Confronted by the suspicious spirit, Jean is not only skeptical, she wants back her control. You chose an unlikely action… to consume it. And here is how Message in a Bottle Ends.
Transcript:
Narrator
In our last episode, Jean decided that whether the apparition that appeared in her kitchen was her departed Richie or an imposter was irrelevant, she had made a deal. Swimming out the spot where her trouble began, Jean was assailed in the deep by a dark creature, one that she escaped and terrified with the full-throated defiance of her song. After releasing the bottle, the apparation appeared to her again. Tired of games, she turned her voice to the ghost, and demanded answers. What it claimed was disturbing. That it was the father of Makayla’s child, and that the Witch had cursed not only him, but manipulated Jean to do her bidding. All of this was being done to keep the spirit from his child.
It defied belief. Was Jean being tricked? And if so, by who. She thought about what she could do here, and you helped her come to a decision.
And so Witchever Path Presents the finale of Message in a Bottle: Hard to Swallow
[The ocean]
Jean’s narration
This spirit continues to weep. Something in my stomach turns. My teeth ache to clamp down on its throat. But without a real form, how can I? Unless.
“Are you really here?”
“I am projecting from nearby.”
“How can I see you?”
“You opened the bottle. We are linked now. We can see one another, and hear one another. We are linked.”
“Nearby? Good. Come to me.”
I sing to the creature, the lure, the way that has always worked. His eyes lose expression, and his legs move, as though he is walking in place. His face loses any resemblance to Richie’s. His face becomes pinker, with freckles. His eyes stare ahead, blindly. This projection of him stumbles to its feet, then it gets up to run. He is coming to me. Our link, the one he had been using to watch me, to attempt to manipulate me, it’s now in my service. He, like so many others is my thrall.
The projection continues running, then leaps into the air, only to seemingly float there. It looks at though its treading water. And then he begins to swim. I continue to sing, but as it reaches its third minute, I begin to worry. He doesn’t seem to be tired, but I am miles out to sea. If this being is alive, he will drown before he reaches me, won’t he?
I consider getting into the water, to swim closer to him, but after what nearly killed me before, it’s smarter to stay where I am. And if he drowns, I am fine with it. Men will not trick me to harm others. I will not let them hurt people I know. I will not.
I hear his breath before I see him swimming toward me in the dark. His silhouette as he paddles closer to me is appetizing. He doesn’t look athletic, but I can smell something in the air. He’s not a normal man. There is something old that swirls around him. A smell of somewhere else.
The hunger I feel brings me a release. Doubt, fear of the world outside, whatever waits on for me in the depths or the shore, it doesn’t matter any more. My eyes dilate and now I see him clearly, twenty yards away, as though it were dawn. His mouth slightly open, his eyes staring forward in my direction.
Good.
I am not Jean here. I am ravenous, I am righteous. I will have him.
[sound of swimming]
He is nearly at the rocks. I feel the throb in my arm where his curse had compelled me. I cannot wait. I will not wait. He reaches out for the rocks with his left hand. I see a gold band on his ring finger. I reach out, lift him up. He crawls over the wet rocks into my embrace. And I stop singing for a moment. His eyes focus and he sees me for a moment.
“Good night.”
[snarl and ripping sounds]
When I’m done, I slip back into the water, singing the song of the hunt, warning anything within the water that I am not to be interfered with. I am full. I hold his ring in my palm. While under my thrall, he told me why were linked. I opened the bottle. And so… I do not feel guilty.
I go home. I take a shower, change into something new, it’s not quite ten. I text Bella, that I am doing all right, but I need her to come down soon to talk. I am antsy. It’s warm outside. Swimming is an option, but I decide to walk. I am walking past Pickering Wharf when I hear music coming from inside a bar that sounds so haunting and odd. And then I see them. People dressed in black and strange costumes that remind me of the horror movies Richie loved. One of them is wearing a wig that looks like tentacles. I am curious.
I follow them inside, and I walk upstairs where the dance floor is filled with humans swaying to electronic beats. There is a flyer with today’s date with a fanged mouth for a logo. The words say “Horrors of the Deep.” There are people here wearing fake gills and costumes that make them look like a mashup of fetish gear and sea monster.
It’s then that I realize I’m not wearing a mask. And I don’t care. I take to the floor. I sway to the music. I get caught up in the evening, without talking to anyone or making any sound. I go home at the end of the night, happy. I don’t dream of anything.
[sound of the day in Salem]
The sun feels good on my skin, but it will be dry today. The spray bottle in my bag is filled with seawater. The blue envelope in my hand is thick. I didn’t have any paper to write down what happened that looked right, so I went to the store to buy a card.
Makayla’s mailbox is just outside of her gate. I place the envelope inside and close it carefully. She told me not to come back to her home uninvited. But this is the street. This I can do.
I go downtown, to the main drag. Some of the people who look at me are slightly unnerved. Others take photos, or ask to pose with me. I decline at first, but the compliments on my body modifications make me realize, they think I’m a person. And so I consent to a few photos before finding a shady spot to sit for a while.
The attention is a little more overwhelming, so I fish a mask out of my bag and put it on. I sit on the edge of the fountain near the museum.
“Thank you for not knocking”
Makayla sits down next to me.
“That was fast.”
“I read what you wrote.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did something I don’t think I would have thought to do. I didn’t even suspect it was really him. I thought that he was… someone else.”
“Is Lily still in danger?”
Makayla looks up at the sky and sighs.
“No more than all of us are, really. Thanks to you. Would you mind walking with me to work? I have to open my store, and I would like to talk with you some more.”
“I’d like that.”
She helps me stand and leads the way to her shop. It’s closer to my home than I expected. Unlocking the door, she gestures for me to enter. There’s a rich smell of incense and herbs. On the counter I see the most beautiful statue of a golden woman that I have ever seen. A peacock feather lays at her feet.
“You can take that mask off if you want. I can wait to open for a little bit.”
I do. She takes in my face, my scars. But there is no look of horror or disgust. She nods and says. “Wow. You’re beautiful, Jean.”
And then she offers me tea.
Narrator
This was Message in a Bottle. Your Choice was the most unexpected, and I can’t thank you enough for letting us record this madcap script.
Valentine Buchanan is your Siren.
Journee LaFond is Makayla
The theme song was by Rydr.
The following songs come courtesy of EpidemicSound.com:
A Mermaid’s Eulogy by Etienne Roussel
Lambent by Christopher Ditlevsen, Karolina Gabel
Perfectly Hopeless by Coma Svensson feat Divty
Foley by Witchever Path, with supplementary effects by Epidemic Sound, and Audio Hero.
Everyone, I’m not going to lie to you, this season is the end for a few months. We’re writing our next Witchever Path project during that time and creating some more Witchever Path content for the premium members. Without whom, we wouldn’t be able to pay for what we need to make this show.
If you like what you heard, there’s even more to this story at patreon.com/witcheverpath. Not only will you get extra episodes and behind-the-scenes content, you’ll also help support our show. Consider a subscription today.
