There was something unusual about the mailbox at the edge of town.
It asked questions. Or rather, something beneath it did.
In this tale of strange interruptions and small awakenings, we explore what happens when routine meets curiosity… and whether you’re really listening when the world speaks.
🎵 Featured Song: “Change Takes Time” — Nick Kingswell
From The Randoverse —
Volume 1: A Guide to Levitating at Twenty-Three Degrees — by Jash Saunders
Three voices. Three eras. Three winters.
This intermission takes you on a quiet journey across seven centuries. From a medieval lament, to a wandering German poet in the seventeenth century, to an American winter in the 1800s. Each poem notices winter in its own way, but all three remind us that people have been trying to make sense of this season for a very long time.
Featuring:
• “Winter Wakeneth All My Care” — Anonymous, c.1325
• “On the Winter Journey” — Paul Fleming, 1630s
• “Snow-Flakes” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1863
Each piece stands on its own, separated by a brief pause — a moment to adjust to the next voice and the next century.
🎵 Featured Song: “Born in the River” — Ziv Moran
From The Randoverse — Volume 1: A Guide to Levitating at Twenty-Three Degrees.
There’s a town nearly gone now.
It’s pond dry.
Its seasons confused.
Its memories scattered in strange little objects left behind.
At the rim of the dry pond sits a small figure who feels something familiar returning as a storm gathers in the distance. A pull toward a life it can almost remember.
A quiet, surreal story about time, loss, and the ways places come back to life.
Since I was young, tiny physical details have always felt emotional to me. Dust caught in sunlight, or the kinds of small moments I rushed past as a kid but feel strangely heavy with meaning when I look back now. That sense of retroactive significance shaped this story.
A huge thank-you to my friend and gifted songwriter, Justin Morgan, for allowing his beautiful track to be part of this episode.
Follow @insidepitchclub and @thisisjustinmorgan to discover more of his work.
🎵 Featured Song: “Drought of ’09” — Justin Morgan
From The Randoverse.
Step into a quiet detour with a Randoverse Intermission, where older stories from history are lifted out of their centuries and carried into new sound and new light.
This episode features “The Discontented Pendulum” (1810), written by Jane Taylor, one of the earliest women in English literature to publish widely under her own name.
She wrote in an era when clocks were still wound by hand, children’s literature was just beginning to take shape, and her family’s tiny parables were read aloud by candlelight.
Jane is also best known for writing the poem “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and this mechanical fable was part of her mission to create stories that were simple, moral, and surprisingly modern in the way they speak to purpose and patience.
Here, the tale is reimagined with my narration, layered sound design,
and the 🎵 featured song “Something New (feat. Sarah Kang)” by Anthony Lazaro.
A moment to breathe.
A moment to wander.
Then the reel turns, and we return to The Randoverse…
Title: The Discontented Pendulum
Author: Jane Taylor (1783–1824)
First Published: 1810, Original Poems for Infant Minds
Public Domain Source: Project Gutenberg (public domain worldwide)
Adaptation & Narration: Jash Saunders
Audio Production: Cowboy Supernova Productions
Adaptation © 2025 Cowboy Supernova Productions
When I was younger, I stayed in houses where “goodnight” meant everything. After long summer days, lightsaber fights, street games of capture-the-flag, biking to the pool, sleepovers, blockbuster runs, running wild with neighborhood kids — a parent would click the light and say it softly. Not “I love you,” but close enough that you felt it anyway, a small, steady kind of care that ended the day just right.
In other homes, “I love you” closed the night.
Said out loud, just in case.
Neither one better, neither one wrong. Just different kinds of honest.
This story lives in that in-between.
In a quiet coop, where feed falls at 5:03 every evening, two chickens watch the tall one scatter kernels with a rhythm gentler than usual. One sees routine. The other sees meaning, warmth tucked inside a simple gesture, the way some creatures say more in their pauses than in their words.
A soft fable about ritual, affection, and the subtle space between what’s spoken and what’s meant.
And maybe, if you catch someone’s eye at the right moment, you hear what wasn’t said at all.
Featured Song:
“Head Up in the Clouds” — Jon Worthy, O.F.C Russell & Kiki Halliday
Episode 4: Some Say Goodnight, Others Say I Love You
From The Randoverse: original short fiction brought to life through narration, sound, and stories that land somewhere between the everyday and the quietly extraordinary.
When everyone takes to the skies, the last person on the ground finds the real horizon.
Featured Song: “Changes” by Jane’s Party.
https://music.apple.com/us/album/changes/1784943352?i=1784943353
When the last order leaves the counter, the night still has one more story to tell.
It’s strange. It’s warm. It might even make you hungry.
Featured Song:
🎵 “Swallow” by Ben Reneer (feat. Tell the City)
https://music.apple.com/us/album/swallow-feat-tell-the-city-alternate-version/1782235680?i=1782235683
By morning, he sang the sun into waking.
But tonight, a curious lark leaves the safety of daylight to chase the song of the night.
What he finds is wonder.
What follows… has wings.
A quiet fable about fear, flight, and the hush that holds its own kind of music.
From The Randoverse.
Featured Song:
“By Your Side” by Justin Lee
https://music.apple.com/us/album/by-your-side/1627815994?i=1627816266
—
Personal Note from the Creator:
I wrote the earliest version of this story back in 2011, during a season of quiet searching. I was in college, not yet sure what I was there for, and most afternoons I’d go for a jog through the park near home. Sometimes to think, sometimes just to get away from thinking. It was a place I’d go on runs with my sister, where we’d sneak up to the little league fields to watch games, dare each other to complete ridiculous tasks we called Summer Promises, then follow the trails through the woods to spot animals, ending the evening with smoothies.
The park at dusk was golden and glowing, and if you ran long enough, you’d find the cool spots too: pockets of chilled air tucked into groves of grass along the trail. We didn’t have much money. Just hopes, dreams, and time to wander. And there was always something new to discover on that path.
Back then, I was obsessed with the sky, astronomy, stars, questions bigger than myself. That edge-of-evening magic, when the day hasn’t fully ended and the night hasn’t yet begun, always felt like an invitation. This story came from that feeling. From the part of me that wanted to fly, even if I didn’t know how. And honestly… I’m still figuring it out.
—Jash
These writings were always meant to be found,
not buried, not forgotten, just waiting for the right voice to breathe them awake.
Each page began as a quiet experiment:
a thought half-formed, a moment pinned between dream and daylight.
I wrote them for the page,
but they refused to stay there.
Now they live where they were always meant to,
in air, in resonance, in the small vibrations that turn words into feeling.
What you’re about to hear isn’t exactly fiction.
It’s a collection of field notes from a life spent learning how to rise,
how to return,
how to listen to what the world leaves unsaid.
You may think these are stories.
They’re not.
They’re demonstrations.
The physics of emotion,
the mathematics of memory,
the pulse of everything that forgets and remembers at once.
So… Welcome.
To the first volume of The Randoverse.
To the guidebook on impossible balance,
written long ago for a future that is always arriving.
Here, every sound is deliberate.
Every silence, alive.
And every word
is already in motion.
Welcome, to Vol 1.
Welcome, to A Guide to Levitating at Twenty-Three Degrees.
Welcome, to The Randoverse…