Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime stories for grown ups in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: All stories are written and read by me, Katherine Nikolay,
Speaker 1: with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Our podcast is sponsored
Speaker 1: by you, our listeners, through patreon dot com. If you
Speaker 1: appreciate what we do and would like to become a
Speaker 1: sponsor for as little as two dollars a month, visit
Speaker 1: patreon dot com slash nothing Much Happens. Your support makes
Speaker 1: it possible for us to produce more stories more frequently.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening and for sharing our stories with
Speaker 1: anyone you know who likes relaxation and good sleep. You
Speaker 1: can also follow us on Instagram and Facebook. Or an
Speaker 1: extra bit of coziness, let me explain a bit about
Speaker 1: how to use this podcast. Just like when you were
Speaker 1: a child being tucked in for bed, you're about to
Speaker 1: hear a story to send you off to dreamland. The
Speaker 1: story is meant to be a soft landing place for
Speaker 1: your mind, so that instead of circling through the same
Speaker 1: thoughts you've been stuck in all day, you can rest
Speaker 1: in a sweet, peaceful place. I'll tell our story twice,
Speaker 1: and I'll go a bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you find yourself still awake at the end of
Speaker 1: the first or second telling, don't worry. Take your mind
Speaker 1: back to the beginning of the story and walk yourself
Speaker 1: back through the details that you remember, especially any bit
Speaker 1: that felt particularly cozy. You're training your brain and body
Speaker 1: to wind down, and the more often you do it,
Speaker 1: the faster you will fall asleep. So have a bit
Speaker 1: of patience at the beginning, and if you find yourself
Speaker 1: awake again later in the night, think back through the
Speaker 1: story to go right back to sleep. Now it's time
Speaker 1: to turn off the light and put away anything you've
Speaker 1: been playing with or looking at. Take some time to
Speaker 1: cozy your body down into your preferred sleeping position, get
Speaker 1: the right pillow in the right spot, and let everything relax.
Speaker 1: In time, all of this becomes a signal for your brain,
Speaker 1: and that signal says it's time for sleep. Now, let's
Speaker 1: take a deep breath in through the nose and then
Speaker 1: a soft sigh out of the mouth. Good, do that
Speaker 1: one more time, Breathe in and out. Our story tonight
Speaker 1: is called Halloween in an Old House, and it's a
Speaker 1: story about making friends with whoever you share your space with.
Speaker 1: It's also about getting to be someone else for a bit,
Speaker 1: and the contagious excitement of children on one of their
Speaker 1: favorite nights of the year, Halloween in an old house.
Speaker 1: Years ago, while traveling through Europe in my late teens,
Speaker 1: I'd step down onto a train platform and been stopped
Speaker 1: in my tracks by the thought that in that moment,
Speaker 1: I could be anybody. None of the people spilling past
Speaker 1: the trains around me knew anything about me. I could
Speaker 1: reinvent myself if I liked, claim a different name, speak
Speaker 1: with an accent, be brave about things I hadn't been
Speaker 1: brave about before, or just try on a different kind
Speaker 1: of life. Isn't that part of the appeal of Halloween?
Speaker 1: A chance to try on something different, a mask, a costume,
Speaker 1: and the leeway of the day, us allowing each other
Speaker 1: a bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I
Speaker 1: looked through my closet a few hours before the trick
Speaker 1: or treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes.
Speaker 1: I'd rather some old clothes creatively put together than something
Speaker 1: from a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangars and
Speaker 1: found a black overcoat that could be made to look
Speaker 1: a bit like a witch's robe, I clucked my tongue.
Speaker 1: Not a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
Speaker 1: long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
Speaker 1: All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice face.
Speaker 1: We were all young ones. On a hook Beside it
Speaker 1: was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
Speaker 1: given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
Speaker 1: somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
Speaker 1: and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
Speaker 1: a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
Speaker 1: hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
Speaker 1: said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
Speaker 1: up at the ceiling above the attic. Didn't you really
Speaker 1: have much to say? Once, maybe twice a day, there
Speaker 1: was a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just
Speaker 1: set their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
Speaker 1: or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
Speaker 1: it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
Speaker 1: I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
Speaker 1: book and call out me too, then lights out? Shall
Speaker 1: we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
Speaker 1: was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
Speaker 1: that old houses do. But honestly, that bump had always
Speaker 1: felt like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you
Speaker 1: know by sight but not by name. We nodded at
Speaker 1: each other, then moved on with our days. And besides,
Speaker 1: everyone has to live somewhere, So Queen of hearts, it
Speaker 1: was then that was decided on. I took the dress
Speaker 1: out to the landing, where a wide window looked down
Speaker 1: to the street. I opened it and let the cool,
Speaker 1: spicy Halloween night air in. I hung the dress from
Speaker 1: the window sash to let it air out, and leaned
Speaker 1: out a moment, elbows on the sill, to watch the street.
Speaker 1: Neighbors were setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were
Speaker 1: stepping off the bus, kicking through and falling into piles
Speaker 1: of leaves, dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that
Speaker 1: giddy thrill of being allowed to wear my costume to school,
Speaker 1: and a whole school day lost to parties and parades
Speaker 1: and candy. The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted,
Speaker 1: and even at this distance it was contagious. I drummed
Speaker 1: my fingers on the sill, then spun on my heel
Speaker 1: and headed down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done.
Speaker 1: I'd done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in
Speaker 1: the background while I scooped out the seeds and cut
Speaker 1: silly faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
Speaker 1: and by the smell they were just about done. ID
Speaker 1: coated them with olive oil and sea salt and black pepper,
Speaker 1: and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
Speaker 1: into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
Speaker 1: spooned them into a bowl for snacking on. While I
Speaker 1: handed out treats, I bustled around the house, lighting candles
Speaker 1: and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
Speaker 1: my pumpkins and set them out on the front steps,
Speaker 1: amusing myself for a while, setting them up in different scenarios.
Speaker 1: This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
Speaker 1: one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
Speaker 1: for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
Speaker 1: But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
Speaker 1: I carried on for a bit. The light was changing
Speaker 1: at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
Speaker 1: few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
Speaker 1: lit the candles and the jack o' lanterns and rushed
Speaker 1: back upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The
Speaker 1: landing was properly chilly now, and I closed the window
Speaker 1: and pulled my dress down from its spot. As I
Speaker 1: turned to head back to my room, I stopped short.
Speaker 1: The attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and
Speaker 1: were resting on the landing floor. They were that old
Speaker 1: sort of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the
Speaker 1: ceiling to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I
Speaker 1: took a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly, I
Speaker 1: suppose if there were one night of the year when
Speaker 1: you are allowed to act up a bit, it would
Speaker 1: be Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement.
Speaker 1: I edged around the steps and into my room, closing
Speaker 1: the door behind me. As I got into my dress,
Speaker 1: there was a lingering chill in my body, that was certain,
Speaker 1: But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
Speaker 1: for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
Speaker 1: my system a bit. I thought it must be even
Speaker 1: more contagious than I'd realized. I settled my crown onto
Speaker 1: my head and looped the silly heart necklace around my throat,
Speaker 1: slipped my feet into some old red velvet slippers, and
Speaker 1: heard the first call of trick or treat from the
Speaker 1: front door. We'd better get down there, I called out,
Speaker 1: Bump Halloween in an old house. Years ago, while traveling
Speaker 1: through Europe in my late teens, I'd stepped down onto
Speaker 1: a train platform and been stopped in my tracks by
Speaker 1: the thought that in that moment, I could be anybody.
Speaker 1: None of the people spilling past from the trains around
Speaker 1: me knew anything about me. I could reinvent myself if
Speaker 1: I liked, claim a different name, speak with an accent,
Speaker 1: be brave about things I hadn't been brave about before,
Speaker 1: or just try on a different kind of life. Isn't
Speaker 1: that part of the appeal of Halloween? A chance to
Speaker 1: try on something different, a mask, a costume, and the
Speaker 1: leeway of the day, us allowing each other a little
Speaker 1: bit of strangeness. I thought about it while I looked
Speaker 1: through my closet a few hours before the trick or
Speaker 1: treating was likely to begin. I never bought costumes. I'd
Speaker 1: rather some old clothes creatively put together than something from
Speaker 1: a plastic bag. I pushed through the hangers and found
Speaker 1: a black overcoat that could be made to look a
Speaker 1: bit like a witch's robe. I clucked my tongue, not
Speaker 1: a witch again. Past that, I found an old dress,
Speaker 1: long and scarlet, cut a bit close with a high waist.
Speaker 1: All right, all right, I'd had a pride and prejudice phase.
Speaker 1: We were all young ones. On a hook beside it
Speaker 1: was a crown, silly, golden and bedazzled, something I'd been
Speaker 1: given to wear at a bachelorette night out and had
Speaker 1: somehow made it home with. I looked at the crown
Speaker 1: and the dark red dress and slipped a necklace off
Speaker 1: a hook, a costume piece with a big red heart
Speaker 1: hanging from it. Queen of Hearts, I said aloud. Bump
Speaker 1: said the attic, thank you for your opinion. I smiled
Speaker 1: up at the ceiling above The attic didn't usually have
Speaker 1: much to say. Once, maybe twice a day, there was
Speaker 1: a soft, inconspicuous bump, as if someone had just set
Speaker 1: their coffee mug down a bit hard on a table,
Speaker 1: or closed a book for the night. In fact, usually
Speaker 1: it was an evening ritual. Ten minutes or so before bedtime.
Speaker 1: I'd hear that muffled thump, and I'd set down my
Speaker 1: book and call out me too. Then lights out? Shall
Speaker 1: we sleep tight? It was an old house, and it
Speaker 1: was likely to have the strange sounds and flickering wiring
Speaker 1: that old houses do. But honestly, that had always felt
Speaker 1: like a friendly wave from a neighbor that you know
Speaker 1: by sight but not by name. We nodded at each other,
Speaker 1: then moved on with our days. And besides, everyone has
Speaker 1: to live somewhere, so Queen of Hearts, it was then
Speaker 1: that was decided on. I took the dress out to
Speaker 1: the landing, where a wide window looked down to the street.
Speaker 1: I opened it and let the cool, spicy Halloween night
Speaker 1: air in. I hung the dress from the window sash
Speaker 1: to let it air out, and leaned out a moment,
Speaker 1: elbows on the sill, to watch the street. Neighbors were
Speaker 1: setting out pumpkins on stoops, and children were stepping off
Speaker 1: the bus, kicking through and falling into piles of leaves.
Speaker 1: Dressed already in their costumes. I remembered that giddy thrill
Speaker 1: of being allowed to wear my costume to school, and
Speaker 1: a whole school day lost to parties and parades and candy.
Speaker 1: The excitement of children is completely untempered, undiluted, and even
Speaker 1: at this distance it was contagious. I drummed my fingers
Speaker 1: on the sill, then spun on my heel and headed
Speaker 1: down into the kitchen. The pumpkin carving was done. I'd
Speaker 1: done that earlier, an old monster movie playing in the
Speaker 1: background while I scooped out the seeds and cut silly
Speaker 1: faces in. The seeds were roasting in the oven now,
Speaker 1: and by the smell, they were just about done. I
Speaker 1: coated them with olive oil and salt and black pepper,
Speaker 1: and they were crispy, and when I popped a few
Speaker 1: into my mouth, they sizzled on my tongue deliciously. I
Speaker 1: spooned them into a bowl for snacking on while I
Speaker 1: handed out treats. I bustled around the house, lighting candles
Speaker 1: and getting my giant treat bowl ready. I took out
Speaker 1: my pumpkins, set them up on my front steps, amusing
Speaker 1: myself for a while. Setting them up in different scenarios.
Speaker 1: This pumpkin is in love with that one, and this
Speaker 1: one's jealous. I was having a bit too much fun
Speaker 1: for a grown up alone on her porch on Halloween.
Speaker 1: But I looked around and didn't see anyone watching, so
Speaker 1: I carried on for a bit. The light was changed
Speaker 1: at this time of year. Sunset happened in just a
Speaker 1: few minutes, and dusk would go to darkness soon. I
Speaker 1: lit the candles in the jackal lanterns and rushed back
Speaker 1: upstairs to get into my dress and crown. The landing
Speaker 1: was properly chilly now, and I closed the window and
Speaker 1: pulled my dress down from its spot. As I turned
Speaker 1: to head back to my room, I stopped short. The
Speaker 1: attic stairs had dropped down from the ceiling and were
Speaker 1: resting on the landing floor. They were that old sort
Speaker 1: of retractable steps you pulled a cord from the ceiling
Speaker 1: to release, but I hadn't pulled the cord. I took
Speaker 1: a deep breath. Very well, I said, calmly. I suppose
Speaker 1: if there were one night of the year when you
Speaker 1: are allowed to act up a bit, it would be
Speaker 1: Halloween night. I took the following silence for agreement, I
Speaker 1: edged around the steps and into my room, closing the
Speaker 1: door behind me. As I got into my dress, there
Speaker 1: was a lingering chill in my body. That was certain.
Speaker 1: But I remembered the excitement of the kids gearing up
Speaker 1: for their neighborhood prowl, and how it had gotten into
Speaker 1: my system just a bit ago, and thought that it
Speaker 1: must be even more contagious than I'd realized. I settled
Speaker 1: my crown onto my head and looped the silly heart
Speaker 1: necklace around my throat, slipped my feet into some old
Speaker 1: red velvet slippers, and heard the first call of trick
Speaker 1: or treat from the front door. We'd better get down there,
Speaker 1: I called out, Bump, Sweet dreams.