Full Body Chills - A Bittersweet Lullaby

Episode Date: October 13, 2021

A story about a grandfather, a forgotten town, and a tinkerer’s curious device.A Bittersweet LullabyWritten by David FlowersYou can read the original story at http://fullbodychillspodcast.com/ Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

This episode was produced with audio effects in full surround sound. For the best experience, we kindly recommend you listen with headphones. Hi, listeners. I'm Jake Weber, and I have a story I want to tell you. A story about a grandfather, a forgotten town, and a tinkerer's curious device. So gather round and listen close. To be continued... No? Oh, but you don't want to stay up all night, do you? Oh, no, that's not good at all. A story? Oh, I don't know.

Jar Jar's awfully tired. He needs his sleep, too. Fine, I'll make you a deal. One more story before bed. Hmm. How about this one? This story is about your family. No, I'm not talking about your parents or your siblings.

I mean your old family. Older than me. Old, if you can believe that. Long before you moved to your new house, and long before my Zsa Zsa moved to this country, our family lived in Poland, in a humble little town. It was a tiny village to the west, tucked away where most of the world would forget to find it. This town didn't have a real name, so the townsfolk gave it all sorts of names.

Drywood, Dobry Camion, but most of the townsfolk settled on calling it Endale. Now, even though Endale was a small town, it still had what you would call a mayor, Mayor Volkov. He was also called Volkov Vielki or Volkov the Grand. Volkov had close ties to the Schlatter, very powerful people in Poland. He earned his interesting name because of the grand parties he would so often host. At every one of these parties, there was always fine wine, wonderful music, and exotic entertainment. Some guests would say a single night at one of Volkov's parties was worth a year in the luxury of a king. You were considered lucky to be invited to one of his parties. Although very few knew of the town itself, the Volkov manor was something of a sensation.

Many Hyde nobles would travel long ways just to spend an evening marveling at its interior design. And where the house stood, with its balcony perfectly positioned, it never failed to capture the sunset in a stunning sight. And Endale. Endale was humble and happy. The town never had a reason for worry, and that's mostly thanks to Mayor Volkov. Whenever the mayor prepared for one of his parties, the town markets flourished to supply. The farmer sold a healthy and bountiful harvest, the tailor sold rare and stylish costumes, and the florist sold beautiful bouquets. Everyone prospered from the mayor's wealth. But none more than our great, great ancestor, Siegfried Krashevsky. You see, what Siegfried sold was invaluable to Meyer Volkov. And that's because what he sold could not be bought by anyone anywhere else in the world.

What Siegfried sold was pure wonder. Siegfried Kreschewski was what you would call a Meisterkowicz, a tinkerer. He made all sorts of wonderful devices. A clock with many bells, whistles, and strings that would play a symphony on the hour, a mechanical horse the size of a dog that would trot along in dancing circles, and even a strange instrument tuned to the inventor's own voice

that would greet guests with a perfect Dobry Pientur. All of these marvels and more were on full display at the Mayor's Manor. They were the highlight of every party, stirring guests to both wonder and terror. Some more frightened made claims the tinkerer was a warlock, that he had bargained with the devil, and trapped his own soul inside the talking box, it took the mayor's trust and much more convincing to assure them

that the strange objects were nothing more than mechanical wonders. Even still, some high nobles vowed never to return to Endale. For them, they could not see the spectacles as anything less than sorcery. But for those who did return, they were invited to view whatever new curiosity curiosity the tinkerer had crafted. Such was the way of Endale for many years, a happy community that thrived at the call of the mayor's festivity. But that's not to say the townsfolk of Endale never rejoiced. In fact, they often celebrated their fortune in merry ways. On the eve of every party, the whole town would gather in great joy. There was free food to be had and songs to be sung. Many of the children looked forward to those days when Siegfried would craft them their own little marvels. Simple toys, less advanced than those designed for the mayor, were gifted

to all of the young children. They were toys that bounced and sprung, toys that rolled and ran, and toys that chimed a sweet melody, all for the children to enjoy. And all their days were good. But then something happened. The people of Endale weren't sure why, but the tinkerer had changed. He was seen less around town and avoided all company. This odd habit continued for weeks as the town folk began to worry. Several times friends and family knocked on Siegfried's door to see if he was well, and from the other side of the door they would hear him reply, Yes, I am well, but I am working and too busy to see anyone.

And they would ask why he has been hidden for weeks without company, and he would reply, I am working and too busy to see anyone. And they would ask what he was working on and Siegfried Kraszewski would give no reply. Weeks without seeing the tinkerer turned into a month, and a month turned into two. For a time it was a mystery how he had gone so long without visiting the market, but then it was discovered that he had hired the help of a young boy to gather his groceries. Many wondered if the tinkerer was secretly sick. Some guessed he was working on the mayor's next marvel.

This rumor spread faster than others, and soon the whole town was convinced Siegfried was preparing to unveil his greatest invention yet. With this thought in mind, the town retired their worry and looked forward to Mayor Volkov's next party. Another month passed and news broke that a party was indeed to happen. All through Endale the town's folk prepared. The farmer pulled his best crop, the tailor their best costumes, and the florist her most beautiful bouquets. And the tinkerer worked in his shop. When Volkov Vyelki arrived at Siegfried's door, he had expectations as grand as himself. But when he announced himself,

the door would not open. Perhaps the tinkerer was going deaf, the mayor thought. So again he announced himself, but louder. This time there was an answer. From behind the door, the tinkerer replied, I am working and too busy to see anyone. Mayor Volkov was set aback. Surely he does not recognize my voice, he thought, amazed at Siegfried's cold rejection. Krashevsky, my friend, it is I, Mayor Volkov, and I have come to purchase some of your finest curiosities. You wouldn't send me away, would you? There was a long pause, leaving the mayor's brow to furrow.

Then came the tinkerer's reply. I'm sorry, I am working and too busy to see anyone. With this, Volkov Vyelki was stunned. What he paid the Tinkerer for one marvel was close to a small fortune. He wondered what could be so demanding that Siegfried would refuse his business. Then he thought, what if the rumors around town were true, and that this was Siegfried's greatest creation yet? Surely that would explain the delay. And so the mayor asked patiently, Grachevsky, is this new creation of yours for sale? If it is as great as everyone claims it to be, I would very much like it.

I can give you more time if that's what you need. Then came a pause even longer than the last, and from the other side of the door came the tinkerer's reply, yes, I just need more time. Satisfied with this answer, the mayor left. On the eve of Volkov's party, all of the townsfolk gathered in celebration. All of the townsfolk save for Zyktryd Krashevsky. Much to their disappointment, there were no toys for the children. In place of much song and merriment was eager speculation to the tinkerer's secret creation. Friendly wagers were placed on whether the device would sing or dance, or whether it was two feet tall or six.

The next day, Volkov sent one of his stewards to check on the tinkerer's progress. The servant was quickly turned away, told only by the tinkerer that he needed more time. The party carried on with all of its usual splendor, and when it came time to entertain his guests, Vol creations. Only a few of the guests seemed to complain about the lack of new inventions, but their disappointment was erased by evening drinks on the Volkov balcony, and in all, the party was wonderful. More months would pass without any news of the Tinkerer or his creation.

Many more times the mayor would send one of his servants to report on Siegfried's progress, and many more times Siegfried would send them away, saying only that he needed more time. Slowly, the curiosity that drove much of the town to speculation dwindled and died. Any attempts to raise the inventor from his shop were in vain. Eventually, the townsfolk gave up altogether. Another party arrived at the Volkov Manor without any new invention to show. Again, Volkov Velki was forced to entertain with only his old collection. This time, several guests had become tired with the recycled show of a mechanical horse and talking box.

When will we see something new, they demanded. The mayor offered his regrets, confessing the inventor had been confined to a secret project. But he promised with weary confidence that it would be a spectacle worth the wait. Come another party with no spectacle. The nobles were inflamed. We have traveled far to see this new invention. But you have nothing to show, they said. Volkov Vyelki could tolerate the tinkerer's lateness no more. The very next day he stormed Siegfried's door with fury.

Siegfried Krashevsky, he shouted, I have been patient with you, but you have wasted my good faith. You have promised me your greatest creation. If I do not see it by tomorrow night, I will have my guards seize every item from your shop without pay. You are out of time. From the other side of the door, the tinkerer gave Siegfried would heed Volkov's warning. Many feared if he did not, there would be an outburst more fierce than the last. But the tinkerer would make due on his promise. The next night, as most of Vendale retired to a restless sleep,

a few waking townsfolk reported something unusual. In the late hours of darkness, they claimed to have seen a hooded figure step out from the tinkerer's shop. They say this person was carrying a small package as they creaked through town in the direction of Vorkov Manor. Many hours later, the skulking figure returned to the shop with no package in hand. Most of Endale was left to assume this dreadful stranger was Siegfried himself, but only Mayor Volkov and his attending servants could confirm the tinkerer's identity and the contents of his parcel. Siegfried Krashevsky had arrived at Volkov Manor, where a grumbly mayor drowned his temper in wine. As he brooded before a hearth that crackled with spite, there came a knock on the front door. Opening the door, the steward met the ghoulish form of Siegfried.

Beneath his hood was a face pale and sunken with hunger. From his cloak he revealed the precious parcel, and he was swiftly brought inside. The mayor, suddenly bounding with enthusiasm, welcomed the tinkerer, arms outstretched to receive his prize. The object, wrapped in simple market paper, was no larger than a flowerpot and slightly round in shape. It was much smaller than the mayor had predicted and left him to question the undue time devoted to its construction. Patiently, the tinkerer unwrapped the package to reveal something quite extraordinary.

The device was like a great silver pisanka. The metal egg, twelve inches tall, gleamed the color of moonlight. Delicate golden wires curled and curled around its shell like a thousand copper snakes, thin as thread. Between them, smooth gems of a hundred shades floated their colors over the polished silver. Even with only the dying hearth to show its splendor, the crafted egg was more alluring than all the wealth in Poland. As the heavenly artifact was carefully set upon the mayor's table, all of Volkov's grievances had fluttered away. But before he could even compliment the tinkerer's expert craftsmanship, Siegfried produced an odd key from his pocket. It was a key unlike any other, with several sophisticated sides. It was truly something to stump even the most talented locksmith.

Siegfried inserted the unique key into a hidden hole on the side of the egg and gave it three wide turns. One, two, three. When he released the key, the device began to move. Sections of the silver egg rotated as the golden cage expanded and twirled. Suddenly all those in the room heard a song dancing in their ears. The instrument before them transformed their humble room into a concert hall, playing a masterful melody that was both sweet and sorrowful, like an empty crib. Hearts were moved in its grace.

Then the hundred colors that now swirled its twisted body rose like a ballerina to meet every eye in that contortion of wondrous light, impossible shades took form. At that moment, all of those enchanted by the singing spectacle were transported to their fondest memory. For the steward, he was there at the birth of his late daughter, holding her in his arms. For the mayor, he was at his grandest party. The food was never better. The wine was never better. The wine was never finer. The sunset on his balcony

was never more captivating. And the tinkerer? No one knows what Siegfried saw, but it forced him to childish tears. When the song reached its finale and the device was unmoving, several hours had passed. None were wise to the passage of time. Those hours lost in the egg's reflection felt as mere minutes in thought. The tinkerer was praised by the mayor. Truly, this was his greatest creation yet. The fortune offered to Siegfried was enough for him to retire several times over. But he would not accept it.

Instead, as payment for the rare marvel, Siegfried only asked that the mayor keep a promise. Anything, exclaimed the mayor. Name your promise and I shall abide. Should I invite you to all my parties henceforth? Should I remove all your taxes and all your family's taxes? Or shall I bestow my manor to you upon my last will? Anything, Siegfried, anything for this most wonderful creation. With a voice as

drained as his ghoulish features, Siegfried asked Mayor Volkov to promise, except. Once a year, instructed the tinkerer, once a year, you may show off my device and turn its key, but only for that one party. Then you shall not use it for another year since. Volkov Vyelki was confused. Never before had the tinkerer made such a demand. This was his finest marvel, and yet the tinkerer wanted it hidden away. What was the point of owning such a thing if only to spend so little time with it? Almost instinctively, Mayor Volkov refused, but then, as Siegfried started to reclaim his device, the mayor quickly changed his tone. He pleaded with the tinkerer, begging him to be more reasonable, but Siegfried would not waver.

Seeing the cold determination in the tinkerer's eyes, Mayor Volkov finally agreed to Siegfried's terms. With a heavy heart, Siegfried laid the marvel upon the mayor's table and left. For the rest of the night, the mayorfolk eagerly awaited its unveiling at Volkov Vyelki's next party. But Endale would be left waiting. Many months passed without a party, leaving the town frozen in anticipation. Much did not change at first. The farmer continued to grow his crop, the tailor continued to fashion their costumes, and the florist continued to tend to her garden. And even though his work was done, the tinkerer remained in his

shop. Upon chance, a passerby might have caught a sight of Siegfried at his window, staring longingly towards Volkov Manor. All the while the town folk could only assume Mayor Volkov was planning for his next and greatest party, the day when he would unveil the silver egg, coiled in gold, and turn its key. That day which would only come for once a year, had Volkov Vyelki stayed true to his promise. Mayor Volkov may not have been an impatient man, but a certain hunger in his heart grew too great to handle.

In his private hours, the mayor sn and stowed away to dreamy memory. What was a single trespass became a sinful occasion, and what was an occasion became a habit, and what was a habit became an obsession. In the siren glow of the silver egg, Mayor Volkov relived each of his finest memories. The wine, the music, even the guests, all selected from their greatest moments. Why, thought Mayor Volkov, would I entertain another party when the best of them are at my fingertips? His servants were the first to notice a change. Whereas their master had been boastful and loud, he was now

quiet and mostly reserved to his quarters. He had also lost his appetite. Nothing quite satisfied his tongue anymore. Even though his stewards expressed concern over his wasting form, he dismissed them, blaming only his sensitive stomach. Soon it became tradition that after every unfinished meal, the mayor would excuse himself for some private rest. Yet no matter how many hours he spent in his bedroom, he always seemed to emerge, looking ever more exhausted. Eventually, the townfolk noticed it as well. For nearly a year, there were no parties. Wealth did not flow through Endale as it once had, and the markets grew poor more and more. The people suffered as many could not afford food or fire. Many grew sick to a plague that had swept the town.

Those who could not afford good care were taken by the sickness, leaving more graves than there were people to mourn. And by it all, Volkov Vielki was locked away with his precious marvel. All through the day, he turned its key. Turn and turn and turn, until it snapped. Mayor Volkov had used the device so many times that he had worn the key to break. He panicked and pried at the silver egg, trying to force out its song, but it would not move. Quickly, he had his stewards fetch the tinkerer.

Siegfried was still retired to his shop, and as he often gazed out of his window, he could not avoid the sight of Endale's suffering. Already suspicious of the mayor's seclusion, he dreaded Volkov's summoning. Mayor Volkov was a babble of insanity. Between his lies and broken thoughts, Siegfried saw the truth. The mayor broke his promise and broke the key. The ragged corpse requested, begged, then demanded that the tinkerer repair it. But Siegfried refused. He would not allow for his device to cause any more suffering.

But the mayor was made rabid by the cursed device, and so he had the tinkerer arrested. Mayor Volkov decried that he would not be freed until the silver egg sang once again. When Siegfried remained defiant, Volkov summoned the town's locksmith. But the locksmith had fallen to the plague, so instead he summoned his son. The boy, barely a man, was not as skilled as his late father,

but still assigned the difficult task. When the boy could not copy such expert craftsmanship, he too was arrested. The summons and arrests grew many and frequent. As the people of Endale were ruined with tragedy, their grief swiftly turned to revolt. Upon one night, while the mayor sat miserably with his broken marvel. The people marched upon Volkov Manor. Even in the marvel's silence, the Mayor was deaf to Endale's screams, their anger, their sorrow.

At last, their suffering erupted through the front doors. They tore the manor apart. The fine wine was tossed and spilled. The art was thrashed and stolen. And the beautiful halls torched aflame. Even all of Siegfried's inventions were smashed or left to ruin in the fire. The prisoners, including Siegfried, were released and watched as the great manor crumbled to ashes. As for the Maia, his fate is unknown.

Some say he burned in the fire, desperately clinging to his precious marvel. Others claim to have seen a figure standing on the Volkov balcony, jumping into the flames below. In any case, they all agreed that Volkov Vyelki went down with his manor. But not everything was destroyed by the fire, be it chance or something else. Unharmed and among the ashes was the silver egg coiled in gold. Somehow, the infamous device survived and found its way back to its creator, Zygfrid Krashevsky. Of course, the key was still broken, and so it would remain while under the tinkerer's safekeeping. Endale was abandoned, and though its story was forgotten by most, every word is true.

How do I know this? Well, my little sprite, that's because I've seen it. The curious marvel, the silver egg coiled in gold and wrapped in a hundred colors. I saw it once, when I was younger than you came into the hands of my Zsa Zsa. But then it was stolen by a slithery cheat named Oswald Vancouver. He ran off with the marvel and was never seen by our family again. He likely sold it for cash, or maybe he buried it when no one would find. Will the world ever see it again? Will its key finally be fixed? Perhaps not.

But maybe that's for the best. After all, Siegfried never wanted to repair the key. And that's because he knew all songs must come to an end, as must all stories. And now, little Sprite, this story is done, and you must go to bed. But do not worry. You will awake tomorrow to a great new day. Good night. I love you. Well, my little sprite, are you ready for bed yet? No? Fine, I'll make you a deal.

One more story before bed. To be continued... read by Jake Weber. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. So, what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?