the weeks leading up to the holidays pouring over the Sears toy catalogue, circling all his favourite things. That Christmas, Tony got a new sled, a Batman colouring book, a chutes and ladders board game, and his very own hair comb. “There’s one more gift under the tree, Tony,” his grandpa had said, “I think it’s for you!”

Tony had scurried to the tree and gently lifted the small, rather heavy box. There was no tag on it. “Who is it from?” he asked. He looked around at the grownups in the room, but none of them seemed to know. Tony shrugged and tore off the paper. Underneath was a plain brown cardboard box. Tony carefully pried it open and lifted the object out. “It’s a snow globe!” he shouted, giving it a shake then holding it up to the light to peer inside.

“Dad is this your doing?” Tony’s dad asked Tony’s Grandpa. Tony’s grandpa shook his head no and shrugged his shoulders. “Well son, I guess we’ll just chalk this one up to Santa!” he said, smiling.

“I love it!” said Tony, running up to his room to find the perfect spot for his gift. The snow globe found a home on top of his dresser next to the bed. Every night before bed he would lay down and hold it up above his head, peering at the boy inside as the glittery snowflakes fell around him. The boy inside was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a doll, toy train, plate of cookies, and glass of lemonade by his side. I wonder what your name is...thought Tony one day. 

“It’s Elliot!” shouted the boy. Tony was so shocked he almost dropped the snow globe on the floor. He had seen a film at the movie theatre last year with his dad where the toys could talk, and move. But... that wasn’t real... was it?

“Hello Elliot, I’m Tony,” he spoke into the glass at the top of the snow globe. He leaned back and looked down. The boy in the snow globe, Elliot, was waving at him. “It is real!” he whispered in disbelief. Tony leaned in to take a closer look. “Elliot, you’re so lucky! You get to eat cookies, and drink lemonade, and play all day!”

Elliot shook his head, sending a mass of glittery snowflakes swirling around him. “No!” he shouted, barely audible through the glass. The truth was, Elliott dreamed of the world outside the snow globe. He dreamed of the cozy bed with the cowboy comforter, or of running barefoot outside and feeling the blades of grass poke between his toes, or splashing in a backyard pool, or a bathtub filled with bubbles up to his chin! In the beginning he loved cookies and lemonade... but now he wanted to try new things! Pizza, popcorn, chocolate-dipped strawberries!

“What do you mean, no?” asked Tony, unable to understand why anyone would want to turn down an endless supply of cookies. In the snow globe he wouldn’t have to go to school, he wouldn’t have to take a bath or brush his teeth every night, or listen to his sister boss him around. He wouldn’t have to wear the uncomfortable button up shirts his mom made him wear on special occasions, and he wouldn’t have to sit through any of Aunt Janet’s boring holiday parties. The more he thought about it, the more life inside the snow globe sounded great!

“It’s not as wonderful as you think,” said Elliot, as if reading his mind. “Cookies and lemonade are fun for a while, but I only have two toys to play with, and I don’t have a bed, I have to sleep on the floor. This glittery snow gets stuck in my hair and in my clothes. I never get to hug anyone, or make new friends, or travel and explore new places. 

Tony sat and thought about it for a long time. Maybe Elliot was right, life outside the snow globe wasn’t so bad. He had been on that trip to Mount Rushmore with his classmates last year, and he sure did have a comfy bed with puffy pillows and sheets that had cowboys on horseback racing across them. He got to go to birthday parties, and play on the softball team, play tricks on his dad for April Fool’s day, compete in the spelling bee, go trick or treating for Halloween... he got to do a lot of fun things when he really stopped to think about it.

“Okay Elliot, how do we get you out?” he asked. He squinted at the boy in the snow globe and saw him shrug. 

“I really don’t know,” replied Elliot, I’ve always been in here, I don’t know how to get out.

“What if we try wishing really hard?” suggested Tony. The two of them squeezed their eyes shut tightly and silently wished with all their might. After a few minutes they opened their eyes and looked around, but Elliot was still under the glass of the snow globe.

“Maybe we need to cast a spell, or break a curse, like what a witch or wizard would do!” suggested Tony. He packed the snow globe in his backpack and rode his bike to the library to do some research. He found a Freedom Spell in the book the librarian had brought him. He copied it down in his very best handwriting and biked home. Tony and Elliot repeated the spell word for word, three times, just in case. But still, Elliot was stuck under the glass, glittery snow in his hair.

“Maybe we need to take the snow globe apart and let you out that way!” suggested Tony. At this Elliot looked a little worried, but gave a small, nervous nod. Tony raced downstairs to his mom’s tool kit and grabbed a screwdriver. He turned the snow globe over and tried to figure out which screws held which pieces together. After a few tries he finally flipped the snow globe right-side-up and peered down at Elliot with a glum look on his face. “I’m sorry Elliot, I don’t think it’s doable, the glass is glued to the bottom part, so the water won’t come out.” Elliot looked sad, but mostly he looked dizzy and nauseous from being upside down for so long.

Tony and Elliot eventually gave up on freeing Elliot from the snow globe and just enjoyed their new friendship. Tony would tell Elliot stories about his adventures in the outside world, and Elliot would tell Tony tall tales he’d made up while sitting within the confines of the snow globe. 

One day, Tony’s mom told him to clean his room, reminding him that his grandmother was coming to visit. Tony’s grandma would go on and on about how messy and irresponsible he was if he didn’t clean his room before she arrived. Tony made his bed and put his clothes and toys away. He hurriedly passed the vacuum back and forth on his rug, then fluffed his pillows and watered his cactus, Bruce, named after Batman’s alter ego Bruce Wayne. “Grandma’s here!” shouted his mom, sending Tony into a flurry. He hadn’t dusted yet! He grabbed the duster from the hall closet and clumsily ran it across his desk, the shelves where he lined up his toy cars and figurines, and finally scrambled to his dresser. He turned his head to look toward the door when he heard his grandmother’s voice downstairs, and suddenly heard a loud CRASH at his feet!

Tony’s heart sank. He knew what the crash was before looking down at the puddle and broken glass. He heard his mother’s footsteps rushing up the stairs. “Tony are you okay?! What was that noise?!” She panted from the doorway.

Tony was too heartbroken to reply right away. He took a few deep breaths before answering. “My snow globe fell off the dresser. It’s broken,” he told her. 

“Oh honey, I’m sorry, I know how much you loved that snow globe. We’ll find you a new one,” she said, putting a comforting arm around him. “Why don’t you come downstairs and ask Grandma to make you a hot chocolate while I clean up,” she said, guiding him toward the door.

Tony was about halfway done with his hot chocolate when a terrible thought occurred to him. What would happen to Elliott now that the snow globe was smashed?! He left his mug on the counter and raced upstairs. “Mom! Mom!” he shouted, taking the stairs two at a time. “Mom, wait! You can’t throw it away!” he cried. 

“Oh, honey it’s too late, that broken glass was dangerous. It was lucky timing, just after I put the bag in the trash the garbage truck came to take it away.”

Tony sank to the floor, riddled with guilt. What would become of Elliot then, trapped inside a plastic bag on a garbage truck?

“Don’t worry buddy, like I said, we’ll find you a new snow globe,” said his mother in a comforting tone.

“But that snow globe had Elliot inside!” cried Tony, unable to stop the tears from falling down his face. His mother’s brow furrowed for a moment, like she was wondering who Elliot was, but she didn’t make a fuss, and just held Tony in her arms until he’d cried out all his tears, then helped him get into bed for a nap.

As time went on Tony moved on from the tragic end to the snow globe, but he never forgot about Elliot. Years and years went by. Tony grew up and moved away, went to college, and got a job that took him overseas. He was walking down a street in a small English town one day, when he crossed paths with a man who looked familiar. He stopped and looked at the man. The man stopped and looked at him. They squinted at one another. Finally, the man smiled and said “It’s so nice to see you here on the outside, Tony. You were right, it is a big, beautiful world!” Then he winked at Tony and walked away. Tony stayed very still for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts. Then something on the ground caught his eye. He bent down to take a closer look. There was a trail of something on the sidewalk, shining in the rare English sun. Tony reached down to touch it and some of it stuck to his finger. He took a closer look and smiled. Glittery snowflakes. 

“Elliot!” he shouted, spinning around, but the man was already gone. Tony continued his walk home, the grin never leaving his face. As he passed the local gift shop, he noticed the window display featured a snow globe with a family of puppies and two smiling children. 

“Honey, I’m home!” he shouted to his wife as he walked through the door. “I have a surprise for you!” His wife walked in from the backyard excitedly, her curiosity piqued. He handed her a brown carboard box wrapped in bright yellow paper with an orange bow. She hurriedly unwrapped it and looked at him quizzically as the glittery snow swirled around the puppies and children.

“I’m going to tell you a story. I know it will seem hard to believe, but I promise you, every word is true. You see when I was a boy, I got a snow globe for Christmas...”

From across the street, a man watches through their window. He slips a cookie out of his coat pocket and takes a small bite. He smiles as he watches the woman unwrap the gift, then lifts off his hat, and shakes a few flakes of glittery snow out of his hair before placing it back on his head and continuing on toward his next adventure.

Thank you so much for listening. I wish you and those you love a safe and happy new year. May all your wishes come true, may you live life to the fullest, and be filled with joy and gratitude in the year to come.

I look forward to joining you again later in January with the return of The Skylark Bell for season 3, which will feature Skyedive, the third and final book in the skylark trilogy.  In SkyeDive we will learn more about the original Farfalla, and follow her from a happy, carefree childhood at Meadow Lane to her eventual transformation in to the mystical and frightening Dealan-de. 

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for a brand new original song by Cannelle composed exclusively for this story.  

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by me under my stage name Cannelle. If you enjoyed 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 all necessary links.

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Direct MP3 link

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A (Haunted) Skylark Special - Return to Manor Ridge Farm (with The Haunted UK Podcast)

Fri, 23 Dec 2022 06:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark / Boopod Special - Mrs. B's Haunted Trinket Shoppe (The Carriage and Other Curiosities)

Fri, 16 Dec 2022 06:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode, we will hear the fictional story of Mrs. B’s Haunted Trinket Shoppe. Betty Brandon, better known as Mrs. B, owns an antique shop with a twist, the objects she sells are all haunted! One winter day a customer comes in with a strange request, leading to a situation even Mrs. B couldn’t have imagined.

This episode of The Skylark Bell is part of a collaboration with The Nightcap and Paranormal Exposed podcasts, both members of The Boopod Network. You can find links to their shows below. Their episodes explore the original story of the haunted carriage, as well as a deeper dive into haunted objects in general.

Paranormal Exposed: https://linktr.ee/paranormalexposed

The Nightcap: https://linktr.ee/thenightcappodcast

Before next week's episode in collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast, we suggest you listen to their 2021 Halloween Special which will tie in with the story, You can find that episode here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0bvnvqkUCIxmFA2DWuomp2?si=jTZOE8jVQpC6enXV0LGLLA

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 Skylark Special in collaboration with Boopod Network members The Nightcap and Paranormal Exposed. I’m 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. This holiday season, some of us are hosting a one-of-a-kind collaborative project spanning 3 different podcasts. Each podcast will release one episode covering tales of haunted objects. This story was inspired by the real-life case of a family being haunted by an entity attached to an antique doll carriage one of their children received for Christmas. Links to participating podcasts can be found in the show notes.                                                                                                

In today’s episode, we will hear the fictional story of Mrs. B’s Haunted Trinket Shoppe. Betty Brandon, better known as Mrs. B, owns an antique shop with a twist, the objects she sells are all haunted! One winter day a customer comes in with a strange request, leading to a situation even Mrs. B couldn’t have imagined.

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

The old woman firmly turns the key in the lock, and a loud click echoes on the other side of the door. The veins on her pale white hand stretch as she grasps the brass handle, and the heavy oak door creaks loudly as she pushes it open. The woman is greeted by a multitude of items haphazardly strewn on shelves, stacked in the dark corners of the room, and placed at random on the rough wood planks of the floor. Prominently displayed in the center of the store, guarded by the glass of the checkout counter, is her prize possession: An antique doll-sized baby carriage.

The old woman takes off her coat and places it, along with her purse, on a vintage coat tree by the front door. She then walks across the store and steps behind the counter to flick on a series of light switches. The space around her lights up, revealing an astounding assortment of antiques and collectibles. The clicking of her shoes against the floor swirls around her as she makes her way to the front window. Her shaky hand grasps the small wooden sign hanging there and flips it so the word Open is visible to people outside.

As the old woman is making her way back to the counter the creak of the shop door causes her to turn on her heel. “Hello Mrs. B! How are you today?” the mail carrier’s voice blows in with the brisk November wind.

“I’m well, Samantha, thank you,” smiles the old woman. “And how are you? How is that adorable little boy of yours?” she asks. The pair make small talk as Samantha pulls a stack of envelopes and two packages out of her bag and places them on the checkout counter.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting this one with bated breath!” exclaims Mrs B as she pulls one of the packages toward her.

“I’m almost afraid to ask...” Samantha laughs nervously, “...what is it?”

“It’s a tin soldier, from a small town in Ireland called Roundstone,” replies Mrs. B as she settles herself onto a stool to carefully unwrap the package.

“Mhm... and... what else is in there, with the soldier?” asks Samantha tentatively.

The old woman chuckles. “I’m told it’s the ghost of an old man who collected such trinkets.”

“But...” pushes Samantha, “...you disagree?”

A smile stretches across Mrs. B’s mouth. “Indeed, I do. There is no such spirit in this box.” She pauses for effect before adding, “In reality, it is the spirit of a small boy named Daniel attached to the soldier. He is about the age of your boy. He died during the Great Famine in the 1840s”.

A shiver runs down Samantha’s spine as she closes her mail bag. “Well, on that chipper note, I’d better get on with my route!” she says in a sing-song-y voice before letting herself out the door. 

The old woman sits on the stool, her back straight as a rod, a relic of her days at The Aviary Finishing School. One hand fiddles with the locket around her neck as the other reaches between the sheets of tissue paper to pull out the toy soldier. She holds it up to the light, turning it this way and that to inspect it from every angle. Her inspection complete, she places the soldier on the counter and looks straight ahead toward the shop door. “Hello Daniel,” she says, her voice entirely matter of fact. A casual onlooker would think she is speaking to an empty room, they wouldn’t be able to see the small, rail-thin boy with dirt on his face whose bare feet hover just above the planks of the wood floor. At the sound of the woman’s voice the boy promptly vanishes. Mrs. B hangs a price tag off the toy soldier and displays him prominently at one end of the counter next to a few other trinkets and a sign that reads New Arrivals.

“Jennifer, you get back here right now!” a woman’s voice carries through the door from outside. The door opens slowly and a child walks in, her cheeks red from the cold and the effort she has mustered to push the door open. “Jennifer! I need you to put on your listening ears!” the woman’s exasperated voice, closer now, sneaks in from outside again. The child giggles and runs to a small vanity in the corner of the shop. She sits on the child-sized stool and begins to brush her hair with an antique silver hairbrush. “Jennifer!” the woman has finally made it into the store, her face flushed from a combination of running and frustration. “I’m so sorry,” she heaves out the words in Mrs. B’s general direction as she scurries to grab the hair brush out of her daughter’s hand.

Mrs. B twirls the chain of her locket around her fingers as she watches the scene unfold. “It’s not a problem, really...” she says, unsure whether the woman is even listening. The old woman then makes her way around the counter and walks up to little girl. “Jennifer, is it?” she asks, crouching to meet the child at eye level. The little girl nods, her light brown curls bouncing around her face. “You know, this is a very special hairbrush, it once belonged to a woman named Charlotte, see the initials C.C. engraved on the back?” The small girl inspects the back of the hairbrush and nods. Mrs. B continues, “Charlotte was very kind, and she loved children. I think she would be rather pleased if you were to have this.” The child’s eyes grow wide, and a smile stretches across her face.

“Oh, that’s not necessary...” interjects her mother.

“I insist,” says Mrs. B, standing to look at the mother with a knowing look in her eye.

“Well, that’s very kind of you. What do we say, Jennifer?” The woman gives the girl a light shove.

“Fank you,” says the little girl.

Mrs. B, bends once again to face the girl, “You’re most welcome,” she says, then straightens up to address the girl’s mother. “I think you will find this brush will keep her quite busy, I’m sure you’ll be grateful for a little reprieve,” she says. 

The woman’s brow furrows momentarily, then she nods, grabs the little girls hand, and pulls her out the door, throwing a quick, “Thanks again!” over her shoulder as they walk out.

Mrs. B watches as the ghost of a tall woman in a green flapper style dress trails behind them. “Goodbye, Charlotte,” says the old woman quietly. The ghost turns and holds up a pale hand in acknowledgement before disappearing through the door. 

Mrs. B returns to her perch on the stool behind the counter and begins sorting through a stack of bills. She heaves a sigh. Sales always slow down in the winter, and this year the snowy roads put an early end to tourist season. The summer was decent, bringing in groups of curiosity seekers and even a team of paranormal investigators that she had to shoo away with haunted broom, its accompanying ghost looking on with amusement. The old woman chuckles at the memory and places the stack of bills under the counter. There will be plenty of time to deal with them later.

The creak of the shop door causes her to look up. The silhouette of a tall man with a wide brim hat blocks most of the light from outside. The man strides in and steps up to the counter where Mrs. B is sitting.

“Are you the owner?” the man has a smooth English accent.

“I am Mrs. Brandon, better known as Mrs. B,” replies the old woman. “May I help you?”

The man nods, the confidence he walked in with faltering slightly. “I’m looking for... something specific,” he replies.

Mrs. B looks at him quizzically. “And what makes you think that what you are looking for will be found here?” she asks, her arm making a sweeping gesture toward the overflowing contents of the store.

The man’s spine stiffens, “I have tracked h- ... erhm, the object... to this location,” he says.

“Very well, which object is it you are looking for?” asks the old woman, her curiosity piqued.

The man remains silent and points to the checkout counter. Mrs. B follows the line of his forefinger, and realises he is pointing at the antique doll carriage enclosed within the glass beneath it. “I’m afraid that item is not for sale,” the old woman tries to sound confident and is frustrated to hear a crack in her voice. She nervously grabs her locket with one hand and begins twisting its chain.

“I will pay handsomely. I will purchase the entire shop if I must. I have the means...” says the man.

“That’s all well and good Mr....”

“Marlowe, Jack Marlowe,” says the man.

“Mr. Marlowe,” begins Mrs. B, “this item has been in my possession since before you were born. It was a holiday gift from my great-aunt Esther when I was but a girl, and it is very important to me.”

The man’s face sinks. He leans his elbows on the counter and looks down at the carriage through the glass. “You don’t understand...” he says.

“With all due respect, Mr. Marlowe, I believe it is you who does not understand. This item is not for sale, that is non-negotiable.”

The man heaves a sigh and shifts his head up to look at the old woman, now sitting rod-straight on the stool and staring at him with a piercing gaze. “Could you at least explain to me why? I understand sentimental value, but with the amount of money I would be paying you could buy 8000 carriages just like it!”

“I’m afraid this carriage is one-of-a-kind ...but something tells me you already know that,” replies Mrs. B.

The man grunts and steps back from the counter. “Fine, so you know about the ghost. Name your price.” The old woman stays silent, her gaze unwavering. The man’s patience begins to wear thin. “I’ll pay you three timeswhat your shop is worth!” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air with exasperation.

“Mr. Marlowe, what you fail to realise is that I don’t simply know about the ghost, I know the ghost. I grew up with her. For years, she was my only friend. We have been in each other’s lives for decades. She protected me when I was a child, and today I am the one who protects her.” Mrs. B pauses to study the man’s face and body language. He is now shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “You have such a keen interest in this ghost, perhaps it would further your cause if you were to explain why,” she says.

A long silence hangs in the air between them as the man appears lost in thought. Finally, he pulls a chair from a nearby dining set and sits across the counter from the old woman. “Fair enough,” he begins. “Three years ago, my wife was diagnosed with a rare medical condition. I’ve spent every day since searching for a solution, a cure, anything, even if only to slow the progression and give us more time, but to no avail.” The man appears to be choking back tears.

Mrs. B waits patiently as he composes himself. She remains on guard, suspicious that the man may be spinning a sob story to gain her sympathy. “Just as I was going to give up and accept her fate, our fate, some new information came to light. You see, the condition is thought to be genetic, and some specialists theorize that perhaps a transfusion from a close relative could reverse the effects of the disease. My wife is an only child, and her parents both died when she was young, so the information didn’t seem relevant, until...” the man’s voice trails off.

“Until what?” asks Mrs. B. She has let her guard down slightly and is increasingly invested in the story.

“This is going to sound ridiculous,” hesitates the man.

“Respectfully, Mr. Marlowe, I own a shop that sells haunted objects, I highly doubt what you say next will sound any more ridiculous than that,” replies the old woman.

The man smiles nervously. “Right. The information didn’t seem relevant until, out of desperation, I went to a psychic. I know it sounds preposterous, but I had nothing left to lose. The psychic told me my wife had family she was not aware of, that her grandmother had a twin sister who became estranged from the family and that she’d gone on to have a daughter of her own before passing away. The child was only three years old with no father present, so she was sent to an orphanage.” Here he pauses and leans in slightly toward the old woman, as though intent on gauging her reaction to what he will say next. “The girl’s name was Willow, Willow Martin, and her mother’s name was Matilda.”

At this, Mrs. B’s eyes grow wide. “That can’t be,” she whispers.

The man continues, “I took the psychic’s information with a grain of salt, but I did do a quick online search when I got home. When I typed in the names Willow and Matilda Martin, the first thing to pop up was a blog discussing a decades-old news article about a little girl whose family was convinced the doll carriage she had received for Christmas was haunted by a ghost named Matilda Martin. I tracked down that little girl, and it took some doing, Mrs. Brandon – your married name it turns out – but I finally figured out who she was,” says the man, laying his palms flat on the counter and meeting the old woman eye to eye.

“Indeed, that little girl was me, and Matilda’s ghost is attached to that carriage to this day,” says Mrs. B, still in mild shock. “But I don’t understand how purchasing this carriage, and Matilda’s ghost, will help you... or your wife,” she adds.

“Ah, that’s the thing isn’t it. You see, Matilda’s daughter was shuffled around from orphanage to orphanage before being sent to a residential school, and then the trail goes cold. I can’t find any record of her, it’s like she disappeared. I’ve tried every avenue I can think of with nothing to show for it. I’m desperate, and I’m hoping Matilda has some sort of... connection... with her daughter, and that maybe her ghost can help me find her.”

“I see,” ponders the old woman. “Rather than spending your life savings, and me giving up a cherished item, what if we simply ask Matilda for help right here, right now?”

“That would certainly... that would be wonderful. I was trying to avoid having to tell the entire story, it sounds so completely ridiculous, but I’m desperate. Anyway, it’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

The old woman slips a key ring out of her pocket and sifts through the keys until she lands on a small silver one. She bends to unlock the cabinet below the checkout counter and slowly pulls the doll carriage out. She carries it around to the area where Mr. Marlowe is sitting and sets it on the floor as he pushes his chair out of the way.

“I haven’t spoken to Matilda in years,” says the old woman nervously. Her face takes on a more serious tone as she steps back from the carriage and looks around the room. “Matilda?” she asks tentatively.

A mist forms in the chair where Mr. Marlowe had been sitting only minutes before. The man takes an instinctive step back, his eyes stretched as wide as they will go and his mouth slightly agape.

“Matilda, it’s me, Betty,” whispers the old woman as she walks toward the chair.

“Betty...” the voice is barely audible, like the faintest hint of a summer breeze.

“Matilda, this is my friend Jack, and he needs your help. He is trying to find your daughter, Willow. Do you think you can help him?”

The mist has fully formed into the shape of a woman now, her bare feet hovering just above the ground. She appears to be in her early twenties. Her dark hair falls in a loose braid on her left shoulder, and she is wearing a long gown with embroidery at the neck, cuffs, and hem. “Willow... Willow is here,” says the ghost Matilda.

“Wh-what do you mean, here?” asks Jack Marlowe, taking a step toward the ghost.

“Willow is gone...” the words come out painstakingly slowly, as though conjuring them requires a great deal of energy, “...gone from your world. Now she is here,” whispers the ghost. Her shimmering arm lifts as she points a finger toward something in the corner of the room. Mrs. B and Mr. Marlowe’s heads turn in unison.

The old woman struts to a bookshelf in the corner and scans the contents, returning with a stack of books. “These came from one of those... schools...” she says, the disapproval clear in her tone.  She sifts through the books and holds up a well-worn manual on laundry and sewing. Mrs. B addresses the ghost as she turns the book over in her hand, “Matilda, are you saying that Willow has passed on? That she is attached to one of these books in my shop?” The ghost Matilda nods, a look of agony washing over her face. The old woman stares at her in shock. How could she have missed this connection? It seems unfathomable that she didn’t know.

“Mama!” a small voice comes from behind Mr. Marlowe. He spins on his heels and jumps to the side as a ghostly young girl comes running from the darkness behind him.

“Willow, my darling! Kisâkihitin! (Kee-sa-kee-tin)” Matilda’s ghost stretches her arms out to greet the child with a hug. The living beings in the room stand in stunned silence as they watch the two ghosts embrace.

“What’s going on, I don’t understand... Has anything like this ever happened before?” asks Mr. Marlowe.

“No, I’ve never seen anything like it,” says Mrs. B. “But, as wonderful as it is for these two to be reunited, I’m afraid it isn’t good news for you. It would appear that Willow died in childhood, which means she cannot help you, nor did she grow old enough to have any children who could,” she adds. Her eyes fill with sorrow as she lays a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.

Mr. Marlowe puts his hand up to his mouth, finally realizing the implication of what has just transpired. He takes several minutes to recover, then clears his throat. “I understand. Thank you for your time. I... I should be on my way,” he says, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. He grabs his satchel from the floor and flings it over his shoulder before making his way to the shop door, never looking back at the ghostly mother and daughter.

“I wish you all the best, Mr. Marlowe,” says Mrs. B through a crack in the door as the man walks dejectedly away under the falling snow. The old woman closes and locks the door, then turns back toward the ghosts. “I am so sorry you were apart all these years; I had no idea...” she begins. The ghost Matilda comes to her, the look on her face indicating she bears no ill will. Mrs. B gives her a nod, then carefully carries both the carriage and the book back into the glass cabinet below the checkout counter. Now the pair can be together.

Mrs. B walks across the wood floor and flips the sign in the window to Closed. It has been a long, emotional day, and with the snow accumulating outside she is doubtful any more customers will show up. She steps back behind the checkout area to flip the light switches off. The store is instantly washed in darkness. The old woman expertly navigates the darkened space and grabs her coat and bag from the coat rack by the front door. “Goodnight, Matilda. Goodnight, Willow,” she says before letting herself out of the shop and into the cold, snowy world outside.

ONE YEAR LATER

The young woman behind the counter looks up as the door creaks open. “Hello, welcome to Mrs. B’s Trinket Shoppe, how may I help you today?” she asks the couple, who is busy stomping snow off their boots before coming through the door. 

“Oh, hello there!” says the man. “I wasn’t expecting... Erhm... Is Mrs. Brandon in today?” he asks.

“No, I’m afraid... uhh... she’s not,” says the young woman, visibly uncomfortable.

“Ah, well, no matter. Perhaps you could let her know that Jack Marlowe stopped by... Scratch that, rather, please tell her Mr. and Mrs. Marlowe stopped by,” he says, grinning as he puts his arm around the woman, presumably Mrs. Marlowe. She looks up at him with a smile.

The young woman’s cheeks redden as she shifts on her stool. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she begins, “you see, Mrs. B passed away last year.”

The man stops in his tracks, the smile instantly wiped from his face. “Oh, I see. I... I had no idea. I’m so sorry... she was a lovely lady. One of a kind,” he stammers.

The young woman nods quietly. “That’s what I’m told. I never actually met her; I moved here about three months after she died and saw a sign in the window that they were hiring. Turns out her brother took over ownership of the store, but he lives across the country and needed someone local to help run it.”

“Right...” says Jack Marlowe, scanning the contents of the shop. "I suppose he's the one who re-branded by dropping the word Haunted from the shop's name?" he asks. The young woman behind the counter shrugs. Jack wanders around the space, inspecting a tin soldier on one of the shelves, and noting that the dining set and chair he had sat in that fateful day are still right where he left them a year ago. Suddenly, something in a display case catches his eye. “What can you tell me about this item?” he asks, lifting a locket on a chain from the velvet-lined case.

“I believe that was from Mrs. Brandon’s personal collection,” answers the young woman.

“Brilliant!” he whispers under his breath. “I’ll take it,” he tells the young woman.

Mrs. Marlowe joins him at the counter. “What about these items, how much are you asking for them?” she asks, pointing at the doll carriage and antique book in the glass display case.

“Uhh... I don’t know, I was told those were significant in some way,” replies the young woman.

“How about this, I’ll pay you... three times what they’re worth,” offers Jack Marlowe.

The girl hesitates. “Sales have been slow since Mrs. B passed away... I suppose it would help the store stay afloat,” she concedes as she grabs a set of keys to unlock the display case.

“I was so excited for you to meet her...” says Jack as he and his wife walk out of the store. The snow crunches loudly beneath their boots. He loads the carriage and book into the back of their car and turns to look at his wife. “I wanted to show her that miracles happen,” he says, a grateful smile on his face.

“Deep down, I feel like maybe she knows...” says Mrs. Marlowe, leaning to place a soft kiss on his cheek. The pair get in the car and drive down the winding road through the magic of the falling snow, each lost in their own thoughts as Mrs. Marlowe holds the locket between her palms. 

Every so often, Jack glances in the rear-view mirror and smiles. 

From the back seat, Mrs. B, Matilda, and Willow smile back.

Thank you so much for listening.  Please be sure to follow The Nightcap and The Paranormal Truth podcasts who will elaborate on the real-life account of a haunted carriage that inspired this story, as well as haunted objects in general.

Then, join me next week for a one-of-a-kind episode in collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast. This episode will take on an audio drama format featuring a phone call between two characters. I suggest you listen to The Haunted UK’s 2021 Halloween Special in preparation, you can find a link in the show notes.

The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by me under my stage name Cannelle. If you enjoyed 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 all necessary links.

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - One year anniversary of Songs from The Skylark Bell

Fri, 09 Dec 2022 06:00:00 +0000

It's hard to believe an entire year has gone by since the release of Songs from The Skylark Bell, the official soundtrack to the podcast. In this episode you'll hear details about the songs, such as the inspiration behind them, and gain insight as to how they were recorded. There is a Patreon-exclusive extended version of this episode available to subscribers, you can find my Patreon using the link below.

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

All music by Cannelle.

Website: 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.

Today we celebrate the one-year anniversary of Songs from The Skylark Bell – the official soundtrack to The Skylark Bell podcast, released under my stage name, Cannelle. This episode will feature track-by-track commentary on the album, including notes on the inspiration and method behind the songs. There will be an extended version of the episodes available exclusively to Patreon subscribers that will include unreleased material and additional insight.

So, grab a blanket and a warm drink, and may I suggest some headphones... and let’s get started.

----------------------------------------------

Let’s begin with the intro music to The Skylark Bell, a short instrumental piece called Nightbridge. This song plays at the beginning of each episode of The Skylark Bell. After taking only 10 minutes to compose a song for my friend Amy’s podcast, a song you can hear in the extended version of this episode if you are a Patreon Subscriber, I thought composing music for my own upcoming podcast would be a breeze. Boy was I wrong. Nothing I was coming up with felt right, and after several days of trial and error I was getting frustrated. I took a break from being hyper-focused on trying to compose a new song and sat at the piano to play some of my original songs and a few covers, when suddenly it hit me. One of my songs, Night, had a very intricate, interesting, mildly spooky bridge which just might work as a stand-alone piece of music. Sure enough, it was absolutely perfect for The Skylark Bell, and Nightbridge was born. If you listen carefully to the beginning, you can hear the wind blow, then a door open, then footsteps as if someone is coming in from outside. Hold that thought until we get to the end of the album... PLAY NIGHTBRIDGE – INTRO

Next up is Jack’s Room. This song can be heard in Season 1 Fantome Friday #1, also titled Jack’s Room. I composed this song over 20 years ago when I was living in Montreal – it was originally composed on guitar. If you are a Patreon Subscriber you can hear a portion of the original version now. The original version was written after a conversation with my dad about an unexplained encounter I had with a long departed relative about 10 years prior. Fast forward 30 years and I converted the song to the piano and recorded it for a podcast episode telling the story. I get a little emotional with this one because it has so much history. I actually cried after recording the strings in the bridge PLAY JACK’S ROOM.

Okay, now we get into the first of what I call the “One-ders”, o-n-e-d-e-r-s. I call them that because they are short little pieces of music, typically about a minute or two, that I love dearly. This one is called The Early Bird, and can be heard in Season 1 Chapter 3, also called The Early Bird. I wanted some music to be playing in the diner when Magpie and Lucas walk in, and since the diner has a “great retro feel” it only seemed appropriate for the music to also have a vintage vibe. Of course, to keep in line with the general feeling of the story, I wanted to music to be somewhat dark and mysterious. What I ended up with was some noir, 1930’s private eye movie type music, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. PLAY THE EARLY BIRD.

Next up is one of my favourite songs on the album – The Velvets. This song first played in Season 1 Fantome Friday #4, The Bootleggers, which tells the story of my encounter with a long-departed mobster at my friend Amy’s old house in Minneapolis. Hot off the heels of The Early Bird, I was definitely in a retro, jazzy mode. I started with a baseline PLAY VELVETS BASELINE, then added some trumpet PLAY VELVETS with TRUMPET, the added some rather haphazard piano, PLAY VELVETS with PIANO, and topped it off with some sultry vocals... You can hear an instrumental version of this song in the podcast Volsteadland, which covers the real-life antics of Kid Cann. PLAY THE VELVETS

Now we go to our next one-der, Visions. This piece of music is recurring throughout all seasons of The Skylark Bell and generally indicates Magpie is having or is about to have a psychic vision. It first appears in Season 1 Chapter 4 – An Unexpected Guest. This song was composed in a rather unusual, but often times very effective, way. I essentially plugged my keyboard into my laptop and hit record, then spontaneously built the song track by track through improvisation, muting things that didn’t work and adding filler where necessary. The entire song was composed and recorded in one evening. My favourite part is how it fades a spooky low growl at the end. PLAY VISIONS.

Up next is my favourite track on the album, and one of my favourite compositions to date – The Blue Dress. Before I started composing any songs for the podcast, I had come up with an instrumental tune inspired by the song Lady by Regina Spektor, which had me exploring more jazz type chords. My tune had a soft, cigar lounge kind of vibe, and went in a few different directions before circling back to the soft jazzy part again. When I wrote the story of The Woman I the Window for Season 1 Fantome Friday #2, I immediately knew which song in the making was right for the episode. I jotted down some lyrics and made small adjustments to the song and voila, The Blue Dress was complete. One of my favourite parts of the song is the background vocals – which I made up spur of the moment as I was recording. At first I was inclined to sing Lalalalalala... but generally I prefer to use actual words in my songs, and that’s when I converted those simple Lalalas to “colilililiding cololololours”, which had a similar effect but much more meaning, as the two women are both wearing blue dresses, and both have blue eyes, their colours colliding through time PLAY COLLIDING COLOURS PART OF THE BLUE DRESS  - Another part of the song I really like is the bridge, which gets quite orchestral – I love when the strings fade in PLAY THE BRIDGE TO THE BLUE DRESS. Lastly, I chose to use this electric piano sound because I’d hear Tori Amos use it effectively in so many of her songs, something I hadn’t been able to do until now, but in this case, it seemed to fit perfectly with the vibe. PLAY THE BLUE DRESS

Now we come to yet another little one-der, La Fête, French for The Party. This short piece of music first appears in Season 1 Chapter 6, An Accidental Discovery, in which Magpie has a vision that the abandoned house at Meadow Lane is all lit up and filled with light, people, and music. For this piece of music, I researched upbeat 1920s songs. I wanted it to sound like the music was coming from a Victrola, so I downloaded a sound effect and included it at the beginning of the song PLAY LA FETE. 

Up next is Song for a Loved One. This song was inspired by the sudden passing of a dear family member. Though the inspiration behind the song was a very specific person, the general feeling of it could apply to anyone experiencing loss and grief. Song for a Loved One first aired on the podcast in Season 1, Fantôme Friday #9 – Grandma’s Goodbye. PLAY SONG FOR A LOVED ONE.

We’re just about at the halfway mark, and here is Foreign Emotion, which can be heard in Season 1, Fantome Friday #3 – The Open House. For this song I wanted something upbeat that would circle around the room like the ghost in the story. I took inspiration from the song Raspberry Swirl by Tori Amos. My favourite part of the song is the bridge, which mellows out and has a sound reminiscent of The Blue Dress. PLAY FOREIGN EMOTION.

The  next song on the track list is Les Soeurs, which translates literally to The Sisters, which in this context refers to nuns. The song was recorded for Season 1, Fantome Friday #10 – The Convent. This instrumental song at its origin was composed as intro music to another original song of mine called The You That You Were, completely unrelated to The Skylark Bell. As I was writing and recording the story of The Convent and what I experienced there, this song kept playing in my mind, and I felt like it was perfect for the mood, it’s delicate, feminine, and foreboding... PLAY LES SOEURS.

Up next is the most rapidly written song on the album – The Wedding Dress, which was paired with the most rapidly written story of the podcast, also called The Wedding Dress, which was Fantome Friday #12 in Season 1. Both the story and song were spontaneously written and recorded in less than 48 hours and were inspired by my wedding anniversary, which happened to be that same week. Patreon Subscribers can download a remixed and remastered version of the track that was reworked by Pink Flamingo Music Studios. PLAY THE WEDDING DRESS.

Now we’ve come to The Lady in the Room, the feature song for Season 1, Fantome Friday #6 – The House on Edgar Street. If you’ve listened to the episode, you’ll know about the 2 female ghosts I encountered in my childhood home on Edgar Street, one lovely and kind, the other not so much. As a side note, I firmly believe that instruments have music inside of them. Every time I’ve gotten a new, or new-to-me, instrument, it has provided me with new compositions. It was no different when I first bought a second-hand piano a few years ago. I sat down and spontaneously wrote a very simple, very short piece of music that I instinctively named The Lady in the Room. In my mind, the lady in question was this new piano that was taking up a tremendous amount of space in my house, but later on when pondering the two ghosts in my childhood home, I felt the song title, and the song itself, fit perfectly. PLAY THE LADY IN THE ROOM.

Ah, it’s time for another of my favourite songs on the album – A Strange New Year, which crowned the final episode of Season 1 of The Skylark Bell. The song was inspired by Magpie and Lucas, and the short bonus episode I wrote for them where they are celebrating the new year in a Scottish Pub, but despite the joyful atmosphere, something feels... off. The song was also inspired, in part, by the strange circumstances we found ourselves in during the pandemic holiday seasons of 2020 and 2021. As I worked through the lyrics of the song, I came to realise that even though the past two years had been highly unusual, each previous year had its own unique set of circumstances. Truly, behind me was a string of strange old years. The song came together and was recorded just in time to be included on the soundtrack. Listening to the recording is a very visual experience for me, I can practically see an entire video: From Magpie and Lucas’ faces lit up by a sparkler at the beginning, to the tartan-clad crowd dancing in circles during the orchestral larger-than-life bridge. PLAY A STRANGE NEW YEAR.

The last song on the official version of the record released to streaming platforms is a take on The Skylark Bell theme song, Nightbridge, that is used for the outro of each regular episode. This version of the song is more stripped down, and features haunting vocals that aren’t in the intro version. Also, fun tidbit – remember at the beginning of this album overview I told you to remember the sound effects at the beginning of the song? At the start of each episode you hear wind, a door, then footsteps, as if someone is coming in from outside to sit and read the story. Then, at the end of each episode, you hear the reverse; footsteps, a door, and wind... as if the person who was reading the story is getting up and leaving. PLAY NIGHTBRIDGE  OUTRO.

Now, if you were lucky enough to be a Patreon subscriber last year, you received a physical CD of Songs from The Skylark Bell in addition to the digital download. This CD featured 2 bonus songs not available on the official release that can be found on streaming platforms. Here’s some top secret info, you can also get a digital version of the album with the 2 bonus songs by purchasing it through Bandcamp. 

The first of those 2 songs is Kaleidoscope, which plays in Season 1 Fantome Friday #8, The Harlequin. This song was inspired by the loss of a dear friend nearly 25 years ago, this loss is explored in the story featured in that episode. I was inspired to add subtle Harpsichord to the song by my friend Sam on Instagram, who had composed a song on harpsichord right around the time I was recording. It’s quite subtle, see if you can spot it. PLAY KALEIDOSCOPE.

The second bonus song is an acoustic version of Nightbridge, which was recorded during one of my Instagram Live music shows. This acoustic version aired on the podcast in Season 1 Fantome Friday #7, The Bridge. PLAY NIGHTBRIDGE ACOUSTIC.

-----------------------------------

This wraps up our episode celebrating one year since the release of Songs from The Skylark Bell. Patreon subscribers, please stick around, there is additional content coming your way after this.

Be sure to join me next week for a fantastically scary collaboration with The Haunted UK podcast called Return to Manor Ridge Farm. While you’re waiting for the episode to drop, I suggest you listen to The Haunted UK’s 2021 Halloween Special Episode, since my upcoming episode will be a tie in with that one. Just check the show notes for a direct link.

 If you enjoy my music, you can find it on BandCamp and major streaming platforms under my stage name Cannelle. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon – there you’ll get to hear more about some of the songs I’ve composed for other podcasts, like A Carefully Built Pretend, Collected Sounds, and The Activity Continues, among many other things. Just check the show notes for links to Patreon, Bandcamp, My Website and social media.

Once again, thank you for listening, I’m Melissa Oliveri, also known as Cannelle, and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - The Christmas Ghost

Fri, 02 Dec 2022 06:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - The Gathering

Fri, 25 Nov 2022 06:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - Black Dog Waiting (A Carefully Built Pretend)

Fri, 18 Nov 2022 06:00:00 +0000

Today we’ll be reading a story called Black Dog Waiting. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. Did you know that black dogs are often the last ones to be adopted at animal shelters? This is a story about a black dog who had to wait a long time to learn about the meaning of safety, home, and love.

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

Links for MUTT MUTT ENGINE dog rescue:

Website: https://www.muttmuttengine.org/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/muttmuttengine

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/muttmuttengine/

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 Black Dog Waiting. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. Did you know that black dogs are often the last ones to be adopted at animal shelters? This is a story about a black dog who had to wait a long time to learn about the meaning of safety, home, and love.

This episode is dedicated to my dear friends Sally and Chris Mars, and their incredible dog rescue Mutt Mutt Engine, with a special shoutout to all the Mutt Mutt Engineers who help to give better lives to both dogs and their people. 

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

There’s a black dog waiting by the side of the road. She doesn’t remember much about her life before. There wasn’t much of a life to remember, I suppose. She spent every day outside, tied to a short rusty chain. Sunny days, windy days, rainy days, stormy days, snowy days... days and days and days.

One day, her chain got so rusty it broke. The black dog walked and walked and walked. She eventually found a road and sat for a while watching the cars go by. Big cars, small cars, clean cars, dusty cars, noisy cars, fast cars... Eventually the black dog god tired, and she curled up in the dirt to sleep. She slept in the sun, the wind, and the rain as cars drove by her on the dusty old road.

One day, a truck stopped nearby. The black dog lifted her head, too tired and hungry to stand up. Two people got out of the truck and started walking toward her. One of them had a rope... the dog thought the rope looked like a chain, the chain that she had been tied to for days and days and days. The black dog got sad. The two people got closer. The black dog got scared. The two people tied the rope to her collar. The black dog started to shake. The people pulled on the rope until the black dog stood up, and they lead her to the back of their truck and put her inside. Then the truck and the people and the black dog drove down the dusty old road.

When the truck stopped, the dog was led into a building. The black dog was confused, she had never been inside a building before, she had never seen a floor before. She was brought to a room with rows and rows and rows of cages. Every cage had a dog, and every dog was sad, scared, and worried. The black dog was put in the cage at the end of the row. Then the black dog got sad, scared, and worried too.

Day after day after day people came to look at the dogs in the cages. First the puppies got out, then the cute small fluffy dogs got out, then the young hunting dogs got out, then the big, beautiful dogs with the lush fur got out. Every time a dog got out, another dog came in. Then when that dog got out, another one came in. But the black dog never got out. Day after day after day people came and took a dog, and day after day after day the black dog stayed in her cage at the end of the row.

Finally, one day, the black dog heard a small voice ask “What about this one?”. The black dog lifted her ear a little. It sounded like the voice was nearby. “I like this one!” said the small voice. This time the black dog lifted her head. “Are you sure?” asked a big voice. “Yes, I’m sure,” said the small voice. The black dog stood up and turned around, and she came face to face with a child. The black dog had never seen a child before. The child smiled. The black dog had never seen a smile before. The child reached into the cage and gently scratched the top of the dog’s head. The dog’s tail started wagging. The black dog thought maybe she’d wagged her tail before, but she wasn’t sure.

A person came by with a rope, and the black dog began to shake. The child sat next to the dog and told her everything was going to be okay. The black dog leaned her head on the child and felt something... something warm, something good, something safe. The black dog was feeling trust, for the very first time.

The black dog was led to the car and sat in the back next to the child. She looked out the window and saw trees and houses and fences and people and other dogs. The car finally stopped, and the black dog was brought to a new building. Once inside the child walked with the dog and showed her some new things. 

“This is your bed,” said the child. The black dog wasn’t sure what a bed was, but it sure looked comfortable.

“This is your food bowl,” said the child. The black dog wasn’t sure what a food bowl was, but it sure would be nice to not feel hungry anymore.

“These are your toys,” said the child. The black dog had never seen toys before, but they sure looked fun!

“This is your home,” said the child. The black dog had never had a home, but it sure felt safe.

“I love you,” said the child. The black dog had never felt love before, but it sure felt good. I love you too, thought the dog.

The black dog watched as day after day the small person grew, and the family laughed, and cried, and loved. They loved on sunny days, on windy days, on stormy days, and on all those days the black dog was comfortable, fed, happy, warm, and safe.

One day, the family brought home a new black dog. When they came in the door, the new black dog looked sad and scared and worried. The old black dog wagged her tail and walked with the new dog. 

“This is your bed; you will be comfortable” she said. “This is your food bowl, you will be fed,” she said. “These are your toys, you will have fun,” she said. “This is your home, you will be safe,” she said.

The new black dog wagged its tail, maybe for the first time, then curled up on the soft, cozy bed and fell asleep. The old black dog curled up next to him and whispered, “This is your family, you will be loved.”

 

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - The Day the Sun Fell (A Carefully Built Pretend)

Fri, 11 Nov 2022 06:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - When the Night Came (A Carefully Built Pretend)

Fri, 04 Nov 2022 05:00:00 +0000

Today we’ll be reading a story called “When The Night Came”. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. We’re going to explore the fear of the unknown, and how gaining perspective can make the unknown less frightening.

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 “When The Night Came”. This story was originally released as part of my children’s podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. We’re going to explore the fear of the unknown, and how gaining perspective can make the unknown less frightening.

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

“Mama, could you tell me a story?” Asks the boy

“Why, of course!” replies Mama, “Which story would you like to hear?”

“Tell me the story about when the night came,” says the boy. 

Mama smiles. “Okay,” she says. She settles into the rocking chair and places a blanket on her lap. The boy fluffs his pillow and pulls his quilt up to his chin in preparation, then waits quietly for his mother to begin.

“When I was very young, I lived in the big city. At night, the world outside was lit up by streetlights, traffic lights, headlights, neon signs... it was almost as bright as day. Then the time came, when I was just about your age, for us to leave our apartment in the city and move to a house in the country. The day we arrived I was very excited; the house was surrounded by fields of tall grass, and there were woods nearby, and     a small pond, an old barn behind the house, a shed... so many new things to check out! I spent the whole day exploring, and I had so much fun, until the night came...

When the sun finally went down, the world outside was the darkest dark I’d ever seen. I looked out my bedroom window, and I couldn’t see anything at all! I opened to window to squint out at the night, and at first I thought the world outside was very quiet, but when I listened more closely I heard the strangest, scariest sounds! In the city the sounds were loud, and I always knew what they were – cars honking, sirens, construction trucks... here in the country, I didn’t recognize any of these eerie sounds.

Every night I would sleep with a light on and close my curtains, afraid of what was lurking outside. But one night, our dog, Maggie, slipped out the door and disappeared into the darkness. I ran right out behind her without even thinking about it. Maggie was my best friend, you see. I ran and ran straight into the darkness, calling Maggie’s name. Finally, I stopped, and my heart started pounding. Mama and Papa were upstairs watching TV, they didn’t know I was outside. I was alone. Alone with the dark. Alone with the night. 

I stood very, very still then, frozen in fear, when suddenly I saw it. Just beyond my reach, a small greenish yellow light blinking on and off, then another, and another... suddenly they were everywhere, staying low to the ground. I’d never seen anything like it, it was magic! Fireflies! I watched them for a while, and realized they were dancing, and their music was the sound of crickets and frogs singing a night song. They had their own special language, and I wondered what stories they were telling each other. I felt like singing and dancing along with them... I could feel the cool wet grass under my bare feet as I began moving in circles, twirling my arms in the air. I heard a new sound then, an echoing Hoooo Hoooo... it was the most beautiful sound in the world, as soft as a feather!

A breeze picked up, and I heard the tree leaves make a noise like the ocean... whoooooooosh, swish.... the wind blew away the clouds and I felt a spotlight shine down on me. This was my time to shine, my moment on stage! “Hooooo! Hoooo!” I sang in my night voice, waving my arms around like a night bird, dancing in circles like a firefly, keeping the beat with the music of the crickets and frogs as the moon cast its silver light on the top of my head. The world looked so different under that gentle, shimmering light that coated everything like a soft blanket. The dew on the leaves glistened like diamonds, the shadows danced as the trees swayed back and forth in the breeze.

I was startled out of the celebration by the sound of jingling dog tags. Maggie! I had all but forgotten about her! “Hello old friend, were you enjoying the night circus as well?” I asked, ruffling the fur on the top of her head. In the moonlight I could see her smiling, and I realized then that she knew all along... She knew how beautiful the world got, when the night came.

From that moment forward I was no longer afraid of the dark. The night creatures became my friends, the dark swaying trees my protectors, the hooting owl my duet partner and the crickets and frogs my backup band. The fireflies my ballet chorus, the dew on the leaves my precious jewels... and after that, there was never a better time of day, than when the night came.”

Mama leans back in the rocking chair. Her eyes are closed, and she has a soft smile on her face.

“Mama?” asks the boy.

“Yes, my love,” says Mama, her eyes still closed.

“Could you take me with you to the night circus sometime?” he asks.

Mama opens her eyes and ruffles the hair on top of the boy’s head, “I would love to” she answers. She stands up and drapes the blanket on the back of the rocking chair, then walks to the window and stands very still for a few minutes, looking out. Finally, she waves to the darkness on the other side before closing the curtains.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” she whispers to the boy before turning off the lights. She smiles as darkness takes over the room and whispers one last time “Good night”.

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

A (Haunted) Skylark Special - The Cellar (with The Haunted UK Podcast)

Fri, 28 Oct 2022 05:00:00 +0000

**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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark Special - The Tales of Ledia Roy

Fri, 21 Oct 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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A Skylark + Boopod Special - The Redheaded Hitchhiker (Bridgewater Triangle Series)

Fri, 14 Oct 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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

 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Epilogue (featuring Embers & Ash)

Fri, 07 Oct 2022 05:00:00 +0000

This is the final chapter of Wingspan, closing out Magpie and Luca's story, and opening us up to Farfalla's... but that will come at another time. More specifically, it will come in January of 2023 with season 3 of The Skylark Bell podcast in which we'll read SkyeDive, the third and final book in the Skylark Trilogy.

Be sure to listen to the end of this episode for the premier of a new song by Cannelle, inspired by this story, called Embers & Ash. Both the version featured in this episode as well as an acoustic version are available to Patreon subscribers, join us at http://www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

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: Episode 38 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie, still living as Farfalla, tried to warn her younger self of what the future holds before she passed away, but her plan was foiled by the appearance of Dealan-de.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 38 – Epilogue - in which we learn a little bit more about what happened after those final moments.

This is the final chapter of Wingspan, the 2^nd book in The Skylark Trilogy. Season 3 will feature the third and final book, titled SkyeDive, which will delve into the story of the original Farfalla, and how life, distance, and time can transform a person.

Between now and the start of season 3 in January, I will be sharing various original stories, including a couple of Halloween specials, and some tales from my other podcast, A Carefully Built Pretend. I also do monthly live storytimes on my Instagram account, @ the skylark bell (just check the show notes for links).

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for the premiere of a brand new song called Embers and Ash, which was inspired by the tragic tale of Magpie and Lucas.

Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… Here is the short and sweet finale of The Skylark Bell - Wingspan.

I sit and stare at her body for a long time, slowly running my eyes over her face. Perhaps it is what my face would have looked like, eventually. A roadmap of smiles, frowns, and tears etched over the course of decades. I can’t help but admire that wild, white, wavy hair that never allowed itself to be tamed over the course of more than a century. It is remarkable, I suppose. 

I must admit, she caught me by surprise when she grabbed my arm! How clever of her to use me as a conduit to take her a few paces into the future. I can’t help but feel some respect for her, and some sadness. After all, she is family. 

Of course, her little stunt won’t work. 

But you already know that.

I’ve already thrown her diary into the fireplace. The only story that matters is mine. 

But that is a story for another time…

Thank you so much for listening. This concludes Season 2 of The Skylark Bell. I truly hope you’ve enjoyed the story and following Magpie and Lucas’ adventures through distance and time. Be sure to subscribe so you can be notified when Season 3 launches in January! This time, we’ll be revisiting the story from Farfalla’s persepective – and this time we’re talking about the REAL Farfalla.

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. The Skylark Bell has become an award winning podcast thanks to your support and listenership with season 1 winning Best Podcast in the Multi-Dimension Independent Film Festival, Finalist in the Swedish International Film Festival, and being a Selection in both Flicker’s Rhode Island Film Festival and Minnesota Web Fest.

Once again, thank you, this story, this podcast, wouldn’t be possible without your support and listenership. Now I’m off to write more mystical magical stories, but I’ll be back in no time, no time at all...

Embers & Ash

I’ll be gone from the wreckage

Leaving it all behind

Holding fast to the water

Slipping through my fingers

It’s the wrong time, the wrong time,

the wrong time for us

Twisted hearts in the rubble

Split souls in their wake

We were tired and troubled

Star crossed and ill fated

It’s the wrong time, the wrong time,

the wrong time for us

It can’t be time to say goodbye (don’t go)

I’ll hold on to the embers

Burning in my palm

‘Til they’re nothing but ashes

Floating under the same sun

It was the wrong time, the wrong time

The wrong time for us

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Chapter 37, The Beginning of The End

Fri, 30 Sep 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 36, Crossing the Line

Fri, 23 Sep 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 35, Closure

Fri, 16 Sep 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 34, The Letter

Fri, 09 Sep 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 33, Sparking Silence

Fri, 02 Sep 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 32, Today's Special

Fri, 26 Aug 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 31, Dealan-dè

Fri, 19 Aug 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Chapter 30, Crash

Fri, 12 Aug 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 30 – Crash - in which Magpie finds herself involved in a situation she had a psychic vision of years prior.

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 30 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie and Lucas tried to set their timelines straight by sending Magpie back to warn him not to step under the arch.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 30 – Crash - in which Magpie finds herself involved in a situation she had a vision of years prior.

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Shittin’ Bricks – Hosts Dom and Kate are quite talented at balancing scaring people and making them laugh.

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

Magpie stands perfectly still, her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the wave of nausea and dizziness to pass. She finally finds the courage to open her eyes and uses the light from the small sliver of moon in the sky to try and get her bearings. She is standing by the side of a desolate country road. Nothing around her looks familiar. Magpie shivers and realizes it is quite cold, and an icy drizzle has started falling from the sky. The quiet surrounding her is unnerving, the only sound being that of the freezing rain hitting the pavement and the wind blowing a few dead leaves around on the ground. “It must be late fall,” she thinks, noting that the trees are bare of any leaves and the grass in the field behind her is dry.

Magpie is pondering which direction she should start walking when she sees a pair of headlights coming around a bend in the road to her left. Judging by the position of the car on the road she is not in Scotland, where they would be driving on the opposite side. Magpie suddenly realizes the car is driving much faster than it should be. “Slow down,” she whispers to herself, “you’re going too fa-“ her breath catches in her throat, cutting off the end of her sentence, as the car hits a patch of ice and swerves back and forth. “No, no, no, no!” she shouts as the car flips over. She watches in slow motion as it goes barreling down the ditch by the side of the road. Magpie instinctively starts racing toward the car, paying no mind to her own safety. As she is running, a thought crosses her mind. An impossible thought. By the time she reaches the car, the reality of what is happening, where she is, and when she is, is abundantly clear.

Magpie wastes no time making her way to the back window of the overturned car. She stretches her leg back and kicks the window as hard as she can with the heel of her boot, the glass instantly folding into thousand little pieces. She pushes the glass into the car before peering in. There he is. The small boy with the black curly hair. “Lucas!” she says, clapping her hands, but the boy remains unresponsive. She reaches in and grabs him by the arm, awkwardly prying him up enough to get a hold of his torso so she can lift him through the hole where the window was, and out of the car.

Magpie lays the boy gently in the grass several paces away and walks grimly back to the wreckage. She already knows what she will find, but she feels it is her duty to at least try. One look at the front seat of the car tells her all she needs to know; the driver and passenger did not survive. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, a stark contrast to the cold rain falling from the sky. She takes a moment to compose herself, then walks back to the boy and pulls him onto her lap. “It was never Farfalla with you the night your parents died, Lucas. It was me,” she says, stroking his hair. “I’m old enough to be his grandmother,” she thinks with a bitter laugh. 

Magpie has no idea how much time has lapsed when she suddenly hears sirens in the distance. Realizing she cannot explain her presence there, and not wanting to be asked questions she doesn’t have answers for, she stands up to leave. Just then the small boy moans and stirs. 

Biting her lip while trying to decide the best course of action, Magpie turns him so he’s facing away from the wreckage and stands behind him, holding his shoulders. “Everything is going to be okay,” she whispers, leaning down close to his ear, “Don’t be afraid.” They stand together as the sound of the sirens grows closer. Finally, Magpie sees the headlights up ahead and knows she needs to leave. “These people are here to help you, you stay right here and wait for them, okay?” she says. The boy nods, his eyes fixed on the headlights coming toward them. “Goodbye, Lucas,” she says, giving his shoulders one last squeeze before retreating to the tall grass in the field behind them. 

Chilled to the bone, Magpie cuts through the field toward a nearby farmhouse, using its porch light as a beacon to warmth and safety. She is greeted by a kind couple who take her in for the night, giving her hot soup and warm bread. She tells them she was riding her horse nearby when she fell off and got turned around. They promise to take her back to Pocket in the morning.

The following day, the couple drive her back to town as promised. She asks to be dropped off at the old farmhouse that she and her mother would move into in about a decade. She waves at them from the front porch, thankful that the current residents don’t appear to be home, then walks back to the road that leads to town. “Lucas said he thought the Oak tree in front of Meadow Lane is what brought him back,” she mumbles to herself, her words drowned out by the sound of the gravel crunching beneath her feet. She stops briefly at the bottom of Lucas’ driveway. The letters that spell out “Starling” on the mailbox are bright and fresh, having ten fewer years of being out in the elements than when she first saw them. Magpie glances up at the house, a tightness forming in her stomach at the thought of seeing Grandma Gemma again. All she has to do is walk up the driveway and knock on the door. Magpie stands immobile, hesitating. What would she say? How could she possibly explain who she is and her connection to the Starlings? No, it just doesn’t make sense, and it would only break her heart to see Gemma again after all these years. 

Magpie shakes her head and turns toward Meadow Lane. She sees the large oak tree in the front field. The tree looks like an hourglass that someone has flipped. The branches that spread from the top of the trunk, void of any leaves, look like roots reaching toward the sky. 

Magpie takes a decisive step onto the lane, and is instantly surrounded by thick, oppressive silence. “I’ve done this before, I can do it again,” she thinks to herself. She walks with purpose toward the Oak tree, and stands under it, looking up through the branches at a passing cloud. Taking a deep, silent breath, Magpie circles the tree with her arms. “Please, please, please take me home to Lucas,” she thinks. But nothing happens. Magpie feels a sense of dread wash over her as she recalls Lucas saying that when he traveled from 1925 to her present day, he heard the Skylark Bell ring, and the same haunting tune that Magpie herself had heard as she stood under the arch. Hoping to avoid having to collect the Skylark Bell from the house, Magpie squeezes her eyes shut and starts humming. In one of the second-story windows of the house at Meadow Lane, a woman watches her, and starts humming along. No sound comes out of the woman’s mouth, but Magpie can hear the song in her head. Magpie, oblivious to the mysterious woman’s presence, keeps humming the tune. Out of nowhere she feels the faintest movement in the air, it blows a strand of hair across her face. Encouraged, Magpie opens her mouth and starts actually singing “Fallalala Lalalalala…” again, hearing the song only in her mind. Suddenly, the familiar wave of movement, sound, nausea, and dizziness hits her, and she feels her mind separate from her body as it floats up through the branches of the oak tree toward the sky. 

In the second story window of the house at Meadow Lane, the woman watches as Magpie disappears. The woman smiles, before also vanishing into thin air.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 31, Dealan-de, where 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 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. You can now also find The Skylark Bell merchandisem including tee shirts, postes, mugs, stickers, and more! Just visit my website, theskylarkbell.com, and click on the “shop” tab. All links are also available in the show notes for this and other episodes.

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. 

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Chapter 29, Next Steps

Fri, 05 Aug 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 29 – Next Steps - in which Magpie and Lucas try to find a way out of the tangled strings of 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 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 Haunted UK: https://www.instagram.com/hauntedukpodcast/

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 29 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas returned to Carnifex House, but had jumped 25 years ahead and found Magpie to be nearly twice his age.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 29 – Next Steps - in which Magpie and Lucas try to find a way out of the tangled strings of time and space.

Be sure to listen through to the end of this episode for a preview of a paranormal podcast I quite enjoy called Haunted UK.

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

Magpie hears Lucas walking around upstairs and pours a ladle full of batter onto the hot griddle. She focuses on the sizzling sound as the pancake starts to bubble, then expertly flips it over.

“It smells amazing in here! What are you making?” asks Lucas, walking into the kitchen.

“A Grandma Gemma classic,” says Magpie, setting a plate of blackberry chocolate chip pancakes on the table and motioning for him to take a seat. Lucas sits down, taking in the sweet fragrance which instantly brings back memories of his Grandmother. 

Magpie puts some pancakes on a plate for herself and joins him at the table. They make small talk for a few minutes, then let a long silence hang between them before Magpie finally starts the conversation they had decided to put off until this morning.

“Tell me what happened when you disappeared,” she says simply.

Lucas takes a deep breath before launching into the story. He begins with the small shop behind the Bakery where he found an exact replica of the Skylark Bell. Then he explains how he and Cormorant encountered the red deer on the road and followed it into the woods. He tells her about walking through the arch over the path and hearing the woman’s voice, then how he and Cormorant suddenly found themselves at Meadow Lane. 

“We went across the road to your old farmhouse where I collapsed. When I came to, I was being cared for by none other than Charlotte and Edward Carnifex!”

At this Magpie’s eyes grow wide. “What were they like?!” she asks, enthralled.

“They are the most amazing, kind-hearted people,” he replies. “I even got to meet Cerise!” he adds, a twinkle in his eye. 

At this Magpie’s mouth breaks into a grin. “How amazing is that?!” she says, sitting back in her chair.

Lucas goes on to explain how he connected with the Shearwater family and eventually met Farfalla. He tries to be mindful of Magpie’s feelings in navigating the story of how he and Farfalla fell in love and eventually got engaged. “Then the winter of 1925 came around, and it was terrible Magpie, far worse than anything we read in those books at the library. It was absolutely devastating…” he lets the sentence trail off. Magpie doesn’t pry, she can clearly see the pain and trauma on his face. “On the last day I went out to look for firewood, but the blizzard blew in and I got lost. I was trying to make my way back to Meadow Lane and I saw you, Magpie, sitting on a rock at Mirror Pond! That’s when Cormorant got spooked and I fell off. Then this older man came out of nowhere and was trying to help me. I lost consciousness, and when I came to, I was leaning against the big oak tree in front of Meadow Lane. I could hear the Skylark Bell ringing and Farfalla singing from the upstairs bedroom. The singing got louder and louder, and next thing I know I’m waking up in our living room here thinking the entire thing was a dream,” he ends, slapping his hands against his thighs.

Magpie takes a moment to assimilate all this information.

“What about you, what has your life been like all these years?” he asks after giving her a little time to soak everything in.

Magpie bites her lip and looks up at him. For Lucas it has only been a few years since they were together last, for her it has been decades.

“When you disappeared, I enlisted Manon and Alfred to help me look for you. They got everyone in town to help. They checked the fields, the beach, the buildings in town, the roads… there was no trace of you anywhere. Finally, Manon told me the stories, the ones people in town refer to as The Vanishings.” She launches into the story of Julien’s childhood friend, then tells him about the little girl and her brother. She tells him about the druids and Dealan-dè, and how the people of Pòcaid refuse to set foot in the forest.

“Over time, I got accustomed to living here. I couldn’t imagine moving back to Pocket without you. I never stopped wishing that you would come home,” she says, grabbing both his hands in hers before continuing. “About a year after you disappeared Julien Sarcelle moved back to Pòcaid to take over for his parents. He and I worked closely together, and we eventually developed feelings for each other. After a few years we were married, right here in the back yard. He cared for and farmed the land, I wrote a few books, they were deemed fiction but there was probably more truth to them than I would care to admit,” she says, smiling. “Then one night, after nearly 20 years of marriage, I got a phone call from a police station on the mainland.” She continues, the smiling fading from her face, “Julien had gone to visit his parents and was on his way home his car went off the road. The presumption is that he fell asleep.” Tears well up in Magpie’s eyes.

“Magpie, I’m so sorry,” says Lucas, his heart breaking for her.

“Manon and Alfred never really recovered. Alfred took ill shortly thereafter and eventually passed away, then Manon passed just a few years ago.” She says, leaning back in her chair. 

They sit in silence before Magpie resumes, squeezing his hand for emphasis, “I have had a good life, Lucas, with many years of happiness. I want the same for you. I want you to find love, and live a full, beautiful life.”

Lucas frowns at her, shaking his head. “No, no, Magpie, I love you! You and I, we were just getting started! That night that I disappeared, remember we were going to have a nice dinner out on the patio? I was going to propose to you that night. I had the feather ring with me, I was going to give it to you…” he lets the thought trail off.

Magpie smiles a sad smile, “That isn’t possible anymore, that time has passed. Not for you, but for me,” she says. They sit, speechless, for a long time, pondering the cruel reality of the situation.

Suddenly, Lucas has a thought. “Bear with me,” he says, holding both his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “what if I never went for a ride with Cormorant that day?”

Magpie looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well, now we know a little more about what’s involved with the mechanics of time traveling, right?” he begins, “what if you and I find that arch in the woods, and one of us goes back and stops me from going for that ride somehow? It could change everything! What have we got to lose?”

Magpie ponders for a moment. Everyone she has ever been close to is gone; Gemma, Manon, Alfred, even her mother, who is living out her days at the care home in Brighthaven, her memory having begun to fail nearly a decade ago. It was a rapid decline, and it has been years since she last recognized Magpie. Magpie still goes to visit once a year, but she has already processed the loss of the mother she once knew. Lucas’ idea is a crazy one, but what if it works? What if they could go back and live the life they had always dreamed of? What if she could go back and see everyone’s smiling faces again? Hold them? Tell them she loves them? Magpie sits perfectly still, letting the thoughts swirl around in her mind before looking back up at Lucas. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay? Yeah?!” he asks, not daring to believe he has heard her correctly.  Magpie nods. Lucas jumps to his feet and shouts, “Let’s go!”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing his shoulders to slow him down, “we need to do a little planning first, in case this doesn’t go as planned. I will be the one to travel. I have lived a good portion of my life already; you are still young and have decades ahead of you. I will make arrangements so you can stay on at Carnifex House for as long as need be if this doesn’t work.”

“It’s going to work,” he says, “It has to.”

It takes a few weeks for Magpie to tie up loose ends. She makes arrangements for Lucas to carry on at Carnifex House and speaks to the lovely couple who run the Brighthaven care home to ensure that her mother will be well cared for in the coming years. 

At long last, the big day arrives, and she and Lucas set off toward the forest. It is like old times, they are both wearing their rubber boots, walking across the fields, though Magpie walks more slowly than she did when they were younger. She clutches the satchel in which she’s packed some extra clothes, a few snacks, and her sketchbook. 

They finally reach the edge of the forest and Magpie has a moment of hesitation, the fear of the unknown starting to take over her mind. She looks at Lucas, his black curls blowing in the wind. What if this doesn’t work? What if they never see each other again, after all this time apart? She is about to voice her concern when a sound beyond the tree line catches their attention.

“Look!” says Lucas, pointing into the forest. Magpie takes a few steps into the forest and sees a large red deer standing behind an oak tree. It lifts its head up and stares at them for a moment before disappearing into the shadows beyond. “Let’s do this,” says Lucas, taking her hand. 

It feels like they’ve been wandering for hours when Magpie finally picks up a faint tinkling sound on the breeze. “Do you hear that?” she asks Lucas. 

He nods and holds a finger up to his lips, leaning to try and figure out which direction the sound is coming from. “This way,” he whispers, pulling Magpie toward the right. They follow an overgrown, winding path for several more minutes and finally come to a partial clearing within the forest.

Magpie gasps in wonder when she sees the arch, soaring over the path like a rainbow, “like a gateway,” she thinks. She runs her eyes over the branches, Oak by the look of it, and vines that make up the arch. She notes the trinkets dangling from the ropes and ribbons tied to the top of it. They are gently clashing against each other, creating a quiet but cacophonous symphony. “How does it work?” she asks timidly, turning toward Lucas.

“I’m not entirely sure,” replies Lucas. “I just sort of walked through it. As I went under, I started hearing the singing.”

Magpie turns to him and takes his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. “Whatever happens next, always remember that I love you with all my heart,” she says, a single tear drifting down her cheek.

Lucas nods, “I love you too,” he says, “and I’ll see you very soon.” They embrace for a long moment before Magpie steps back and starts walking toward the arch, her head held high. She looks back toward Lucas one last time, then takes a final step so she is standing directly under the hanging trinkets. She braces herself, unsure what to expect, but nothing happens. Magpie starts to feel a little silly for being so apprehensive. A sudden gust of wind activates the collection of bells, cutlery, and chimes hanging above her head. Somehow their volume seems to have increased tenfold. A melody starts forming in Magpie’s head, and she finds herself humming along. “Fallalala Lalalalala…” she sings. Magpie feels herself getting a little dizzy and closes her eyes. The singing echoes around her, it’s sound lifting through the empty space between the trees up to the sky. She feels a strange sensation, like she is floating outside her body, following the sound up to the sky…

Lucas watches from a few paces back, his eyes fixed on Magpie as she takes a final step under the arch. He sees the trinkets start swinging back and forth and Magpie’s hair blown by an invisible wind that he can’t feel. He watches as Magpie’s body starts moving, like she is swaying to music, perhaps even singing, but he doesn’t hear anything. Suddenly he feels an intense pressure building, like a terrible storm is rolling in. Lucas puts his hands up to his throbbing head and squeezes his eyes shut. An interminable moment later everything goes back to normal, and he can once again hear the birds in the surrounding trees. Lucas takes his hands away from his face and opens his eyes. 

The path beneath the arch is empty. 

Magpie is gone.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 30, Crash, where Magpie finds herself involved in a situation she had a vision of years prior.

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 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. 

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Chapter 28, All That Could Have Been

Fri, 29 Jul 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 28 – All that Could have Been - in which 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 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 The Activity Continues: https://linkin.bio/theactivitycontinues

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 28 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas got lost in the terrible snow storm of 1925, and despite a mysterious man attempting to come to his rescue, he never made it back to Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 28 – All that Could have Been - in which Lucas once again finds himself transported, this time back to Carnifex House, but his feeling of relief is short lived

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preciew of a paranormal podcast I quite enjoy called The Activity Continues.

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

Lucas can feel the warmth of the sun on his face. “I made it,” he thinks, a smile slowly growing. He opens his eyes and slowly looks around. His brow furrows as he recognizes the living room at Carnifex House. Realizing he is laying on the couch, he heaves a sigh of relief and starts laughing uncontrollably. “Magpie?!” he shouts, trying to kick off the tangle of blankets covering his legs. “Magpie, you won’t believe the dream I had!” he shouts again. He hears footsteps coming slowly from the kitchen and sees Magpie’s silhouette in the doorway to the dining room. “It was so crazy; I had a dream that I was Marius Corbeau! Can you believe it?!” he says, still laughing.

The figure in the doorway stands motionless. “Magpie? Are you okay?” he asks, the laughter subsiding and giving way to an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Lucas struggles to sit up, a wave of nausea and dizziness instantly hitting him. He lays back down and takes a few deep breaths.

“Oh Lucas,” comes Magpie’s voice from the doorway, “that was no dream,” she says, walking into the room. Lucas turns to look toward her and feels a wave of shock wash through him. 

The woman standing next to the couch is definitely Magpie, of that he has no doubt, but her fiery red hair is now streaked with silver, and gentle lines crease the corners of her eyes and mouth.

“What… what’s going on? I don’t understand…” he says, closing his eyes tightly, hoping perhaps this is the dream, and that he’ll wake up at Meadow Lane after all.

Magpie sits next down on the floor next to the couch and runs her finger along his cheek. “Lucas, you’ve been gone for 30 years,” she says, the words catching in her throat.

Lucas opens his eyes and turns his head to look at her, his heart suddenly pounding so hard he can hear it echo in his head. Tears are streaming down Magpie’s cheeks, and he reaches his hand up to wipe them away. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t… how?” he says, fighting off the urge to shout.

“It’s a long story, and I promise I will tell you everything I know,” she replies, her mouth taking on a sad smile, “but right now you need to rest. I’ll go put the kettle on and make you a sandwich,” she says, getting up off the floor.

Magpie walks back to the kitchen, leaving Lucas alone with his thoughts. Is it possible? Has he time-traveled again, this time to the future? Is this what happened to Marius Corbeau when he disappeared from Pocket in 1925? 

Magpie comes back with a cup of steaming hot tea and a tomato sandwich nestled on a plate. Lucas smiles at her, “I remember when Manon made us those sandwiches on our first day here!” he says, sitting up and graciously accepting the plate Magpie is handing him. 

A look of nostalgia washes over Magpie’s face. “Gosh, that was decades ago, I haven’t thought about it in years! I miss Manon and Alfred,” she says quietly.

“Have they retired in the south of France?” he asks, putting the sandwich down to take a careful sip of steaming hot tea. 

Magpie looks at him for a long moment. “They both passed away years ago… as did your grandmother, Gemma,” she says, delivering the news as gently as she can.

The reality of the situation hits Lucas like a ton of bricks and sends him reeling. He and Magpie have lived completely different timelines. He is still 25 years old, and she is now twice his age. She takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. He looks down at her hand and sees how time has worn it, the folds of her skin more prominent, and finally the tears come, and he does nothing to stop them. What a cruel twist of fate this is, not only to take him away from Farfalla after he had finally accepted that he would never see Magpie again, but to bring him back to Magpie, to his first love, only to have the life they had dreamed of be a complete impossibility. 

Lucas makes space for the grief he is feeling, then takes a moment to regroup. Suddenly a thought crosses his mind. “Are you married?” he asks, afraid of what she will say.

Magpie looks down at the ground with an almost imperceptible nod. She heaves a sigh and looks back up at him. “Yes, I did get married. My husband’s name was Julien, he was Manon and Alfred’s son. We lived together here at Carnifex House for many happy years,” she says.

“Where is he now?” asks Lucas.

“He passed away too,” she says quietly, the pain of the loss clearly visible on her face, “it was an accident. We never had children, and I never remarried,” she adds, sparing him the heartache of having to ask.

“Magpie, you’re completely alone here!” he says, his heart aching for her.

“Not anymore,” she replies, giving his hand a squeeze that sends his heart soaring.

They take a moment to catch their breath, and Lucas finishes his food. “I think I can stand up now,” he says, tossing the blankets to the side and swinging his legs off the couch. Magpie holds his arm as he stands. He takes a moment to make sure he doesn’t feel faint or dizzy, then takes a tentative step into the room. “All systems go,” he says, smiling at her. Finally, he takes the time to look around the room. Some of the furniture has changed, and the paint colour is different, but overall, it still feels like home.

He shuffles over to the fireplace and looks at the photos on the mantle. He sees a photo from Magpie’s wedding with Mrs. Phaeton, Manon, and Alfred standing proudly next to the happy couple, Magpie looking radiant in her wedding dress. He feels a pang of regret deep within his heart. “That should have been me,” he thinks, a lump forming in his throat. Next to the wedding photo are photos of Mrs. Phaeton, the Sarcelles, and the house at Meadow Lane with a sign above the door that reads “The Lark & Bell Artist’s Retreat”. Next to it is a photo of Lucas himself, standing in the field next to Cormorant. He remembers that photo was taken only a few weeks before the fateful ride that sent him back a century. 

The last photo on the mantle hits Lucas in the gut. It is the old photo that Magpie had found at Meadow Lane the day she rang the Skylark Bell. It had been sitting on the mantle there, and she had brought it home to Grandma Gemma’s for everyone to see. It was a photo of Lucas, as Marius, and Farfalla standing next to each other. A photo that was taken only a few weeks ago in Lucas’ world. With a shaking hand he takes the photo from the mantle and brings it back to the couch. Magpie comes over and sits next to him. 

“What was she like?” she asks, running her finger along the edge of the frame. 

“She was wonderful,” he says, “she reminded me of you.”

“Did you love her?” she asks.

“I loved her, but not like I loved you,” he says after a long pause. 

Magpie nods quietly, she knows exactly what he means.

They sit in silence, a silence deeper than the one that hovered over Meadow Lane when they first met, and look into one another’s eyes. A world of meaning passes between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air, all that could have been…

 

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 29, Next Steps, where Magpie and Lucas try to find a way out of the tangled strings of 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, 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.

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 27, Mirror Pond

Fri, 22 Jul 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.      

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 26, Happy Holidays

Fri, 15 Jul 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 26 – Happy Holidays - in which Magpie celebrates the season with the Sarcelles and is in for a heartwarming surprise, but not before an unsettling experience threatens to put a damper on the festivities!

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 Paranormal Exposed: https://rss.com/podcasts/paranormalexposed

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 26 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas proposed to Farfalla in the apple orchard behind Meadow Lane.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 26 – Happy Holidays - in which Magpie celebrates the season with the Sarcelles and is in for a heartwarming surprise

Be sure to listen through to the end of the episode for a preview of a podcast I quite enjoy called Paranormal Exposed.

Also of note, you can now find The Skylark Bell custom merchandise! Everything from clothing, to mugs, notebooks, postcards, stickers, magnets and more! Just visit my website, melissaoliveri.com/store  - The link is also available in the shownotes for this episode. 

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

“Brrr, it’s freezing out there!” says Julien, pulling off his boots by the front door.

“Well, it’s nice and warm in here,” counters Magie, smiling at him from one of the chairs by the fireplace. 

Julien walks to the fireplace and stretches his hands out in front of the flames. “Have you spoken to your mom today?” he asks.

“Yes, we wished each other happy holidays. She’s planning on celebrating at Meadow Lane, her current guests are repeat customers and they’ve become quite good friends,” she answers. In the months since Magpie’s return to Scotland she has struggled with leaving her mother behind in Pocket, but recently has come to terms with the fact that her mother has built a life there, and is happy.

“My mom and dad are very excited to be celebrating with us,” says Julien, turning toward Magpie. “I’m so excited, I can hardly handle it,” he adds, a boyish grin on his face.

“Once you thaw out, we can decorate the tree,” she says, looking at the bare tree that Alfred had surprised them with the day before, “then I’ll get started on the cookies,” she says, his contagious childlike excitement infecting her.

“Oh, I’m all warmed up,” he says, clapping his hands, “let’s do it!”

They head up to the attic to the decorations stored there, then manoeuvre the stairs awkwardly, their arms loaded with boxes. 

“I’m excited to see what’s in here!” says Magpie. Some of the boxes look quite old and appear to contain things that may have belonged to the original Carnifex family. Magpie opens the first box and finds loads of vintage glass ornaments in all different shapes and colours carefully stored in their original packaging. 

“Fantastique!” says Julien, “I love that mid-century modern style!”

“Why don’t you put these on the tree, and I’ll open the next box,” says Magpie. 

The next two boxes contain more glass ornaments, followed by a box with some small wooden ornaments painted in bright colours. Together they go through boxes of lights and garland, which they string along the beams on the ceiling and across the fireplace mantle.

“The house looks great!” says Manon, walking in the front door and stomping the snow off her feet.

“We found some pretty amazing decorations up in the attic!” says Magpie.

“Wait, you forgot a box,” says Julien , slipping a smaller box out from under the couch. 

Magpie sits on the couch with the box on her lap. She carefully lifts the flaps and gasps when she sees the contents. Inside are several handmade ornaments, they appear to be decades, maybe even a hundred years old. Magpie pulls one out and holds it up. It is a small hand-sewn doll wearing a beige dress and brown boots, hair made of long dark yarn springing from its head. Magpie feels a pang of sadness as she realizes the doll looks very similar to the little girl who went missing in the woods. She pulls out several other dolls, presumably the rest of the family: a woman, a man, a small boy, and a dog. “I think these belonged to the Carnifex family, a very long time ago,” says Magpie, handing the ornaments to Julien who hangs them on the tree. 

Magpie is about to put the box away when she spots one last ornament in the bottom, partially hidden by the crumpled paper that serves as a buffer to protect the ornaments from being damaged. Magpie gingerly reaches in and pulls the ornament out. Her hand starts shaking as she holds it up. The ornament is different than the others, it has been whittled out of wood, and is hand-painted. It is a siren, her tail curling behind her, her long red hair streaming over her shoulders, face upturned with her mouth open, a silver crown of twigs and branches on her head. Where her eyes should be are two holes, like someone gouged the wood in anger. Magpie shudders and places the ornament back in the box. She looks up and she and Manon lock eyes, Manon is clearly in agreement with Magpie’s decision to put the ornament back where it came from.

Magpie gets up from her chair. “Who wants to help me bake some cookies?” she asks, knowing full well Manon is an avid baker. They laugh and make their way toward the kitchen.

“I’m going to walk down to the cottage and help my dad finish preparing dinner, see you in a bit!” says Julien, planting a kiss on Magpie’s cheek as he walks out the door.

“He loves you very much,” says Manon warmly, after Julien has left.

“I love him too,” whispers Magpie. It has taken her a long time to give in to her feelings for Julien. For so long, she felt guilt about moving on, about giving up hope that Lucas would return, but a few months ago when she saw Julien’s face as he opened the door to welcome her back from her trip to Pocket, she felt a warm glow inside, and realized that over the years she had fallen in love with him. 

Magpie and Manon spend the next few hours baking a variety of cookies, some from Manon’s traditional French recipes, and some from the book of Carnifex Family Recipes that Magpie had found stashed at the back of a cupboard when she first moved in. They plan on packing up the extra cookies and handing them out to their neighbours and people in the village as gifts. 

“Voila!” says Manon, pulling the last sheet of cookies out of the oven. As if on cue, the back door opens, letting in a rush of cold air as Alfred and Julien step into the kitchen.

“Great timing!” says Magpie, grabbing a large pot from Alfred’s hands so he can take off his jacket and boots. “Oh Alfred, this smells divine!” she says, peeking under the lid.

“It’s my grandmother’s secret recipe, I will never share it, don’t even try!” he says in jest, “although if you were to offer one of those cookies, I may reconsider,” he adds with a wink.

Julien sets the table, adding a bright red tablecloth and tapered candles as a centerpiece. Magpie and Manon take their seats at the table as Alfred brings out plates of wonderfully fragrant food. They eat and drink merrily, enjoying the warmth and comfort of spending the holidays as a family. Alfred and Manon take the empty plates to the kitchen and start washing up as Magpie and Julien make their way to the living room. Julien adds a log to the fire and puts a holiday album on the record player. 

“Is It time to exchange gifts?” asks Manon, walking back into the room.

“Yes!” says Julien, the boyish twinkle back in his eye. Alfred brings two dining chairs and sets them up so the four of them are sitting in a semi-circle around the fireplace. 

“I would like to go first,” says Magpie, grabbing two brightly wrapped packages from beneath the tree. She hands one to Manon and one to Alfred, and watches their faces as they unpack the beautiful tartan scarves she chose for them at the gift shop in town. In return they hand Magpie a package. She unwraps it carefully, savouring the moment.

“You know you can just rip it off!” says Julien, unable to contain his enthusiasm. 

Magpie laughs and continues to gently unfold the paper from the box. Inside she finds a beautiful hand-carved figurine of a deer, its head held high, its coat painted a deep auburn shade. “Alfred, did you make this?!” she asks, enamoured with the craftsmanship. Alfred nods humbly. Magpie gets up and gives them both a warm hug before placing the figurine on the mantel. 

Next, Manon hands a box to Julien, who rips off the paper voraciously. Within seconds he is holding up a collection of classic French cookbooks, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “You expect me to cook for you every day now, I suppose!” he kids, getting up to embrace his parents. 

Magpie takes the last box from under the tree and hands it to Julien. “This is for you, from me,” she says, shyly. It took her a long time to find the perfect give for him, and she hopes she chose well. Julien unwraps the gift with surprising grace. He gently opens the box and lifts off the protective layer of tissue paper inside. He takes a moment to drink in the contents of the box before looking up and giving Magpie a meaningful look. 

“What is it?” asks Manon, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“It’s us,” replies Julien, holding up a custom painting of Carnifex House, the four of them standing in a row by the front door. Magpie smiles, happy and relieved that Julien seems genuinely touched by her gift.

“This has been an absolutely perfect day,” says Magpie as she crouches down to collect the bits of wrapping paper from the floor.

“Wait, there’s still one gift left to open,” says Julien, holding his hand out to help her up. Magpie looks up at him, a confused look on her face. “I have a gift for you as well,” he says, walking over to the tree. He reaches in and pulls a small box out from between the branches. Magpie’s heart starts beating at the sight of it. Julien pulls the small blue ribbon from the box, then kneels before Magpie as he pries it open. Inside is a beautiful, simple gold ring with a blue stone set in the center of it. “Magpie, will you marry me?” he asks, looking up at her expectantly.

Magpie’s heart feels like it’s going to pop right out of her chest. Thoughts and feelings swirl through her mind. She thinks back to Farfalla and Marius in the apple orchard, is this how she felt? She thinks of her father and mother, who loved each other but were never able to make it work. Finally, she thinks of Lucas. “Where are you?” the thought echoes in her mind. She lets the echo fade away before holding her hand out to Julien to help him up. Standing face to face she looks deeply in his eyes. “Lucas is my past. Julien is my future” she tells herself. 

“Yes, I would be honoured to be your wife,” she says. Julien lets out a sigh of relief as Manon and Alfred jump to their feet with joy. Julien pulls the ring out of the box and places it on Magpie’s finger, then grabs her by the waist and spins her around. 

“And now, we celebrate!” says Alfred, popping the top off a bottle of champagne as Manon turns up the volume on the record player. They dance and sing into the wee hours of the night. Finally, Manon and Alfred head back to the cottage and Magpie and Julien go up to bed. 

Long after Julien has fallen asleep, Magpie lays in bed looking out the small window at the moon outside, running the events of the last few years through her mind. She focuses on the foreign feeling of the ring on her finger, and finally feels her eyes getting heavy. “Goodbye, Lucas,” she says softly, then rolls over to face Julien as she gives in to sleep.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 27, Mirror Pond, where Lucas experiences the terrible winter of 1925 first hand.

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

Thank you, again, for listening. I’m Melissa Oliveri, and this is The Skylark Bell podcast.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 25, A Fête and a Feather

Fri, 08 Jul 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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

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 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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 24, The Lark & Bell Artist's Retreat

Fri, 01 Jul 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 24 – The Lark and Bell Artist’s Retreat - in which Mrs. Phaeton gives Magpie a tour of the house at Meadow Lane, which she has converted into an artist’s retreat and art gallery

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 24 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Lucas spent an evening with the Shearwaters at Meadow Lane to celebrate Farfalla’s birthday where he offered her The Skylark Bell as a gift.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 24 – The Lark and Bell Artist’s Retreat - in which Mrs. Phaeton gives Magpie a tour of the house at Meadow Lane, which she has converted into an artist’s retreat and art gallery

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.

Magpie and her mother spend most of the morning reminiscing, looking at old photo albums, and telling stories over coffee and biscuits on the front porch. At lunchtime they make their way to the Farmer’s Market and purchase the necessities for tonight’s dinner at Meadow Lane. They prepare a fragrant cauliflower curry with homemade naan bread, and some key lime pie for dessert. 

“It’ll be just like old times, a real dinner date, with a couple of special guests,” says Mrs. Phaeton, scraping the last of the sauce from the pan into a container before securely replacing its lid.

“I’m excited to meet them, and very excited to see all the changes you’ve made to Meadow Lane!” replies Magpie, licking some excess whipped cream off her finger.

“That pie looks divine! I can’t wait to dig in,” smiles her mom. “Okay, let’s go!” she says, clapping her hands together.

They walk across the road to Meadow Lane. Magpie feels slightly apprehensive, even though she and Lucas spent a lot of time at the house before moving to Scotland, her first thought is always the warning Lucas whispered to her that very first day. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you…”

“A penny for your thoughts,” says her mom, watching her with a sideways glance as they walk up the lane.

“I was just thinking about how time has changed this house, this land, even… me. I used to feel so differently about this place, it was desolate and scary and sad. Now the orchard is growing and bearing fruit, the house is all fixed up. I’m just happy to see Meadow Lane filled with light and music and art,” she says, giving her mom a smile.

As they approach the front of the house Magpie sees a beautiful hand-painted sign that reads “The Lark & Bell Artist’s Retreat”. Beneath the sign, a tall slim man dressed all in black sits next to a bright-eyed woman, her wild hair piled on top of her head looking like it could spill out of its confines at any moment. The man greets them with a polite nod as the woman next to him stands up, a brilliant smile on her face.

“Magpie, I’d like you to meet our guests, Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby.”

“Please, call me Mandalina,” says the woman, her voice hypnotically inviting, as she stretches her hand over the railing, “and this is my husband, Rowan.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” says Magpie, shaking her hand and nodding back at the man who in turn cracks a warm smile. Magpie suddenly feels happier and more carefree than she has since her arrival in Pocket.

“Rowan is an author, and Mandalina is a musician,” says Mrs. Phaeton, as they make their way up the steps. She turns to the couple, “My daughter Magpie is visiting from overseas, she’s very excited to see the changes made to the house since she left a few years ago,” she explains.

“Well, I don’t know what it was like before, but it’s a beautiful, and very inspiring place now!” says Mandalina, her hands waving expressively, “and Daniella is an exceptional host,” she adds, smiling at Mrs. Phaeton.

Magpie steps into the house, and it takes her breath away. She has a flashback of walking through the main floor the day she came looking for the Skylark Bell, at the time it was gray, broken, and completely silent. Now the walls have been painted a soft blue, each one decorated with various pieces of art and photographs. The kitchen is a bright open space, with modern appliances, and cupboards painted a soft yellow. Magpie notices her mother has kept the original dining room table, where a multitude of candles burn brightly as soft music plays from the stereo in the living room. 

Magpie walks quietly across the room to the fireplace and looks at her face in the mirror hanging above the mantel. She remembers looking into this very mirror that first day. She had said something out loud; the sound being swallowed by the oppressive, inexplicable silence. She remembers thinking, “this is how ghosts must feel”. Magpie shudders at the memory and leans in to take a closer look at her reflection. She suddenly feels the familiar tingle of a vision coming to her. “Not now,” she whispers to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opens her eyes again, she is confronted with a very different reality in the reflection of the room behind her. She sees the house at Meadow Lane as it was when she first entered it, and she sees herself, timidly walking through the door and taking a few steps into the house. She watches as her younger self feels clumsily for a non-existent light switch, then walks through the main floor, crouching down to look at the broken dishes in the cabinet in the dining room, then walking toward the fireplace. As her younger self steps to the mirror, they find themselves face to face. Magpie stands there, frozen, staring into the eyes of her younger self. The girl in the mirror says “Well, I guess it’s time to head upstairs!” then gets a strange look on her face as she realizes her words have made no sound. 

“Magpie, did you say something about going upstairs?” Mrs. Phaeton’s voice cuts through the vision, startling Magpie. She turns to look at her mother, then turns back to the mirror, but the image of her younger self is gone. How did her mother hear an echo of her voice from several years ago?

“Um, yes, do you mind if I take a look at what you’ve done upstairs?” she asks, grateful for a reason to step away from the mirror.

“Of course not, let’s go up!” says her mom, walking up the stairway. “Rowan and Mandalina are staying in the primary bedroom, but we can go in the other two.”

“Actually, I just want to take a look at Farfalla’s old room,” says Magpie, walking toward the door at the end of the hall. She sees the swallow is still carved into the door and smiles, “I’m glad you kept this mom, it belongs here.” Mrs. Phaeton wraps her arm around Magpie’s shoulders. Magpie leans her head against her mom, feeling the warmth and love emanating from her. She takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

Inside, the room is bright. A four-poster bed takes up most of the space, sheer white fabric draped across the top. A new rug is laid out over the secret floorboard under which Magpie had found the Skylark Bell. The only original items in the room are the small vanity still sitting in the corner and, of course, the bell, still hanging on its ornate hook in the window. Magpie smiles, watching as it swings gently in the breeze, the lark steadfastly clutching a blackberry in its beak. Magpie feels a sense of peace she hasn’t felt since Lucas disappeared. “Everything is perfect,” she says, turning toward her mother, and they head back downstairs for dinner.

“This was absolutely delicious, how very kind of you to cook for us,” says Rowan Barnaby, setting his knife and fork together politely on his empty plate. Magpie is charmed by his wild hair and proper English accent. 

“Your name sounds familiar, I think I read one of your books a few years ago, on the train through Scotland,” says Magpie conversationally, placing a slice of pie on each of their plates. “It was the one about the boy and the ocean, I quite enjoyed it!”

“Oh, be careful about complimenting him too much, his ego won’t fit through the door and we’ll never be able to leave,” laughs Mandalina.

“Well, that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing,” replies her husband, the twinkle in his eye indicating he and his wife engage in this type of banter regularly.

“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t mind one bit if you two stayed here forever!” says Mrs. Phaeton.

“If we didn’t have our son to go home to, we might consider it,” replies Mandalina, warmly.

They wrap up dinner and take the dishes to the kitchen. Magpie starts pulling up her sleeves in preparation for dishwashing, but Mandalina lays a gentle hand on her arm to stop her. “We have a system in place,” says Rowan, coming between Magpie and the sink full of dirty dishes, “Danielle does the cooking, and we do the washing up.” 

“We should be going anyway, I want to show Magpie the gallery before it gets too dark,” says Mrs. Phaeton. They say their goodbyes to the Barnabys and step out the back door. 

“I expanded the shed that was back here, and turned it into a gallery for local artists,” she says, pointing at the shed, now painted a dusky turquoise with a quaint sign that reads “Gallery in the Meadow” next to the door. “We can come back in the morning and I’ll show you inside,” she adds, as she and Magpie slowly make their way back toward the front of the house.

Magpie breathes in the cool evening air. As the wind picks up, she hears the sound of the Skylark Bell drifting down from Farfalla’s bedroom window. Its hypnotic ring wraps around her, covering her like a blanket, and Magpie closes her eyes, giving in to its magic. The wind fades, taking the sound of the bell with it, and the spell is broken. Magpie shudders as Lucas’ first words to her suddenly echo in her mind, “I wouldn’t go there if I were you…”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 25, A Fete and a Feather, where Lucas joins Farfalla for a memorable celebration at Meadow Lane.

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, creator of The Skylark Bell Podcast.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 23, The Birthday Bell

Fri, 24 Jun 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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. 

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 22, Goodbye Gemma

Fri, 17 Jun 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.  

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 21, Moving Forward Looking Back

Fri, 10 Jun 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 21 – Moving Forward, Looking Back - in which Magpie and Lucas come to terms with their respective situations.

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

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

In our previous episode, Magpie and Lucas exist in parallel timelines, where Magpie struggles to accept Lucas’ disappearance, and Lucas tries to wrap his brain around being in 1920’s Pocket.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 21 – Moving Forward, Looking Back - in which Magpie and Lucas come to terms with their respective situations.

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

“It must be strange to find yourself in this tiny village after living the big city life in Paris!” says Magpie, expertly placing a warm slice of apple pie on Julien’s plate.

“I love it here,” he answers, his tone so earnest and genuine Magpie has no doubt he is telling the truth. “It is my home, where I grew up. I know the fields, the cliffside, the ocean… I know the villagers are … quel est le mot… ah oui… quirky!” he laughs, exchanging a knowing look with Magpie. Though the people of the village have warmed up to her to some degree, she still feels a bit like an outsider. “And you,” he says, “how are you feeling here now? I was told you were only supposed to stay for one year, but now you are staying indefinitely?” he asks.

Magpie squirms… she hasn’t talked to him about Lucas, only to say that he left suddenly and that she will stay on at Carnifex House on her own. “Yes, I decided I really love the ocean and the beach, and yes, the people here can be… quirky, as you say,” at this she winks at him, “but I genuinely love it here, it feels like home.” She says, meaning every word, but leaving out the fact that she feels like she can’t leave, not without knowing what happened to Lucas.

“This has been the most unusual and wonderful dinner I’ve ever had!” says Julien, placing his dessert fork on his empty plate.

“I haven’t laughed this hard in ages!” says Magpie, smiling at him and admiring the way an adorable dimple forms on his right cheek when he smiles. At first Magpie fought the feelings that were stirred when she was around Julien, but now she is starting to embrace them. She has let go of the guilt she felt in the beginning, when it felt like she was betraying Lucas. She is a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and after a year of confusion and grieving, it is time to embrace laughter and happiness again. She gets up to gather their plates and bring them to the kitchen. 

Julien follows her with their empty drinking glasses and the leftover pie. “Next time it will be my turn to cook for you! All the French classics like frog legs and goose liver, oui?” he says, winking at her.

“You’re not going to fool me this time!” she laughs. “But all kidding aside, I would love to do this again, I’ve had a really great time.”

Julien nods at her. “Me too,” he says. “Well, it’s getting late, perhaps I can help you clean up before I go home?” he offers.

“Absolutely not, you are my esteemed guest.” She replies in the most stubborn forceful voice she can muster.

“Okay, okay!” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I will see you tomorrow then?” he asks as they are walking to the door.

“Yes, looking forward to it. Bonne Nuit, Julien,” she says as he steps out into the night.

“Bonne Nuit,” he replies softly, then turns and walks toward the caretaker’s cottage. Magpie watches as he disappears into the fog, then closes the door and leans against it, closing her eyes and smiling. Her smile fades as thoughts of Lucas re-enter her mind… Where is he? What could possibly have caused him to leave her like this? When is it okay to move on? Magpie heaves a sigh and starts turning off the lights. It is time for bed, hopefully the night will bring her peace.

~~~~~~

Lucas is so focused on the lights at Meadow Lane up ahead, that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a soft voice say “Hello!” from above his head. He tugs on the reins and Cormorant comes to a stop. Lucas looks up and his breath catches in his throat…. Sitting up on a tree branch, a bright red apple in her hand, is Magpie.

“Magpie!” he says, breathless.

“There are no Magpies around here,” says the young lady, hopping down from the tree. Lucas hops off Cormorant’s back and the pair stand face to face. “My name is Farfalla,” she says, “and I’m guessing you must be Marius?”

Lucas stands in stunned silence for a moment. The resemblance to Magpie is beyond uncanny. He nods quietly then clears his throat before sticking his hand out toward her “Yes, Marius… Marius Corbeau,” he says awkwardly. 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.” Lucas is surprised by how quickly he starts to feel at ease with her. There’s something about her that makes him feel instantly connected, and, though still cautious to protect his true identity, he opens up to her in a way he hasn’t opened up with anyone else since his arrival. They amble through the apple orchard, talking about everything and nothing. By the time they’ve settled Cormorant into a spare stall in the barn and reached the front door of the house, it is like they are old friends.

“Welcome dear boy!” says Mr. Shearwater as Lucas and Farfalla enter the dining room. “Pull up a chair!” he adds, gesturing toward an empty chair. Lucas takes his seat, directly across from Farfalla.

“Mrs. Shearwater, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for me!” says Lucas, amazed at the spread before him. 

“Oh, mama loves to cook, don’t you mama?” says Paloma, winking at Lucas.

“Indeed, I do, and it’s a grand occasion to have a special guest and both my girls home for the summer” says Mrs. Shearwater. 

“So, Marius, tell us more about yourself!” says Mr. Shearwater.

Lucas hears his made-up story spill from his lips almost like someone else is talking. He has told it so many times over the past year it comes out seamlessly. Finally, the conversation shifts to other things; the weather, town gossip, the new post office being built… With the pressure off him, Lucas starts to genuinely enjoy himself. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in a very long time. Across the table, Farfalla glances at him, smiling, and he feels a flutter deep inside that he hasn’t felt since he last saw Magpie. An entire year has gone by, and he hasn’t found a way to go home… he’s starting to doubt he ever will. Perhaps it is time to consider moving on…

“Thank you for everything, I had a wonderful time!” he says to Mr. and Mrs. Shearwater as he reaches for the door. 

“I’ll walk you to the barn,” says Farfalla, following him out into the night.

“You have a lovely family” he says to her as she opens the barn door to let them in.

“Yes, I’m very fortunate.” She replies. “My dream, someday, is to have such a family of my own.” She catches herself then, and blushes profusely.

Lucas smiles at her “That’s a very admirable dream to have.” He says, putting her at ease. “Perhaps tomorrow we could go for a ride?” he suggests, leading Cormorant out of his stall.

“That sounds wonderful,” she says. “Goodnight Marius,” she adds as they part ways.

“Goodnight Farfalla,” her replies over his shoulder as he leads Cormorant down Meadow Lane.

As he turns onto the road he looks up at the moon and thinks of Magpie, a pang of guilt wiping the smile off his face. He tries to reconcile his burgeoning feelings for Farfalla with the feelings he has for Magpie. Pulling up to the Starling barn he settles Cormorant into his stall before heading back to the Carnifex’s house and up to his room. It’s time for bed, hopefully the night will bring him peace.

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 22, Goodbye Gemma, where Magpie flies back to Pocket to visit her mother and attend a memorial for someone very special.

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.

Thank you, once again, for listening. I'm Melissa Oliveri and this is The Skylark Bell.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 20, Moonlight

Fri, 03 Jun 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 19, One Step Forward One Century Back

Fri, 27 May 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 18, The Vanishings

Fri, 20 May 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

Wingspan - Chapter 17, Le Corbeau

Fri, 13 May 2022 05:00:00 +0000

In today’s episode we read Chapter 17 – Le Corbeau - in which Lucas has a strange dream, and wakes up to an even stranger reality.

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

Haunted Housewives (podcast): https://www.instagram.com/haunted.housewives.podcast

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions presents: Episode 17 of The Skylark Bell, Wingspan. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.  

In our previous episode, Magpie, worried about Lucas and Cormorant, enlisted help from Manon, who informed her this wasn’t the first time someone had inexplicable vanished from Carnifex House.

In today’s episode we read Chapter 17 – Le Corbeau - in which Lucas has a strange dream, and wakes up to even stranger circumstances.

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

Lucas blinks. Magpie is standing in front of him, smiling. She is dressed in a beautiful white lace wedding gown, her fiery red hair held up in a fancy twist using pins adorned with blue flowers. Lucas turns to take in his surroundings, they are standing on the small patio behind Carnifex House. He sees rows of empty white chairs, each adorned with a large blue satin bow. This must be his wedding day! But why are all the chairs empty? Where is everyone? Lucas sees blurry figures in the distance, perhaps Manon and Alfred? And is that Mrs. Phaeton next to them? For some reason everyone but Magpie is a blur on the outskirts of his field of vision. Suddenly he notices the smell of burning sage all around. He turns to look but can’t find the source of the smell. 

He senses movement next to his arm and turns to see a woman standing on a small riser in front of he and Magpie. Lucas feels relieved, she must be officiating the wedding. Lucas smiles at her and looks back at Magpie, whose eyes are still fixed on him, dreamily. Lucas can feel himself getting lost in that gaze when suddenly, he hears a sound above their heads. 

He looks up, and realizes they are standing under an arch made of branches, twigs, and vines. The arch is painted silver and is wrapped in cobalt blue velvet ribbon through which small wildflowers are threaded. Hanging from the tallest point of the arch is a row of silver bells, each engraved with a spiral of birds flying around the outside. Lucas gasps. He and Magpie are standing under a collection of replicas of the Skylark Bell. Lucas begins to feel uneasy. Something about his surroundings just isn’t right. 

The bells start blowing gently in the breeze, their delicate tinkling filling the air and wrapping around Lucas until he feels like he’s suffocating. He looks back at Magpie, but she is still standing in the same position, with the same smile on her face, as if frozen in time. Lucas’ brow furrows. “Magpie?” he says, waving a hand in front of her face. Magpie’s unseeing eyes don’t even flinch, and the pasted-on smile remains fixed on her immobile face.

Feeling a mounting sense of panic, Lucas looks to the woman standing in front of them. “Marry us, please!” he says to her. She looks at him, silent, her mouth forming into a twisted smile. 

On the wind, Lucas can hear a voice asking, “What is your name?” He looks around but doesn’t see anyone other than the blurry figures in the distance. 

“Marry us! Marry us!” he says to the woman, desperation creeping into this voice. On the wind he can hear the voice echo, “Marry us! Marry us! Marry us…!” Lucas looks around trying to find the source of the voice, but there is no one nearby except Magpie and this strange woman, and both are completely silent.

Again, he hears the voice on the wind, “What is your name?” Lucas looks around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound.

Out of nowhere, a large crow lands on the ground nearby. Lucas turns quickly, startled at the sudden movement. The crow tilts its head to one side, fixing Lucas with a single beady eye. Lucas stares back, horrified. The crow weaves its head from side to side, almost like it is mocking him. The entire episode is so bizarre Lucas has half a mind to turn and run… but he can’t leave Magpie. 

Lucas turns back to the woman, who is now focused on the crow. It’s like they are communicating, somehow. He looks back and forth from the woman to the crow, trying to decipher the unspoken dialogue between the two. Suddenly, the woman turns her attention back to Lucas, her icy gaze fixated on him. There’s something about the way she is looking at him. “You know me…” the thought enters his mind as if placed there by someone else against his will. There is something familiar about the woman, other than the fact that she and Magpie look similar.

Lucas shakes his head, breaking the spell. All that matters to him is Magpie. He feels an inexplicable urgency to get their wedding underway, and looks back at the woman imploringly, “Marry us! Please, just Marry us!” he says. 

“Marry us! Marry us! Marry us…” echoes the wind. 

Lucas looks up at the sky. A cloud is slowly covering the sun, casting a gray light over the patio and the field beyond.

“Magpie!” he says, clapping his hands near her face, “Magpie, wake up! It’s our wedding day, this woman is going to marry us!”

“Marius, Marius, Marius…” the words echo on the wind.

“Magpie, please, I love you!” he says desperately, leaning in close.

At this, the crow caws loudly, causing Lucas to turn around. “Corbeau!” he says, pointing at the large bird, its black feathers glistening in the sun. “Corbeau!” he repeats, remembering the word Manon taught him as they were walking through the fields. “Corbeau!” he says once more, in an accusatory tone, wielding the word like a weapon against the intruder. The bird spreads its wings and lifts off into the sky.

“Corbeau, Corbeau, Corbeau…” echoes the wind.

Lucas turns back to the woman. Her smile has vanished. Instead, she is staring at Lucas, her eyes somehow even colder than before. Slowly, the woman turns her head to look at Magpie. Lucas feels a shudder run through his entire body as he hears a strange song carried on the wind. The tune is hauntingly familiar, It crescendos with every passing second, to the point where Lucas covers his ears with his hands. He can feel the sound swirl around him, squeezing the air out of his body. He falls to the ground curled up in a tight ball. Just at the point where he feels like his mind can’t take anymore, everything goes quiet and fades to black.

Lucas catches his breath for a moment, then slowly opens his eyes. He is in a room that feels vaguely familiar, sunlight filtering through the sheer white curtains that are billowing in a warm breeze. 

“Ah there he is, you gave us quite a scare, my friend!” says a deep, but friendly voice nearby.  Lucas turns and tries to focus his eyes on the man, but his vision is still blurry. “My name is Edward, and this is my wife, Charlotte.” He pauses briefly to give Lucas a moment to assimilate the information.

Lucas takes a breath as his vision comes into focus. A broad-shouldered, blonde-haired man is sitting in a small wooden chair next to the bed. Behind him stands a woman with dark hair and a pleasant, gentle face. 

The woman leans forward, laying a soft hand on Lucas’ shoulder before speaking words that send a jolt through Lucas’ entire body. “It seems you were having a troubling dream, you did quite a bit of speaking in your sleep, Mr. Corbeau …or shall we call you Marius?”

Thank you so much for listening.  Join me next week for Wingspan chapter 18, The Vanishings, where Manon elaborates on past instances of people disappearing from Carnifex House.

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 via a donation through your podcast platform, or by subscribing to Patreon where you get early access to episodes and so much more! Just check the show notes for all necessary links.

Before I go, I’d like to share this reel for a podcast I quite enjoy called Haunted Housewives. Carli and Tara are fantastic hosts who discuss Paranormal Events. If you enjoy the supernatural atmosphere of The Skylark Bell you’ll want to check them out.

Thank you

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

---

A Skylark Special - The Other Rachel

Fri, 06 May 2022 05:00:00 +0000

**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.

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Wingspan - Chapter 16, Nightfall

Fri, 29 Apr 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

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Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

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Wingspan - Chapter 15, Gateway

Fri, 22 Apr 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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Wingspan - Chapter 14, Swan Dive

Fri, 15 Apr 2022 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/theskylarkbell/exclusive-content

Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

Privacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Direct MP3 link

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