The Skylark Bell

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“OK. Can I go out?”

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

I slumped. I finished my algebra.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enough is enough, I guess.

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

Thank you so much for listening.  

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three premonitions about three sudden deaths.

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

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

Would I tell them? Should I tell them?

What would you do?

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I AM NOT FARFALLA”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest Magpie,

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

Before I go, there are things you must know…

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

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

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

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

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

 With love,

Farfalla

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

“Magpie, what is it?” Asks Lucas.  

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

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

Paloma,

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

I must rest now.  

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

Charlotte

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone nods in agreement.

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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