October 29, 2018 • 20 mins
Our story tonight is called "Halloween, in an Old House" and it’s a story about making friends with whoever you share your space with. It’s also about getting to be someone else for a bit and the contagious excitement of children on one of their favorite nights of the year.
So get cozy and ready to sleep.
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See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Welcome to bedtime stories for grown ups in which nothing
much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nikolay,
with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Our podcast is sponsored
(00:24):
by you, our listeners, through patreon dot com. If you
appreciate what we do and would like to become a
sponsor for as little as two dollars a month, visit
patreon dot com slash nothing Much Happens. Your support makes
it possible for us to produce more stories more frequently.
(00:47):
Thank you for listening and for sharing our stories with
anyone you know who likes relaxation and good sleep. You
can also follow us on Instagram and Facebook. Or an
extra bit of coziness, let me explain a bit about
how to use this podcast. Just like when you were
(01:09):
a child being tucked in for bed, you're about to
hear a story to send you off to dreamland. The
story is meant to be a soft landing place for
your mind, so that instead of circling through the same
thoughts you've been stuck in all day, you can rest
in a sweet, peaceful place. I'll tell our story twice,
(01:34):
and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
If you find yourself still awake at the end of
the first or second telling, don't worry. Take your mind
back to the beginning of the story and walk yourself
back through the details that you remember, especially any bit
(01:55):
that felt particularly cozy. You're training your brain and body
to wind down, and the more often you do it,
the faster you will fall asleep. So have a bit
of patience at the beginning, and if you find yourself
awake again later in the night, think back through the
story to go right back to sleep. Now it's time
(02:19):
to turn off the light and put away anything you've
been playing with or looking at. Take some time to
cozy your body down into your preferred sleeping position, get
the right pillow in the right spot, and let everything relax.
In time, all of this becomes a signal for your brain,
(02:43):
and that signal says it's time for sleep. Now, let's
take a deep breath in through the nose and then
a soft sigh out of the mouth. Good, do that
one more time, Breathe in and out. Our story tonight
(03:15):
is called Halloween in an Old House, and it's a
story about making friends with whoever you share your space with.
It's also about getting to be someone else for a bit,
and the contagious excitement of children on one of their
favorite nights of the year, Halloween in an old house.
(03:43):
Years ago, while traveling through Europe in my late teens,
I'd step down onto a train platform and been stopped
in my tracks by the thought that in that moment,
I could be anybody. None of the people spilling past
the trains around me knew anything about me. I could
(04:04):
reinvent myself if I liked, claim a different name, speak
with an accent, be brave about things I hadn't been
brave about before, or just try on a different kind
of life. Isn't that part of the appeal of Halloween?
A chance to try on something different, a mask, a costume,
(04:28):
and the leeway of the day, us allowing each other
a bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I
looked through my closet a few hours before the trick
or treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes.
I'd rather some old clothes creatively put together than something
(04:51):
from a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangars and
found a black overcoat that could be made to look
a bit like a witch's robe, I clucked my tongue.
Not a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
(05:14):
All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice face.
We were all young ones. On a hook Beside it
was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
(05:35):
and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
(05:55):
up at the ceiling above the attic. Didn't you really
have much to say? Once, maybe twice a day, there
was a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just
set their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
(06:18):
it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
book and call out me too, then lights out? Shall
we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
(06:39):
that old houses do. But honestly, that bump had always
felt like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you
know by sight but not by name. We nodded at
each other, then moved on with our days. And besides,
everyone has to live somewhere, So Queen of hearts, it
(07:01):
was then that was decided on. I took the dress
out to the landing, where a wide window looked down
to the street. I opened it and let the cool,
spicy Halloween night air in. I hung the dress from
the window sash to let it air out, and leaned
(07:22):
out a moment, elbows on the sill, to watch the street.
Neighbors were setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were
stepping off the bus, kicking through and falling into piles
of leaves, dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that
giddy thrill of being allowed to wear my costume to school,
(07:45):
and a whole school day lost to parties and parades
and candy. The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted,
and even at this distance it was contagious. I drummed
my fingers on the sill, then spun on my heel
and headed down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done.
(08:10):
I'd done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in
the background while I scooped out the seeds and cut
silly faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
and by the smell they were just about done. ID
coated them with olive oil and sea salt and black pepper,
and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
(08:31):
into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
spooned them into a bowl for snacking on. While I
handed out treats, I bustled around the house, lighting candles
and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
my pumpkins and set them out on the front steps,
amusing myself for a while, setting them up in different scenarios.
(08:55):
This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
I carried on for a bit. The light was changing
(09:15):
at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
lit the candles and the jack o' lanterns and rushed
back upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The
landing was properly chilly now, and I closed the window
and pulled my dress down from its spot. As I
(09:39):
turned to head back to my room, I stopped short.
The attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and
were resting on the landing floor. They were that old
sort of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the
ceiling to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I
(10:04):
took a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly, I
suppose if there were one night of the year when
you are allowed to act up a bit, it would
be Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement.
(10:25):
I edged around the steps and into my room, closing
the door behind me. As I got into my dress,
there was a lingering chill in my body, that was certain,
But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
my system a bit. I thought it must be even
(10:47):
more contagious than I'd realized. I settled my crown onto
my head and looped the silly heart necklace around my throat,
slipped my feet into some old red velvet slippers, and
heard the first call of trick or treat from the
front door. We'd better get down there, I called out,
(11:10):
Bump Halloween in an old house. Years ago, while traveling
through Europe in my late teens, I'd stepped down onto
a train platform and been stopped in my tracks by
(11:32):
the thought that in that moment, I could be anybody.
None of the people spilling past from the trains around
me knew anything about me. I could reinvent myself if
I liked, claim a different name, speak with an accent,
(11:57):
be brave about things I hadn't been brave about before,
or just try on a different kind of life. Isn't
that part of the appeal of Halloween? A chance to
try on something different, a mask, a costume, and the
(12:20):
leeway of the day, us allowing each other a little
bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I looked
through my closet a few hours before the trick or
treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes. I'd
(12:40):
rather some old clothes creatively put together than something from
a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangers and found
a black overcoat that could be made to look a
bit like a witch's robe. I clucked my tongue, not
(13:01):
a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice phase.
We were all young ones. On a hook beside it
(13:24):
was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
(13:45):
hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
up at the ceiling above The attic didn't usually have
(14:09):
much to say. Once, maybe twice a day, there was
a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just set
their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
(14:34):
I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
book and call out me too. Then lights out? Shall
we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
(14:55):
that old houses do. But honestly, that had always felt
like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you know
by sight but not by name. We nodded at each other,
then moved on with our days. And besides, everyone has
to live somewhere, so Queen of Hearts, it was then
(15:20):
that was decided on. I took the dress out to
the landing, where a wide window looked down to the street.
I opened it and let the cool, spicy Halloween night
air in. I hung the dress from the window sash
to let it air out, and leaned out a moment,
(15:42):
elbows on the sill, to watch the street. Neighbors were
setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were stepping off
the bus, kicking through and falling into piles of leaves.
Dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that giddy thrill
(16:04):
of being allowed to wear my costume to school, and
a whole school day lost to parties and parades and candy.
The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted, and even
at this distance it was contagious. I drummed my fingers
(16:27):
on the sill, then spun on my heel and headed
down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done. I'd
done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in the
background while I scooped out the seeds and cut silly
faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
(16:52):
and by the smell, they were just about done. I
coated them with olive oil and salt and black pepper,
and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
spooned them into a bowl for snacking on while I
handed out treats. I bustled around the house, lighting candles
(17:18):
and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
my pumpkins, set them up on my front steps, amusing
myself for a while. Setting them up in different scenarios.
This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
(17:44):
for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
I carried on for a bit. The light was changed
at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
(18:04):
few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
lit the candles in the jackal lanterns and rushed back
upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The landing
was properly chilly now, and I closed the window and
pulled my dress down from its spot. As I turned
(18:28):
to head back to my room, I stopped short. The
attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and were
resting on the landing floor. They were that old sort
of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the ceiling
(18:48):
to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I took
a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly. I suppose
if there were one night of the year when you
are allowed to act up a bit, it would be
(19:09):
Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement, I
edged around the steps and into my room, closing the
door behind me. As I got into my dress, there
was a lingering chill in my body. That was certain.
(19:33):
But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
my system just a bit ago, and thought that it
must be even more contagious than I'd realized. I settled
my crown onto my head and looped the silly heart
(19:55):
necklace around my throat, slipped my feet into some old
red velvet slippers, and heard the first call of trick
or treat from the front door. We'd better get down there,
I called out, Bump, Sweet dreams.
Welcome to bedtime stories for grown ups in which nothing
much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nikolay,
with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Our podcast is sponsored
(00:24):
by you, our listeners, through patreon dot com. If you
appreciate what we do and would like to become a
sponsor for as little as two dollars a month, visit
patreon dot com slash nothing Much Happens. Your support makes
it possible for us to produce more stories more frequently.
(00:47):
Thank you for listening and for sharing our stories with
anyone you know who likes relaxation and good sleep. You
can also follow us on Instagram and Facebook. Or an
extra bit of coziness, let me explain a bit about
how to use this podcast. Just like when you were
(01:09):
a child being tucked in for bed, you're about to
hear a story to send you off to dreamland. The
story is meant to be a soft landing place for
your mind, so that instead of circling through the same
thoughts you've been stuck in all day, you can rest
in a sweet, peaceful place. I'll tell our story twice,
(01:34):
and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
If you find yourself still awake at the end of
the first or second telling, don't worry. Take your mind
back to the beginning of the story and walk yourself
back through the details that you remember, especially any bit
(01:55):
that felt particularly cozy. You're training your brain and body
to wind down, and the more often you do it,
the faster you will fall asleep. So have a bit
of patience at the beginning, and if you find yourself
awake again later in the night, think back through the
story to go right back to sleep. Now it's time
(02:19):
to turn off the light and put away anything you've
been playing with or looking at. Take some time to
cozy your body down into your preferred sleeping position, get
the right pillow in the right spot, and let everything relax.
In time, all of this becomes a signal for your brain,
(02:43):
and that signal says it's time for sleep. Now, let's
take a deep breath in through the nose and then
a soft sigh out of the mouth. Good, do that
one more time, Breathe in and out. Our story tonight
(03:15):
is called Halloween in an Old House, and it's a
story about making friends with whoever you share your space with.
It's also about getting to be someone else for a bit,
and the contagious excitement of children on one of their
favorite nights of the year, Halloween in an old house.
(03:43):
Years ago, while traveling through Europe in my late teens,
I'd step down onto a train platform and been stopped
in my tracks by the thought that in that moment,
I could be anybody. None of the people spilling past
the trains around me knew anything about me. I could
(04:04):
reinvent myself if I liked, claim a different name, speak
with an accent, be brave about things I hadn't been
brave about before, or just try on a different kind
of life. Isn't that part of the appeal of Halloween?
A chance to try on something different, a mask, a costume,
(04:28):
and the leeway of the day, us allowing each other
a bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I
looked through my closet a few hours before the trick
or treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes.
I'd rather some old clothes creatively put together than something
(04:51):
from a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangars and
found a black overcoat that could be made to look
a bit like a witch's robe, I clucked my tongue.
Not a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
(05:14):
All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice face.
We were all young ones. On a hook Beside it
was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
(05:35):
and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
(05:55):
up at the ceiling above the attic. Didn't you really
have much to say? Once, maybe twice a day, there
was a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just
set their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
(06:18):
it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
book and call out me too, then lights out? Shall
we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
(06:39):
that old houses do. But honestly, that bump had always
felt like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you
know by sight but not by name. We nodded at
each other, then moved on with our days. And besides,
everyone has to live somewhere, So Queen of hearts, it
(07:01):
was then that was decided on. I took the dress
out to the landing, where a wide window looked down
to the street. I opened it and let the cool,
spicy Halloween night air in. I hung the dress from
the window sash to let it air out, and leaned
(07:22):
out a moment, elbows on the sill, to watch the street.
Neighbors were setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were
stepping off the bus, kicking through and falling into piles
of leaves, dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that
giddy thrill of being allowed to wear my costume to school,
(07:45):
and a whole school day lost to parties and parades
and candy. The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted,
and even at this distance it was contagious. I drummed
my fingers on the sill, then spun on my heel
and headed down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done.
(08:10):
I'd done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in
the background while I scooped out the seeds and cut
silly faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
and by the smell they were just about done. ID
coated them with olive oil and sea salt and black pepper,
and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
(08:31):
into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
spooned them into a bowl for snacking on. While I
handed out treats, I bustled around the house, lighting candles
and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
my pumpkins and set them out on the front steps,
amusing myself for a while, setting them up in different scenarios.
(08:55):
This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
I carried on for a bit. The light was changing
(09:15):
at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
lit the candles and the jack o' lanterns and rushed
back upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The
landing was properly chilly now, and I closed the window
and pulled my dress down from its spot. As I
(09:39):
turned to head back to my room, I stopped short.
The attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and
were resting on the landing floor. They were that old
sort of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the
ceiling to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I
(10:04):
took a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly, I
suppose if there were one night of the year when
you are allowed to act up a bit, it would
be Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement.
(10:25):
I edged around the steps and into my room, closing
the door behind me. As I got into my dress,
there was a lingering chill in my body, that was certain,
But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
my system a bit. I thought it must be even
(10:47):
more contagious than I'd realized. I settled my crown onto
my head and looped the silly heart necklace around my throat,
slipped my feet into some old red velvet slippers, and
heard the first call of trick or treat from the
front door. We'd better get down there, I called out,
(11:10):
Bump Halloween in an old house. Years ago, while traveling
through Europe in my late teens, I'd stepped down onto
a train platform and been stopped in my tracks by
(11:32):
the thought that in that moment, I could be anybody.
None of the people spilling past from the trains around
me knew anything about me. I could reinvent myself if
I liked, claim a different name, speak with an accent,
(11:57):
be brave about things I hadn't been brave about before,
or just try on a different kind of life. Isn't
that part of the appeal of Halloween? A chance to
try on something different, a mask, a costume, and the
(12:20):
leeway of the day, us allowing each other a little
bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I looked
through my closet a few hours before the trick or
treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes. I'd
(12:40):
rather some old clothes creatively put together than something from
a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangers and found
a black overcoat that could be made to look a
bit like a witch's robe. I clucked my tongue, not
(13:01):
a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice phase.
We were all young ones. On a hook beside it
(13:24):
was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
(13:45):
hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
up at the ceiling above The attic didn't usually have
(14:09):
much to say. Once, maybe twice a day, there was
a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just set
their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
(14:34):
I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
book and call out me too. Then lights out? Shall
we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
(14:55):
that old houses do. But honestly, that had always felt
like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you know
by sight but not by name. We nodded at each other,
then moved on with our days. And besides, everyone has
to live somewhere, so Queen of Hearts, it was then
(15:20):
that was decided on. I took the dress out to
the landing, where a wide window looked down to the street.
I opened it and let the cool, spicy Halloween night
air in. I hung the dress from the window sash
to let it air out, and leaned out a moment,
(15:42):
elbows on the sill, to watch the street. Neighbors were
setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were stepping off
the bus, kicking through and falling into piles of leaves.
Dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that giddy thrill
(16:04):
of being allowed to wear my costume to school, and
a whole school day lost to parties and parades and candy.
The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted, and even
at this distance it was contagious. I drummed my fingers
(16:27):
on the sill, then spun on my heel and headed
down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done. I'd
done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in the
background while I scooped out the seeds and cut silly
faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
(16:52):
and by the smell, they were just about done. I
coated them with olive oil and salt and black pepper,
and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
spooned them into a bowl for snacking on while I
handed out treats. I bustled around the house, lighting candles
(17:18):
and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
my pumpkins, set them up on my front steps, amusing
myself for a while. Setting them up in different scenarios.
This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
(17:44):
for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
I carried on for a bit. The light was changed
at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
(18:04):
few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
lit the candles in the jackal lanterns and rushed back
upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The landing
was properly chilly now, and I closed the window and
pulled my dress down from its spot. As I turned
(18:28):
to head back to my room, I stopped short. The
attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and were
resting on the landing floor. They were that old sort
of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the ceiling
(18:48):
to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I took
a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly. I suppose
if there were one night of the year when you
are allowed to act up a bit, it would be
(19:09):
Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement, I
edged around the steps and into my room, closing the
door behind me. As I got into my dress, there
was a lingering chill in my body. That was certain.
(19:33):
But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
my system just a bit ago, and thought that it
must be even more contagious than I'd realized. I settled
my crown onto my head and looped the silly heart
(19:55):
necklace around my throat, slipped my feet into some old
red velvet slippers, and heard the first call of trick
or treat from the front door. We'd better get down there,
I called out, Bump, Sweet dreams.
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If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.