On the last Friday of each month, we pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusual and unexplained, experience.In today’s episode we recount the story of Jack’s Room in which our narrator has a haunting experience with a long-departed relative.Be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.Music: Nightbridge and Jack's Room by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.comInstagram: @theskylarkbellTwitter: @melissaoliveriPatreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveriTRANSCRIPT:Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: The Skylark Bell, Fantome Friday. I am your host Melissa Oliveri. On the last Friday of each month, we will pause our reading of Meadow Lane and the Skylark Bell, and instead cover a real-life supernatural, or at the very least, unusal and unexplained, experience.In today’s episode we will recount the story of Jack’s Room – and be sure to stay tuned at the end of the episode to hear an original song by Cannelle about this experience.So get settled in, grab a blanket, a warm drink, and let’s get started…I was only a child, maybe 9 or 10 yeas old. It was Christmas time and my father, step-mother and I were visiting relatives in Quebec City, Canada, which was about 4 hours away from where we lived. Rather than get a hotel, we were going to stay at my Great-Aunt Marselle’s house since she was on a trip overseas for the holidays. Great-Aunt Marselle was my father’s aunt, her sister being my Grandma Rachel.The house was a curious old house with a strange layout and big heavy antique furniture. It had belonged to my Grandmother’s Father, my Great-Grandfather, originally, where he had raised his son and four daughters first with my great-grandmother, then with his second wife after my great-grandmother passed awaya. He was a successful business man, and the house sat in an upscale neighbourhood. I had been in the house countless times for gatherings that often included up to two dozen family members, whether we were celebrating Easter, Thanksgiving or Christmas, the house welcomed us year after year – but this was the first time I would venture upstairs, and actually stay in the house overnight.We parked in the driveway and took the front walkway to the door. It was that time of night when the sun had just gone down and the sky was a dark blue, making black silhouettes of the trees and surrounding homes. We stumbled through the entryway with our suitcases and I made my way to the front parlour. Suddenly, a flash of white streaked across the room in front of me and I let out a shriek! My father quickly flipped the lightswitch, and in the glow of the antique light fixture I was able to see my Great-Aunt’s white cat, who was aptly named Fanfan (which was short for Fantome, the French word for ghost). The cat was quite old and deaf, and meowed very loudly, unable to hear itself anymore.We made our way into the house, turning lights on as we went, and hauled our suitcases up to the second floor. I was put in a small room at the end of the hallway while my father and step-mother were in a larger room just down the hall. Exhausted from the trip, we decided to go to bed early. I don’t remember anything specific happening in the hours that followed, I just remember feeling absolutely terrified. The walls of the room were covered in wallpaper that had a vine pattern to it, and I felt like the vines were going to twist around me, trapping me in this room full of frightening, negative energy. I was the type of child who was afraid to bother her parents. Normally, I would not have been fussy about which room I was put in. Normally, I would not have been pushy about wanting to change rooms. But nothing about that room felt normal. I WOULD NOT stay in that room, so much so that my parents ended up letting me sleep in their room, which was pretty unheard-of in our household. Something about what I said or how I was acting lead them to believe I couldn’t stay in the little room at the end of the hall.About ten years later, while on yet another drive to Quebec City with my father, I asked if he rememberd that strange night at Great-Aunt Marselle’s house when I was afraid to sleep in the little bedroom with the vine wallpaper. My dad replied “Oh, you mean Jack’s room?” I paused and looked at him, perplexed. I didn’t recall a relative named Jack. “Who’s Jack?” I asked, and my father explained that Jack was the brother of my Great-Grandfather’s second wife. He was originally from Montreal but, for one reason or another, was living with his sister and her new husband at the house in Quebec City. We arrived at our destination and visited with my Grandma Rachel and aunts and uncles. The ...
