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