Creepy - Creepaway Camp 2022 - Day 6: Dads Against Weeds & Pan's Cove

Episode Date: July 21, 2022

Dads Against Weeds***written by: Jacqueline Gifuni and narrated by Michelle Kane***Pan's Cove***Written by: David Hadley***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Megan McDuffee Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the Bloody Disgusting Network. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy fosters and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of biopicions. silence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. I'm starting to sense that some of you might not want to be here anymore.

Homestick? Yes. Yes, homesick. You get home getting mixed messages here, right? You all keep grumbling about home, but it's not exactly like you're chomping at the bit to get out of here. I think you all would be arguing over who got to tell the next story. You could say we're a bit conflicted. About what?

You're narrators. Just tell a story That's not what I wouldn't meant Besides, we don't write stories We read them It's not that easy to just come up with something On the spot Of course it is

Writing's easy Any writer will tell you that Just use what you know I mean, what do you do all day? Run from wildlife Hide from all the bugs Just try to survive There you go

Use what you know I have a story It's not a camping story or anything. It's about a neighborhood I lived in when growing up and the dad's against weeds. Is this the one you're talking with Jacqueline Jafuni about? Yeah, this is the one. That old abandoned house in your neighborhood that no one likes to talk about? You know, the one with the overgrown lawn?

Yeah, that's the one where Sam lived. Sam always hated the tropes about surveillance. tropes about suburban dads, new balance sneakers, lives at Home Depot, and wears jorts to all the family barbecues. He hated those labels and assumptions and did his best not to be that dad. But one thing he could not control was his basic obsession with his lawn. More specifically, he despised his lawn. He had done nothing but slave over it day in and day. out, winter, spring, summer, fall, meticulously feeding it, dethatching, errating, watering, and mowing it, but it still looked like complete and utter crap. It seemed like no matter what he

did, a few more yellow patches showed up every year. The weeds were out of control and Sam had to do everything in him to not just run out there and set the whole damn yard on fire. He even had the HOA write him up several times over the years for his brown, wilted grass. It was a slap in the face, as if these people did not see him outside watering and tending to the yard like everyone else. Sam also hated losing. And suffice it to say, this was one battle he was not going to lose. So, that is why, after years of trying every product on the market and spending thousands of dollars on failed professional landscaping ventures, Sam took two alternative methods.

He prayed, not to anyone God in particular, but to Mother Earth herself. Please, Mother of all creation, and God. goddess of fertility bear me a full, lush, green lawn, a bountiful soil where my wife can grow her garden and soft grass where my children and dog can laugh and play. I just want a strong, self-sustaining yard that is ever growing and plentiful. Sam woke up the next day and found the same lawn that he had endured for years. Not that he really expected his prayer to work. Nothing had ever worked out for him, so why would this? Sam went on with his suburban life, doomed to be that house with the saddest yard in the neighborhood. Then one day, the rain started,

and it continued for six days straight. On the seventh day, when the sun finally emerged, so did the collective gasp of Sam's family when they first looked out the window that morning. He couldn't believe it, but there it was in all its glory. Lush, thick, dark green had overtaken every part of his yard. It was a miracle, like a child. Like a child on a snow day, Sam ran outside and threw himself on his lawn.

His family and dog joined him, and they spent the whole day outside, laying in the splendor of it all. Sam never really questioned how this happened. He chalked it up to the rain and the probability of that something he put in his lawn finally worked. He had all but forgotten the prayer. he had desperately muttered weeks ago. And so he went on with his new life of being the best landscaped house in the neighborhood. The HOA even asked if he would be the host house for that summer's block party. And although he could never forgive those wretched bastards for hurting him while he was already down, Sam could not help himself and joyfully agreed. He became the talk of the town,

other dads in the neighborhood were lining up to ask Sam for advice. How did he do it? And would he please, oh, please impart his wisdom onto them. Sam continued like this for days, gleefully enjoying his newfound status, so much so that he did not notice the grass growing out of control, at least not at first. For you see, having never had a living lawn to tend to, Sam never. really cared for grass before. He had not had the privilege to work a lawnmower since he moved out of his childhood home to marry his wife. The next thing he knew, his lawn looked unruly and in need of a trim. He dutifully spent his Sunday morning mowing the grass, trimming the hedges, and tending to his lawn.

This was the first time his wife had ever had to wash grass stains from his clothes, and it felt like a victory, a badge of suburban homeowner honor. He fell asleep that night with the biggest smile on his face. The next morning, Sam woke feeling rejuvenated, stretching and smiling like a baby after getting milk drunk. Every muscle in his arms and legs were sore from the previous day's long care routine, but it was oh, so worth it.

Before getting on with his Monday morning routine, he peeked at the window, hoping to take in the glory of his newly trimmed grass. To his complete and utter shock, his lawn was there, as lush and green as ever, but the grass had grown, as if he had never moated at all. If it weren't for the dirt under his nails and the faint scent of grass from his palms, he would have thought it was all a dream. Being the rational man that he was, Sam once again just, chalked it all up to the fertilizer he had been using.

He got ready for work and resolved to mow the lawn that evening. When Sam arrived home, he pulled out all his lawn care supplies and got to work on the front lawn. As was prone to happen in the warmer months, a sudden thunderstorm rolled in, forcing him to finish up the front lawn quickly and leave the back for another day. Unfortunately, as it did with most suburban dads, things got in the way and he never did quite make it out to the backyard. Between picking up kids from summer camp, making dinner, and putting the kids to bed while his wife went to yoga class, Sam had all but forgotten his backyard. The next morning, though, his wife did mention how unruly the yard was, and she was right. It was to the point that

the poor dog got lost in the overgrown brush when she went out to pee. Sam assured her that he would get to it by the weekend, and besides, their backyard is. fenced in, so the neighbors or the miserable, HOA, probably won't even notice before then. Sam and his family went about their day, and much like the day before, life got in the way, and the yard was left uncared for. By the time Sam could feasibly make it outside, was already dark and well past their town's noise curfew. So instead, he and his wife sat on the couch to unwind for the night. As they were relaxing, their dog began whimpering at the sliding doors. Come on, girl, let you out in a minute.

He called to his dog, but she would not let up on her whimpering. Her mulling escalated to a low growl, and Sam's wife nudged him to go let the dog out to pee. Remember, take her out the front yard. The grass is too high for her. After some groaning, Sam got up and dragged his dog to release. herself in the front yard. Once back inside, though, she ran back to the sliding doors and would not stop growling at the darkness. There must be some possum outside. Sam assured himself, and with that,

he and his wife slowly fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. Then suddenly Sam is jarred out of his sleep. His dog is going berserk and pacing back and forth in front of the sliding doors. Sandy, enough. Stop barking. Shh. She will not let up. And as Sam starts getting off the couch to see what is causing her to freak out, here's a crash and a scream come from one of his kids' rooms. His wife is awake at this point, and they are both charging up the stairs.

The noise is coming from their youngest's room. And what they see is beyond all comprehension. The window is shattered, and coming in through it are great. green tendrils crushing into the room at alarming speeds. A large, thick blade has coiled around his daughter's leg as she shrieks and tries to pull away. Sam, his wife and son all grab hold of his daughter and pull and pull until she is finally broken free. They all retreat from the room and as they catch their breath in the hallway, another window in the next room shatters. And a few more downstairs do as well.

Everything is happening so fast that the family barely hears their beloved dogs, muffled whimper, and then the sound of snapping bones. Trying to figure out what to do next, Sam carouse his family into the master bedroom, whose windows face the front of the house. They lock the door behind them and push the dresser in front of the door. The windows! We need to board up all the windows! His wife shrieks. What?

We have like, how many windows do we have? There's six in this room alone. No, we need to find a way out. As Sam turns to open the window to try to help his family repel down to safety, his wife screams as she is jerked to the floor and pulled under the dresser. It's got me. Help me! Sam and the kids pull at her arms, but there's no budge. For every tug they make, her body gets pulled deeper.

and deeper under the dresser. Just as Sam thinks she cannot go any further, his wife stops screaming, and blood begins to pool around her face. A few tendrils can be seen sprouting from her nose and eyes. And as he goes to shelter his children from this horrid sight, the lights in the house go out. Sam holds his babies close,

whispering he loves them always, over and over again, as one by one, they are pulled from his grasp, their screams, turning into muffled cries, and then deafening silence. Sam stands there, alone in the dark room, eyes shut, sniffling, waited for his fate. He stood for what felt like hours, just waiting to feel the cool blades wrap around him and meet the same glarsome end as his family, except that never happened. Instead, he sees police appear from in front of his house and the chatter of nosy neighbors echoing through the streets.

He looks around the room but does not see any grass. Instead, the dresser has been pulled away from the door, and where it once stood, there's just a blood-soaked carpet leading into the hallway. Sam followed the blood, like a morbid breadcrumb trail, all the way to the living room, where his family all lay slain in a pile in front of the TV, including his beloved dog. Not really understanding what was happening, he ran past them to the sliding doors and slid them wide, open. He was ready to fight his unruly lawn, except there was nothing to fight. The neighbors had heard the cries coming from the house and called the police. Through the windows, the cops saw the pile of

corpses and were gearing up to raid the house. In the few seconds before he was tased by law enforcement sticking out his yard, Sam could clearly see that his grass was back to its former mowed self. as he lay on the ground, spasming from the stun gun, Sam finally realizing how this must look to the cops. It's not me you should be arresting. That's the grass. The grass! He rasped as he was lifted by his cuffed arms and dragged to the cop car.

If you ask Sam today, if he really thinks that grass killed his family, he would vehemently say yes. He's been eligible for parole several times on count of good behavior. But it's been said that his denial about killing his family is the only reason he's still in prison. But the way Sam sees it, there's nothing to be in denial about. Because, he says, as I fell to the ground and laid on the grass while I was cuffed,

I could clearly see one grass blade dancing. in the breeze, fully soaked in blood. Um, thanks, Michelle. I was hoping for something to make people feel a little better about nature, but that works. I don't get it, John. We've been out here for what feels like a lifetime, but you're barely around unless we're telling stories. Why was this whole camping trip so important to you? I told you. It's team building. Over half our our team is gone, presumably home. There's got to be more to it. It's just... It's just that... did you all ever go camping as kids? Like in scouts or whatever.

The first time I went camping or anything remotely close to it, I was 14. And ever since then, it just seems like the woods have some sort of curse for me. And at the same time, I'm drawn to them. I like nature and the solitude and the peace. but it's like I can't ever really find peace. I thought having you all out here would help me. Oh, you don't think you could have led with that instead of the white vans and the duct tape? I have literally sent you all email invites

every summer for the past four years. Never once has anyone ever responded. Don't you check your hotmail accounts? Not for about the last ten years? What's hot mail? Never mind. We don't have to do this anymore. It's just a dumb idea and way more work than I expected. John, it's okay. I mean, I despise you for the method of getting us out here, but you know we have your back. You just need to figure out a way to get in touch with us that doesn't involve 20-year-old technology.

John, what happened to you when you were 14? It's a little weird. I haven't told this story to anyone since my friend David Havis. Hadley. But this is about the time my family and I went out to a place called Panscove. All around 14, so my parents forced my older brother to stay with us at the cottage we rented. Rented is a bit much. It was my friend Josh's uncle's place, and he asked for 20 bucks each, and a promise we wouldn't touch his tequila.

Not an issue for me. I didn't understand how anyone could drink this stuff. So as my dad's wood-sided station wagon disappeared into the brush, it was me, Josh. It was me, Josh, Linia, Dan, and Jeff, my older brother, dragging our bags inside. We had three nights out there, alone and unsupervised, and brought along a slew of board games, sodas, and hot dogs, and s'mores, and horror stories for the fire. None of us had any experience with campfire building, but we couldn't imagine it was too hard. We were so young. The fire pit was dug out a few yards east of the cottage towards a wide lake view.

An outhouse stood on the south side of the cottage. The north were hiking trails to lead deep into the woods or curving round to the water. His only Josh had ever been there, and not in a few years, which had aside day one for exploration. I took the lead. The energetic, wide-eyed kid I was. Right behind me was Josh. when we first met a couple years prior, Josh was a violent, aggressive youth.

I remember I'm liking to throw me down the snowy hill, as if it were a game we were playing. But he'd cooled down since then. And that weekend, he was one of my closest friends. Still a sarcastic ass sometimes, but more loyal and supportive of whatever you were excited about than anyone I knew. Behind us were Dan and Linnea. Linney had recently started dabbling in Wicca, and when Linnea dabbled, she dabbled hard. She was explaining the meaning and uses of the various trees,

their barks, their leaves that we were passing by, most of which to this day, I think, was fully inaccurate. But a spirit was open, and her heart was in the right place. Dan was nodding along and asking questions. He was a studious little guy with thick glasses. and for a bit it seemed to be growing apart from our friend group. Josh's aggressive influence rubbed him the wrong way. But he'd lately change his tune and stuck around

and was more excited than anyone about getting away from school and his job for the weekend. Jeff trailed behind. At 18, he was way beyond whatever new liberties we were experiencing. Nowadays, he'd be ignoring us on his phone. Back then, and with his small town upbringing, He was playing with a butterfly knife to pass the time in the afternoon sun. We wandered along the trail, bedded with dried pine leaves and weeds, made our way down the steep hills towards the shoreline.

It was no beach, that was for sure, just a collection of large jagged rocks that slanted and sunk into the cold murky water. We spread out to search for any good jumping in, or better yet swinging in spots. That's when I found the small cove. It was dry when I found it, a circle of packed mud and the bones of river life. Josh said his uncle referred to this as Pans Cove, though it probably didn't have an official name. It was nothing really notable. But he said that when the tide comes in, the stillest, most perfect water you'll ever see fills in a perfect circle. We made a vow to see it for ourselves, before Jeff hollered at us that it was getting dark.

If we were going to build a fire, we should get on it soon. We could see Pan's Cove from near the fire pit, but getting there still required the long way as our vantage point was from atop tall cliff. Still, we were happy we wouldn't have to trek all that way just to see if the tide had come in yet. That night we ate hot dogs over what embers we could manage to get going,

as well as some roasted corn on the cop. We played settlers of Catan, sang some songs badly, and had a really fantastic time under the stars. To this day, it's one of my favorite memories, but things quickly changed from there. The next morning, Linnea was out on the front porch of the cottage before any of us had woken up. While Jeff got the gas stove hooked up, I went out to check on her. She said it was just too hard to sleep out here with all the crickets and birds and hadn't managed to get much shed eye at all.

But it was nothing to worry about. She was fine. And she did seem fine. A calm smile was plastered on her face, and she hugged her knee. knees to her chest in a relaxed fetal position. But there was something dreamy in her eyes that I couldn't put my finger on. And it unsettled me. Still, the day continued on. Great clouds were rolling in, which we knew was a risk for one of the days when we picked the weekend.

So we stuck around inside and played cards and ate canned foods. Around four or so, Jeff found the tequila Josh's uncle had warned us to stay away from. We thought it was some fancy vintage, something expensive. But this was not what he found. It was a giant kegs stored in back of the pantry sloshing with gallons of tequila. Josh's uncle was a truck driver and often delivered huge halls of booze. Jeff opened up the nozzle and poured out a shot for himself, despite my protests. He threw it back, cringed hard, and coughed and laughed.

Apparently it was some filthy stuff Like it spilled into the bottom of the truck And Josh's uncle had collected it He offered me some but I refused I'd seen a horrible reaction my brother had to it Why should I try it Jeff shrugged and moved on to Josh Who stared at the large keg in deliberation

I reminded him we promised his uncle we wouldn't But he made the valid point That there was no way his uncle would notice anything being missing from this huge supply. Josh stepped forward and took a small shot from Jeff and drank it with a severe hiss of pain and pleasure. Jeff slapped his back and laughed. Dan and Linnea took some as well.

I could see the concern and fear in their eyes, but they pushed through anyway. I watched from the table, shuffling the cards, waiting for another game to start out. I was worried they were going to make themselves sick. That wasn't the kind of cottage weekend any of us were looking for. But eventually they all came back to the kitchen table, a little wobbly, and we started up another hand just as the thunder began to rumble outside.

As the night went on and the storm grew louder, we started trying to scare each other. It started with Josh disappearing for a chunk of time, only to leap out from the front closet when he went to check on him. He really fucking got me. It was humiliating how high I scream. screamed. But we laughed it off, no damage. Then we all agreed to make up some scary, true story about some murders that happened at this very cottage to tell Dan when he got back from the outhouse. He didn't buy it. But I could tell our tale of horror was working on him.

Honestly, it was working on all of us. When Linney had to go upstairs to get her meds, she asked Dan to go with her because it was so dark. Jeff was drinking in the corner and Josh was gone again. So I went wandering through the cottage, ready and alert for whatever tricks he might have had up his sleeve. Instead, I opened the door to his room and accidentally found him changing. I jumped and apologized profusely, but he laughed and said it was fine. He was standing there in his boxers, just talking like it was nothing, about what we were going to do tomorrow, about the most recent game of slap you should have won. I told him I needed to grab some water and ask if you wanted any too. He said he was fine and be out in a bit, so I went off, ran off more like it.

I reached the kitchen again and got myself some water. My brother called out for me to pass him some chips and I did it on autopilot. I sat there as he reminisced about when he was our age and all this shit he got up to with his friends. But how he never saw those people anymore, not since they graduated. But this was nice being able to experience it secondhand. He wished we could stay here even longer. I started to wonder what was taking Linney and Doug so long, so I stood up and walked up the stairs to the landing and called for him. Nothing. I approached a room and knocked. I could hear sniffling from inside. Not wanting a repeat of Josh's room, I called out again. Just as I did, Linnie opened the door inches from my face and I stepped back. She looked at me with

those dreamy eyes and contented smile, and I asked if everything was okay. She said everything was fine, asked if there were still Pringles left, and floated by and back downstairs. Dan was on the bed wiping his eyes. He put his glasses back on and looked up at me. I didn't want to sound like a broken record of checking in, so I just said, hey. He snickered, then for reasons I still don't understand. He asked me if I still watch Disney movies. I said no, and he nodded and muttered to himself that they're really good.

He smiled to himself. I told him I'd meet him back downstairs and ventured away. It was dark in the living room. I could make out Jeff asleep in his chair, but no one else. Had Linnea gone outside? I almost laughed when I saw a form beside the table. There was crumpled down, kneeling, but one hand held the edge of the table for support. I squinted to try and make out who it was.

My words caught my throat at how out of the ordinary I looked. I could hear whispering. So slightly from that shadow, words were being spoken. I knelt too and finally could see it was Linnea. She was whispering to Josh, who sat with his legs crossed and head slightly bowed underneath the table. I asked them what the hell they were doing and said it was too late in the night for more scary games. Neither reacted. Linnea just pulled away from Josh and sat on her feet.

She looked into my eyes. Her own eyes just two blue-reflected dots from the dim moonlight and told me she was going to sleep now. I shiver ran up my spine and I rub the back of my neck. Once she was gone, I asked Josh what they were talking about down there. He didn't leave the spot. He just said from the shadows, We were talking about going down to Pan's Cove. I shrugged, confused and exasperated.

I said that sounded great. and that I was going to bed now too. Maybe they'd drunk more than I thought. Josh didn't move more than an inch as I retreated out to my room and closed the door behind me. There was nothing to wake me out. No crickets, no birds, no thunder. The world had died down to a quiet pattering of rain and not another sound. So why had I found myself jolting up as if late for something important?

My tired eyes looked into the pitch-black room and I listened for signs of life everywhere in the cottage. Josh was a heavy snorer, and there was no sounds of that. And Linney's bedroom was right above mine, and she tended to toss and turn, squeaking that rusted bed frame. But nothing. I found myself getting to my feet and shuffling out my door. My initial instinct was a search outside, but I wasn't sure why when Josh's room was

right beside mine. I opened his door again and cautiously peered through the crack. His bed was empty I quietly called his name then began to move to the other rooms Jeff was still passed out in his chair but every other room was bare and silent and had a sign of my friends

I shook my brother told him what was going on but he just groaned and weakly waved me off he was too messed up to move so I grabbed a flashlight from near the door and went out into the rain it was a pleasant trickle to feel to hear

everything. The slight cool and the warm night would have been perfect in other situations. As I walked through the grass, I realized I hadn't put on any socks or shoes. The wet grass slipped between my toes, tickling me. It was so beautiful. I shook my head. I couldn't enjoy this. I couldn't relax when I had no idea if my friends were hurt or in danger,

though they likely weren't. there was the outhouse there was the attic why didn't i check those why was i walking so directly to the cliff overlooking the water no not the water in the center of pans cove that tiny inlet i saw three heads bobbing above the most still water i'd ever seen not a ripple emanated from their movement together and they were moving swaying dipping jumping jumping laughing so carefree, so pure. The sound of their joy echoed out and up to me, and it was just as crystal clear and untouchable as that water. I wanted to laugh like that. And there was room. Room from me.

And so I stepped. The blast of air in my face woke me from my stupor as I fell, but it was much too late. The rushing wind deafened me, and I spun and tried to grab onto the cliff beside me to slow the fall, but nothing caught until the sickening crunch as I hit the rocks. Pain shot through my right leg and up into my pelvis as I brithed and anguish. I slapped a cold stone beneath me and tried to raise myself up, but only felt more pain. This time, and I let out a scream. My knee was a mess of blood and pulp and above it.

Thick bones stuck out. A wild, wild. white in the moonlight. My foot was spun the wrong way around. No, both feet, pointing out like some sickening circus trick. I cried for my brother, for anyone, and rolled onto my back. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I didn't know what was happening. Josh called my name.

I rolled my head to the side and saw them. All three watching me from the water of that perfect circle, waiting. Josh's hair was matted down, and he was smiling. Such a simple smile. He was a kid. He was my friend. And he wanted to play in the water with me.

One shaking hand inched forward, and I grabbed the edge of the stone and pulled myself towards my friends. Just four friends. All so happy. In water that didn't ripple. Not even from the spirit. sprinkle of the rain above, my other hand reached forward, and I saw that it too was disgustingly mangled. But I didn't stop. Dan smiled. His face much more like a child without those glasses,

which helped him read and learn and work and stress. But he didn't need them anymore. My exposed bones scratched against the rock as I dragged my body closer. I was so close. Lini's eyes were all of our eyes then. They reflected the moonlight and the second star to the right and straight on till morning. It was perfect. My bone caught the edge of the stone and pulled and ripped another scream from me as everything went black. Brother apparently found me shortly afterward. He called the hospital and I was airlifted out and barely survived the amount of blood I lost.

But the tide had gone out by the time anyone arrived and Pan's Cove was empty. I can see why you're not a big fan of camping. Yeah, that's an understatement. It's not the camping. It's just... Have you ever failed at something so much that you just can't let it go? I'm not sure what you all are thinking right now, but I don't appreciate it. Anyway, I just wanted to try and get it right.

But you all are just having a horrible time now, aren't you? I'm not. Are you just saying that because you told us? a story and you can contractually go home now? No. Here's a map back towards town. You'll be able to get cell reception there and order a car service. Just invoice me.

Thanks, John. It really wasn't so bad. I just wish you'd told us up front why you wanted us to do this. I think we could have gotten a little more into it. There's always next year. Next year. Contract. Bye, everyone.

Have fun. What? It's just that... It's nothing. It's never nothing with you. Well, I think I might have given her the wrong map. What did you give her a map of? I'm sure it's fine.

I mean, a map's a map, right? How many different kinds of maps could there be? Eventually, there's going to be one that works in the wrong place, right? That's not a thing that's ever happened in history, ever. Go help her out, John. Why do I always have to be the one to help people? You'll just blame me for killing them when I get back. No, we won't.

Probably. Just go help her. Fine. Michelle, wait up. Why would you send him off into the woods alone with Michelle? I've seen Michelle fight. She's a scrapper with a better chance than any of us. Besides, I think we all know what we need to do while he's gone.

Yeah. We need to figure out a way to kill John before he kills us. Information on this podcast, including how to submit your own... story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through creative common share-a-like licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed

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