Letter 3 — The Bakehouse
The reply Edwin has been waiting for arrives from his sister Margaret — and comes, he's almost certain, sooner than the long slow road should allow. Then the fog settles deep in the valley, and on one white morning the smell of new bread draws him through it to a place he had never seen: a low, golden bakehouse kept by Mr. Oates, whose oven has never once been let go cold, and who opens his door only "when the fog's in." Edwin warms his hands at an unbroken fire, eats the finest loaf of his year, and carries it home through a village that finds nothing at all strange in any of it — only him, the man from away, still turning to look back.
A bedtime story for adults. About an hour, read by a single warm British voice over a quiet music bed. No jump scares, no plot twists at high volume, no music that builds — written to be drifted through. Best with headphones, lamps low, eyes closed. If you fall asleep before he signs off, that's the idea. Sleep well.
New letter every week.
Prefer to drift off with your eyes closed? Follow Letters from Hollowmere on Spotify and each new letter arrives on its own — also on Apple Podcasts and Amazon Music / Audible.Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/033uSY6tL5SpN3jGLG5sMC
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Narration created with ElevenLabs voice synthesis. Words written by a human.
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