The Seance

As March brings the thaw of a warm spell and Duskhaven Point begins to stir, Sylvie gathers an unlikely group together in an attempt to contact a spirit that has been making herself known.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Hello and welcome back to Duskhaven Point. Melinda here. Before we get back to Sylvie and the rest of the Dusk Caven crew, I just wanted to take a moment to say how much we've appreciated your patience recently. Our very tiny team here at Duskhaven Point ended up a bit under the weather for a couple of weeks, which slowed things down more than we planned. But we're back to feeling much better now and happy to be settling back into the rhythm of things. As the story moves into March and the town begins to thaw, we're excited to keep exploring what's waking up in Duskhaven Point, lurking around corners and what have you. If you've been enjoying the story so far, leaving a rating or sharing the show with a spooky loving friend really helps this cozy podcast grow and reach new listeners. We appreciate it more than you know. Thanks again for being here, for listening and sharing, and for spending time in this eerie little town with us. Now let's get into the seance. March arrives at Duskhaven Point the way it always does, with a slow thaw before the season's last wallop of snow. The air smells of wet earth and cold water. Snow shrinks into muddy banks along the streets. The bay breathes again, restless under a sky that never quite clears. Ice shifts and cracks. The shoreline softens where land meets the bay. The town wakes slowly. But not everything that wakes belongs to the coming spring. So, light a candle, snuggle up, and follow me to Duskhaven Point, where cozy meets uncanny. It's been over a week since the storm, and a warm spell has melted snowbanks to scattered patches. Brown grass lines the lane, and air carries that damp, restless feeling that always comes with the first warm days of March. Morning light filters weekly through the kitchen window as Sylvie sits at the table with her laptop open in front of her. Her coffee is gone lukewarm. The screen glows in the dim kitchen as Sylvie scrolls through a collection of websites, spiritualist pages, old articles about seance circles, a message board thread of people discussing seances they've attended. Spiritualist circles, table seances, automatic writing. Most of it feels theatrical. Parlors, velvet curtains, Victorian dramatics. Sylvie leans back in her chair, frowning. That's not what this is. Her gaze shifts to the notebook beside the laptop, the page still blank. On the other side of the computer sits the manila folder, Julia's article placed neatly on top. Sylvie studies the girl's name for a moment. Julia Andrews. Her fingers tap lightly against the table. Then she pulls the notebook toward her. She starts writing confidently. Mariposa dance studio circle candles. She pauses, pen hovering, letting her attention settle down into her solar plexus gathering. Then adds one more line beneath it. Page needs to be present. Sylvie sits back again. The room feels different now. Focused. This isn't curiosity anymore. It's a plan. She reaches for the coffee, takes a sip, and grimaces at the temperature. Outside, a car passes slowly along the lane. Sylvie glances toward the window without thinking. Across the yard, warehouse stands against the gray of the day. The widow's walk is empty. She closes the notebook. Sylvie steps out of the bakery, a bag of blueberry muffins in hand, Ora's favorite. She already has coffees from the lantern waiting in her car. The road to Ora's house curves away from the center of town in the opposite direction as Sylvie's. It winds through steep forested hills, the trees pressing close along either side. Only a thin trace of snow remains along the shoulders where the warmth of the early March thaw hasn't quite reached. Sylvie follows the narrow stretch until Ora's winding, tree lined drive appears. She turns in and pulls to a stop, cutting the engine. For a moment she sits there, looking at the house. Our and Barry's place is sided in warm cedar, its lines slightly angular, the structure built into the slope of a hill. Large windows stretch across the front of the house, most of them hung with Aura's collection of colorful suncatchers. Each catches the fading light differently, scattering fragments of gold and color across the glass. Below them, the lower level of the house disappears into the hillside where a pair of garage doors sit half hidden by shrubs. The house glows warmly against the dim woods surrounding it. Lived in, earthy, touches of color. Unmistakably aura. A narrow wooden staircase climbs from the drive to the front door. Sylvie watches the light shifting through the sun catchers for another moment. Then she opens the car door, steps out into the quiet, damp air, and climbs the stairs. She rings the bell. Footsteps approach almost immediately. The door opens. Ora stands there, barefoot, in a loose cashmere sweater and leggings, her dark hair and two French braids draped over her shoulders. She looks slightly bewildered. Aren't you supposed to be at the cafe right now? Sylvie huffs a quiet laugh, breath fogging faintly in the cool air. I got off early today, and I know you don't have classes on Mondays, so I thought I'd surprise you. She lifts the bag and coffee carrier slightly. Ora leans against the door frame, a faint smile appearing. Mm, the only kind of pop by I'll accept. You know me well. She steps aside and Sylvie enters. Ora's house is as warm and earthy inside as its exterior. Our gestures toward the living room where a low brown couch sits beneath a wide window layered with rust colored pillows and soft blankets. Plants crowd the sill and spill from hanging hooks, their leaves catching the last of the afternoon sunlight. Oura disappears briefly and returns with two small plates. They settle onto the couch while Sylvie distributes muffins and coffee. Ora studies Sylvie's face for a moment. So obviously you came here to bribe me with baked goods for a reason. What's going on now? Sylvie exhales slowly. Okay, straight to it then. I think we need to hold a seance. Ora goes completely still. A what? Sylvie shifts slightly. A seance. Ora lets out a startled laugh. You drove out here on my day off to tell me that we're starting a ghost club? Sylvie shakes her head. It's not like that. Ora folds her arms loosely across her chest. Well it sounds exactly like that. Sylvie watches her for a moment. You asked me a week ago what we should do. I think this might be part of the answer. Ora glances toward one of the sun catchers slowly turning in the window, golden light slipping across the wall. Why a seance? Sylvie hesitates, choosing her words. I think we need to make contact to confirm my suspicions. Ora turns back to her. Confirm what suspicions? Sylvie presses her lips together before continuing. There's something I haven't told you yet. Ora's brow furrows slightly. Tell me. Sylvie reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a folded copy of an article, handing it to Ora. Ora unfolds the page and reads. Sylvie continues. I've been seeing something over at Warehouse. Ora looks up sharply. Seeing what? Sylvie takes a slow sip of her coffee. A woman, well, a spirit. I've seen her in the yard and on the widow's walk. Ora glances down at the article in front of her. You mean the lady in white is real? Sylvie taps the name in the article. Leslie Andrews. Not only was she real, she died at Warehouse, and was Julia's mother. Ora's mouth opens, closes, then opens again, wordless. Sylvie draws in a breath. And I think she's trapped here, like Julia. Ora exhales slowly and stands, beginning to pace across the rug. She rubs her forehead. Okay, let's pretend for a moment that I agree to this. She gestures towards Sylvie. Who exactly is we? Sylvie hesitates again. You me Elias Ora stops pacing. The haunted mansion guy. Sylvie rolls her eyes, chuckling. If that's what you want to call him. Our's mouth tightens slightly. I still don't understand why we're trusting him with any of this. Sylvie looks down at the floor. I know. I just I can't tell you everything about him yet. He asked me to keep some things to myself for now. Our resumes pacing slowly. And do you think the three of us sitting around a table is going to solve this? Sylvie shakes her head. Paige should be there. Oura looks back at her immediately. Sylvie holds up a hand. She's seen Julia more than anyone. Julia clearly feels connected to her. Oura looks exasperated. But she's one of my students. Sylvie nods. I know. I just have a strong feeling that she needs to be there. I can't really explain it. Oura drops into a plush chair across from Sylvie. Thalia is absolutely going to find out about this and demand an invitation. Sylvie exhales a small laugh. Yeah, you're probably right. Aura counts off on her fingers. So you, me, haunted mansion guy, one of my students, and Nancy from the craft. Sylvie laughs. Aura not fair. If anything, Thalia is more of a Sarah. Aura tilts her head back and looks at the ceiling. I cannot believe I'm agreeing to this. Sylvie hands her another muffin. We'll do it at the studio. Aura peels the paper off of her muffin slowly. Manipulator. She leans back against the cushions and glances toward the window again, watching the shifting light. After a moment she looks back at Sylvie and exhales. Okay. Sylvie nods solemnly. Oura laughs softly and shakes her head, popping the last bite of muffin into her mouth and chewing thoroughly. When? Outside the last of the afternoon light slips behind the trees. The lantern is quiet for a Tuesday evening. The air smells of ground coffee beans and toasted bagel. Sylvie stands behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with a cloth that has already done its job twice over. Her attention drifts again and again toward the front door. The bell above it rings. Ora steps inside first, giving the cafe a sweeping, uneasy look as she makes her way toward the counter. I still can't believe we're doing this. Sylvie sets the cloth aside. We're not doing anything yet. We're talking about doing something. Oura gives her a look that says the distinction is meaningless. Behind her, Paige slips inside, her round cheeks pink from the cold that has returned with an unpleasant drizzling rain. She pauses just inside the doorway, glancing around the cafe before approaching the counter. Paige smiles, tentative. Hi. Sylvie returns her smile, and Ora gives the girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Ora leans against the counter. All right, tell her what you told me. Sylvie hesitates briefly, then reaches beneath the counter and pulls out the now familiar manila folder. She sets it down between them and flips it open. Paige leans forward, reading the article. A moment passes. When she looks up, her eyes have widened. The girl at the studio is Julia Andrews. Sylvie nods. Paige looks back down at the page, scanning the lines again. Sylvie flips to the second article. Paige reads more quickly this time. She looks up again, the realization settling in. Wait, her eyes move between the two women. Andrews. Sylvie nods again. Ora folds her arms quietly. Her mother. Paige exhales sharply. This is the abandoned house on Driftwood Lane, isn't it? Sylvie confirms. That's the one. Only it's not abandoned anymore. Paige lets out a soft breath. Wow, I she hesitates, suddenly looking guilty. Ora smiles gently. We know kids party there. Sylvie lives next door. She shrugs. Plus, we were teenagers once too. The bell above the door rings again. A gust of cold wet air follows Elias inside. He brushes rain from his dark hair and wipes his boots on the runner before crossing toward them. Sylvie notices immediately how his presence settles the room. Elias nods once to her. You ask me to stop by? Sylvie gestures to the folder. We were just explaining. Elias glances briefly at Ora and Paige, then back to Sylvie. Good. Before he can say more, Goldie's voice carries from near the pastry case. Explaining what exactly? Everyone turns. Goldie straightens from where he has apparently been inspecting a tray of scones for several minutes. Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like we're discussing ghosts. Thalia appears from the hallway behind him, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Oh they are absolutely discussing ghosts. Goldie looks delighted. Excellent. Oura groans quietly. Oh no. Sylvie tilts her head, smiling slightly. Goldie Goldie raises a hand. Before you say anything, I would like to formally state that if a seance is happening in this town, I refuse to find out about it second hand. Balia drops into a chair near the counter. A seance? She looks slowly around the group. Oh, I am so there. Sylvie exhales, taking in Aura's told you so smirk. We haven't decided anything yet. Elias rests his hands lightly on the counter. Actually the room quiets. We might have. Elias meets her gaze calmly. If Julia has been trying to reach someone for this long, it may be time to listen properly. Goldy nods approvingly. I like him. Thalia squints at Elias. And you are Elias holds out a hand. Elias Netherwood. Goldie snaps his fingers. Last house on Driftwood Lane. Elias inclines his head. That's me. Paige has been quiet through all of this. Now she shifts slightly where she stands, looking around the small group gathered at the counter. So she glances at Sylvie. Where are we doing this? Sylvie meets her gaze. Then she looks at each of them in turn. The dance studio. Tomorrow night, nine o'clock. The following evening, Sylvie is upstairs in her bedroom, getting ready by lamp light as the sky outside moves toward the indigo blue of dying light. Her wardrobe stands open. Sylvie moves slowly along the row of hanging clothes, fingertips brushing the fabrics as she considers them. Not absent minded, deliberate. She reaches for a skirt, stops, shakes her head. Too short for this evening. Her hand moves further along the rack and finds a long skirt folded over a hanger. Black, ankle length, the fabric crinkled and flowing. Sylvie pulls a black sweater from a hanger, v necked and close fitting, one that she feels her best in. She pulls it over her head and smooths the sleeves down her arms. The house is quiet. Next she pulls on thick black tights against the lingering chill that still accompanies March evenings. The boots she will wear wait downstairs by the door, not yet worn in dark teal leather, shin height with black laces. For a moment she studies herself in the oval standing mirror in the corner of her room. Her expression is thoughtful, not fearful, open, aware. Sylvie exhales gently. She crosses the room toward the window. Outside the fading light casts itself over the soft, dull browns of a season still asleep. The yard between the houses is mostly clear now, the last thin strips of snow clinging to its edges. Across the way, warehouse rises dark against the evening sky, no car in the drive. Sylvie's eyes lift instinctively. The widow's walk is empty. She watches for a moment. Nothing. Sylvie almost turns away, then a pale movement appears near the railing. She doesn't appear fully, but Sylvie can feel her pull. Leslie. The translucent shape on the widow's walk thins and disappears. disappears. Her gaze drifts toward the canvas bag hanging on the back of the door. Downstairs she fills it with a small bag of salt, six candlesticks, holders, and two lighters. At the door she pulls her new boots on, lets Ashby out one last time before reaching for her coat. She pulls it on as he trots back inside, leans down to kiss him, and then heads out the door to her waiting car. The streets shine faintly where the day's thaw has left damp pavement behind. The snowbanks have dwindled further to dirty white mounds glistening here and there. The studio windows glow softly against the dark as Sylvie approaches the building, then slips through the front door. Inside the studio, the room looks different. The long mirrors along one wall have been covered with plain white sheets. Chairs have been pulled from the parents' seating area and arranged in a loose circle around a wooden table placed at the center of the room. Sylvie sets herself to placing the six candles she's brought, one in front of each chair. The door opens Ora steps inside first, followed by a nervous looking page. Ora stops just past the threshold, taking in the room, then clasps her hands in front of her chest. So we're doing this she gestures vaguely toward the center of the studio. That's unsettling. Sylvie shrugs off her coat and hangs it over the back of one of the chairs. The candles guide the spirit, the salt is for protection. Ora walks slowly around the table, studying the arrangement. The door opens again. Thalia enters, black hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She freezes midstep. Oh her eyes light up this is fantastic Ora groans quietly but doesn't answer Thalia walks toward the table, peering at the candles with fascination. I feel like we should all be wearing cloaks Sylvie makes a face at her. No cloaks Thalia laughs. Missed opportunity The door opens once more. Goldy steps inside, his usual cheerful smile in place. He stops beside Thalia and looks around Well be he gestures toward the covered mirrors. Are we expecting vampires too? Or points at him One more joke, mister, and I'm making you sit outside Goldie raises his hands in surrender. Hey, I'm just here out of curiosity and moral support. Another small pause settles over the room. The door opens one final time. Elias steps inside he pauses just inside the doorway, wearing a thin burgundy sweater under a black wool peacoat, gaze moving slowly across the room He takes in the table, the unlit candles, the gathered group then his eyes land on Sylvie. You've assembled quite a council Thalia raises a finger I prefer itty bitty ghosty committee Elias smiles the smallest side smile. He steps further into the room Are we ready? No one answers immediately. The room is quiet. Even Thalia stops moving. Goldy clears his throat softly Outside the night air has grown strangely still beyond the town the bay lies quiet beneath the dark sky. The water is perfectly calm, reflecting the waxing moon in its glass like surface The six chairs wait circled around the small table. The candles remain unlit. Sylvie moves to the center of the room. She adjusts the table slightly aligning it with the circle of chairs then looks up at the others. She gestures gently toward the chairs let's sit the group shifts awkwardly into motion. Goldie pulls out a chair and lowers himself into it with exaggerated caution. I'm just saying he looks around the circle If anything starts levitating, I'm leaving. Thalia drops into the chair beside him. I hope to goddess something levitates Oura shoots her a look. Oh you absolutely do not Thalia laughs and winks exaggeratedly at Oura. Paige sits quietly beside Sylvie, her hands folded in her lap Oura takes the seat between Sylvie and Goldie Elias takes the final chair between Thalia and Paige, stoic faced and calm in his movements. Thalia leans back in her chair, studying Elias. You know, I've actually been in your house Elias looks at her calmly It isn't my house Goldie snorts. Thalia looks back at Elias, confused. Elias doesn't elaborate. For a moment no one speaks. The studio feels both small and huge at the same time. Sylvie looks slowly around the circle. Thank you all for coming Goldie lifts a hand lightly. Now I'm not entirely sure why I did. A ripple of nervous laughter moves through the group. Sylvie takes a breath We're not here to summon anything she gestures lightly toward Paige. We're here to let someone who's been trying to reach us come through if she wants to Ora shifts slightly in her chair Julia Sylvie nods. Julia Paige's gaze drops to the table, then drifts up toward the corner of the room near the front window. Thalia leans forward slightly, looking past Elias at Paige You don't see her now, do you? Paige shakes her head No, I haven't seen her as much lately A soft chill moves through the room, and she adds quietly It's like she knows she won't be waiting long now Elias folds his hands loosely on the table That makes sense Goldie glances toward him does it? Elias nods if there's a connection Sylvie meets his gaze across the table. What do you mean? Elias meets her eyes gently You're a medium she may be able to sense that you've seen her mother Sylvie's eyes widen. I hadn't even thought of that A long silence follows. Goldie rubs the back of his neck should we get started then? Sylvie nods thoughtfully. She lights her candle then passes the lighter to Paige, who lights hers, and so on around the circle. Ora closes her eyes briefly I still can't believe we're doing this Sylvie gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The small candle flames flicker softly, casting warm light across the table. Sylvie rises, walks across the room and turns off the studio lights. Shadows stretch long across the dance floor. The mirrors, hidden beneath their white sheets, reflect nothing. Sylvie sprinkles a circle of salt around the perimeter of the group, then sits again. She lowers her voice I need everyone to stay calm no matter what she looks around the circle. Don't interrupt and whatever happens don't break the circle Goldie looks at Thalia and moves his eyebrows up and down a couple of times. Thalia snickers. Paige's eyes have grown wide. Ora rolls her shoulders twice, loosening tension. Elias sits with his hands folded loosely on the table. Sylvie, watching everyone's movements, almost smiles Just try to stay steady Elias watches her carefully And you? Sylvie takes a slow breath. I'll be guiding everyone join hands. For a moment the air in the studio feels strangely heavy they sit, hands joined After a long silence Sylvie speaks again, her voice quieter now Close your eyes if it helps focus on the connection of the circle on your breath moving in and out a soft hush settles over the table. Sylvie continues We're not forcing anything tonight If Julia is here if she wishes to speak she's welcome The candle flames flutter low in the stillness Sylvie inhales then exhales long and slow. Julia she pauses again breathing We're here and we're listening The room seems to hold its breath long seconds pass. Then Paige's head tilts slightly the smallest movement but Sylvie notices. Paige's shoulders have gone very still her fingers tighten faintly around the hands she holds Thalia glances towards Sylvie Sylvie's eyes are locked on Paige's face Paige's head tilts further, listening to something no one else can hear When she speaks her voice is quieter than before you hear me The words sound uncertain testing the circle goes rigid. Paige's brow furrows slightly as though she's concentrating very hard on something just out of reach I've been trying for so long Sylvie's voice stays calm. Julia Paige's head nods faintly Yes Paige's eyes open slowly but they don't quite focus on the room I've been trying to tell her Paige's eyes are liquid and distant she doesn't know where I am a shiver moves through the group Goldie's chair creaks slightly but he doesn't pull away Sylvie keeps her voice steady Julia what do you need us to know? Paige's gaze drifts toward the dark windows her head tilts again as if listening She heard it first Outside beyond the dark glass the first faint ribbon of fog slips silently along the edge of the street unnoticed for now Paige's eyes fix on the candle in front of her. For a long moment she doesn't move at all. Then her eyes drift toward the ceiling My things are still here Sylvie glances upward without thinking Where, Julia Paige swallows the words come slowly Upstairs in the dark Aura shifts in her chair. Paige continues There is a cedar chest Sylvie leans forward, not breaking the circle Upstairs do you mean in the attic? Paige's voice grows quieter Yes her head tilts again, listening My blue dress is there the candle flames stretch long and still Paige's fingers tighten again around Elias and Sylvie's hands. I wanted her to find it a long silence settles over the table. Sylvie's voice softens Who? Paige's eyes flutter. Then her expression changes her head tilts again, listening Her voice drops to a whisper It's coming The words spill against the now wild flickering of the candle flames and long shadows of the room. Paige's head turns slowly again toward the windows then it calls the candle flames drop low, going still. Paige's head flicks back to look straight ahead. Don't go her sentence cuts off. Paige gasps sharply. Her head lulls back then snaps upright. She blinks rapidly looking around the room What just she stops when she sees their faces. Why are you all looking at me like that? No one answers immediately Sylvie's gaze lifts toward the studio windows The circle has not yet broken. No one speaks Goldie finally clears his throat So that happened Sylvie is the first to release the hand she's holding Ora immediately presses her fingers lightly to her temples Paige you don't remember any of that? Paige shakes her head slowly remember what? Thalia leans back in her chair, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands again, eyes wide. You just gave us directions to a ghost's storage unit Paige stares at her. I did not you're not funny Sylvie sits quietly lost in thought. Her gaze remains fixed on the dark windows outside the night has darkened deeper Sylvie flips the studio lights back on. They reflect faintly in the glass pale against the dark but beyond them something moves low along the ground pale and slipping slowly across the street Sylvie crosses the floor moving to the windows. Ora calls across the room What is it? The others turn outses and joins her at the window. For a moment he says nothing then quietly Aura, do you have a key to the attic? The fog drifts slowly across Main Street, curling along the pavement like something alive. And Sylvie realizes they were not the only ones listening tonight. That's all for now from Duskhaven Point. Sleep well, keep your porch light lit and don't linger too long in the fog Duskhaven Point is written and narrated by me, Belinda Janet with sound design and production by Joel Newman. Until next time