Gabriel Urbina (0:01)

Hey everyone, My name is Gabriel Urbina. I'm the creator of Wolf 359 as well as the co creator of Zero Hours and Time Bombs and I'm super excited to be sending you this short transmission to tell you about a new audio fiction podcast I'm working on. It's called Unseen and it's a modern fantasy show about a world where magic is real, but a mysterious force keeps it hidden from 99% of the world's population. So for the few people who can see and do magic, every day can be something of an adventure. The first season of the show is going to bring together 15 stories set in the unseen world. Some are going to be funny and light hearted, some will be dark and mysterious, but each of them will give you a glimpse into a new modern world of magic. One we've been working on for quite some time now and are very excited to finally get to share with all of you. And I'm also super excited to get to tell you about some of the folks that are working with me to make this show. It's produced by my frequent podcasting collaborators and co producers Zach Valenti and Sarah Shakat. It has an original score by our returning musical co conspirator Alan Rody. Its cast Its cast is some of the most talented voices in the world of audio fiction, including Wolf 359s, Emma Shurjarko and Cecilia Lynn Jacobs, Wooden Overcoats, Felix Trench and Tom Crowley, the Far Meridian's Eli Barraza, the Bright Sessions, Julia Morizawa, just to name a few. It's some of the best people in the field of podcasting and I can't wait for you to hear the work they've done on this show. And guess what? You're not going to have to wait. Unseen is officially out right now and you're about to hear the first full episode of the series, Never Ending Circles. It stars Potterless Own British correspondent Dottie James and tells the story of an ordinary person who finds something extraordinary in the world around her. Something she's been overlooking for a very long time. We hope you enjoyed this premiere episode of Unseen and that if you do enjoy it, that you'll help us spread the word about this new series. It would mean the world to us if you would rate and review this series on whichever platform makes sense to you and share it with anyone around you who could use a little bit of magic in their lives. Thank you and enjoy the first episode of Unseen.

Zach Valenti (3:06)

Long Story Short Productions presents Unseen Episode one Never Ending Circles By Gabrielle Urbina.

Dottie James (3:49)

You ever get this feeling like there's more to life than what you know? Like there has to be more out there somewhere, waiting for you to find it. There has to be more. Right? Hello. There's a shop in London that no one ever sees. It's in the middle of Covent Garden, on Floral street, right across from the White lion, one of the busiest places in the uk. A hundred thousand people pass through it every single day. And right in the middle of it, tucked between this ancient pub and some trendy cosmetics place, is a shop nobody notices. I'm not being metaphorical either. There's literally a shop in London you can't see. There's no name on the outside of the shop, just a blank sign which no one ever glances at, hung over a smooth black door that no one ever goes through. There's a window display, but it's full of merchandise. No one ever stops to leave. Look at. And I know what you're thinking. It's not tucked away in some nook or hidden by construction or anything like that. It's out in the open, clear as day, and yet no one ever notices it. And even if they do, no one ever goes in. They see it as something boring or uninteresting, or they remember an important appointment that they need to go to right now, even though they don't have an important appointment at a. Just a plain black door in front of a plain old shop in the middle of the busiest city in the world, standing there day after day, unseen. So why doesn't anyone see this fabulous shop? It's complicated. No, just kidding. It's dead simple. Magic, of course. Which is real, by the way, just in case I'm the first to tell you. Magic 100% real. Again, super literal. Actual magic, actually real. Okay, okay. Of course, just because something is real doesn't mean it's simple. That'd be too easy. But we'll get to that in a moment. For now, here, come on in. This is Barrow's. The shop you can't find unless you know how to look for it. Which sounds like a crap business model. Until you realise if you discovered an honest to goodness magic shop, would you ever shop anywhere else? Yeah, I didn't think so. Barrows is England's, Europe's arguably finest provider of persuasion incantations, alchemical sundries and wonder working supplies. All of which is just a fancy sounding way of saying we sell things that are magic, have magic or help you do magic. It's an amazing place, actually. You step in through the door. And there are all these impossible things. Things you've spent your entire life thinking can't be real. Except suddenly. Oh, wait, there they are. Clockwork devices that fly on their own. Fire lights that burn for months. Old books that tell you about the real history of the world, the one we've all forgotten. Barrows is the best kept secret in London. I've been working at it for a little while now. Oh, right. Sorry. Sorry. I'm doing this a bit out of order, aren't I? Harry Winter, at your service. Well, technically, Harriet Kerin Winter. I know, right? Apparently, the name's a family thing. Never was much for it. But the final straw came when I was 13. Had this horrible old bag of a teacher. The kind who'd go out of her way just to make you miserable. To feel like she could. She was called Harriet. And I thought, nope, no, thank you, Harriet Kerin. That's a sad, mean old lady nobody cares about. That's not me. But Harry Winter, Hell, yeah, that's me. I was born in a little town called Selsea on the English Channel. As a little girl, I used to go down to the beach and try to see all the way to the other side. On a clear day, I could almost make it out this whole other world across the water. I went to school. I made friends. And then I lost friends over tiny things that seemed like they were the size of the whole universe. I got into fights and I failed quizzes and I learned maths tables and the names of the planets and. And I always, always did my homework at the last possible moment. I went on long road trips with my mum. I thought she was the greatest and the worst and smartest, most amazing, most awful woman in the world. I was right. We'd gone long holidays and crisscross the whole of this miserable, rainy, fascinating country. Also Wales. I got older. Went to a bigger school. Studied new things. I got into reading. I got into fights, like actual, proper fights, which got me into trouble. Got me a record, which at the time I thought was pretty swish. I started running. I hated it. But I was going through a period of my life where I thought I had to do things I hated. So I ran. I ran to school and back home. I ran to parties and concerts and all kinds of stupid places that seemed oh, so important at the time. I met new people. I had terrible drinks and said I loved them. I kissed boys who said they loved me and I kissed girls and thought I might love them. And I kept running. I got older Again. Went to uni, far away. It didn't stick. Moved back in with mum. I'd missed her terribly. Went to another unique one that was much closer. It stuck a bit more. I decided I was going to make myself into a better person. I'd teach myself foreign languages, I'd read more. I'd learn about politics and have all kinds of smart opinions about things I couldn't fix. It went okay. Until it didn't. My mum moved to London and I went with her. Met new people, made new friends, made plans, cancelled plans, lost friends. I went to films and I laughed. And I failed to find a job. I shaved my head and instantly regretted it. I got into new music and then I decided the new music sucked. And I went back to my old music. I took lessons and looked for projects and helped my mum and kept on running in these. In these never ending circles. And I took days off the calendar. And every day, no matter what I did, I was always five minutes behind. And then one day I looked up and I'd been alive for a quarter of a century and the entire time I'd been so focused on what I'd been doing that I had never really thought about what I wanted to, you know, do. And now that I was thinking about it, I had bugger all of an idea of what I should do with myself. So I did what people do in that circumstance. It's really not a binding commitment and it would really help out with keeping the water pure for the animals that live in the rivers nearby. I got a terrible job. This company in London hired me to stand in Earl's court for nine hours at a time and convince people to sign petitions. Refugees, EU things, taxes, homelessness, whatever cause was in vogue. Are you sure that I can't. Oh yeah, no, that's alright. Have a good day. Like I said, terrible job. Every day I tried to get hundreds of people to talk to me. If I was lucky, maybe a dozen of them would give me the time of day. Mostly people looked right through me. That's where I was the day I discovered magic is real. Which. Ugh, God, I hate saying it like that. It really sounds all wide eyed and whimsical and sprinkled with pixie dust, which just. It isn't me. I do cool. Detached. That's me. Not that day though. That day was unbelievable. It was the end of my shift, my back hurt, my feet were killing me and I'd only gotten three sodding signatures. It was just after dark, the lights had just come on. God, I Can still see it so clearly. This sea of people in front of me looking up one by one as they started to hear it. Then I heard it and I looked up and there was this this big, angry, fiery red thing streaking through the night sky. The official story was that it was a meteor. One that burnt up a lot lower than they normally do. That's what everyone else on that street saw. And honestly, that's what I saw too. At first. And then it was just the strangest feeling. I remember feeling lucky for the first time in a long while. Really, I was lucky to be standing in the middle of Earl's bloody court. Lucky to be looking up at the sky and seeing this. This. What am I looking at? I remember that question running through my mind just a moment before it happened. And then I blinked. And the world changed. It was like something just broke. Or like this muscle that had been stuck in place for ages finally loosened up. And I wasn't seeing a meteor anymore. I was seeing what was really happening in the sky. It was these two people, young, a guy and a girl, hand in hand, surrounded by fire, flying over London. And deep down, it made sense to me. Some people can fly. Of course they can. Why did I think they couldn't? How did I forget that people can fly? Then they were gone. And a thousand people shrugged and went, well, never mind that, and just fell back into whatever they were doing. But I couldn't. I just stood there crying like a complete prat for hours. Okay, okay, enough of that. Ugh. Horrible, treacly bit of history. But it really did happen. And it completely changed the way I see the world. Whatever those two people broke in my mind, it wasn't getting put back together. I could see magic now. And I started to see it everywhere. I'd see people making things fly, or making something catch fire, or making things vanish. And one day I noticed a shop in Covent Garden, one that everyone walked by and nobody paid attention to. Except now I could see it. And I could see the sign that was hanging off its window. Help wanted. So I got a part time job working in a magic shop. And it was the most amazing job in the world. Since only a handful of folks can even see the shop. Everyone that came in was interesting or messed up in weirdly absorbing ways. No boring customers at Barrows. Everyone that came in always had something fascinating they were trying to do. They wanted to make it snow on a summer's day, or they wanted to make a memory disappear, or they were looking for a book on one of the Ancient wars. The ones I'd never heard of. The ones that involved dragons. And we helped them. And they gave us money. They paid us. It was indecent. Once a week, we'd get shipments of new merchandise. Unbelievable stuff. Clocks that ran backwards or made strange things happen around them at midnight. Potions that brewed themselves and machines that put themselves together. Supplies for recipes that I couldn't understand. And books on how to do magic. I couldn't. Not yet, at least. But one day I would. I kept running, for exercise, for fun. But also because I was seeing new things. A whole new side of the world. Not quite on every street corner, but on any street corner. I made new friends. Friends who could do impossible things with the snap of a finger. And every day, the word impossible meant a little less. I went out with people, men and women, who could do literal magic. And as they took me out to dinner and made my appetizer dance around our plates, I thought to myself, I love them. I love them. Please, God, let me love them. I wanted to know more about magic. I wanted to know everything. How it worked, where it started, why people couldn't see it. Mr. Barrow Let me borrow books we didn't sell. So I committed to giving myself an education. I started reading two books a week, then one book a week, then half a book. And then I wasn't reading anymore. I started again. I stopped again. I didn't know what was wrong with me. And of course I wanted to do magic. I was able to see it, so I should be able to do it, right? Well, I tried and I didn't get it. And I tried again and again and I didn't get it. I told myself I wasn't going to give up. I just needed to give it time. Just a little bit of time. And then it would be amazing. I started and stopped and started and stopped and started and stopped, over and over again. And the entire time, I kept working at Barrows, helping people with whatever impossible thing they were trying to do. Here, this one's a little friendlier than your old model, but should be plenty for what you need. No, no, that's no good for what you want. How about this new kit? We just got it in from California. The instruction instructions make no sense, but I think you'll do loads better with it. Okay? Okay. But everyone says this takes a bit of time to get the hang of, so you're not allowed to get discouraged and bring it back for at least a month. Okay? Deal. Until suddenly, I wasn't helping people do the impossible. Anymore. I was just helping Mr. McFarlane in with a birthday present for his son. I wasn't stocking strange clocks that could tell you everything except the time. I was just putting up the latest shipment of dusk Keepers and one day I looked up and I'd been working at Barrows for years. Even though it was the strangest shop in the world, it was still just a shop. And I. Well, I was almost 30. And what was I? Just a girl who works in a shop with no idea what she wants to do with her life? One day I was helping a customer choose between two incantation books. Look, you know what you need better than anyone. But if you want my advice, zero is a lot easier to follow. Follow. And there was a sound behind me. It was Mr. Barrow, my boss. He gestured towards the back of the store. My office when you get a moment. I'd always liked Mr. Barrow. He was strict but fair. And he worked longer hours than anyone at the shop, even though he owned the place. The only thing I didn't like about him were his hands. He had these long pale fingers and the way they moved about always reminded me of spiders legs. He asked me to close the door and have a seat. Once I'd done so, he asked, harry, how long have you been working here? I didn't know what he was getting at, so I just shrugged and said, four and a half years. He frowned and said, it was actually closer to five years, wasn't it? Something in my stomach writhed uncomfortably at that. I mumbled something about, sure, sure, if you say so. Mr. Barrow said I was one of the senior employees now, one who knew the ins and outs of the shop best. That feeling in my stomach went from a writhe to a flail by the time I focused back on what Mr. Barrow was saying. He was offering me a promotion. Assistant manager, specifically. He said it would mean more pay, of course, but also more responsibility. You'd have a more active role in acquisitions. Of course, you'd also have to work some weekends, be on call, that sort of thing. There was a long pause after that. Like quite long. Then I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Oh, well, Mr. Parrow, this is. This is quite a lot of. I mean, it's very flattering. It's just that. Can I think on it for a bit and get back to you? He nodded and said, of course, but I didn't hear whatever the rest of it was. I was out the door already. A bit later, I was manning the till, but a million miles away. I was thinking about one of my least favourite questions in the world. What do you want to be when you grow up? People used to ask me that all the time when I was a kid, obviously, but even way, way past that. When I was 18, when I was 22, when I was 24, which I really thought was a bit much. And then suddenly it just stopped. Like a switch got flipped and suddenly I was a grown up, I was done. And whatever I was, that's what I was going to. Oh, right. Sorry, sorry. I was somewhere else entirely. I was rescued from that horrid train of thought by a customer wanting to get ringed out. As I scanned the things she wanted, I stole a glance at her. She was young, couldn't have been more than 21 or 22. She had this fluorescent green fingernail polish and a dip die do and a torn up tea for a band that I didn't recognise. I know, I know. In the eyes of the law, this creature was an adult. But she didn't look that way to me. She looked like an infant. She looked brand new. Then I looked at what she was buying. Advanced books, heavy duty alchemical ingredients, Some of the good wonder working supplies. The kind you wouldn't dare touch unless you knew what you were doing. This was someone who could do serious spellcraft. She handed me her credit card, but I didn't want to take her money. I wanted to sneer and order her to put these things back where she found them. I wanted to grab her by the lapels, give her a firm shake and yell in her face, hey, it's not your turn yet. Instead, I thanked her for shopping at Barrows, put her stuff in one of the nice bags and told her to come back soon. Here's the real problem. All my life I've been so sure about what I don't want to be. Boring, drab. I don't want to get a job teaching at a school where I'll spend 40 years as a not even glorified babysitter and then retire to a little cottage and build bird feeders or something. No, that's not me. I'm Harry Flippin Winter. I've always known I was going to be amazing. I was going to be a rock star or a famous writer or one of those journalists that sends corrupt politicians to jail. Yeah, yeah, of course you do need time to get good at whatever you want to do. I was never sure what I wanted to do, so I. I never got good at anything. They say practice makes perfect, that you can't just snap your fingers and be magically good at something. Turns out that's true for everything. Even magic. Hello. Welcome to Barrows. How can I. Oh, it's just you, Charlie. How's your week been? Alright. Now, the man that just stepped in is one of our regulars. Most people just pop in when they've got a magical problem they need solved. But a few wayward souls come to Barrows every chance they get. And none more than the shuffling, bespectacled bean pole of a man that just popped in. But before we talk about Charlie Driscoll, I need to tell you about Witness. Now, amongst the minority of people who know magic is real, we're generally referred to as the unseen world. Hi. There is a subgroup of people who, well, they get a raw deal. We call them witnesses. These are people who are able to see past the thing that blocks most people from noticing magic, but they can't actually do any magic themselves. It sucks. We get witnesses in the shop every now and then, almost always young guys with this sad, desperate look in their eyes. And no one, no one in the world is a bigger witness than Charlie Driscoll. I met Charlie my first week at Barrows. He's been coming into the shop every Thursday without fail, for years. Apparently, he'd figured out magic was real at 15, but more than 20 years later, he's never managed to do a single spell. He'd spent a fortune on lessons and tutors, apparently, but none of it went anywhere. So now he comes into Barrows and drops between 100 and £300 on focusing agents or beginners, alchemy kits or just whatever's new, whether he can use it or not. He's not a bad guy. He's decent and polite and hasn't hit on me once, which is rarer than you might think. And he knows a ton about magic at this point, but he's just a bit sad. He's this sad bloke who works himself to the bone at some advertising agency just so he can blow it all on trying to do something that he just can't. I'd find it all comical or pitiable or both if. Well, if I wasn't kind of in the same boat as him. Not that Charlie knows I can't do magic. Not that anyone knows I can't do magic. I say hi to Charlie and he asks me how my week's been. I lie and say fine. We exchange some pleasantries for a few minutes before he zooms off in search of the augury books that have finally come in. Then about 15 minutes later, he zooms back and drops three books in front of the till. I scan the books and tell him it comes to £73. And I should have left it there. I should have left it there. Instead, I say, unless, of course, you think today's the day. See, Charlie and I have a standing bet. I don't know exactly how or when it started, but Charlie's a witness. Everyone knows Charlie's a witness. I think. In fact, I sincerely pray that even Charlie knows that Charlie's a witness. So when he's in the shop, he gets teased. Everyone does it. And my way of teasing is a bet. Every time he buys something when I'm on shift, I go, tell you what, Charlie, do a bit of magic. Here's a 50p coin. If you can make it fly or move or do anything on its own, your order's on the house. And every time he tries and nothing happens, I should have known better than to push it that day. But instead. Go on then, Charlie, do a bit of magic for us. Which was mean and stupid and the biggest bloody boulder to throw from my incredibly delicate glass house. But I threw it and he looked at the coin and he just smiled at me and went, you're on. Now, here's the thing about magic. It's apparently all about what you do with your mind. I asked Mr. Barrow about it one time and he went, well, the most common form of magic is called persuasion. And it comes down to how you understand the world around you. You take something, something you know well, and look at it. You hold its image in your mind, you feel everything you know about it, you grasp the truth of it, and then you introduce something new. This chair is wooden. It was designed for someone to sit on. It is old and it is worn and it's on fire. If your focus is good enough, if you really believe the change in your mind, it becomes true in the world too. Or something like that. He said it better. The point is, magic's a dance between you and your head. And unfortunately, until it starts actually happening, someone trying to make it happen looks an awful lot like a middle aged man. So. Staring really intently at a coin. But there was something different about it this time. This time I found myself hoping that he was able to do it. Maybe, just maybe. And then he shrugged and gave me a little lopsided grin and shook his head. Not today, I suppose, he said, maybe next week. And when I didn't reply, he got this strange look on his face. Hey, Harry, you alright? And I really wasn't alright. Because at that moment I was struck by a vision of the rest of my life. Of me standing behind this counter staring at Charlie as he stared at a coin that refused to do anything even remotely magic related. Over and over and over again until we were in our 40s, our 50s. Until I realized that I was getting on and should find a new assistant manager to take over. Charlie asked me again, you okay? You're looking a little pale. I didn't have an answer so I didn't say anything. I just, you know, turned around and tried to run out of the shop. This was made difficult by the enchanted mirror we'd gotten that morning and which I'd forgotten was leaning against the part of the counter I needed to get through. I smacked into it, it smacked onto the floor and seven years bad luck is it. Bring it on, I suppose. Charlie helped me clean up the glass. He even offered to pay for it so Mr. Barrow wouldn't get mad at me, which was just too much. I really feel quite guilty about taking him up on the offer. As we swept up the bits of enchanted mirror, Charlie asked me what was wrong. I want to tell him I was just having a bad day, but for whatever reason it slipped out and I went. Barrows has offered me a promotion and I don't know if I want it or not, which made him look at me like I was mental. How is that a problem? Of course you want it. This is the greatest job in the world and Charlie would say that. But I shake my head and tell him no, it's just a job. A good one, but just a job. And I want to be more than a girl who works in a shop. Which of course makes him go right, so what do you want to do? The silence was truly deafening. I don't know, I tell him. I don't know. He just looks at me and a funny light comes into his eyes. He asks me what time I get off work. There's something I should see. I start to wave him off. It's stupid, I don't he interrupts and reminds me that he just paid for an 800 pound mirror that I just broke. So I tell him I get off at half past nine. He nods and tells me to meet him outside the shop. Then the rest of the shift went by quietly. We didn't get a lot of other customers and I didn't destroy any other priceless artifacts in the middle of a panic attack. It's the small mercies Charlie was already there by the time I was done closing up for the night. I asked him what he wanted to show me. He just smiled and told me to follow him. We didn't talk about much. We've never really hung out anywhere other than the shop. So we just walked in silence. He led us away from Covent Garden, away from the more crowded streets. Eventually, I realized we'd walk to one of the parks. We'd followed one of the trails for a bit and came upon a wooded area. And then all of a sudden, the trees opened up into a clearing. And in that clearing, there were maybe 60 people. People doing amazing things. People enchanting fire to make it dance. People walking on air. People making water flow backwards. It was a magical street food. A few performers doing tricks for tips, entertaining the magical community of London. It was wonderful. And. And it had nothing to do with me. Some magician that was miles better than I'd ever be flicked her wrist and the world around her changed. And everyone around her loved it and cheered. And I wanted to die. And that's when Charlie, sweet, innocent Charlie Driscoll, changed my life. Because he pointed at the magician that had just made the crowd lose its mind and said, are you watching closely? I frowned, not sure what he was getting at. I took another look. And then my jaw dropped. Because I knew that magician. It was the girl in the shop from earlier today, the one I'd wanted to run out of town. And somehow, in that moment, through the crowd, she saw me. And she smiled and waved. And I spun around and saw another one of the performers. Another one of our regulars, actually. The instructions make no sense, but I think you'll do loads better with it. And then I saw a magician behind them. A young man. I'd helped him pick out his first magic book. You're not allowed to get discouraged and bring it back for at least a month. Okay? He glanced out into the crowd and then did a double take. When he saw me, he waved like he was recognizing an old friend. Everyone there, all the performers, they'd all gotten their start in magic through barrows. That weird feeling in my stomach was back. But now it felt fine. It was this weird, deep, pleasant fullness. I realised I had done something amazing. I'd done it without even knowing it. Charlie and I watched the performers for a few hours that night. I laughed, I cried, I gasped out loud. A whole bunch. It was all deeply uncool and undignified. I loved it. I loved all of it. As we walked back into the city, Charlie didn't have to say a thing. I heard it all in my head. Maybe being a girl in a shop isn't the worst thing that could happen to me. Maybe one day I'll be something else. But I don't think I'm ever going to grow past what I am if I don't let myself be it first. I stopped in the middle of the street and took a deep breath. It felt like the first time I'd pretend breathed in months. The first time oxygen reached every part of me. It was going to be okay. I was going to be okay. There's a shop in London that can't be seen. Hundreds of thousands of people walk past it every day and don't even notice it's there. But if you see it, if you suddenly notice something out of the corner of your eye, come on in. I work there. I just started this week as assistant manager and personally I would love to help you find what you need to start doing magic. Hello, welcome to Barrows. My name is Harriet. How can I help you today?