December 22, 2022 • 26 mins
A prayer for the return of the Sun; a haunted treehouse; a talisman forgotten and remembered. Featuring the voices of Malcolm McDowell, Gina Rickicki, and Parris Sarter. Written by Dani Herd.
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three D
audio and grimm and mild from Aaron Manky Headphones. Recommended
listener discretion advised. Freeze freeze thou, bitter sky that does
(00:26):
not bite so nigh as benefits forgot though thou the
waters swarp thy sting is not so sharp as friend remembered,
not y. I tend to turn my thoughts often to
(01:04):
the evergreen. You know, as far back as ancient Egypt,
people brought them into their homes at the time of
the solstice palm rushes to celebrate the return of the
sun God. They did the same much further north, where
at times it must have seemed that the sun would
never return at all. I knew those winters, hope, springs eternal, yes,
(01:30):
and thank the gods for that. But we always knew
that the spring would arrive again. Was part of a cycle?
Does the cycle continue here? In these woods in the bard?
Is their spring? Beyond this? I suppose I will have
(01:51):
to wait for an answer. Hello. I don't suppose I
could come in. It's cold out here. Please dear, come in. Hello,
(02:14):
I'm Ruby, I'm Annabelle. Where did you come from? That's
the question of the evening, would you like to sit
maybe warm up a bit? Sure, you know, Joanie didn't
mention this place, maybe she didn't make it out this far.
I didn't really expect anything beyond the treehouse. Honestly, I
(02:40):
was pretty committed to staying there. The tree house. Guess
it's been there since we were very little. Do tell
the treehouse looks the same. I mean it looks like
a treehouse, sturdy within the branches of the biggest oak
in the backyard. There's a rope ladder that will take
(03:03):
you to a wooden floor, little wooden walls, and a
pointy little roof. The last thing Joanie and I really
liked at the same time with witchcraft. The inside of
the tree house still has an old blanket draped casually
over an old bookshelf, concealing our collection of magic books
(03:23):
secretly thrifted over the years. One of Mom's oceanelle gifts
at boxes sits in the corner containing all the items
of our mateshief Altar as the classic black Sheep twin.
I always liked weird, spooky stuff. Joanie came to witchcraft
by way of an affection for nature and a soft
(03:45):
spot for the power of friendship. Somewhere along the way,
we decided our being twins gave us special access to
magic power times too. I used to insist laying my
back in the tree house, comforted by the frog song
in the air love times to Ruby. Joni would correct,
(04:09):
knowing it would get her as sisterly grown. That was
Janie's whole thing. The spells and stuff we tried were
never going to work without love. I loved Joanie. We
made our big entrance into the world together, and yeah,
she drove me absolutely crazy, but I always figured we'll
(04:30):
make our exit together too, And I know Jonie felt
that way the absolute sap. She never wanted to do cool,
scary spells, nothing that would hurt anybody. Joanie was big
on like imbuing our spirits into whatever she could find,
because then we always have a link to each other. Ruby,
(04:54):
if you miss me, you can just rub this stone
in your pocket and I'll feel it and I'll come
get okay. I called her Sunshine in a gruff, mean
sort of way, but she always grinned about it because
she knew I meant it. Being twins isn't being copies
of one another, it's having another person to pick up
(05:16):
what you can't, to be what you lack. Johnny always
shone bright enough for the both of us. So the
stupid treehouse looks the same. But I can feel it
when I look out the window. There are phantom splinters
in my palm. My fingers itch like they're afraid to
(05:39):
slip against wet rope. My tongue braces itself for the
tartness of berries. My cheek feels warm, as if I'm
basking on sun soaked wood in the summertime. It's not summertime.
It's December, and my cheeks not be warm. Mom catches
(06:03):
me looking out the window, and she squeezes my hand gently.
It's the nicest way a hand has ever been squeezed
in the history of hand squeezing, and it makes me
want to rip my hand off. Joanie died in January,
which frankly, was a real dick move on her part.
(06:24):
I walk around Mom and Dad's house, which was once
our house, and I feel like a third wheel to
their grief. I turned the corner to fetch another box
of Christmas lights for Dad, and I find Mom crying,
and I don't know how to help. I don't know
how to reach out, because what I want to say
(06:45):
is I wish it had been me. I'm sorry. I
don't wish for it in a tangible, violent way that
I can name. Just my whole life. I felt like
I was doing the wrong thing. No matter what I
felt like, I didn't know how to connect. I felt
sort of nightmare floaty for so long, and I can't
(07:06):
catch on to anything. And the only person who made
me feel okay, the only person who would hear me
out and really listen, well, you know, Mom, Dad, and
I eat dinner and do the dishes and don't know
(07:26):
what to talk about. And my eyes are practically burning
inside my skull from how hard I'm trying to avoid
the siren song of the treehouse. Mom fixed up the
guest room for me. I get it. I get it,
and I hate it. I toss and turn on top
of sheets that don't mean anything to anyone. No one
(07:50):
picked these out because they liked them enough to sleep
on them on purpose, the fucking guest sheets, and I
hate them. I hate these sheets. I hate this room,
I hate this house. I hate that I can still
somehow see that bullshit treehouse even with my eyes closed,
I still can see it. As I pad out into
(08:14):
the hallway, I see a soft light spilling from my
old room. Mom can't help it. She goes in there
most days to tidy up. She rearranges stuffed animals that
haven't been held in years. She cannot bear to turn
the light out or close the door behind her. There's
(08:34):
always just a little wedge of light cascading onto the
hallway rug. A shiver recks my spine. It feels like
a gnarled branch scratching down my skin. It wants me
to go into our room. I do my best to
push the door open as casually as possible, and fuck,
(09:00):
it's like stepping out of a time machine. Mom has
kept it like a museum exhibit. Every photo and ticket
and scrap of paper we ever tacked into the walls,
every book and color pencil and hairbrush. And another shiver
zips up my spine. As my eyes land on the
(09:21):
dresser for a moment, I feel creaking boards beneath my
feet instead of freshly vacuum carpet. The scent of clothes
is in my nose, and I remember the time Johnie
and I fucked up our attempt to create aromatherapy bath salts.
Corn starch and corn syrup are not the same thing.
Pro tip. I approached the dresser and my hands feel
(09:46):
like they're traveling across a Wuiji board. I haven't been
here for years, even before Johnnie died. I have not
cataloged the notes and drinkets scattered across the surface of
the dress, Sir, I have not memorized the necklaces hanging
from the mirror. My hand lands on a little jeweled
(10:08):
pineapple dangling from a gold chain. The thing about the
pineapple necklace, Joanie thought it was funny. We were in
some dumb store together wasting time, and Joanie got into
her head we needed friendship necklaces. We're twins, not friends.
I scowled. H Jonie paid my surliness no mind scanning
(10:34):
a display of cheap necklaces. Hey, what's your favorite fruit? What?
I like pineapple best, Joni said, dragging the pineapple necklace free.
What about you? And that was Jonie's power, her constant
subtext to me of Hey, I know it's bad and
(10:57):
you're scared, but do you want to talk about fruit
for a little while. It doesn't always have to be
so big. Ruby tell me about fruit pear, I grumbled.
Joanie took down a necklace with a hideous pear pinned it.
She looped it around her neck as she passed me
the pineapple one. There she smiled, friendship twin fruit necklaces.
(11:29):
I put the necklace in the pocket of my pajama
bottoms just as I feel another fantom branch scratched me.
The message seems pretty loud and clear by now. I
leave the lights on and the door cracked, and I
go outside. My bare feet sink a little into the
(11:54):
damp earth, and I feel blades of grass spring up
between my toes. I crossed the back yard until I'm
standing at the tree house ladder. Even though I can
see my breath in front of me in the winter air,
I also see wild flowers dotting the base of the tree.
(12:18):
I am certain those are the wild flowers Johnie and
I once scattered planet on May Day. All right, so
the beckoning of the old tree house fandom wild flowers.
In the middle of December, I climbed the ladder, hope
and fear taking up equal space inside of me. When
(12:41):
I reached the top, I don't even flinch at the
sight before me, Hey, Sunshine from the farthest corner, sitting
cross leg and glowing faintly. Joanie looks up at me
and Okay, that doesn't make my breath catch in my throat.
(13:04):
It's one thing to find the ghost of your sister
quietly haunting your childhood treehouse, and it's another to get
the full force of her eyes on you for the
first time since you last saw her alive, and then
she says, fuck you, I can't be Sunshine anymore. I'm
(13:25):
scary now. I appraised Janie's ghostly attire. I guess you
really do have to float around for all eternity and
whatever you kick the bucket in because Joanie is wearing
shorts that I have to assume our khaki. The color
scheme is off when you're translucent flip flops and an
(13:46):
old soft T shirt featuring a smiling cartoon flamingo. I
know the shirt is blue and the flamingo is pink. Yeah,
you're terrifying, Janie Huff, spreading her ghostly legs out in
front of her. Have you been up here the whole time? Yes,
(14:09):
Jonny cries, throwing her arms up in frustration. I've been
trying to get your attention. Well, I'm sorry I didn't
know all the paranormal signs to watch out for. Joannie
cocks her head to one side, looking at me with
so much incredulous annoyance. I can't help it. I start
(14:30):
to laugh. Joony jumps up onto her ghost feet. Fuck you,
I am so scary. But she's laughing too. She's laughing,
and damn her, even ghostly pallor looks good on her.
Is this an unfinished business thing? I don't know, Jonnie size,
(14:56):
what do you I swallow? What do you want? I
am fixed with Joanie's eyes, our eyes, and they are
suddenly as bright and beautiful and furious as I have
ever seen anything. And this is the first time my
(15:19):
specter of a sister has frightened me. What do I want,
Joanie hisses. I want to go inside our house and
fix the ornaments on the tree. And I want to
turn the TV off because I bet Dad fell asleep
with it on again. And I want to ask Mom
(15:42):
if she saw that yellow dog on her walk this morning,
because she loves that dog. And Joanie isn't crying. I'm
not sure she can, but her voice sounds like it
has traveled up her throat through brambles when she says,
(16:02):
I want to leave the treehouse. I want to be alive.
Not a shiver this time, but something warm, something gentle.
Guides my hand to the weight in my pocket. Joanie's
eyes go wide as I slowly pulled free the pineapple necklace.
(16:28):
Where did you find that, Joanie asked? It was in
our room. Do you know where? Joanie drags the chain
of her pear necklace out from beneath her flamingo T shirt.
You were supposed to have yours on, too, she says, so,
(16:50):
so quietly, so we can find each other. I stopped
wanting you to find me. I confess why. I was
ashamed of not being as good as you. I was
ashamed of not being happy like you. Johnny looks at
(17:11):
me for a moment, without breaking eye contact. She lifts
the little pair to her lips and gives it a
soft kiss. I was never ashamed of you. We don't
talk for a while after that, as the night goes
(17:33):
on and begins to fade unto dawn. I have smelled
every important smell from mine and Janie's history, hot asphalt
and funnel cakes. In the middle of summer fresh eracers
and too sweet body spray we shared at the start
of the school year. Christmas time, pine trees and sugar
(18:01):
cookies and hope the sun is coming up, and I
know Dad is puttering around the kitchen, putting coffee on
and getting everything ready for pancakes. Joanie loves pancakes, Sunshine.
I have an idea. I didn't know ghosts could sniffle,
(18:25):
but that's sure the sound Joanie makes as she asked,
what is it the necklaces? What if we trade? Joanie's
eyes get wide? What look some of that old hocus
(18:47):
pocus work, didn't it? Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Otherwise
I wouldn't have found the necklace. I explained my theory,
feeling only a little stupid. I think we did. You
always said the necklaces carry our spirits. Our bodies are
more or less the same. Right, if we trade the necklaces,
(19:11):
we'll swap places. You can go have breakfast with Dad,
and Mom can tell you about the yellow dog, and
b Tony stops me. What about you? I smile at her,
and I'm not even sad. Joony. I'll haunt the treehouse
(19:34):
and maybe it'll work out. That you can still visit me,
and maybe it won't and I'll fucking move on or whatever.
But listen, it's okay. I'm okay. I take a breath.
Johnny doesn't try to cut me off again, even though
(19:56):
her eyes are shining with impossible tears. She was always
the one who listened to me. She won't judge me now,
I know. Come on, I whisper, it's Christmas. Let me
give you this. Joonie pulls the pair necklace off. For
(20:20):
a second, I see her as eleven year old Joanie,
clutching our first shared book of spills to her heart,
a scab on her knee, eyes big with excitement. Love
time's too, Jonie, I remind her it'll work. She laughs,
(20:44):
and this time I see her as the older Joanie
who almost didn't get to exist. Okay, Jonie says, reaching
out her hand to me. Okay, I agree, and I
slipped my hand into hers. The necklace is rocking against
(21:05):
one another. At first, it feels like nothing, and then
I've never melted before, but that's what I think. This
(21:26):
feels like everything on the edges of me goes soft
and wobbly, and I don't even feel scared. I feel
like an ice cream cone on on hot pavement, and
I feel like I'm finally giving my sister something good.
(21:50):
I blink my own ghostly eyes. Joanie is standing before me,
fleshy and taking in shop gulps of air. The flamingo
on her chest is definedly pink, clashing horribly with the
shining pineapple necklace. Joanie's voice is scratchy, holy smokes like
(22:13):
it doesn't remember how to exist. There is a lightness
and a weightlessness to me I have never known. I
do not know what exists for me outside of the treehouse,
but I am eager to explore in a way I
never have been. We're not all cut out for the
(22:35):
same stuff, and that's okay. Joanie stretches her arms overhead,
relishing the pop and crack of her joints. Go get breakfast,
I tell her, Gosh, I am hungry. She has the
audacity to waggle her eyebrows. It feels like I haven't
(22:58):
eaten in a year. Yeah, I laugh. I love you.
I love you too. As I watch Jonie climbed down
the ladder and crossed the backyard and fix her fingers
to the door handle, she shines bright enough for both
(23:22):
of us. How wonderful for you both. Well, I didn't
know I end up in a howling winter storm, so
it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. Yes, well, the bottle
(23:42):
can be a bit of a shock when you first arrived.
I'm glad all the same for your fire. I imagine too,
that you could use a rest. Was it obvious? I've
just grown accustomed to the rhythm of new arrivals. You
seem to be good at your job. Well, you're new
(24:06):
here too, Will you be staying? I haven't decided. Hannahbell
has been acclamating at her own pace. Now the ninth
door on the left, up the stairs, lovely, If anyone
comes looking for me, you'll show them the way, of course.
(24:28):
Good well, good night to both of you. I'll be
on my way. You know. I enjoy the company of
all who crossed my threshold. She was a sweet soul, yes,
(24:50):
a bright little light. How nice to bask in the
extra warmth. Twelve Ghosts starring Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper
(25:18):
and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle. Episode nine, Sturdy in the Branches,
written by Danny Hurd, with additional writing by Nicholas Takowski.
Editing by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez, featuring Paris Starter
as Ruby. Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original score and sound
design by Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey, Matt Frederick,
(25:41):
Alexander Williams and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Staine. Producers
Chris Child's and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling C
s A and Meg Mormon c s A. Production coordinator
Wayna Calderon. Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia, engineered
by Chris Gardner Arrows Sound and Recording in Ojai, California,
(26:05):
engineered by Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas Takowski.
That is a production of i Heeart three D Audio
and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more about
the show at Grim and Mild dot com and find
more podcasts from my heart Radio by visiting the i
heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to
your favorite shows.
Twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three D
audio and grimm and mild from Aaron Manky Headphones. Recommended
listener discretion advised. Freeze freeze thou, bitter sky that does
(00:26):
not bite so nigh as benefits forgot though thou the
waters swarp thy sting is not so sharp as friend remembered,
not y. I tend to turn my thoughts often to
(01:04):
the evergreen. You know, as far back as ancient Egypt,
people brought them into their homes at the time of
the solstice palm rushes to celebrate the return of the
sun God. They did the same much further north, where
at times it must have seemed that the sun would
never return at all. I knew those winters, hope, springs eternal, yes,
(01:30):
and thank the gods for that. But we always knew
that the spring would arrive again. Was part of a cycle?
Does the cycle continue here? In these woods in the bard?
Is their spring? Beyond this? I suppose I will have
(01:51):
to wait for an answer. Hello. I don't suppose I
could come in. It's cold out here. Please dear, come in. Hello,
(02:14):
I'm Ruby, I'm Annabelle. Where did you come from? That's
the question of the evening, would you like to sit
maybe warm up a bit? Sure, you know, Joanie didn't
mention this place, maybe she didn't make it out this far.
I didn't really expect anything beyond the treehouse. Honestly, I
(02:40):
was pretty committed to staying there. The tree house. Guess
it's been there since we were very little. Do tell
the treehouse looks the same. I mean it looks like
a treehouse, sturdy within the branches of the biggest oak
in the backyard. There's a rope ladder that will take
(03:03):
you to a wooden floor, little wooden walls, and a
pointy little roof. The last thing Joanie and I really
liked at the same time with witchcraft. The inside of
the tree house still has an old blanket draped casually
over an old bookshelf, concealing our collection of magic books
(03:23):
secretly thrifted over the years. One of Mom's oceanelle gifts
at boxes sits in the corner containing all the items
of our mateshief Altar as the classic black Sheep twin.
I always liked weird, spooky stuff. Joanie came to witchcraft
by way of an affection for nature and a soft
(03:45):
spot for the power of friendship. Somewhere along the way,
we decided our being twins gave us special access to
magic power times too. I used to insist laying my
back in the tree house, comforted by the frog song
in the air love times to Ruby. Joni would correct,
(04:09):
knowing it would get her as sisterly grown. That was
Janie's whole thing. The spells and stuff we tried were
never going to work without love. I loved Joanie. We
made our big entrance into the world together, and yeah,
she drove me absolutely crazy, but I always figured we'll
(04:30):
make our exit together too, And I know Jonie felt
that way the absolute sap. She never wanted to do cool,
scary spells, nothing that would hurt anybody. Joanie was big
on like imbuing our spirits into whatever she could find,
because then we always have a link to each other. Ruby,
(04:54):
if you miss me, you can just rub this stone
in your pocket and I'll feel it and I'll come
get okay. I called her Sunshine in a gruff, mean
sort of way, but she always grinned about it because
she knew I meant it. Being twins isn't being copies
of one another, it's having another person to pick up
(05:16):
what you can't, to be what you lack. Johnny always
shone bright enough for the both of us. So the
stupid treehouse looks the same. But I can feel it
when I look out the window. There are phantom splinters
in my palm. My fingers itch like they're afraid to
(05:39):
slip against wet rope. My tongue braces itself for the
tartness of berries. My cheek feels warm, as if I'm
basking on sun soaked wood in the summertime. It's not summertime.
It's December, and my cheeks not be warm. Mom catches
(06:03):
me looking out the window, and she squeezes my hand gently.
It's the nicest way a hand has ever been squeezed
in the history of hand squeezing, and it makes me
want to rip my hand off. Joanie died in January,
which frankly, was a real dick move on her part.
(06:24):
I walk around Mom and Dad's house, which was once
our house, and I feel like a third wheel to
their grief. I turned the corner to fetch another box
of Christmas lights for Dad, and I find Mom crying,
and I don't know how to help. I don't know
how to reach out, because what I want to say
(06:45):
is I wish it had been me. I'm sorry. I
don't wish for it in a tangible, violent way that
I can name. Just my whole life. I felt like
I was doing the wrong thing. No matter what I
felt like, I didn't know how to connect. I felt
sort of nightmare floaty for so long, and I can't
(07:06):
catch on to anything. And the only person who made
me feel okay, the only person who would hear me
out and really listen, well, you know, Mom, Dad, and
I eat dinner and do the dishes and don't know
(07:26):
what to talk about. And my eyes are practically burning
inside my skull from how hard I'm trying to avoid
the siren song of the treehouse. Mom fixed up the
guest room for me. I get it. I get it,
and I hate it. I toss and turn on top
of sheets that don't mean anything to anyone. No one
(07:50):
picked these out because they liked them enough to sleep
on them on purpose, the fucking guest sheets, and I
hate them. I hate these sheets. I hate this room,
I hate this house. I hate that I can still
somehow see that bullshit treehouse even with my eyes closed,
I still can see it. As I pad out into
(08:14):
the hallway, I see a soft light spilling from my
old room. Mom can't help it. She goes in there
most days to tidy up. She rearranges stuffed animals that
haven't been held in years. She cannot bear to turn
the light out or close the door behind her. There's
(08:34):
always just a little wedge of light cascading onto the
hallway rug. A shiver recks my spine. It feels like
a gnarled branch scratching down my skin. It wants me
to go into our room. I do my best to
push the door open as casually as possible, and fuck,
(09:00):
it's like stepping out of a time machine. Mom has
kept it like a museum exhibit. Every photo and ticket
and scrap of paper we ever tacked into the walls,
every book and color pencil and hairbrush. And another shiver
zips up my spine. As my eyes land on the
(09:21):
dresser for a moment, I feel creaking boards beneath my
feet instead of freshly vacuum carpet. The scent of clothes
is in my nose, and I remember the time Johnie
and I fucked up our attempt to create aromatherapy bath salts.
Corn starch and corn syrup are not the same thing.
Pro tip. I approached the dresser and my hands feel
(09:46):
like they're traveling across a Wuiji board. I haven't been
here for years, even before Johnnie died. I have not
cataloged the notes and drinkets scattered across the surface of
the dress, Sir, I have not memorized the necklaces hanging
from the mirror. My hand lands on a little jeweled
(10:08):
pineapple dangling from a gold chain. The thing about the
pineapple necklace, Joanie thought it was funny. We were in
some dumb store together wasting time, and Joanie got into
her head we needed friendship necklaces. We're twins, not friends.
I scowled. H Jonie paid my surliness no mind scanning
(10:34):
a display of cheap necklaces. Hey, what's your favorite fruit? What?
I like pineapple best, Joni said, dragging the pineapple necklace free.
What about you? And that was Jonie's power, her constant
subtext to me of Hey, I know it's bad and
(10:57):
you're scared, but do you want to talk about fruit
for a little while. It doesn't always have to be
so big. Ruby tell me about fruit pear, I grumbled.
Joanie took down a necklace with a hideous pear pinned it.
She looped it around her neck as she passed me
the pineapple one. There she smiled, friendship twin fruit necklaces.
(11:29):
I put the necklace in the pocket of my pajama
bottoms just as I feel another fantom branch scratched me.
The message seems pretty loud and clear by now. I
leave the lights on and the door cracked, and I
go outside. My bare feet sink a little into the
(11:54):
damp earth, and I feel blades of grass spring up
between my toes. I crossed the back yard until I'm
standing at the tree house ladder. Even though I can
see my breath in front of me in the winter air,
I also see wild flowers dotting the base of the tree.
(12:18):
I am certain those are the wild flowers Johnie and
I once scattered planet on May Day. All right, so
the beckoning of the old tree house fandom wild flowers.
In the middle of December, I climbed the ladder, hope
and fear taking up equal space inside of me. When
(12:41):
I reached the top, I don't even flinch at the
sight before me, Hey, Sunshine from the farthest corner, sitting
cross leg and glowing faintly. Joanie looks up at me
and Okay, that doesn't make my breath catch in my throat.
(13:04):
It's one thing to find the ghost of your sister
quietly haunting your childhood treehouse, and it's another to get
the full force of her eyes on you for the
first time since you last saw her alive, and then
she says, fuck you, I can't be Sunshine anymore. I'm
(13:25):
scary now. I appraised Janie's ghostly attire. I guess you
really do have to float around for all eternity and
whatever you kick the bucket in because Joanie is wearing
shorts that I have to assume our khaki. The color
scheme is off when you're translucent flip flops and an
(13:46):
old soft T shirt featuring a smiling cartoon flamingo. I
know the shirt is blue and the flamingo is pink. Yeah,
you're terrifying, Janie Huff, spreading her ghostly legs out in
front of her. Have you been up here the whole time? Yes,
(14:09):
Jonny cries, throwing her arms up in frustration. I've been
trying to get your attention. Well, I'm sorry I didn't
know all the paranormal signs to watch out for. Joannie
cocks her head to one side, looking at me with
so much incredulous annoyance. I can't help it. I start
(14:30):
to laugh. Joony jumps up onto her ghost feet. Fuck you,
I am so scary. But she's laughing too. She's laughing,
and damn her, even ghostly pallor looks good on her.
Is this an unfinished business thing? I don't know, Jonnie size,
(14:56):
what do you I swallow? What do you want? I
am fixed with Joanie's eyes, our eyes, and they are
suddenly as bright and beautiful and furious as I have
ever seen anything. And this is the first time my
(15:19):
specter of a sister has frightened me. What do I want,
Joanie hisses. I want to go inside our house and
fix the ornaments on the tree. And I want to
turn the TV off because I bet Dad fell asleep
with it on again. And I want to ask Mom
(15:42):
if she saw that yellow dog on her walk this morning,
because she loves that dog. And Joanie isn't crying. I'm
not sure she can, but her voice sounds like it
has traveled up her throat through brambles when she says,
(16:02):
I want to leave the treehouse. I want to be alive.
Not a shiver this time, but something warm, something gentle.
Guides my hand to the weight in my pocket. Joanie's
eyes go wide as I slowly pulled free the pineapple necklace.
(16:28):
Where did you find that, Joanie asked? It was in
our room. Do you know where? Joanie drags the chain
of her pear necklace out from beneath her flamingo T shirt.
You were supposed to have yours on, too, she says, so,
(16:50):
so quietly, so we can find each other. I stopped
wanting you to find me. I confess why. I was
ashamed of not being as good as you. I was
ashamed of not being happy like you. Johnny looks at
(17:11):
me for a moment, without breaking eye contact. She lifts
the little pair to her lips and gives it a
soft kiss. I was never ashamed of you. We don't
talk for a while after that, as the night goes
(17:33):
on and begins to fade unto dawn. I have smelled
every important smell from mine and Janie's history, hot asphalt
and funnel cakes. In the middle of summer fresh eracers
and too sweet body spray we shared at the start
of the school year. Christmas time, pine trees and sugar
(18:01):
cookies and hope the sun is coming up, and I
know Dad is puttering around the kitchen, putting coffee on
and getting everything ready for pancakes. Joanie loves pancakes, Sunshine.
I have an idea. I didn't know ghosts could sniffle,
(18:25):
but that's sure the sound Joanie makes as she asked,
what is it the necklaces? What if we trade? Joanie's
eyes get wide? What look some of that old hocus
(18:47):
pocus work, didn't it? Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Otherwise
I wouldn't have found the necklace. I explained my theory,
feeling only a little stupid. I think we did. You
always said the necklaces carry our spirits. Our bodies are
more or less the same. Right, if we trade the necklaces,
(19:11):
we'll swap places. You can go have breakfast with Dad,
and Mom can tell you about the yellow dog, and
b Tony stops me. What about you? I smile at her,
and I'm not even sad. Joony. I'll haunt the treehouse
(19:34):
and maybe it'll work out. That you can still visit me,
and maybe it won't and I'll fucking move on or whatever.
But listen, it's okay. I'm okay. I take a breath.
Johnny doesn't try to cut me off again, even though
(19:56):
her eyes are shining with impossible tears. She was always
the one who listened to me. She won't judge me now,
I know. Come on, I whisper, it's Christmas. Let me
give you this. Joonie pulls the pair necklace off. For
(20:20):
a second, I see her as eleven year old Joanie,
clutching our first shared book of spills to her heart,
a scab on her knee, eyes big with excitement. Love
time's too, Jonie, I remind her it'll work. She laughs,
(20:44):
and this time I see her as the older Joanie
who almost didn't get to exist. Okay, Jonie says, reaching
out her hand to me. Okay, I agree, and I
slipped my hand into hers. The necklace is rocking against
(21:05):
one another. At first, it feels like nothing, and then
I've never melted before, but that's what I think. This
(21:26):
feels like everything on the edges of me goes soft
and wobbly, and I don't even feel scared. I feel
like an ice cream cone on on hot pavement, and
I feel like I'm finally giving my sister something good.
(21:50):
I blink my own ghostly eyes. Joanie is standing before me,
fleshy and taking in shop gulps of air. The flamingo
on her chest is definedly pink, clashing horribly with the
shining pineapple necklace. Joanie's voice is scratchy, holy smokes like
(22:13):
it doesn't remember how to exist. There is a lightness
and a weightlessness to me I have never known. I
do not know what exists for me outside of the treehouse,
but I am eager to explore in a way I
never have been. We're not all cut out for the
(22:35):
same stuff, and that's okay. Joanie stretches her arms overhead,
relishing the pop and crack of her joints. Go get breakfast,
I tell her, Gosh, I am hungry. She has the
audacity to waggle her eyebrows. It feels like I haven't
(22:58):
eaten in a year. Yeah, I laugh. I love you.
I love you too. As I watch Jonie climbed down
the ladder and crossed the backyard and fix her fingers
to the door handle, she shines bright enough for both
(23:22):
of us. How wonderful for you both. Well, I didn't
know I end up in a howling winter storm, so
it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. Yes, well, the bottle
(23:42):
can be a bit of a shock when you first arrived.
I'm glad all the same for your fire. I imagine too,
that you could use a rest. Was it obvious? I've
just grown accustomed to the rhythm of new arrivals. You
seem to be good at your job. Well, you're new
(24:06):
here too, Will you be staying? I haven't decided. Hannahbell
has been acclamating at her own pace. Now the ninth
door on the left, up the stairs, lovely, If anyone
comes looking for me, you'll show them the way, of course.
(24:28):
Good well, good night to both of you. I'll be
on my way. You know. I enjoy the company of
all who crossed my threshold. She was a sweet soul, yes,
(24:50):
a bright little light. How nice to bask in the
extra warmth. Twelve Ghosts starring Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper
(25:18):
and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle. Episode nine, Sturdy in the Branches,
written by Danny Hurd, with additional writing by Nicholas Takowski.
Editing by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez, featuring Paris Starter
as Ruby. Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original score and sound
design by Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey, Matt Frederick,
(25:41):
Alexander Williams and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Staine. Producers
Chris Child's and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling C
s A and Meg Mormon c s A. Production coordinator
Wayna Calderon. Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia, engineered
by Chris Gardner Arrows Sound and Recording in Ojai, California,
(26:05):
engineered by Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas Takowski.
That is a production of i Heeart three D Audio
and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more about
the show at Grim and Mild dot com and find
more podcasts from my heart Radio by visiting the i
heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to
your favorite shows.
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