In today’s episode we read the chapter 16 – Selkie, in which Farfalla is stunned to find herself as the star of a somewhat familiar story.
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Author/Producer: Melissa Oliveri - http://www.melissaoliveri.com
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The Skylark Bell is brought to you by: Phaeton Starling Publishing and Things with Wings Productions.
FULL TRANSCRIPT:
Things with Wings Productions presents: Chapter 16 of The Skylark Bell, Skyedive. I am your host, Melissa Oliveri.
In last week’s episode Farfalla awoke to strange surroundings and was rescued by villagers on the beach.
In today’s episode we read the chapter 16 – Selkie, in which Farfalla is stunned to find herself as the star of a somewhat familiar story.
Today’s podcast partner is Cannelle Music. Full disclosure, Cannelle is my stagename. I write and record all the music you hear in the The Skylark Bell, most of which is available on major streaming platforms on the album Songs from The Skylark Bell. I also record other unrelated music which you can find on streaming services and bandcamp. Just check the show notes for links to my website and related social media accounts.
Now, it’s time to settle in… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started.
I don’t know what day it is.
The smell of roasting meat hits me first. Perhaps because I am so hungry. I breathe deeply, taking in the smell, hoping it will fill my stomach somehow. It feels good to be able to breath normally again, to fill my lungs with air without searing pain running through my chest.
I open my eyes and look up to the sky. I’m still laying in the cart. If I turn my head slightly, I can see the man and woman sitting at the front, staring at the road ahead, leaning close to one another and speaking in hushed voices. I can catch bits and pieces of their conversation; “Festival… Selkie… Beach…” but the words make no sense to me.
Finally, the cart comes to a stop, and I gingerly lift myself into a sitting position. My head immediately makes me pay the price with violent throbbing across my brow. I close my eyes for a moment and the headache subsides slightly. After a few minutes I find the courage to open my eyes and take a look at my surroundings. The first thing I see is a large banner with painted words that make my heart stop momentarily.
“Skye Lark Festival” and underneath, “First Annual” and beneath that, “1797”.
My first thought is that I am dreaming.
But you know the truth. You know I’m not dreaming. You even know where I am, when I am. Perhaps you’ve even guessed who I am. Or rather, who I am about to become.
~~~~~~
The horse cart is parked at the edge of a large field dotted with makeshift tents comprised of wooden poles with strips of fabric stretched across the top. The smell of roasting meat comes from one such tent where several slabs of meat threaded onto a pole are roasting over an open flame.
Nearby, a group of women are gathered around a table cutting vegetables and cooked meat. Every once in a while, one of the women fills a large pot with as much as she can fit, pours in some water, and hangs the pot over a roaring fire just outside their tent. Nearby is a sign in the ground that reads “Millie’s Pottage”.
A few paces away is a tent with a sign out front that simply reads “Ale!” Farfalla can hear shouting and laughter coming from the tent, which is filled from end to end with large, bearded men.
The smell of freshly baked bread travels on the breeze, and Farfalla turns to see an outdoor stone oven. Working on wooden tables in front of it are several women, each completing a step of the bread-baking process. “Anna Jane’s Oat Bread” Farfalla whispers to herself, reading the wooden sign nailed to a stake that has been plopped into the ground in front of the wooden table where the women are working.
She scans her eyes across the other tents, noting one that displays an assortment of wool sweaters, tartans, and fabrics. Another with various leather goods, and next to that a tent with jewelry, silver cups, belt buckles, and other trinkets. People mill about the field like ants as Farfalla looks on, fascinated. The people are dressed oddly, and some of them speak a language she’s never heard before. She struggles to comprehend the rustic nature of the festival. Of course, she is in a more remote, rural part of Scotland, but the food preparation methods seem positively barbaric, especially in comparison to the wonderful dinner she had in Glasgow just a few nights ago. Everything about this place looks and feels like her idea of what life would have been like 150 years ago.
The piercing sound of bagpipes fills the air, and a crowd begins to form at the far end of the field, where a wooden platform has been installed to form stage. Slowly the crowd at the Ale tent breaks apart and the large bearded men plod slowly to join the crowd.
“Ah, she’s awake,” comes the woman’s voice from the front of the cart.
Farfalla turns to look at her. “Where are we?” she asks.
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” she replies, smiling. “Come on now!” she says, standing and hopping out of the cart. The man who was seated next to her climbs into the back of the cart and helps Farfalla to her feet. He hops out of the cart and lifts Farfalla by the waist as if she weighs no more than a feather before gently placing her on the ground.
“Welcome to the first annual Skye Lark Festival!” comes a booming voice from the stage up ahead.
“If you don’t mind, I’m very tired, and I need to find a place where I can make a phone call, I have to get a hold of my sister. I need to let Elisabeth know I’m okay,” says Farfalla, pleading with the woman as she pulls Farfalla through the crowd with a firm grip on her arm. The woman continues on her mission as if she hasn’t heard a word Farfalla has said.
“I have been told, just a few moments ago, that John and Agnes Sutherland have something very special to share with us today, something very special indeed!” continues the man on the stage, his voice carrying across the field.
“Ma’am, please? Where are you taking me? I need to find out what happened to my-“
“She’s here!” shouts the old woman suddenly. Farfalla looks around, confused. Who’s here? The old woman elbows her way to the front of the crowd as Farfalla stumbles along. The man on the stage leans in and whispers something in the old woman’s ear. They go back and forth in hushed whispers, as the man glances curiously at Farfalla from the corner of his eye. Finally, the man nods and steps back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, be prepared to be amazed! What we have for you here is… positively mystical!” he shouts, waving his arm over his head in a flourish.
“Come on, git up!” fusses the old woman, pulling Farfalla onto the stage. Farfalla reluctantly follows, hopelessly confused, and almost delirious from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. The old woman grabs her by the shoulders and turns her, so she is facing the crowd.
“What we have here, is a real-life SELKIE!” boasts the man next to her. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. Farfalla sees the woman in front of her instinctively place one hand on her chest and cover her mouth with the other. Next to that woman a couple look up at her in shock.
“’How do we know she’s a selkie? Don’t look nuthin’ like one,” says a burly man from the back of the crowd.
“How would you know what a selkie looks like, you ever seen one before?” asks the man next to him.
The tension rises quickly, but just as it looks like a fight might break out the old woman, still standing next to Farfalla, intervenes. “I found ‘er me self, laying on the beach. Walked right out of the ocean, she did. Not a boat in sight.”
“Maybe she’s a witch!” shouts a woman to the left. Farfalla’s head snaps up then. Not this again! There is a sudden shift in the crowd, and Farfalla can sense a growing sense of animosity toward her. The shouting and arguing gets progressively louder. The sun is directly overhead now, its rays aiming directly for the top o her head, and making her feel slightly faint. She tries her best to tune out the shouting, placing her hands over her ears. I just want to go home, she thinks. Home, to Meadow Lane, to Mama, Papa and Paloma, to the apple orchard and its thousands of fragrant blossoms, to the fox cubs playing in the fields, to the safety of the Oak Tree. She closes her eyes and starts humming the song of the Oak Tree, that strange, sweet melody she heard one day as she sat on her favourite branch.
Her humming grows louder, and her lips part to let out the hypnotic sound of her voice. A hush settles over the crowd as they listen to her, mesmerized. Farfalla sings her heart out, sings for James, for Elisabeth, Mama, Papa, Paloma… for Marius. Finally, drained of all energy, all emotion, she closes her mouth and opens her eyes. The crowd in front of her stands in silence, wide-eyed. She turns to look at the old woman and the man on the stage, both are frozen in place. The man regains control of his functions first and claps his hands.
“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen, our very own Selkie!” he says, his brow furrowed as if he’s not entirely convinced of what he’s saying.
“Crown her!” shouts a woman from the center of the crowd. “Yes, crown her!” comes another voice nearby. Soon enough a chant of “Crown her!” fills the air. The man nods and walks to the side of the stage where a woman hands him a silver crown made of vines and twigs. The man walks back to Farfalla and places the crown on her head.
“I hereby give you, the very first Belle of the Skye Lark Festival!” he shouts. The crowd responds with a loud roar.
Farfalla stands perfectly still, frozen in shock. The Belle of the Skye Lark Festival… the Skye Lark Belle, just like in Mama’s book. She had walked out of the ocean too. She had been brought to the festival too. She had sung for the villagers, and they’d all fallen in love with her too. A silver crown of vines and twigs had also been placed on her head. Farfalla reaches up to touch the crown. It feels very real. This entire experience feels utterly real. A shiver runs through as she realizes the truth.
She is the Skye Lark Belle.
Thank you so much for listening. Join me next week for Chapter 17 – A Childhood Dream Come True – in which Farfalla embraces her new role.
The Skylark Bell is brought to you by Phaeton Starling Publishing and features original music by Cannelle. If you are enjoying this story, please consider leaving a rating or a review, they are both greatly appreciated. You can also support my work by subscribing to Patreon or Ko-Fi, where you get early access to episodes as well as MP3 downloads of the music, artwork, behind the scenes videos and more! You can also find The Skylark Bell exclusive merch on my website, www.theskylarkbell.com. Just check the show notes for all necessary links.
Once again, thank you for listening – I’m Melissa Oliveri, writer, host and producer of The Skylark Bell Podcast.
