The Skylark Bell

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

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

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

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

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

Melissa on Instagram: @the.mop.pod

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you

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

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

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

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

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

The Skylark Bell on Instagram: @theskylarkbell

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

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

Melissa on Instagram: @the.mop.pod

Melissa on Twitter: @melissaoliveri

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

Cannelle on Instagram: @cannelle.music

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and the moonlight parade continued…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Q – What took so long to share the book?

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

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

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

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

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

Q – Are all the Fantôme Friday episodes true stories?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriFULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

Now, let’s get started…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.