Camp Monsters - The Dover Demon

Episode Date: October 3, 2024

Lena was taking a shortcut through the woods in Dover, Massachusetts, when something caught her eye—a pale figure with two round, black eyes, crouched on a wall, staring right at her...This episode is sponsored by Zippo. Shop Zippo's amazing products in store or at REI.com. Take the Camp Monsters Listeners Survey.

REI Co-op Studios There's only one way home. It's down that road. That dark, lonely road through the trees. But it's not scary. You've walked it a thousand times. You were walking down it tonight, just a moment ago, when you noticed someone else on the road ahead,

walking towards you. Perfectly natural. You can't see who it is, of course. Can't even see their outline clearly. Just movement up ahead in the dark. Upright movement that must be a person walking because... What else could it be? You decide you'd better say something.

You'd better say hello. It'd feel very strange to pass so close on this narrow road in the middle of a dark midnight and not say something. So, when there's still a little ways ahead, you do that. You say, hello. And then you stop. Because they stop. But they don't say anything back. They don't make a sound.

You can't even see them anymore once they stop moving. Hello? You say again, trying to tell yourself that it's probably some friend of yours pulling a joke. Hey, come on. Who is that? You say. And take a step forward. And then they move.

Are they running? You see them moving quickly toward the trees at the side of the road. And there's... There's something about the way they move. About the way their shadow cuts through the darkness that makes you doubt. That makes you begin to doubt that... No, no, of course it's a person. It has to be a person. It has to be. What else could it... What else could it be?

Something that tall and upright. It's no animal. And it can't be a ghost because now you hear it in the brush on the side of the road. It's pushing the frost-barren branches aside. It's crunching the fallen leaves underfoot. But not for long. And it doesn't go far.

You can tell by the sound. It's gone a few steps into the bushes and then it stops and you can feel it watching watching you the moon picks this moment to come out and shine full-on you so bright after the darkness that it feels like a spotlight nothing stirs back there in the black shadows into the trees does it no no you're almost sure that it doesn't well at least you can see the road now, stretching narrow ahead of you through the darkness, cut up by the shadows of the branches overhead.

And you know there's only one way home. Down that road. Down that dark, lonely road through the trees. Isn't it time you were going? Because you know

all roads lead Isn't it time you were going? Because you know, all roads lead to the Camp Monsters podcast. And aren't we lucky that the road we followed tonight led us here, to this circle of friends in a forest preserve outside of Dover, Massachusetts. Ah, autumn in New England. It's not an accident that every year we find a way to tell at least one story that brings us back to New England in the fall. I can't think of a better place to be.

The crisp weather, the golden days, the trees changing color makes a sunset that lasts from dawn to dusk. And when the sun finally does set, you get these moon bright nights like this one, just made for a mug of hot cider and a story around a cozy fire. Um, but about that fire, you'll... Well, you'll have to forgive me this time. Normally I have one crackling when you get here, but I was running a little behind tonight, and... I've got this one all built and ready. See, I just have to light it. Oh. I've got this one all built and ready. See, I just have to light it. Wouldn't you know it. I forgot my Zippo lighter.

That's a real classic. Passed down from my granddad. Still works like a champ every time. You've got to love that about Zippo lighters. In this too disposable age, they're still selling generational quality. Ah! But now, here we go. In this too disposable age, they're still selling generational quality. Ah! But now, here we go. Check this out. I got this at REI. It's a Zippo MagStrike Fire Starter. No lighter, no problem. The Zippo MagStrike unleashes sparks like no other. It's got a nice snap lock closure and this textured grip that makes it easy to hold even with gloves on.

I guess that's why Zippo is the first, last and only name you need for heat, light and flame. Zippo. Get out and stay out. Check out all the cool Zippo products you can get at your local REI or online at REI.com. Let's see, so now I just point the Zippo MagStrikes Ferrocerium Rod at my tender there, and I give this 420 stainless steel striker blade a firm push. There we go. And got it in one. Now that we've got the fire going, I suppose you'll want to hear about the Dover Demon. Obviously.

That's the famous local legend around here. Let's see. It was a dark and stormy night. No, it wasn't. I mean, it wasn't stormy at all. It was a nice night outside, a little cold. Not even that dark, thanks to the streetlights. But we weren't outside anyway.

We were all lounging around in a nice warm rec room. That's what we called it. Maybe you call it a TV room or something like that. You know, the spare room with couches and a TV where the folks expect their teenagers to hang out. And that's what we were doing. Five or six of us on a Friday night in the fall, hanging out, watching a scary movie. And it was just getting to the good part. That scene where you know that the creature is waiting just around the next corner, and one of the characters is about to stumble right into it.

A door on the screen slowly creaks open. And then... And then Lena burst in. Not in the movie, I mean in real life. Our friend, Lena, burst in through the door that led to the backyard. And we were all about to yell at her for ruining the best part of the movie. But one look at her face and the flickering light of the screen and we quieted down because we could see she had the shadows of real terror about her.

She slammed the door behind her and she leaned her back against it. She looked around at all of us, wild-eyed and breathing hard like she'd been sprinting. You guys, she said, and left it there for a second while she caught her breath, and all of us sat up and leaned forward. Someone switched on a light. Someone stopped the movie. You guys, Lena said again, and then she told us what had just happened to her. She was taking the shortcut through the woods. We all knew the one, and it was off a farm road where you take that skinny trail beside the old stone wall that used to mark the edge of some

poor farmer's field way back in the pilgrim times before they gave up and let the woods grow back all around it so lana was on this trail following the crumbling stone wall through the woods, heading for our friend's house where we were all hanging out. It gets pretty close and narrow on that path, with the fingery branches of the bushes reaching out from the woods and the bare dark limbs of the trees arching and lacing together overhead. Definitely creepy sometimes, especially in the fall. She was just coming through there, right through the darkest part of the forest, and she had her cell phone light pointing at the ground because the footing gets pretty rough where the tree roots have knocked stones

off the wall and roots and rocks are all tangled up on the path. She had her light down on the trail, she said, when she glanced up and saw this shape crouching on the wall not 10 feet ahead she could just make it out in the reflection of her light through from the ground a pale pale shape with two round black eyes staring at her her body gave a little jolt and she stumbled for an instant in surprise her mind reeled, reaching to figure out what the shape could be For just a flash she thought of a skinny, pale child But then she smiled at herself and realized what it must be An owl

Just a great big barn owl it looked like that a fringe of pale tannish color around a flat bright white face with those big black eyes staring out of it well sure it seemed bigger than an owl could be but then the only other time she'd seen an owl up close at night it had looked enormous something about the darkness must make owls look bigger But then the only other time she'd seen an owl up close at night, it had looked enormous.

Something about the darkness must make owls look bigger. This recognition had happened in a fraction of a second. Lena's arm hadn't even begun to respond to her mind's order to shine the light up. She tried to stop walking so she could get a better look at the thing, but she stumbled on a root and nearly fell, looked down and caught herself, and heard a little sound up ahead. She figured the owl was taking off. And when she looked up again, sure enough, that pale shape was lifting up from the wall into the air. But... but... the thing went up into the air, all right. But it wasn't an owl, and it didn't fly. It stood. It stood up on long, long, thin, thin, pale legs.

Four of them, with feet that seemed to drape and suck, spreading skinny over the rocks on top of the wall, peeling off of them when it stepped. Lena's light rose slowly with the creature. Body not like a howl at all now, but like a skinny, sickly child, all ribs and spiny backbone, perching up high atop the impossibly long, thin, slimy-looking legs. And the head. The face was the worst part. Interrupted, Jimmy. Let me guess.

A big, flat, figure-eight face twitching weirdly on the end of a long neck. All pale and blank, except these big black eyes that reflected bright red when your flashlight hit them. And then it lifted one of those long sucker feet and it started coming towards you. Come on. Yeah, Charlotte chimed in. That story's not up to your usual scratch, Lena. I mean, it's kind of scary, but we've all heard it so many times before. Everybody around here has heard the old Dover demon thing a million times. Charlotte furrowed her brow and shook her head. Couldn't it be something else? The monster, I mean.

Like maybe it was some kind of scaly black thing with red fangs and, I don't know. You're usually so good at making up the new stories, Lena. I've got to hand it to Lena. She didn't break or grin or anything. She kept staring around at all of us like she was in shock. And then stammering stuff about how it was true. We had to believe her.

She wasn't making it up this time. That she barely got away and run off through the woods. I mean, I kind of got what she was doing trying to sell the real world angle i mean it was new it was different from what she normally did see lana was the born scary storyteller in our group every summer camp every bonfire every sleepover since we've been old enough to have them in the darkness after lights out or or once the fire had burned down to coals, it was always Lena's quiet, matter-of-fact voice that would start up. And she'd tell a different story every time,

always about some familiar place that we all knew, like that trail beside the stone wall. Her stories would start out normal, you know, just talking about a place and mentioning funny little things about it. Strange things that maybe we kind of noticed but never really thought about. And she'd build on those things. She'd build a whole slow pressure cooker world of uncertainty and ever-growing fear that would build and build and build until you were practically clawing your ears off for that big, sudden, scary climax that you knew was coming at the end. And when it came, and Linda's story was over for the night, I mean, it was scary, but it kind of re-energized everything. You changed your mind about trying to sleep. Maybe

somebody turned the lights on or built a fire back up. Inevitably, somebody else would try their hand at a story. And a lot of times, they'd fall back on that local legend of the Dover Demon. Have you ever heard that?

I mean, it's a pretty simple story and it doesn't really go anywhere. Just that back in 1977, over the course of two nights in a row, three different groups of people had seen this skinny, pale, alien-looking creature with a figure-eight face, they called it, sneaking around in the night on the outskirts of Dover. One time it was crawling along a stone wall beside a road. The next time it was walking toward a kid on a dark country lane,

and then it ran off into the woods. And finally, one last time, just standing in the yard outside a girl's window. But that was it. After that, nothing else really happened. Kids would try to embellish those stories, you know, and say that terrible things had happened to all the kids that had seen the creature, or that the demon was still out there haunting the woods at the edge of Dover.

But those kind of add-ons to the original story usually fell flat. And like Charlotte said, the Dover Demon story was tired. Lane had never bothered telling it before. She'd always come up with her own, better, scarier material. Maybe she thought that her excited entrance was going to make us believe her. I don't know. Anyway, she stuck to it. Even after it was obvious we weren't going to fall for it. She stuck to her story, kept saying it was real. Insisted that she wasn't going home that night and no one else should go outside

and everyone had to stay over. Well, that was fine with us. That was what we normally did anyway. But even after we started the movie again, Lena wasn't watching the TV. She kept staring out this window in the top of the door that led out to the backyard. And once or twice she'd stand up suddenly, staring out there.

We all knew she was trying to sell us on her lame story. And we told her kind of roughly to stop it. She quieted down, but... But now? Well, after what happened later that night, I wish we'd listen to her. I wish we'd take in a second to see things through her eyes, consider the possibility that, well, at least that she might really be scared. Really scared.

That she might really believe what she was telling us. We could have at least done that. And telling her story now, I guess we should do just that. We should see the rest of the night through her eyes. Tell it the way she experienced it. We'll wake up like she did, much later that night night in the darkness of the sleeping rec room. Lena started awake, heart pounding, straight out of a dream that had ended with that strange, blank, pale, figure-eight face that she'd seen in the woods, now hovering inches above her own.

She sat up, looked wildly around, wondered where she was. Then she felt the rough, thick fabric of the couch beneath her, heard and sensed the dark forms of her friends sleeping nearby on the chairs and across the carpet, and she took a momentary comfort from having them close by. But then that comfort balled up in Lena's throat and stuck there, curdling into regret and anger and

shame and boiling down her face in silent, racking tears. We were her friends, friends real friends would believe her but no one did none of us did nobody believed her and that was just the worst the worst kind of feeling when she really needed us, when something had happened to her and she really, really needed her friends.

We all just kind of dismissed her, waved her away and laughed her off. We even got impatient or angry with her just because of some silly stories that she'd told in the past. But couldn't we see? Couldn't her so-called friends tell how different this was? Couldn't we feel the real terror and confusion that she'd felt pouring out of her

when she'd run in from those demon-haunted woods and told her story? This was nothing like the ghost stories she'd told before. Nothing at all. But we didn't want to believe that some strange, dark terror could be lurking in the woods around sleepy, suburban Little Dover, Massachusetts. We wanted to go on enjoying it when she scared us with lies while blinding ourselves to any frightening truth. So it didn't matter how truly she told us, how naked her honesty was. We'd never believe. We'd never believe her.

Unless, and as Lena sat there in the darkness, resenting the deep, placid breathing of her friend's peaceful slumber, the terrifying outline of a plan began to form

in her mind. And at the same time, she realized she was staring. Ever since she'd woken up, she'd been staring at the only light source in her room. The little, unshaded window in the back door. The one that looked out on the moonlit backyard. And as she stared, that plan that was forming in her mind continued to take shape. To congeal and solidify. She stared out the window and she realized.

She realized that the only way her friends would ever believe was if... If they saw the creature too. Quietly. Quietly, quietly now, Lena stood up. She picked her way across the room, over and around the sleeping forms on the floor, toward the rectangle of night that glowed faintly through the glass in the back door. As she drew closer and closer to the window, her eyes began to search through it, search across the dim backyard for something, some movement, some sign of the creature she'd seen out there before.

The night made strange shapes in her eyes. features she'd seen out there before. The night made strange shapes in her eyes. Some of the shapes came from the dim light that fell across the narrow strip of grass. She saw the old swing set, the shadows of the woods beyond. Some of the shapes came from inside her own eyes, floating and sparkling dimly as her brain strained to make sense of the scarce light it could perceive. But as she stepped right up to the door and looked out through the window,

she didn't see anything like what she was looking for. She didn't see anything like the Dover Demon. But then, over there, over on the very edge of the woods, about to, maybe about to step out into the yard, was that, was, no, it couldn't. She wasn't sure, but it, maybe, maybe it could be. And she knew there was only one way to find out. Terror made Lena's hand so cold that the doorknob felt hot when she grasped it. Against the firm stillness of the door, she could feel how violently she was shaking, but she was determined.

She would be believed. If she could slip out there and see it again. If she could make sure of it. And then if she could scream and wake the others so they could see it too before it... Before the thing caught up to her. That was the only way. Lena strained her eyes toward the woods. Now she was almost sure she saw something moving out there.

Just at the edge of the trees she began to turn the knob she felt it moving in her hand and just as it started to turn the face of the creature sprang suddenly up right from below the door filling the whole pane of the glass just in front of her. It was huge, huge up close. It seemed to glow faintly, and she could see every ridge and wrinkle and pit in its flat, featureless face. Grainy, not like feathers at all, but like leather, stretched tight over lumpy bone. And as she stared at it, shocked into paralyzed stillness, its big black eyes flashed red,

and its head began to bob and shake excitedly, and it tapped its face against the glass. Softly, softly. Then harder and harder and again against the glass harder motion lena felt the ability to move that had fled her so completely an instant before, now slowly coming back to her. It hadn't returned yet, but in just a moment she was going to be able to move again. And as soon as she could, she was going to run. Yes, she was. Yes, she was.

Not a sound. Not a sound, not a second wasted in scream. She was just going to run. Just run. As fast as she could across the room and through the house and away from there. Then, quick as motion had fled, it returned. And she could move now. She could run, but she didn't. I don't know how, but she didn't. She didn't run. She knew if she wanted anyone to believe her, she couldn't run. So when she felt motion flood back into her limbs, she managed somehow to hold it back. She caught it, gripped it, held it fast, and through some incredible exercise of strength and determination and restraint, she controlled it. She controlled and directed that motion and instead of running, she felt her hand. Still on the partially turned doorknob, Lena felt her hand and she told it to turn, to keep turning, to keep turning the knob until she felt the catch of the door spring loose under her hand. And then she told her arm to pull and she forced her feet to step back and she stayed

behind the door as she swung it open wide on the sleep-filled room. And with a desperate, scalding effort, she thawed her terror-frozen throat, not enough to scream, but just enough to make a sound much, much more real and frightened and terrifying to her friends who had awakened. I remember coming awake. I remember wondering who was making that sound, what it was. Wondering what was going on. I blinked and I looked. There was someone standing in the back doorway.

Someone who... Someone... No. No. No. And I saw it, clearly as I see you, coming through that doorway. For an instant I tried to believe I was dreaming, but from the gasps of the others I could tell they saw it too. We all saw it, casting the palest yellow tan glow from its body and stepping quickly into the room on long, springy, thread-like legs, looking quickly from one to the other of us with these angry, shining red eyes and an hourglass-shaped head like...

like nothing Like nothing. Someone screamed and it... It might have been me. And then we all screamed and one of those screams was definitely me. I knocked a lamp over trying to turn it on. Someone must have leaned a panicked elbow on the TV remote. The screen sprang on and in the same instant the creature was gone it hadn't run it didn't fade it was just it was gone one moment he was crouching there sucking

toward us on those horrible thin legs and then it disappeared completely. Inside of two seconds, every light in the room was on. Inside of ten seconds, everyone in the house and all the houses around were awakened by our shouts and screams. People came into the room, grown-ups, and we tried to explain what had happened, what we'd seen. They didn't believe us, of course. The fact that all our stories and descriptions fitted together perfectly was just taking as proof that we'd cooked them up as a group. We all got in trouble and that was the worst part of the whole thing. As terrifying as it was to go through, to wake up and see that creature,

the Dover Demon. The very worst part of the whole thing, though, was not being believed. It made it feel like we had nowhere to turn, no warmth to heal in, no shelter. But at least we had each other. We still keep in touch.

All of us who were in the room that night. And that's why I've decided... I've decided to be glad that... That it happened. As terrifying and life-changing as it was, I'm... I'm glad we all saw it Because then Lena didn't have to be alone

Disbelieved Then we didn't make the mistake of turning our backs on her For telling a truth that we were afraid of That would have been the worst thing Even worse than living the rest of our lives Knowing that there are things living the rest of our lives knowing that there are things on the edge of this world that we may never see more than the glimpse of, and that we don't ever want to glimpse. Far worse would have been if we'd gone on doubting her.

I'm glad she didn't have to go through that. I know many have before. But after that night, none of us could doubt Lena anymore. Looking around the fire now, I can see more than one face that isn't quite convinced. Well, I honestly hope you never are. But when we put this fire out tonight, when we walk back through these shadowy autumn woods to our tents or to our cars,

I know that even the most skeptical of you will be working hard to stay that way. To keep yourself convinced that you will never learn what I learned that night. What I learned right here in Dover, Massachusetts. But hey, look at that. I never checked this pocket. I had it the whole time.

My Zippo lighter. Oh, ain't that a beauty? I feel like an old-time movie star every time I flip it open. You know, Zippo's been making lighters for 90 years now, and they still make them right here in the USA. Of course, my lighter is the tried and true windproof flint and wick kind, but did you know I can run right down to REI and get a butane insert that'll fit this classic case. Then I'd have a 2300 degree flame on call and the push of a button. So whether it steps into your own backyard or hiking deep in the wilderness,

Zippo's heat, light, and flame products provide the comforts and confidence that you need to get outside and stay out there. Check out the full line of Zippo products at your local REI or online at rei.com. And this is the part where we remind you that the stories we tell here on Camp Monsters are just stories. Sure, some of them may be based on shaky late night memories from someone's misspent youth in Dover, Massachusetts, but it's up to you to decide what you'll believe and what you'd rather go on not believing. Next week, we'll be out in the middle of nowhere, out in the deserts on the California-Nevada line, where the sun gets so hot that it cooks the quivering horizon in every direction.

And the things that you see out there cooks the quivering horizon in every direction. And the things that you see out there may be real. Or they may not. Or they could be... Could they be somewhere in between? We'll try to find out in the sun-baked mystery that we're calling The Curse. Join us for that one, won't you? Crouched jealously atop a towering wall of sound of his own design is our sound designer, Nick Patry. His face is pale from so many hours editing this podcast,

and it does reflect the glow of his computer screen. And his eyes are large and dark, but that's where the similarities to the dover demon end they say but try telling that to our writer and host weston davis who burst terrified into the rec room where producer jenny barber and executive producer hannah boyd were listening to old episodes of camp monsters his description of the terrifying Nick he'd seen out there in the woods was so excitable that it woke up our executive producers Paolo Motola and Joe Crosby, and they came downstairs to let us know that if we didn't quiet down this minute, they were going to call all our

parents and send us home right now. So please rate, review, share, and tell your friends about Camp Monsters. The more listeners we get, the more stories we're able to tell. So, thanks for listening and see you next week around the campfire.