Music Welcome to Snewscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a quiet magic. Tonight, for the final in our fifth annual Spooky Sleep Story series, we'll read a snooze cast original story about a fictional New England town and the brother and sister who go out on a trick or treating adventure within it. While this is the end of this year's spooky sleep stories, be sure to check out our freely available series called Snewscast Presents, Spooky Stories, or go to snewscast.com slash series to listen directly from our website. If you're a premium subscriber of snoozecast plus, all of our podcast series, including that one, are available to you at free. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed.

Now, take a few deep breaths.

In New England, fall is not just a season. It's a poetic interlude, a fleeting moment when nature dawns her most vibrant attire before the quiet slumber of winter descends. The cobalt sky, once aless canvas for the sun to dance across,

now where strokes of amber and tangerine, as if the heavens themselves have caught fire and suffused their warmth upon the world, like a watercolor artist painting wet on wet. The sea, which was a brilliant sapphire in late August, now takes on a deeper hue, mirroring the melancholy of migrating birds, winging their way southward. Their calls echoing through the crisp air, a haunting melody, the tells of journeys taken, and destinations yet to be reached. The land here is interwoven with varied histories, with each town emerging as a unique Stanza in nature's majestic verse. One may find familiarity in the rolling hills and picturesque town squares, but if you look closer, you'll see that every town boasts its own melody and its own rhythm that sets it apart. When September rolls around in Sylvan Falls, the heart of the Champlain Valley, the air becomes filled with the perfume of ripe apples, a fragrant aroma that lingers among the trees. Each branch, heavy with the weight of plump fruit, bows gracefully as if offering its sweet gifs personally to you. You stroll through the grove absent-mindedly, holding your hand to catch a sunbeam that's filtered through the foliage, casting a mosaic of light and shadow on the soft, grassy ground. In November, when the Great North Woods wears a coat of mist and the air is kissed with

the chill of winter's breath, a quiet magic descends upon Stonebridge New Hampshire. The trees, once ablaze, now stand bare against the sleek grey sky. branches reaching like ancient fingers towards the hazy ether. In this town, nestled among the hills, each house has a chimney, and each chimney puffs gentle plumes of smoke, as if exhaling warm breath into the crisp air. A cozy intimacy blankets the community with each neighbor sharing a smile and greeting as they pass each other. in October, in the usually sleepy seaside village of Ponegan set on Massachusetts South Coast, Halloween emerges every year as a bewitching local spectacle. Here, the very soil seems to hum with the resonance of ghostly footsteps, and the whispering winds carry the secrets of colonial spirits. From the clapboard and cedar shingled houses, candle shine in the windowsills, casting, flickering light onto the cobblestone streets outside. Every stoop is adorned with pumpkins carved with toothy grins and wicked faces. The salt-kissed air breeze carries with it the aroma of apple cider donuts freshly available from the seasonal street carts mingling with the comforting scent of chimney smoke curling into the twilight sky. Down at the harbor boats adorned with spectral sales bob gently on the water. They're rigging, clinking like wind chimes. Sea fairers return with tales of haunted islands and mythical creatures, adding to the town's cache of stories that will be shared around bonfires on all hollows eve. In the heart of the village, shop windows come alive with a display of wonders, crystal balls that seem to hold the mysteries of the universe, broomsticks that promise flight under the moonlight and masks of every variety. A lantern glows with eerie luminosity above the bakery, making long, unrelating shadows of the people walking by that quiver to the tempo of murmured spells. The town square, once a place of commerce, transforms into a spectacle of marvels. Gossamer webs are delicately spun between lampposts, and scarecrows take on a life of their own, standing guard over baskets of apples and gourds. The old town hall with its ivy covered façade becomes a haunted mansion for the night, hosting a spooky ball. Partygoers arrive in 1930's period dress, eager to Lindy Hop through to Ballroom Jazz. From higher up on the cobblestone hill on Main Street, one would have a perfect vantage of the entire square. Willow, who had just turned 12, looked intently at the scene below. Clutching her small pillowcase tightly, that would serve as a candy sack for the evening in one hand, and an early-myer flask containing a luminescent emerald liquid in the other. her eyes went wide, and she may have inadvertently uttered a soft ooooh. But with the din of the reverie that lay before her, it would have been hard to hear. She was wearing a practical long black dress with sleeves and a high neck. The only bit of ornamentation being a white collar with Rick Racktrim going down the center of the front, ending with white fringe. Her costume was perhaps not immediately obvious to an outside observer, a fact that did not concern her, as she had already prepared a 30-second elevator pitch for the conceivably naive individuals who had not heard of Mrs. Curie's accomplishments. This was in stark contrast to her 10-year-old brother, Gus, who could not be mistaken for anything other than the one and only tyrant lizard king, Tyrannosaurus Rax. His face poking through Dino's perpetually open mouth mirrored his own for the time being as he too was impressed with the chew-belie before them. He looked left and right swiftly taking in the panorama. His long green plush tail, swinging back and forth, bumping into both of his parents' legs on either side of him. An action which had the outcome of snapping the family out of their collective, fleeting enchantment. Mr. Parker, in dark, tweed pants held up with suspenders, two-tone spectator wing tips, and a white cotton shirt adjusted his brown and orange striped kipper tie, and smiled as he turned to his wife, Mrs. Parker, who was dawning a lively red and white polka dot a-line skirt, complete with a cap sleeve blouse and black Mary Jane shoes. She responded in turn to her husband with a friendly eyebrow wagle. They took stock of the situation. Mr. Parker began, okay. Let's go over it. One more time. Mrs. Parker finished his sentence. Willow had been prepared for the possibility of her parents changing their mind about the proposed plan for the evening, so she took care in rehearsing her response to this potentiality. You and Dad are going to the ball. You'll be there for two hours, which means we have two hours to trick or treat, at which point we'll meet you promptly in front of Town Hall at 9pm so we can all walk down to the beach and watch the bonfire. She paused. She was forgetting something. And... Don't let Gus get in trouble. She added, Hey, he retorted with mild indignation and stay within the village. Mrs. Parker raised her eyebrows, and... Willow searched her brain. There was nothing else she thought, and have fun. Both Mr. and Mrs. Parker called out as they ran ahead to the party. They had taken swing lessons that summer and were eager to finally have an opportunity to put their practice into action during the dance contest portion of the ball. They both trusted Willow. with their parents disappearing into the lively crowd moving towards Town Hall, Willow and Gus looked at each other and smiled. Candy time. Gus, ever then enthusiastic dinosaur, hurried ahead down the closest side street, Elm, with large, exaggerated steps. His large tail swaying behind him as he roared at a group of skeletons on the other side of the road. Willow grabbed her long dress so she could run after him, smiling to the skeleton group as if to say, ten-year-olds am I right? The first hour so had gone exceedingly well. The duo had locked into a flow state with a slightly harmonized interjection of trick-or-treat at every door, followed by a hurried, thank you, as they scuttled off to the next house just narrowly avoiding the next group of trick-or-treaters arriving behind them. Mostly it seems like everyone was following a clockwise pattern for door knocking, so it was invariably the same group of trick-or-treaters hot on their tail. Some slightly older middle schoolers each dressed as one of Universal's classic movie monsters. Count Dracula, the Wolfman, the creature from the Black Lagoon, Frankenstein, and the bride of Frankenstein. A lot of care had gone into each outfits and, and Willow had admired something new about their individual garments on each passing. Particularly the brides, who, unlike the others, really seemed to stay in character the whole evening. hauntingly eerie visage held a singular expression of otherworldly mystery the entire night. After they reached the last house on Maple Street, Willow motioned for her brother to wait a moment as she heard the ring of a text message and pulled out her phone to inspect. They both took a moment and sat on the nearby bench. While he waited, Gus opened his candy sack and had a peek at the hall so far. There were your classic chocolate bars with variations, nugget, caramel, nuts, and his personal favorite, peanut butter chocolate, everything from the sour family, sour candies, sour gummies, sour lollipops, plus all of the old styles of candy that no one seemed to like anymore, but somehow everyone kept buying and giving away at Halloween, tasteless wafers, tablet candies, taffy treats. These would be saved just the same with all the others, however, they would not be eaten. Left to sit in the back of the kitchen cabinet until they were invariably found by Mrs. Parker during spring cleaning. She'd give a small, disc, with a shake of her head and unceremoniously toss them into the waste basket, wondering why the children kept saving candy they didn't like. There was never a good answer to this, but if Gus had been able to articulate it, he felt it was akin to how adults would sometimes keep unread books on their shelves. Perhaps they weren't interested in the stories now, but they held on to them, believing that someday their tastes might change, or perhaps a friend might come along who appreciated a specific tale that they did not. Similarly, those candies, unappealing to the taste buds today, held a hope for a future where cravings might shift. Or more realistically, some unfortunate friend, who perhaps didn't even know what candy was, might come along and enjoy it, the poor soul. Digging through the bag again, there were all the non-candy items that also seemed to make their round every year. Bags of pretzels, little toys like crayons, mini puzzles, stretchy skeletons, and of course, the same thing from Dr. Perlman, the town's dentist every year. A hand-assembled dental care package, complete with toothbrush, mini toothpaste, floss, and a handwritten note carefully inked in fountain pen from Dr. Pearlman's wife, who was also Dr. Perlman, they had a joint dental practice. All contained within a white paper bag printed with their logo in blue, which consisted of a happy smiling tooth with Perlman and Perlman dental group printed above in red. The note red, dear children and parents of Ponegancet, remember to enjoy your treats and moderation tonight. Brush your teeth for two minutes, drink water between candies, and schedule a dental check-up soon.

Have a spookedacular and cavity-free Halloween. Best, Dr. Pearlman and Dr. Pearlman. Despite the Pearlman's lack of candy, every child,

dootifully reported to the dentist house each year, almost as an act of atonement, for the sheer amount of candy they would be subjecting themselves to that evening. The other benefit was getting to see the Pearlman's two giant Irish wolf hounds, each dressed like the great sphinx of Giza, both flawlessly trained to perch in the portico on either side of the Perlman's bright red front door and give a singular bark in unison. The couple they had visitors, even before the bell had been wrong. To the first time visitor, this harmless action had the potential to startle. But for many, it was the highlight of the evening. Gus dug a little deeper through his bag and came across a couple of homemade treats. Under normal circumstance, their parents would tell them to discard them, but the first was from Mrs. Perry, the town baker, and a close family friend. She had packaged up delicious candy apples, coated with red caramel and covered with chopped nuts. When Mrs. Perry had opened the door for the Parker children, she exclaimed in delight, instantly recognizing Willow's costume. The smell of fresh baked Brad wafed through her doorway, along with the faintly

spicy and woody scent of fresh cinnamon. The children lingered for a moment on her door

step. Breathe deeply and thanked her kindly. Tell your folks I'll see them at PTA on Tuesday. She had called out into the night and the children waved back in assurance. The second homemade treat had come from their great Aunt Linda from their father's side. Mr. and Mrs. Parker had told her the children would be in the area that night, so great Aunt Linda had set aside two special bags of a dozen cookies each for them. Chocolate cookies shaped like pumpkins, bats, ghosts, and witches hats that hats lovingly decorated with royal icing and sprinkles. They had even stopped inside for a moment to have some fresh apple cider at her white for Micah Kitchen Table while an old episode of Matlock blared from the little TV on the counter. Great Aunt Linda talked about this and that, while Willow and Gus happily munched on the cookies. Gus always appreciated his aunt's house. Her father had been a marine painter and took much inspiration from the local harbor and wharf. Beautiful paintings of old tall ships, braving fierce ocean waters adorned her walls. Finally, towards the end of his inspection, Gus caught hold of the fun-sized Zagnut bar at the bottom of his bag. This was actually from the first house they had visited, and it being early in the evening. He had been decidedly unprepared for the trick portion of that common declaration. The front porch light was on, but a sign had directed visitors towards the garage around the corner where a spooky laboratory scene had been set up. Dry ice clouds billowing out onto the sidewalk, inviting the curious to have a look. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. Some beakers and lab equipment, cobwebs, and a ethereal, green glow backlit against the walls. In the back of the garage was a table with a giant bowl of candy simply saying, help yourself. Without giving it a second thought, Gus had ran up quickly to the bowl, his dino tail almost knocking over one of the display board cutouts of a picture of a mad scientist. He dug his hand deep in the bowl of candy, not entirely sure what he was grabbing for. When the disembodied hand, just to the right of the bowl, suddenly sprang to life, and burst through the layers of cobwebs that had lightly hidden it from plain sight. It gave an admonishing finger wag that seemed to say, take one, and Gus stepped back startled. Willow, who had witnessed the whole thing burst out laughing. Gus, still recovering, grabbed a single piece of candy without looking. Willow, keen on the trick, walked over carefully and gave a little knock on the table by the hand as a sort of hello and the hand in turn gave a little knock on the table by the hand as a sort of, hello.

And the hand, in turn, gave a friendly wave and gestured towards the bowl as she graciously took a mini-clark bar. Okay, Willow said, snapping Gus from his trance as she fired off her reply.

Turning to look at Gus, that was just mom and dad checking in. Gus had started munching on another one of great Aunt Linda's cookies and tried to say something in turn. But his mouth was full. Little bits of chocolate falling onto the front of his dinosaur costume. Willow ignored his manners and said, look, they sent a pick as she shared her screen. When the vibrant snapshot is frozen in time, the parkers are center stage on the dimly lit ballroom. Their expressions a blend of joy and concentration. Lips slightly parted in exhilaration. Their eyes reflecting the flickering lights above. Mr. Parker's hand securely rested on the on the small of Mrs. Parker's back with practiced ease. Her slender fingers gripped his hand and the energy between them was electric, a Alpablepable force seeming to radiate from the photograph. Of which to this, Gus simply responded, ew, who took the picture though? Willow shook her head, I think it's nice.

I don't know.

Maybe it was. Willow's eyes go wide. She suddenly sees something approaching them from the rear of the bench and just behind Gus. Uh, uh, she stammer's backing up slightly onto the sidewalk. Gus frozen in apprehension involuntarily drops his sack on the ground, half of the chocolate cookie coming out of his mouth and landing sadly on the sidewalk. Ah, ah, c-c-c-c-go-host! Willough breathlessly whispered and pointed behind Gus. Gus turned and read as the shadowy apparition descended on him.

A white, billowing cloud surrounding him, and murmuring out a spectral lament in the form of, Ooooooh!

Gus retreated into the confines of his costume.

Willow and the apparition suddenly roar with laughter, as the apparent specter had been nothing more than her close friend Rose playing a small prank. August recovered from yet another indignation that evening, there are other friend Jane, who had given Rose some space for the prank, walked onto the scene. Jane's costumes had been simple, but elicited a sensible chuckle from many. She wore a simple black pleated dress with gold embroidery and carried a large ornate frame with a copy of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa inside, but with the face cut out. At each door, she'd stick stick her face through the cut out for the full effect. It was an imperfect system however as this meant Rose had to carry her sack for a portion of the night. Earlier that evening Jane had promised to do a costume where she could use both hands for next year. I won't forget this, Gus muttered. Please, Rose said, tussling his hair, this just makes us even from last summer. Remember your little water balloon surprise at Willow's birthday? Oh yeah, Gus smiled, reminiscing of the watery prank. The three girls locked eyes and rolled their eyes. Ten-year-olds. Jane piped up. Your parents at the ball, too? Yeah. Looks like we've got another hour or so before we need to meet them for the bonfire. Jane and Rose looked at one another and responded together. Us, too. Hey, you want to finish out the rest of the night with us? Willow asked. And slow us down, Gus interjected. The three girls glared at him, and he retreated back into his candy sack while they discussed. Willow continued. Let's see. We haven't hit birch lane or Brookside Drive yet or... Oh, we still need to do chestnut avenue. That's usually the best. Rose nodded with a slight grin. Sure, we could do that, but Jane and I had something else in mind. Gus perked his head up. This sounded like potential shenanigans, which if his mind was a radio, then that thought was the station it was constantly tuning to. What did you have in mind? Willow asked curiously. Full-sized bars, Jane said. Full-sized bars? Willow repeated back. Multiple full-sized bars rose clarified. Gus' jaw dropped. Where, he demanded? Rose explained. So at Seeview Avenue, the Miller's place, I see my brother's friend, Jay, in the backyard. They're having a little campfire. He calls us over to say hi. I tell him Mike's gonna be a little late tonight. Had to help my grandma. Her bat decorations on her porch kept falling down anyway. Jane is unwilling to suffer this tangent and interrupts. Anyway, he asks us, oh, have you been to the old Hawthorne place yet? And we say, the old Hawthorne place? And he says, oh sure, we used to go there every year. In fact, sometimes it was the only place we'd go. Old Esme Hothorn is so far up on the hill, barely anyone comes to visit her. So to encourage people to come on Halloween, she offers full-size bars. Oh, and that's not even the best part. You can take as many as you'd like. I mean, be cool about it though. So we asked him, how can we never heard about this before? And he said, well, if everyone knew about it, do you think she'd still be offering full-size bars? Come on now. Anyway, use this information wisely. And he turned back to the party. That was it. Willow processed this for a moment. Rose asked, so what do you say? Wanna go see the old Hawthorne place? And move her hands and head around slightly as if she was saying a cursid phrase adding a little ooo vocalization at the end of her question. I don't know. Something doesn't seem right, I mean. To be honest, it sounds kind of made up. I think I would have heard of this at some point Especially if it's up on the hill Willow just jared in that direction Should we be able to see it from down here? I've never even noticed it Just at that moment the sky which had been overcast for the past 30 minutes are so cleared, and the full moon seemed to act as stage spotlight with its single subject being the old Hawthorne place high on the hill appearing almost as if by incantation. Weathered by time and laden with secrets, its silhouette haunting against the twilight canopy, The moonlight casting long eerie shadows that danced upon its worn gray shingles. The house, a relic from centuries past, bore the scars of countless storms. Its windows slightly askew like curious, watchful eyes peering out into the night. Ivy, gnarled and thick, clung to the wall as if trying to protect its inhabitants from the outside world. The wind whispered through each crack and crevice. A passing cloud once again covered the moon, shading the house back in darkness. Save for the single crack of lightning far in the distance, which briefly

illuminated its outline. The entire scene etched in stark relief against an obsidian canvas. Oh, Willow said.

Well, it had been decided that yes, they would go to the house. Part of the caveat was that they had to act fast and skip every other house so they could get up the hill and back down to the harbor within the hour.

Willow knew this was possible, but only if they didn't trick or treat at any other house. Something Gus willfully agree to at the start of this venture, with visions of full-sized bars in his mind mind like 1950s intermission ads for the

concession stand at the movie theater. But the actual reality of this fact set in not long after their decision and every whining insistence of just this This one house, they've probably got good candy.

Was met with a chorus of...

No. insistence of, just as one house, they've probably got good candy, was met with a chorus of no-guss. The path seems simple as described by Jay, originally truncated from Jane's retelling for dramatic effect. Take bridge street Street all the way up, out of the village, when it ends, the cross is Highland Road, take a ride, and she's got the only house on the left in about an eighth of a mile. Willow had a worrying thought for a moment. Wait a second, she said. Is this outside of the village? I told my parents we'd stay in the village. Rose said, oh, totally, Highland is the border. Willow retorted, but how do you know that? Rose shrugged, I don't know, I just do. Willow furrowed her brow, but chose to accept this fact as truth. They were making good time, and might have even been able to hit some houses on their way back if things had continued at this

...