Subscribe and leave a review for the Trial of Memory Fairchild on Anchor.fm, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Contact us at memoryfairchildpod@gmail.com.
Catapala Linin died and is being controlled by a descendant of Monteneres
ok i know i’m gonna sound crazy for this, but like, hear me out. you guys remember Catapala Linen? she was my mom’s favorite folk singer and we listened to her a lot growing up, so even tho she’s not like. the Most famous musician, i learned a lot about her mostly via osmosis and then after i realized this stuff, i started actually searching for info. ok so in the interview she did in 2009 (link here), she talked about how she hated having to channel her magic into batteries for her performances and just did exercising routines to increase her magical strength. and it’s obviously Not something she’s just saying for clout, like her attitude is completely serious, and you can see in videos of her performances what she does with the lights isn’t reliant on a battery or anything like that. remember that fact — i’ll come back to it later.
ok so here’s where things start to get suspicious. catapala went on that “songwriting retreat” in 2010 for several months with notable figure…
—
Written, directed, edited, and produced by Samantha Seely.
Performances by:
“Memory Fairchild” – Grace Gibson
“Reed Song” – Devon Moravec
“Ash Calaway” – Aprille Mohn
“Slate Morrison” – Niklas Byriel
A special thanks to Colin Helb and Tara Moore for their advising.
Subscribe and leave a review for the Trial of Memory Fairchild on Anchor.fm, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Contact us at memoryfairchildpod@gmail.com.
My child is almost nine years old, and there’s still no sign that his magic presented! My wife and I are worried he’ll fall behind in school, or that his classmates will bully him. Our family says we should scare him into his presentation moment, but I don’t know how best to do that. What can we do to encourage his magic to present?
– Concerned Mothers
Hello Concerned Mothers,
One thing to keep in mind here is that everyone presents their magic differently, and no two presentation moments are exactly the same. Although it is understandable to be worried, I would hold off on trying the old “scaring them into magic” trick — you’re likely to do more harm than good! It could be possible that your son’s magic already presented without you noticing. Many of us forget what it’s like the first time we do magic, and all the mixed-up emotions that come from it. If his magic appeared in a stressful or embarrassing situation, he might have tried to hide it from you. Alternately, he might not have realized he was doing magic when it happened! Sitting down with him and a counselor…
—
Written, directed, edited, and produced by Samantha Seely.
Performances by:
“Memory Fairchild” – Grace Gibson
“Dr. Gardens” – Samantha Seely
“Reed Song” – Devon Moravec
“Ash Calaway” – Aprille Mohn
“Slate Morrison” – Niklas Byriel
“Helvetica Redway” – Kennedy Gilbert
A special thanks to Colin Helb and Tara Moore for their advising.
Subscribe and leave a review for the Trial of Memory Fairchild on Anchor.fm, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Contact us at memoryfairchildpod@gmail.com.
The trial begins, and the defendant takes the stand.
—
Cardona Public Library: Newspaper Archives
Award-Winning Physician Tragically Dies of Unexpected Heart Failure
By Declination Brocade
This week, our community is keenly feeling the loss of a talented and dedicated physician, Dr. Sateen Fairchild, who died unexpectedly Thursday of heart failure at age 48.
Fairchild saved numerous lives during her work as lead attending physician at the Intensive Care Unit at Heath Medical Center, and the impact she had on peoples’ lives was undeniable. I myself had a chance to meet Dr. Fairchild, when my brother was admitted to the ICU after a sporting accident. She never gave up on my brother and ultimately was the reason he is still alive today. Although I had heard that she was an expert in her field and had handled a multitude of difficult cases in her time in the ICU, I had not expected her compassion and kindness, or the quiet dedication to not just my brother but to all the patients in her care.
She’s leaving behind her partner, Rowan Fairchild, and a daughter, Memory Fairchild. The Fairchild family declined to comment on Dr. Fairchild’s passing, but her daughter seems to be following in her mother’s footsteps. She began attending Freestone University’s School of Medicine this past August.
Dr. Fairchild was one of the most capable and talented physicians in her field, and even though her career has been cut short, she is sure to be remembered for a long time to come. Fairchild began her path to medicine when she…
—
Content warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, death, medical malpractice.
Written, directed, edited, and produced by Samantha Seely.
Performances by:
“Memory Fairchild” – Grace Gibson
“Reed Song” – Devon Moravec
“Dr. Gardens” – Samantha Seely
“Slate Morrison” – Niklas Byriel
“Caldwell Cold” – Zachary Ingersoll
“Judge Meridian” – Hannah Paymer
Additional voices provided by Rachel Little and Giovanni Zapata.
A special thanks to Colin Helb and Tara Moore for their advising.
Subscribe and leave a review for the Trial of Memory Fairchild on Anchor.fm, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Contact us at memoryfairchildpod@gmail.com.
She shifted on her chair, the wood creaking beneath her. Why had she agreed to this? She could hear Valerie in the kitchen, droning on as she got some snacks together, but Anne just kept glancing at her phone, for once wishing it would ring with a work emergency. Something that would mean she needed to leave immediately. Maybe some injury lawsuit would land on her desk for her to deal with, or a client needed to sue someone for defamation. She wasn’t picky.
“So that’s when I thought, well there’s no helping someone that determined to make an ass of himself.” Her friend set a paper plate down, cheese and crackers spread out haphazardly, and settled into her chair, smiling expectantly.
“Oh, uh… yeah, there’s no helping someone like that.” Anne shifted again, reaching forward to nibble on a cracker, carefully avoiding getting crumbs on her dark suit.
The woman across from her looked almost as unchanged as the small dining room they sat in. Her brown hair still pulled back in a ponytail, those same blue eyes intent behind her glasses. There were more lines in her face now, sure, just as the curtains in the windows had faded and the wallpaper had started to peel, but time had hardly touched this place, this person.
“It’s been too long since we’ve hung out, Anne,” Valerie said. “I’ve missed you.”
This is the trailer for the new audio drama show, The Trial of Memory Fairchild, a podcast about an anxious medical student in a modern-magical world who discovers she can do necromancy. There’s just one problem: necromancy is illegal.
Show was written, edited, and produced by Samantha Seely.
The voices that appeared in this episode are, by order of appearance:
A week ago, after nearly a year of my blog sitting in silence, I posted a creative nonfiction piece titled “Scallops.” I’ve known for a while — a few years, actually — that I wanted to write about those times on the beach, in the bay looking for scallops. But I didn’t have the words for it. Not until this past January, at least.
I surprised myself with how sudden those words came to me, how after a few years of what I can only call a dry spell, I could write creatively again. I had missed it, missed the words coming to me, the joy of finding the right phrasing to capture an experience. Although I’ve written a lot since going to college, it’s mostly been academic papers, and newspaper articles. Works with tight expectations of research and interviews, formality and facts. I can write them decently enough, and can find some enjoyment in writing them well.
Academic papers, newspaper articles — and, well. The blog posts from my time studying abroad in Europe. I have mixed feelings about those posts, and, by extension, this blog. That’s what I’m writing about, now: the year of writing half-truths, those lists of places and things and people, and the number of pictures I thought could make up for the lack of feeling.
The day was hot and the water cool against our skin as we swam through shallow waters thick with brown-green seaweed, a dark patch of color in the sandy bay. Even with the snorkel, you could taste the salt of the water, and if you ducked too far down, water would surge into the tube that was your line to the sky. It was quiet underwater despite the distant splashes and laughter. And then you spot it, there, nearly hidden — a brief flash of sapphire light among the seaweed and the silver-gray fish. There’s a still moment where you watch, transfixed by the sparkling blue dots, appearing and reappearing in the sun with the rhythm of your heartbeat, until you reach down with your gloved hand and grab the living shell, pulling open the netted bag and slipping it inside with the others. Eventually, when the bag is full and you’ve begun to stray a little too far from the rest of your family you turn back, dragging the weight of your finds behind you in the water. Your grandfather is sitting on the edge of the boat with his own bag, and, as he sees you making your way over, he grins and yells, “Look at you! You’re the queen of scalloping. You’re just finding them left and right.” The praise sinks into your skin like the rays of the sun and the salt in the water and you grin.
…
For much of my childhood summer vacations meant getting in a car with my parents and brothers, driving down until we met up with my Granddaddy and whichever aunts, uncles, or cousins were joining us this time, before driving the rest of the way to Cape San Blas, Florida. It was a small town on a peninsula on the Gulf of Mexico that was a short drive to Apalachicola and a shorter walk to the beach. In the daytime, we would spend our time on the beach, swimming and playing in the waves; in the evening we would walk along the shore with flashlights, looking for the pale white crabs that would emerge from holes in the sand.
I’m hurtling towards the end of the semester, and I can feel the pressure increasing. There’s final papers to write, suitcases and boxes to pack and mail, friends to spend time with.
I’ve written 2 out of my 4 Hausarbeiten, my final papers, so far. Those were the shorter, easier ones, and now I have two monster 10 page papers to write. I’m hoping they won’t be too difficult. One of them I’d done a presentation on the same subject earlier in the year and won’t be starting from scratch as far as research goes, and the second one I can write in English, as the studies I’ll be analyzing are all published in English.
As of today, I have exactly one month left in Marburg, which is crazy to think about. It doesn’t feel real yet. Right now, a month seems like an incredibly short amount of time. I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave yet, when I’ve only just started getting the hang of living here. Undoubtedly, I’m looking forward to seeing family and friends, and enjoying familiar foods, but I’m going to miss some of the friends I’ve made here, and other aspects of being here. I suppose there’s no use dwelling on it, only enjoying it as it lasts.
