WEBVTT - Sturdy in the Branches

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<v Speaker 1>Twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three D

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<v Speaker 1>audio and grimm and mild from Aaron Manky Headphones. Recommended

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<v Speaker 1>listener discretion advised. Freeze freeze thou, bitter sky that does

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<v Speaker 1>not bite so nigh as benefits forgot though thou the

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<v Speaker 1>waters swarp thy sting is not so sharp as friend remembered,

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<v Speaker 1>not y. I tend to turn my thoughts often to

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<v Speaker 1>the evergreen. You know, as far back as ancient Egypt,

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<v Speaker 1>people brought them into their homes at the time of

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<v Speaker 1>the solstice palm rushes to celebrate the return of the

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<v Speaker 1>sun God. They did the same much further north, where

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<v Speaker 1>at times it must have seemed that the sun would

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<v Speaker 1>never return at all. I knew those winters, hope, springs eternal, yes,

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<v Speaker 1>and thank the gods for that. But we always knew

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<v Speaker 1>that the spring would arrive again. Was part of a cycle?

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<v Speaker 1>Does the cycle continue here? In these woods in the bard?

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<v Speaker 1>Is their spring? Beyond this? I suppose I will have

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<v Speaker 1>to wait for an answer. Hello. I don't suppose I

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<v Speaker 1>could come in. It's cold out here. Please dear, come in. Hello,

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<v Speaker 1>I'm Ruby, I'm Annabelle. Where did you come from? That's

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<v Speaker 1>the question of the evening, would you like to sit

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<v Speaker 1>maybe warm up a bit? Sure, you know, Joanie didn't

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<v Speaker 1>mention this place, maybe she didn't make it out this far.

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<v Speaker 1>I didn't really expect anything beyond the treehouse. Honestly, I

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<v Speaker 1>was pretty committed to staying there. The tree house. Guess

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<v Speaker 1>it's been there since we were very little. Do tell

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<v Speaker 1>the treehouse looks the same. I mean it looks like

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<v Speaker 1>a treehouse, sturdy within the branches of the biggest oak

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<v Speaker 1>in the backyard. There's a rope ladder that will take

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<v Speaker 1>you to a wooden floor, little wooden walls, and a

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<v Speaker 1>pointy little roof. The last thing Joanie and I really

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<v Speaker 1>liked at the same time with witchcraft. The inside of

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<v Speaker 1>the tree house still has an old blanket draped casually

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<v Speaker 1>over an old bookshelf, concealing our collection of magic books

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<v Speaker 1>secretly thrifted over the years. One of Mom's oceanelle gifts

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<v Speaker 1>at boxes sits in the corner containing all the items

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<v Speaker 1>of our mateshief Altar as the classic black Sheep twin.

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<v Speaker 1>I always liked weird, spooky stuff. Joanie came to witchcraft

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<v Speaker 1>by way of an affection for nature and a soft

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<v Speaker 1>spot for the power of friendship. Somewhere along the way,

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<v Speaker 1>we decided our being twins gave us special access to

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<v Speaker 1>magic power times too. I used to insist laying my

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<v Speaker 1>back in the tree house, comforted by the frog song

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<v Speaker 1>in the air love times to Ruby. Joni would correct,

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<v Speaker 1>knowing it would get her as sisterly grown. That was

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<v Speaker 1>Janie's whole thing. The spells and stuff we tried were

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<v Speaker 1>never going to work without love. I loved Joanie. We

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<v Speaker 1>made our big entrance into the world together, and yeah,

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<v Speaker 1>she drove me absolutely crazy, but I always figured we'll

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<v Speaker 1>make our exit together too, And I know Jonie felt

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<v Speaker 1>that way the absolute sap. She never wanted to do cool,

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<v Speaker 1>scary spells, nothing that would hurt anybody. Joanie was big

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<v Speaker 1>on like imbuing our spirits into whatever she could find,

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<v Speaker 1>because then we always have a link to each other. Ruby,

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<v Speaker 1>if you miss me, you can just rub this stone

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<v Speaker 1>in your pocket and I'll feel it and I'll come

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<v Speaker 1>get okay. I called her Sunshine in a gruff, mean

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<v Speaker 1>sort of way, but she always grinned about it because

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<v Speaker 1>she knew I meant it. Being twins isn't being copies

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<v Speaker 1>of one another, it's having another person to pick up

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<v Speaker 1>what you can't, to be what you lack. Johnny always

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<v Speaker 1>shone bright enough for the both of us. So the

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<v Speaker 1>stupid treehouse looks the same. But I can feel it

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<v Speaker 1>when I look out the window. There are phantom splinters

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<v Speaker 1>in my palm. My fingers itch like they're afraid to

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<v Speaker 1>slip against wet rope. My tongue braces itself for the

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<v Speaker 1>tartness of berries. My cheek feels warm, as if I'm

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<v Speaker 1>basking on sun soaked wood in the summertime. It's not summertime.

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<v Speaker 1>It's December, and my cheeks not be warm. Mom catches

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<v Speaker 1>me looking out the window, and she squeezes my hand gently.

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<v Speaker 1>It's the nicest way a hand has ever been squeezed

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<v Speaker 1>in the history of hand squeezing, and it makes me

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<v Speaker 1>want to rip my hand off. Joanie died in January,

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<v Speaker 1>which frankly, was a real dick move on her part.

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<v Speaker 1>I walk around Mom and Dad's house, which was once

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<v Speaker 1>our house, and I feel like a third wheel to

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<v Speaker 1>their grief. I turned the corner to fetch another box

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<v Speaker 1>of Christmas lights for Dad, and I find Mom crying,

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<v Speaker 1>and I don't know how to help. I don't know

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<v Speaker 1>how to reach out, because what I want to say

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<v Speaker 1>is I wish it had been me. I'm sorry. I

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<v Speaker 1>don't wish for it in a tangible, violent way that

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<v Speaker 1>I can name. Just my whole life. I felt like

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<v Speaker 1>I was doing the wrong thing. No matter what I

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<v Speaker 1>felt like, I didn't know how to connect. I felt

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<v Speaker 1>sort of nightmare floaty for so long, and I can't

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<v Speaker 1>catch on to anything. And the only person who made

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<v Speaker 1>me feel okay, the only person who would hear me

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<v Speaker 1>out and really listen, well, you know, Mom, Dad, and

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<v Speaker 1>I eat dinner and do the dishes and don't know

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<v Speaker 1>what to talk about. And my eyes are practically burning

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<v Speaker 1>inside my skull from how hard I'm trying to avoid

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<v Speaker 1>the siren song of the treehouse. Mom fixed up the

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<v Speaker 1>guest room for me. I get it. I get it,

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<v Speaker 1>and I hate it. I toss and turn on top

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<v Speaker 1>of sheets that don't mean anything to anyone. No one

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<v Speaker 1>picked these out because they liked them enough to sleep

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<v Speaker 1>on them on purpose, the fucking guest sheets, and I

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<v Speaker 1>hate them. I hate these sheets. I hate this room,

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<v Speaker 1>I hate this house. I hate that I can still

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<v Speaker 1>somehow see that bullshit treehouse even with my eyes closed,

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<v Speaker 1>I still can see it. As I pad out into

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<v Speaker 1>the hallway, I see a soft light spilling from my

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<v Speaker 1>old room. Mom can't help it. She goes in there

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<v Speaker 1>most days to tidy up. She rearranges stuffed animals that

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<v Speaker 1>haven't been held in years. She cannot bear to turn

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<v Speaker 1>the light out or close the door behind her. There's

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<v Speaker 1>always just a little wedge of light cascading onto the

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<v Speaker 1>hallway rug. A shiver recks my spine. It feels like

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<v Speaker 1>a gnarled branch scratching down my skin. It wants me

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<v Speaker 1>to go into our room. I do my best to

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<v Speaker 1>push the door open as casually as possible, and fuck,

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<v Speaker 1>it's like stepping out of a time machine. Mom has

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<v Speaker 1>kept it like a museum exhibit. Every photo and ticket

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<v Speaker 1>and scrap of paper we ever tacked into the walls,

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<v Speaker 1>every book and color pencil and hairbrush. And another shiver

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<v Speaker 1>zips up my spine. As my eyes land on the

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<v Speaker 1>dresser for a moment, I feel creaking boards beneath my

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<v Speaker 1>feet instead of freshly vacuum carpet. The scent of clothes

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<v Speaker 1>is in my nose, and I remember the time Johnie

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<v Speaker 1>and I fucked up our attempt to create aromatherapy bath salts.

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<v Speaker 1>Corn starch and corn syrup are not the same thing.

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<v Speaker 1>Pro tip. I approached the dresser and my hands feel

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<v Speaker 1>like they're traveling across a Wuiji board. I haven't been

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<v Speaker 1>here for years, even before Johnnie died. I have not

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<v Speaker 1>cataloged the notes and drinkets scattered across the surface of

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<v Speaker 1>the dress, Sir, I have not memorized the necklaces hanging

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<v Speaker 1>from the mirror. My hand lands on a little jeweled

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<v Speaker 1>pineapple dangling from a gold chain. The thing about the

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<v Speaker 1>pineapple necklace, Joanie thought it was funny. We were in

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<v Speaker 1>some dumb store together wasting time, and Joanie got into

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<v Speaker 1>her head we needed friendship necklaces. We're twins, not friends.

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<v Speaker 1>I scowled. H Jonie paid my surliness no mind scanning

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<v Speaker 1>a display of cheap necklaces. Hey, what's your favorite fruit? What?

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<v Speaker 1>I like pineapple best, Joni said, dragging the pineapple necklace free.

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<v Speaker 1>What about you? And that was Jonie's power, her constant

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<v Speaker 1>subtext to me of Hey, I know it's bad and

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<v Speaker 1>you're scared, but do you want to talk about fruit

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<v Speaker 1>for a little while. It doesn't always have to be

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<v Speaker 1>so big. Ruby tell me about fruit pear, I grumbled.

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<v Speaker 1>Joanie took down a necklace with a hideous pear pinned it.

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<v Speaker 1>She looped it around her neck as she passed me

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<v Speaker 1>the pineapple one. There she smiled, friendship twin fruit necklaces.

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<v Speaker 1>I put the necklace in the pocket of my pajama

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<v Speaker 1>bottoms just as I feel another fantom branch scratched me.

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<v Speaker 1>The message seems pretty loud and clear by now. I

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<v Speaker 1>leave the lights on and the door cracked, and I

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<v Speaker 1>go outside. My bare feet sink a little into the

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<v Speaker 1>damp earth, and I feel blades of grass spring up

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<v Speaker 1>between my toes. I crossed the back yard until I'm

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<v Speaker 1>standing at the tree house ladder. Even though I can

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<v Speaker 1>see my breath in front of me in the winter air,

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<v Speaker 1>I also see wild flowers dotting the base of the tree.

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<v Speaker 1>I am certain those are the wild flowers Johnie and

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<v Speaker 1>I once scattered planet on May Day. All right, so

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<v Speaker 1>the beckoning of the old tree house fandom wild flowers.

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<v Speaker 1>In the middle of December, I climbed the ladder, hope

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<v Speaker 1>and fear taking up equal space inside of me. When

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<v Speaker 1>I reached the top, I don't even flinch at the

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<v Speaker 1>sight before me, Hey, Sunshine from the farthest corner, sitting

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<v Speaker 1>cross leg and glowing faintly. Joanie looks up at me

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<v Speaker 1>and Okay, that doesn't make my breath catch in my throat.

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<v Speaker 1>It's one thing to find the ghost of your sister

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<v Speaker 1>quietly haunting your childhood treehouse, and it's another to get

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<v Speaker 1>the full force of her eyes on you for the

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<v Speaker 1>first time since you last saw her alive, and then

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<v Speaker 1>she says, fuck you, I can't be Sunshine anymore. I'm

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<v Speaker 1>scary now. I appraised Janie's ghostly attire. I guess you

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<v Speaker 1>really do have to float around for all eternity and

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<v Speaker 1>whatever you kick the bucket in because Joanie is wearing

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<v Speaker 1>shorts that I have to assume our khaki. The color

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<v Speaker 1>scheme is off when you're translucent flip flops and an

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<v Speaker 1>old soft T shirt featuring a smiling cartoon flamingo. I

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<v Speaker 1>know the shirt is blue and the flamingo is pink. Yeah,

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<v Speaker 1>you're terrifying, Janie Huff, spreading her ghostly legs out in

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<v Speaker 1>front of her. Have you been up here the whole time? Yes,

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<v Speaker 1>Jonny cries, throwing her arms up in frustration. I've been

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<v Speaker 1>trying to get your attention. Well, I'm sorry I didn't

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<v Speaker 1>know all the paranormal signs to watch out for. Joannie

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<v Speaker 1>cocks her head to one side, looking at me with

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<v Speaker 1>so much incredulous annoyance. I can't help it. I start

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<v Speaker 1>to laugh. Joony jumps up onto her ghost feet. Fuck you,

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<v Speaker 1>I am so scary. But she's laughing too. She's laughing,

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<v Speaker 1>and damn her, even ghostly pallor looks good on her.

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<v Speaker 1>Is this an unfinished business thing? I don't know, Jonnie size,

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<v Speaker 1>what do you I swallow? What do you want? I

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<v Speaker 1>am fixed with Joanie's eyes, our eyes, and they are

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<v Speaker 1>suddenly as bright and beautiful and furious as I have

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<v Speaker 1>ever seen anything. And this is the first time my

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<v Speaker 1>specter of a sister has frightened me. What do I want,

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<v Speaker 1>Joanie hisses. I want to go inside our house and

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<v Speaker 1>fix the ornaments on the tree. And I want to

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<v Speaker 1>turn the TV off because I bet Dad fell asleep

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<v Speaker 1>with it on again. And I want to ask Mom

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<v Speaker 1>if she saw that yellow dog on her walk this morning,

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<v Speaker 1>because she loves that dog. And Joanie isn't crying. I'm

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<v Speaker 1>not sure she can, but her voice sounds like it

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<v Speaker 1>has traveled up her throat through brambles when she says,

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<v Speaker 1>I want to leave the treehouse. I want to be alive.

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<v Speaker 1>Not a shiver this time, but something warm, something gentle.

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<v Speaker 1>Guides my hand to the weight in my pocket. Joanie's

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<v Speaker 1>eyes go wide as I slowly pulled free the pineapple necklace.

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<v Speaker 1>Where did you find that, Joanie asked? It was in

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<v Speaker 1>our room. Do you know where? Joanie drags the chain

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<v Speaker 1>of her pear necklace out from beneath her flamingo T shirt.

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<v Speaker 1>You were supposed to have yours on, too, she says, so,

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<v Speaker 1>so quietly, so we can find each other. I stopped

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<v Speaker 1>wanting you to find me. I confess why. I was

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<v Speaker 1>ashamed of not being as good as you. I was

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<v Speaker 1>ashamed of not being happy like you. Johnny looks at

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<v Speaker 1>me for a moment, without breaking eye contact. She lifts

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<v Speaker 1>the little pair to her lips and gives it a

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<v Speaker 1>soft kiss. I was never ashamed of you. We don't

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<v Speaker 1>talk for a while after that, as the night goes

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<v Speaker 1>on and begins to fade unto dawn. I have smelled

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<v Speaker 1>every important smell from mine and Janie's history, hot asphalt

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<v Speaker 1>and funnel cakes. In the middle of summer fresh eracers

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<v Speaker 1>and too sweet body spray we shared at the start

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<v Speaker 1>of the school year. Christmas time, pine trees and sugar

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<v Speaker 1>cookies and hope the sun is coming up, and I

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<v Speaker 1>know Dad is puttering around the kitchen, putting coffee on

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<v Speaker 1>and getting everything ready for pancakes. Joanie loves pancakes, Sunshine.

0:18:20.400 --> 0:18:24.920
<v Speaker 1>I have an idea. I didn't know ghosts could sniffle,

0:18:25.000 --> 0:18:28.000
<v Speaker 1>but that's sure the sound Joanie makes as she asked,

0:18:29.640 --> 0:18:39.720
<v Speaker 1>what is it the necklaces? What if we trade? Joanie's

0:18:39.840 --> 0:18:47.120
<v Speaker 1>eyes get wide? What look some of that old hocus

0:18:47.160 --> 0:18:52.240
<v Speaker 1>pocus work, didn't it? Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Otherwise

0:18:52.480 --> 0:18:55.760
<v Speaker 1>I wouldn't have found the necklace. I explained my theory,

0:18:55.840 --> 0:19:00.199
<v Speaker 1>feeling only a little stupid. I think we did. You

0:19:00.280 --> 0:19:06.440
<v Speaker 1>always said the necklaces carry our spirits. Our bodies are

0:19:06.480 --> 0:19:10.960
<v Speaker 1>more or less the same. Right, if we trade the necklaces,

0:19:11.720 --> 0:19:16.240
<v Speaker 1>we'll swap places. You can go have breakfast with Dad,

0:19:16.280 --> 0:19:18.439
<v Speaker 1>and Mom can tell you about the yellow dog, and

0:19:19.040 --> 0:19:25.560
<v Speaker 1>b Tony stops me. What about you? I smile at her,

0:19:27.160 --> 0:19:32.520
<v Speaker 1>and I'm not even sad. Joony. I'll haunt the treehouse

0:19:34.000 --> 0:19:36.479
<v Speaker 1>and maybe it'll work out. That you can still visit me,

0:19:36.600 --> 0:19:40.560
<v Speaker 1>and maybe it won't and I'll fucking move on or whatever.

0:19:41.000 --> 0:19:50.879
<v Speaker 1>But listen, it's okay. I'm okay. I take a breath.

0:19:52.680 --> 0:19:56.120
<v Speaker 1>Johnny doesn't try to cut me off again, even though

0:19:56.160 --> 0:20:01.360
<v Speaker 1>her eyes are shining with impossible tears. She was always

0:20:01.359 --> 0:20:05.440
<v Speaker 1>the one who listened to me. She won't judge me now,

0:20:05.480 --> 0:20:12.600
<v Speaker 1>I know. Come on, I whisper, it's Christmas. Let me

0:20:12.680 --> 0:20:20.840
<v Speaker 1>give you this. Joonie pulls the pair necklace off. For

0:20:20.920 --> 0:20:24.600
<v Speaker 1>a second, I see her as eleven year old Joanie,

0:20:25.680 --> 0:20:28.520
<v Speaker 1>clutching our first shared book of spills to her heart,

0:20:30.000 --> 0:20:36.320
<v Speaker 1>a scab on her knee, eyes big with excitement. Love

0:20:36.440 --> 0:20:43.000
<v Speaker 1>time's too, Jonie, I remind her it'll work. She laughs,

0:20:44.640 --> 0:20:47.439
<v Speaker 1>and this time I see her as the older Joanie

0:20:47.480 --> 0:20:55.000
<v Speaker 1>who almost didn't get to exist. Okay, Jonie says, reaching

0:20:55.040 --> 0:21:00.720
<v Speaker 1>out her hand to me. Okay, I agree, and I

0:21:00.800 --> 0:21:05.240
<v Speaker 1>slipped my hand into hers. The necklace is rocking against

0:21:05.240 --> 0:21:13.720
<v Speaker 1>one another. At first, it feels like nothing, and then

0:21:22.480 --> 0:21:26.479
<v Speaker 1>I've never melted before, but that's what I think. This

0:21:26.560 --> 0:21:31.200
<v Speaker 1>feels like everything on the edges of me goes soft

0:21:31.359 --> 0:21:37.080
<v Speaker 1>and wobbly, and I don't even feel scared. I feel

0:21:37.119 --> 0:21:40.639
<v Speaker 1>like an ice cream cone on on hot pavement, and

0:21:40.720 --> 0:21:43.680
<v Speaker 1>I feel like I'm finally giving my sister something good.

0:21:50.840 --> 0:21:56.560
<v Speaker 1>I blink my own ghostly eyes. Joanie is standing before me,

0:21:57.280 --> 0:22:02.399
<v Speaker 1>fleshy and taking in shop gulps of air. The flamingo

0:22:02.520 --> 0:22:06.480
<v Speaker 1>on her chest is definedly pink, clashing horribly with the

0:22:06.560 --> 0:22:13.800
<v Speaker 1>shining pineapple necklace. Joanie's voice is scratchy, holy smokes like

0:22:13.840 --> 0:22:19.000
<v Speaker 1>it doesn't remember how to exist. There is a lightness

0:22:19.000 --> 0:22:24.000
<v Speaker 1>and a weightlessness to me I have never known. I

0:22:24.119 --> 0:22:27.440
<v Speaker 1>do not know what exists for me outside of the treehouse,

0:22:27.920 --> 0:22:30.560
<v Speaker 1>but I am eager to explore in a way I

0:22:30.840 --> 0:22:35.320
<v Speaker 1>never have been. We're not all cut out for the

0:22:35.440 --> 0:22:43.880
<v Speaker 1>same stuff, and that's okay. Joanie stretches her arms overhead,

0:22:44.040 --> 0:22:48.600
<v Speaker 1>relishing the pop and crack of her joints. Go get breakfast,

0:22:48.640 --> 0:22:54.600
<v Speaker 1>I tell her, Gosh, I am hungry. She has the

0:22:54.640 --> 0:22:58.840
<v Speaker 1>audacity to waggle her eyebrows. It feels like I haven't

0:22:58.880 --> 0:23:04.560
<v Speaker 1>eaten in a year. Yeah, I laugh. I love you.

0:23:06.200 --> 0:23:12.120
<v Speaker 1>I love you too. As I watch Jonie climbed down

0:23:12.160 --> 0:23:15.080
<v Speaker 1>the ladder and crossed the backyard and fix her fingers

0:23:15.119 --> 0:23:22.240
<v Speaker 1>to the door handle, she shines bright enough for both

0:23:22.280 --> 0:23:34.240
<v Speaker 1>of us. How wonderful for you both. Well, I didn't

0:23:34.240 --> 0:23:37.719
<v Speaker 1>know I end up in a howling winter storm, so

0:23:37.840 --> 0:23:42.560
<v Speaker 1>it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. Yes, well, the bottle

0:23:42.760 --> 0:23:45.119
<v Speaker 1>can be a bit of a shock when you first arrived.

0:23:45.880 --> 0:23:50.120
<v Speaker 1>I'm glad all the same for your fire. I imagine too,

0:23:50.359 --> 0:23:56.000
<v Speaker 1>that you could use a rest. Was it obvious? I've

0:23:56.000 --> 0:24:00.520
<v Speaker 1>just grown accustomed to the rhythm of new arrivals. You

0:24:00.640 --> 0:24:06.120
<v Speaker 1>seem to be good at your job. Well, you're new

0:24:06.160 --> 0:24:12.240
<v Speaker 1>here too, Will you be staying? I haven't decided. Hannahbell

0:24:12.359 --> 0:24:17.800
<v Speaker 1>has been acclamating at her own pace. Now the ninth

0:24:17.920 --> 0:24:23.760
<v Speaker 1>door on the left, up the stairs, lovely, If anyone

0:24:23.840 --> 0:24:27.399
<v Speaker 1>comes looking for me, you'll show them the way, of course.

0:24:28.480 --> 0:24:34.600
<v Speaker 1>Good well, good night to both of you. I'll be

0:24:34.680 --> 0:24:43.879
<v Speaker 1>on my way. You know. I enjoy the company of

0:24:43.920 --> 0:24:49.360
<v Speaker 1>all who crossed my threshold. She was a sweet soul, yes,

0:24:50.600 --> 0:24:54.760
<v Speaker 1>a bright little light. How nice to bask in the

0:24:54.920 --> 0:25:18.159
<v Speaker 1>extra warmth. Twelve Ghosts starring Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper

0:25:18.440 --> 0:25:23.119
<v Speaker 1>and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle. Episode nine, Sturdy in the Branches,

0:25:23.640 --> 0:25:27.560
<v Speaker 1>written by Danny Hurd, with additional writing by Nicholas Takowski.

0:25:27.960 --> 0:25:31.920
<v Speaker 1>Editing by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez, featuring Paris Starter

0:25:32.160 --> 0:25:36.600
<v Speaker 1>as Ruby. Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original score and sound

0:25:36.640 --> 0:25:41.720
<v Speaker 1>design by Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey, Matt Frederick,

0:25:41.840 --> 0:25:48.000
<v Speaker 1>Alexander Williams and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Staine. Producers

0:25:48.080 --> 0:25:52.399
<v Speaker 1>Chris Child's and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling C

0:25:52.640 --> 0:25:56.040
<v Speaker 1>s A and Meg Mormon c s A. Production coordinator

0:25:56.160 --> 0:26:01.080
<v Speaker 1>Wayna Calderon. Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia, engineered

0:26:01.119 --> 0:26:05.440
<v Speaker 1>by Chris Gardner Arrows Sound and Recording in Ojai, California,

0:26:05.880 --> 0:26:10.879
<v Speaker 1>engineered by Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas Takowski.

0:26:11.040 --> 0:26:13.479
<v Speaker 1>That is a production of i Heeart three D Audio

0:26:13.640 --> 0:26:16.520
<v Speaker 1>and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more about

0:26:16.560 --> 0:26:19.240
<v Speaker 1>the show at Grim and Mild dot com and find

0:26:19.240 --> 0:26:21.560
<v Speaker 1>more podcasts from my heart Radio by visiting the i

0:26:21.640 --> 0:26:24.919
<v Speaker 1>heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to

0:26:24.960 --> 0:26:25.840
<v Speaker 1>your favorite shows.