[tape recorder crackles to life]
Lorie: Today is the day…I’m leaving town.
Well, the town proper anyway. I’m going past all the packed dirt roads and into the actual moors where there aren’t even trails most of the time. Just me and the goats. I know I can’t actually leave Breagh, since apparently nobody can, but this feels close enough.
It’s nice out here, just the grass moving in the wind like it’s an ocean and these are all waves. Feels like time really doesn’t exist, like I could be looking at this same place a hundred years ago and it’d still look exactly the same. Sort of makes me see the appeal of country life.
[pauses, a bit winded] Then again, there weren’t nearly this many hills in London.
Alright. Apparently I should see his house soon if I keep heading this direction, at least according to what Henry said before. I’ll start recording again when I get there, I figure if I keep it in my pocket I should be able to catch anything he says without him knowing.
[recording ends]
[recording starts up again]
L: [knocks] Hello? 
[pause, no response]
[knocks again] Hello? Is anyone there?
[no response]
My name is Lorie Abbott, I’m from the town. I was hoping you could help me with some questions I have about Breagh–
[door opens, there’s another voice] Sinclair: Does your friend know you’re here?
L: …I’m sorry…who? Henry?
S: [overly intense and paranoid] Listen, it’s very important that you didn’t tell him where you went, so did you?
L: No…I didn’t…[shrinking back] I’m sorry…I was only going to try and ask some questions, I heard that you’re a w– that you might know things…I’m sorry, I can leave…
S: No, no, it’s– [sighs] Look at me, now I really am a proper witch, scaring off kids. Proper Hansel and Gretel bullshit. [opens the door wider] Come in, it’s fine.
L: …[isn’t sure she wants to now] are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.
S: Kid, does it look like I have anything else to do with my life? It’s just me and the fucking weeds out here. Come in, I put some tea on. [leads her in]
L: [hesitates and follows] Wow…your house is, um…
S: Kinda shit, I know–
L: It’s very nice…it’s probably the coolest house I’ve ever seen…
S: Thanks…[laughs] well, I’m stuck in a faerie ring but at least my house is cool, small mercies. D’you want milk and sugar?
L: Yes, please…wait, did you say faerie?
S: …oh, yeah, you’re gonna want to sit down for this one. [pours tea]
L: …[sits] do you know what’s been going on? Why Breagh is the way it is?
S: I know lots of things…too much for my own good…
L: …and you can tell me?
S: Well…alright. I’m shit at explaining magic, but bear with me. The way this place works is it doesn’t want you to understand it or know that there’s even anything off about it. That’s how it traps you and keeps you in here, so it stops you from figuring things out. If I told you everything at once, odds are, you’d forget all of it, which is why I’ve been trying to give you little pieces of information at a time, I figure that way you’d be less likely to forget–
L: Wait, you’ve been doing– you’re the one who’s been leaving the notes!
S: Sorry, was that creeping you out? It felt creepy, but it isn’t as if anyone has a phone in this place and I figure random phone calls would have been weirder, so…only option I could think of.
L: …but if all that’s true…how come you can remember all the information about the town?
S: That is a complicated answer that involves the use of quite a few tape recorders, never giving the folk in charge my real name, and sheer fucking spite. 
L: Oh…you use tape recorders too? [pulls it out of her pocket]
S: Yeah…where’d you get that?
L: It was in my attic…I just found it…I’ve been recording stuff as I went along…
S: Oh. Oh. [starts laughing] So all my cryptic notes were probably for nothing, you had a way to remember all this shit all along.
L: I suppose so…but the notes were helpful, they helped me figure out a lot of things…and now I have even more questions, so…
S: [sobers up] Right…well. Ask away, then, I suppose.
L: [pauses] How come nobody can leave?
S: Well…like I said. This place, this whole town and the area around it is a faerie ring.
L: …but faeries aren’t real, everybody knows that.
S: Oh, love, I really wish they weren’t.
L: What, like the small, flying people?
S: No, like…you ever hear Irish folktales? Tall people, too many fingers, too many teeth, don’t eat anything they give you, don’t give your name if people ask…that sorta thing.
L: …I think I’ve heard of that…my friend Henry’s really into those types of stories.
S: Yeah, I bet…anyway, that’s what Breagh is. A ring. Full of people who made deals with the fucking Good Neighbors…well, some people made deals themselves. Others got used as collateral in people’s deals.
L: …but that never happened to me. My parents just said that…my older brother, they…well, they always liked him better…they didn’t even try to deny it. I think it’s because I’m…different. I mean, I have a diagnosis for autism, so…and he was always good with people and with…everything really, he was perfect. And a few months ago…he died in a car wreck and…well, my parents were really upset obviously…so was I…and they said I should just go away to the countryside for a bit…to sort of recover, get some time away from the big city…they said they’d send for me again and I’d come back…in a few months….
S: …there’s no kind way to say this…love, it sounds like they might have made a deal to trade you for your brother.
L: …no, that…I…no… [is starting to cry]
S: …let’s turn that off for now, love. [switches recorder off]
[recording starts up again]
L: [numb, a bit hoarse] So my parents made a deal to send me here…what do they even need us for?
S: I don’t know for sure, but I think there’s something about humans that gives them power…they’re drawing on us like a battery.
L: What happens when the battery runs out?
S: …people disappear.
L: How come there’s people from like the 1800s here too? Why are the dates all messed up?
S: Time seems to work differently around here, it’s like Breagh is a constant and time in the human world passes around it, so you can have people from the 1800s, the 1300s, the forties, anytime really and they all end up here. As long as you come in on the train after making a deal and you give them your name to write down, you’ll get stuck here. Doesn’t matter where you came from.
L: …so where did you come from? How come you know so much about all of this stuff? Did you learn it all by yourself here?
S: No…I knew quite a bit of this stuff before I came here…I’ve been practising magic for most of my life now and…well, it wasn’t by myself. There were three of us, a little coven.
L: Three witches, like Macbeth?
S: [laughs] Yeah, like Macbeth. Always been a good number for witches.
L: …what happened to them?
S: [long pause] I think I’ve got some old tapes that can give you the story better than I could explain it.
[recording ends]
Outro: This episode of Into The Ring stars Olivia Spreen and Val Zvinyatskovsky. It was created by Thomas Malinovsky and Olivia Spreen. It is written by Thomas Malinovsky and edited by Olivia Spreen. Cover art is by our friend Nick, you can find them on Instagram at @nickick._ Music is from Epidemic sound. Special thanks to Val Zvinyatskovsky. Thank you for listening, witches are always trustworthy. Most fairy tales were written by people who would benefit from anti-witch propaganda and you shouldn’t believe a word they say. Until next time, welcome into the ring.