Fantôme Friday #2 - The Lady in the Window

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 recount the story of The Lady in the Window in which our narrator has a psychic vision in what is about to be their new home...

Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.

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

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, 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 will pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusal and unexplained, experience.

In today’s episode we will recount the story of The Lady in the Window. Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode for an original song by Cannelle inspired by this story.

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

This happened many years ago, in the same house where I sit now, writing this story, the gentle ticking of the clock in the background. 

I had only recently moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota from Montreal, Canada after a whirwind love story in which my husband and I reconnected after many years appart, fell in love, and got married all within a matter of a few months.  Ready to start our lives together, my husband and I had decided to sell his condo in a different neighbourhood, and put an offer on a century-old house in a quiet neighbourhood that I, still being relatively new to the city, didn’t know much about. But with the tree-lined streets, well-manicured gardens, and small shops and restaurants nearby, it seemed like a the kind of neighbourhood that would be perfect for us at this point in our lives. The little house sat on up on hill, it’s long, steep driveway leading back to a spacious (at least by city standards) yard with a huge maple tree.  The house had been built in late 1800’s, it had quirky closets, wide wood trim around the doors and windows and along the rather crooked floors. I loved every part of it, but my favourite thing of all was the old manual doorbell that worked by twisting a knob that would then unwind and make a sharp high-pitched ringing noise.

The person we were buying the house from was an old high school friend of my husband’s whose family was moving out of state for work. They had remodeled certain parts of the house, but kept the original feel throughout. Because they had already moved to their new home, there was no one living in the house while we were in a holding pattern waiting for our closing date to arrive.  With the owners’ permission, we went to the property with our real estate agent to measure windows for blinds and curtains so they would be ready by our move-in date.

On a bright, sunny, very early spring day we met our realtor at the house.  It was exciting to be there knowing it would become our home very soon. We marveled at the size of the yard, still covered in ice and snow from the long Minnesota winter.  Inside, the cozy house felt warm and inviting.  My husband stayed in the living room with our realtor while I went about the first floor as the sun, unobstructed by tree leaves so early in the year, shon joyfully through the many windows.

Finished with the first floor, I decided to head upstairs.  The steps creaked under my feet as I went up. I took a right and worked my way counter-clockwise through the second floor, first measuring the bathroom windows, then the smaller bedroom - w