Witches' Well (2024)

[bunniefuu]

(birds chirp)

(wind whistles)

(wings flap)

(birds chirp)

(wind whistles)

(birds chirp)

(wind whistles)

(footsteps clack)

(suspenseful music)

(wind blows)

(leaves rustle)

(bird caws)

(suspenseful music continues)

(suspenseful music continues)

(footsteps crunch)

(footsteps crunch)

(footsteps crunch)

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(gate squeaks)

(gate squeaks) (suspenseful music)

(footsteps crunch)

(hurried footsteps crunch)

(wind blows)

(suspenseful music continues)

(bird caws)

(wind blows)

(suspenseful music continues)

(stalker breathes heavily)

(footsteps crunch)

(eerie chime music)

(traffic hums)

- I mean, obviously it's nonsense,

but there's a lot of lore surrounding it.

Especially the Greyfriars Churchyard.

I'd say it's an auspicious start.

Lends the right ambiance, more or less.

Mm.

It's so beautiful.

You can see the castle from anywhere you are.

And you know how I adore graveyards.

So, yeah.

It was a good day.

Mm-hm.

Yeah, yeah.

No, yeah. Timeline is looking good.

Okay, Richard.

Okay. Check in soon.

Bye.

(eerie chime music continues)

(Leona clears throat)

(keyboard clacks)

The breeze lifted her hair,

as she watched the grave digger at his work.

She hardly felt anything anymore,

since her departure from the world of the living.

She must have imagined the breeze.

Katie was lucky, she told herself,

to have someone to dig for her.

The remains of the accused were usually burned.

Perhaps her condition had granted

at least that much clemency.

Her condition, though she tried to alter it,

never did change,

and the child in her belly was drowned with her,

and her last lover had betrayed his vow.

(eerie chime music)

(keyboard clacks)

(Leona whispers)

(keyboard clacks)

(Leona whispers)

(keyboard clacks)

(keyboard clacks)

(Leona whispers)

(keyboard clacks)

(keyboard clacks)

(keyboard clacks)

(eerie chime music continues)

(button clicks)

I guess I've always felt that horror is

designed to increase your odds of survival.

(chuckles)

That's how I've always felt, anyway.

So, like maybe it prepares you

for when real fear enters in, you know?

How will you deal with it?

I...

I'm not just trying to make hearts race.

Not that I'm opposed to the occasional cheap thrill.

(host chuckles)

- [Host] I don't think that's

an unreasonable position to take.

- [Leona] But no, seriously, I...

I truly am interested in exploring that space

between the fear and the response.

You know? There is endless fodder in that small space.

What will my character do? What will we do?

You can close the book, you can run, but you don't.

You stay put for the fear response. You are not going-

- [Nicholas] Yes, but you don't believe

there's anything to fear, do you, Leona?

- [Leona] Sorry, Nicholas?

- [Nicholas] You've said

yourself on numerous occasions

that you don't believe a word that you write.

- [Leona] I'm sorry but I think you've misquoted me, friend.

I believe every word I write.

I just don't believe I know

anything about the unknowable.

There's a difference.

- [Nicholas] How can any fiction writer worth herself

not believe things go bump in the night?

You're just feeding people lies.

You don't care about your audience.

What? You just think they're sheep?

- [Host] Now, Nicky, boy. Hold on, buddy.

Let's keep this friendly.

- [Leona] No, no, it's all right. It's all right.

Nicholas, we are writers of fiction.

You do know that, right?

I won't pretend to be some sort of ghost hunter,

so it seems like I'm honoring the genre or something.

I research the dead and I

use my imagination for the rest.

There's no such thing as waking the dead,

and I don't think I'll lose fans, or sleep, over saying so.

- [Nicholas] I just don't care for hypocrites

on bestseller lists, that's all.

- [Host] Well, it's time...

(laptop lid slams)

- Look, I know I shouldn't let it bother me. I really do.

(Leona sighs)

It's just...

(Leona sighs)

Yeah, but that podcast actually

has a really large audience,

considering how niche it is.

I mean, I just don't like being accused of dishonesty

when my refusal to confess some false belief

in the paranormal is like the

most honest thing I can do.

(chuckles) Hello?

Yeah.

Yes, yes, yes, yes. I know.

Yes.

Thanks.

I love you too, sis.

And speaking of love, how is Simone?

Three months is like a record for you.

Is she moving in yet?

(chuckles)

(dark string music)

(clock ticks rhythmically)

(dark string music continues)

(footsteps clack)

(clock ticks rhythmically)

(dark string music continues)

(duvet whooshes)

(Leona moans)

(gentle meditative music)

(gentle meditative music continues)

(gentle meditative music continues)

(eerie whispering tones)

(high-pitched ringing) (dark music)

(eerie whispering tones)

(Leona pants)

(Leona pants)

(dark music continues)

(Leona pants)

(Leona pants)

(Leona gasps)

(Leona sighs)

(door creaks)

(Leona pants)

(door creaks)

(Leona sighs)

Huh?

(Leona sighs)

(knife clacks)

(distant horn honks)

(distant horn honks)

Hello?

Yeah.

I wanted to know whether anyone else but me

currently has a key to the place.

Perhaps the cleaning...

(Leona sighs)

Well...

I woke up to some items in the kitchen and (chuckles)

they were misplaced.

Well, the lock seems fine. No one's broken in.

It's just that I...

Right.

All right. I will.

(Leona sighs)

Okay.

Yeah.

I know it's normal for kids to

sleepwalk in adolescent years

but would you say it stopped at like, what, 13?

Mm-hm.

Yeah, but the last time it happened

was when you found me on the lawn?

Mm-hm.

Oh, I didn't hurt anybody this time, either.

(sighs)

Mom.

It's the Royal Mile, not...

(chuckles)

(Leona sighs)

Yeah, that's what I'm saying.

Mm-hm.

Yeah, I think the stress of the deadline is maybe just

causing me to do it again or something.

You know, like active sleeping brain and all that.

Mother, I am not leaving because I rearranged

some kitchen utensils in my sleep.

And I'm not calling the cops over something

that's just gonna make people think I've lost it.

I don't really want a spot in history

in the halls of unstable writers.

Good company, though I know it to be.

There are enough.

(scoffs)

Okay.

Okay, Mom. Enough.

Yeah, my publisher's calling, actually. I have to go.

Okay.

Love you. Bye.

(Leona sighs)

Nothing ever changes.

(distant chatter)

(suspenseful music)

(suspenseful music continues)

(hurried footsteps clack)

(keyboard clacks)

(Leona sighs)

(keyboard clacks)

"Katie Wallace drowned

in the attempt to confirm her innocence.

Her subsequent death was presumed

to be consequence of her guilt.

She did not pitch and rage as she lowered,

bound, into the Nor Loch's chilly waters,

refusing to either confirm,

nor deny her use of witchcraft.

Perhaps knowing that her protestations

would grant no forbearance and that her survival

would only result in a second

death and hanging her in fire.

Well, perhaps this led to her graceful capitulation.

"And though King James VI..."

(keyboard clacks)

Mm.

"James,

the First of Scotland,

was most certainly a mad witch hunter,

hell bent on punishing the weaker sex.

"Perhaps he got this one right?"

(keyboard clacks)

(keyboard clacks)

"Perhaps Katie's Jesuitical passivity,

as she looked upon death and responded gently,

was because she was returning home,

"to the bosom of he to whom she was sworn."

(keyboard clacks)

"Lucifer himself."

Perhaps the waters enfolded her like a lover,

"and she returned to her own."

(keyboard clacks)

"She returned"

"to her own."

(stalker sighs)

(dark music)

(Leona pants)

(door creaks)

(water splashes)

(door creaks)

(birds chirp)

(dark music continues)

(dark music continues)

(birds chirp)

(dark music continues)

(birds chirp)

(footsteps clack)

(ominous music)

(ominous music continues)

"The location of the witch burnings

has now been covered over by

the Edinburgh Castle esplanade,

where tourists walk like ghosts,

floating over bones in a graveyard.

The witches' well there

commemorates those innocent women.

Innocent, save one.

This is the story of Katie Wallace, whom made a deal

with the devil to save herself

from an adulteress's fate.

She had been promised relief, in exchange for her vow.

She was to wake,

after making good on her

promise to be Satan's mistress,

"free of the destiny growing in her womb."

(keyboard clacks)

"A dark mortal destiny of shame and abandonment."

(keyboard clacks)

"One paid for in the coin of perdition."

(keyboard clacks)

"One paid for in the coin of perdition.

An exchange of damnation..."

(eerie whispering tones)

(door slams)

(Leona sighs)

(eerie music)

(Leona gasps and pants)

(Leona pants)

(Leona pants)

Mm.

No, I'm telling you.

It was the most bizarre thing I've ever done

in my long-dormant secret (indistinct).

Yeah, I'm afraid to sleep in the room now,

which I know is silly.

Yeah, you are right. That's the thing.

I could never have actually

get out the house, back then.

Somnambulists don't usually have the dexterity

to open things that are locked.

(indistinct)

(Leona laughs)

(distant horn honks)

So, if I lock it before I go to bed, it won't even matter

if I try some weird sh*t like that again.

I did kinda wish you there, though.

Like when we were little,

and I'd make you stand outside the bathroom door

whenever I had to pee, because I would book it.

(Leona chuckles)

Yeah, at least I've moved past the fear of drains.

My adult self has held paranormal fears well in hand.

Much better than my childhood itself did, anyway.

Anyone who writes about this stuff

had better not believe it.

A recipe for disaster.

I am f*cking exhausted, by the way.

It's day two with no sleep.

I feel like I could f*ck' drop.

Well as I say, fears are often

extinguished by the daylight.

I feel better after talking to you.

(Leona sighs)

I love you, too.

Bye.

(eerie music)

(drawer thuds)

(ominous music)

(knife clatters)

(eerie whispering tones)

(Leona moans)

(dark music)

(body thumps)

(chandelier rattles)

(chair thuds)

(door slams)

(Leona gasps)

(dark music continues)

(Leona pants)

(dark music continues)

(door creaks)

(suspenseful music)

(suspenseful music continues)

(suspenseful music continues)

(Leona pants)

(Leona breathes deeply)

(Leona sniffles)

(Leona pants)

(Leona sighs)

(dark music)

(dark music continues)

(Leona sighs)

(Leona sighs)

(eerie chime music)

(Leona breathes heavily)

(Leona sighs)

(Leona pants)

(eerie music continues)

(Leona sighs)

(suspenseful music)

(suspenseful music continues)

Hello, again, my fellow bibliophiles, fans,

critics and otherwise.

I'm gonna share today, some

interesting bits of research

that I've been doing for my upcoming book,

and then maybe we'll see in the comments section

if you can guess the subject matter of it.

In Scotland during this time,

accused witches were often

kept awake for three days,

at which point, they often began hallucinating

and confessing.

They were usually hanged

or strangled and then burned,

and sometimes drowned.

If they died in the water, they died innocent.

If they didn't die in the water,

they were said to have proven themselves guilty

and were hanged or strangled, and then burned.

Scottish witchcraft trials

were notable for their use of pricking.

That is where the subject's

skin was pierced with needles,

pins and bodkins, as they would've said back then,

and it was believed that these women

would possess a devil's mark.

Stop!

Feel the pain.

(Leona pants)

(Leona pants)

(floorboards creak)

(Leona sniffles)

(eerie music)

(Leona wheezes)

(Leona coughs and pants)

(Leona coughs)

(eerie music continues)

(Leona coughs)

(suspenseful music)

(Leona sighs)

(Leona sighs)

(eerie whispering tones)

(eerie music)

Okay.

(Leona breathes deeply)

Katie?

I'm sorry.

(Leona pants)

(Leona sighs)

I won't write it.

(Leona sighs)

I won't tell lies

about you.

And I'm sorry for what happened to you.

I'm so sorry.

I won't write it.

And you're real.

And I'm sorry.

(Leona sighs)

(moody Celtic music)

(suspenseful music)

(Leona sighs)

(switch clicks)

(water splashes)

(suspenseful music continues)

(ominous music)

(Leona gasps)

(Leona gasps)

Nicholas?

- [Nicholas] You're lovely when you're quiet.

Time to keep it that way.

- What the hell are you doing?

(Leona yelps)

(Leona gasps)

(Nicholas groans)

(knife clatters)

(Nicholas chokes)

Oh, my God!

(body thumps)

(camera clatters)

(traffic hums)

(brooding piano music)

(horn honks)

(Leona chuckles)

It occurs to me that

the events

of the past year

necessitate some response.

You deserve to hear from me.

(Leona sighs)

My former colleague, Nicholas

Jeffries, was an unstable man.

He was a talented writer

and he had one of the most expansive imaginations

I've ever come across.

But he was deeply disturbed

and his own belief in the supernatural,

coupled with what he perceived

to be my undeserved success,

in light of my own affirmations that I do not

believe in such things,

led him to a deep and obsessive resentment of me.

He often expressed a disdain for my work,

claiming that a non-believer had no business

in the business.

It appears he sought to

convince me of the supernatural

by perpetrating this colossal hoax.

He did not have a healthy understanding of the line

that separates fantasy from fact.

And his attempt at revenge

by gaslighting me was betrayed,

in the end, by his own insanity.

He jumped from my building,

readers.

He was not pushed by my guardian ghost.

As comforting as that can seem, in some ways.

I believe he never attained

the level of acclaim his work deserved.

But hell.

This is the modern age.

Who reads books anymore, anyway?

I have been asked if I have watched the footage

that Nicholas recorded.

Now, all of it, legal evidence,

though some of it, I am aware

has been leaked to the public.

The answer, of course, is a categorical no.

I was there.

Of course.

And I do not require a return visit.

We create our own hauntings,

when we dwell in past anguish.

After all,

aren't ghosts just memory substantiated?

(Leona sighs)

Now,

my readers.

I can return

to my firm belief

that the thing going bump in the night

is nothing more

than human fear.

The monster under the bed

was no monster, after all.

As always.

Just a man.

And I am a writer of fiction.

I have claimed to be naught else.

(Leona chuckles)

(button clicks)

(dark music)