Creepy - Creepy Presents: Scare You To Sleep - Dear Geoffrey

Episode Date: August 24, 2023

Content Warning: Domestic violenceWritten and Performed by Shelby ScottMusic by Epidemic Sound Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Creepy's special presentation of Scare You to Sleep starts now. And welcome to Scare You to Sleep. I'm your host, Shelby Scott, and I'm here to read you, a bedtime story. I love a good fairy tale, don't you? Especially one about witches. So I thought I'd try my hand at a not quite modern day one. Please enjoy, dear Jeffrey. Anna lived a very normal life.

Her husband Jeffrey worked as an auto salesman and always made top commission at his dealership. Hannah took care of the home, as was expected from a normal middle-class woman in the 1950s. She enjoyed what she did. She loved her normal duties, like cooking beautiful meals, whether it be for a whole dinner party or just for dear Jeffrey. She found cleaning was a good time to be with her thoughts on the latest book or article she'd read. And since they hadn't had a bundle of joy yet, she had plenty of free time for her very normal hobbies, such as tennis to keep up her figure, reading to keep up her mind,

and cross-stitching just because she enjoyed making pretty things. She'd also picked up knitting recently, though her first scarf turned out a little lopsided, but still a very normal type of lopsided. if one can imagine such a thing. Today, when Hannah kissed Jeffrey goodbye in the driveway, as she did every morning, she noticed that a package was waiting on the doorstep, a smallish box with no return address. How odd, she thought, it's much too early for the postman to have come. She shrugged off the thought and decided maybe Jeffrey had missed it on his way in the evening before.

It wasn't normal of Jeffrey to miss such a thing. thing, but no matter. It was addressed to only her and not to Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey McDonald another abnormality, but how exciting to receive a package, especially when one doesn't remember ordering anything. Curious, Hannah brought the package in and sat on the sofa to open it immediately. She untied the string and carefully peeled away the brown paper to reveal a white box. Before she could even open it, the smell of herbs and spices almost drowned out the smell of the roast she had in the oven. There was an envelope sitting neatly on the contents of the box. Inside it was a sheet of handmade paper.

It was thick and soft and had small flower petals pressed into its pulp. There, an enviable handwriting was a note that read, My beautiful Hannah, I've been hearing about the women who have gone missing in your area. I've enclosed something I'd like you to sprinkle around your front and back door, just a pinch every morning should do. A little something to ward off evil. Do it to appease your old aunt. All my love, your aunt, Gigi. Before she had read the letter, Hannah had guessed it was from her beloved aunt.

Her heart sang with happiness, for she didn't hear much from her aunt these days. You see, Aunt Gigi was a bit of a black sheep, not normal in the least. Hannah had spent her summers with her. Before her father and mother decided, her time was better spent babysitting for the neighbors and working down at the soda shop to learn some responsibility. Aunt Gigi lived deep in a lush forest. her little cottage surrounded by flora and fauna of all kinds. She had the most glorious garden, and she grew plants from around the world.

She special-ordered her seeds from a catalog. Every summer, Hannah would learn everything she could from Aunt Gigi about the power of plants and nature. She always had something bubbling in a cast-iron pot over her fireplace. Hannah learned quickly never to taste from the pot without asking first. Sometimes it was soup, but others it was what Aunt Gigi called medicine. Women from the local town came at all hours of the night to speak to Aunt Gigi. Hannah wasn't allowed to sit in on these conversations, but sometimes she would sneak out of her room and tiptoe her socked feet down the hall.

to hide and listen. Some of the women would talk about their husbands having affairs. Some would weep about pregnancies they weren't ready for, or for pregnancies they desperately wanted. Some were sick of being harassed by their handsy bosses. Not all were visiting with such grim news. Some wanted thicker hair, or bigger breasts, or for the person they were in love with,

to fall in love with them back, or for their children to stop being bullied, or for their husbands to get a promotion. Every time Aunt Gigi would listen intently with overflowing amounts of empathy and would then offer them something, be it to drink a tea on the spot or a powder or a bottle of mysterious liquid to take with them. Aunt Gigi would also always make them really think about what they were asking, especially the ones who showed up angry or desperate. She would make sure they thought about what they were doing and laid out exactly what they wanted and what could happen if they followed through. Sometimes she would send them away to sleep on it. and if they came back, Aunt Gigi would abide.

She charged them in all different amounts, always demanding they told no one of the price or she would refuse to see them ever again. Some of the more aristocratic women would be charged hundreds of dollars, while Hannah saw one poorer woman was simply asked for a loaf of pumpkin bread. Hannah never told her parents about the strange business dealings of her aunt, though Gigi never told her to keep it a secret, and Hannah was sure that her aunt had caught her eavesdropping more than once.

She didn't know why she never mentioned any of it. Maybe it was because it just didn't fit into the life she had with her parents. The normal life she would leave every June and return to every. August. It felt like if she spoke about it out loud, the words would just float away on the wind, unable to be heard by the ears of her stern father and anxious mother, both of whom she came to realize sent her away every summer, not to spend quality time with her aunt among the trees and birds and garden. But to be out of the way. It wasn't lost on her that she was made to take jobs the year they deemed her not a nuisance to have around.

She no longer clumsily let soapy plates slip and break when she washed them. She had learned to be a help in the kitchen. She also no longer met her father at the door every evening, begging him to play with her or hear about what she did that day. She was normal. She hadn't kept in contact with her aunt as much as she would have liked to. Her aunt didn't have a phone, so she tried to write every once in a while, but life got in the way, and she'd go months without remembering to.

She had only visited once since she and Jeffrey married. Gigi hadn't made the wedding, and asked they come stay one weekend so she could spend time with the newlyweds. but Jeffrey found her aunt, strange, and asked that they leave their visit a day early. In the car ride home, he told Hannah he could see why the rest of the family didn't have much to do with Gigi. He began to rant about unmarried women being trouble, and with that, Hannah tuned him out and didn't hear anything else he said. She just nodded every once in a while and tried not to cry. It was such a horrible experience. She couldn't even remember what made him want to leave in the first place,

like she had locked those memories in a safe somewhere, in her mind. Hannah shook her head to clear away the clouds at the past and looked down at the box. Under the envelope were two large glass jars full. of, well, Hannah couldn't exactly tell what it was. A mix of herbs and salt or maybe sugar? There were dots of orange and green and purple, all mixed in with the white granules of salt or sugar. If she only needed a pinch, she certainly had enough to last her a lifetime. She smiled and opened one of the jars. A million happy memories came rushing. at her at once when she smelled that almost sickening mix of aromas. She wasn't very superstitious

these days, but what could it hurt? Like Aunt Cheeji asked, she would do it to appease her old aunt. Hannah walked to her front door and opened it. She reached in the jar with her thumb and forefinger to grab the suggested serving size of a pinch. It was not only grainy and herbaceous, but oily as well. She rubbed the substance between her fingers just outside the door, dropping little bits of Aunt Gigi's evil away. She screwed the lid back on, washed her hands, and stored the jars in the back of the pantry

behind extra boxes of washing powder she had gotten on sale. She didn't want Jeffrey asking questions about it, or, God forbid, try to use it to season a steak. That evening, Jeffrey entered through the kitchen door to the garage. She was just finishing the gravy for the roast and listening to the news on the radio. It was a report about the missing women. It wasn't too out of character for Jeffrey to enter that way. He didn't use the garage for his car. Because of his job, he thought it important to always have the latest on the lot and have it nicely displayed so the neighbors would see what they were missing, thus coming down to his dealership to try to keep up.

The garage was just used for storage, and he would come through there on rainy or snowy days so he could avoid getting drenched or slipping on the front walk. But today was bone dry and a comfortable 70 degrees. all day. Hannah couldn't give his peculiar decision to enter via the garage much thought, because as soon as he walked in the door, he made it clear he was in a horrid mood. He snapped off the radio and proclaimed that Hannah shouldn't be listening to such things. It would only scare her from ever going out into the real world.

She would turn into a recluse, he said, and he didn't marry a hermit. Hannah met his ire with a smile and stuffed a spoonful of aug-grotten potatoes in his mouth and informed him that she had made one of his favorites, a lemon chiffon pie for dessert. It seemed his mood was instantly lifted. Hannah may not have a bubbling cauldron like her Aunt Gigi, but there was something about the way she made her way around the kitchen that seemed to lift the spirits those around her and she knew it there was no more talk of the news that evening the next morning Jeffrey left through the front door as normal before Hannah left for tennis she

remembered to leave a pinch of her aunt's mixture along the front door but as she went to return the jar to the pantry she decided to sprinkle some in front of the door to the garage sometimes we say we act without thinking. When it's not that we didn't think, it's more that we didn't think loudly. More like, a voice so quiet, it's almost silent, spoke, instead of the louder one we usually think with. That's what happened to Hannah that day. She almost didn't realize what she had done and what her intentions were. Almost.

That day was a busy one. After tennis, she came home and shower to turn right back around and head to the salon. After the salon, she had to shop for groceries for the dinner party they'd be having that weekend. And after the groceries were neatly put away, she was off to play bridge with some women from her book club. It was a rare day when she was home later than Jeffrey. When she walked through the door, he was sat eating a meatloaf sandwich in front of the television. They greeted each other, and she joined him in watching one of her favorite game shows called I've Got a Secret. The night passed almost as normal, but it was hard for Hannah to focus.

She couldn't contain herself and asked Jeffrey which door he had come in when he came home. He laughed and apologized since he must have tracked in mud or grass from the backyard. He explained that when he pulled up, he remembered that he had never put the lawnmower back in the shed. So he just went straight through the gate to the backyard and then came in through the back door. He apologized for dirtying her spotless floors, but at least he finally put the mower away, right? Hannah's mind was heavy that night, and she didn't sleep well. She wasn't very superstitious these days. She was more normal than that.

At some points of the night, as she tossed and turned, she was angry at her Aunt Gigi for putting such thoughts in her head. But almost immediately, she felt guilty for feeling that way towards someone she loved so much. It wasn't Aunt Gigi's fault that these coincidences happened. tomorrow she just wouldn't use the, whatever the stuff in the jars was. Aunt Gigi would never know, and Hannah would sleep peacefully. So, she didn't. And within the next few days, Hannah's mind eased.

Jeffrey used the front door, except for Thursday when it rained, and life was normal again. until it wasn't. The next Wednesday, Hannah heard the postman arrive and dropped the mail in the tin box by the front door. She went to retrieve it and yelled a quick thank you and how was the wife and kids to Fred, who had been bringing their mail since the McDonald's had moved into the little ranch-style home. Hannah kicked away some remnants of Aunt Gigi's concoction that was still on the porch, and as she did, she clumsily,

dropped the mail. She wasn't usually clumsy these days. She hadn't been since she was a girl. As she scolded herself for her lack of poise, she bent to pick up the mail and there, exposed by the now scattered pile, was an envelope. Her name spelled out, an enviable handwriting. Hannah almost forgot to gather the rest of the mail before she went inside to immediately open the letter. Inside the envelope was another slip of beautiful handmade paper. It smelled like Jasmine and felt soft under Hannah's trembling fingertips. It read, Had to write. Had a dreadful dream about you, my darling.

Remember to use the salt. Write back soon. Love always. Aunt Gigi. P.S. It can be used on windows as well. Hannah made a mental note to write back to her aunt, but not before taking her advice and using the salt once more. She went to the pantry to retrieve one of the jars and, somehow, after so many years of not dropping soapy plates,

first the mail and now the large jar slipped through her fingers and shattered. The oily salt mixture went everywhere. It scattered to all corners. It scattered to all corners. of the small pantry floor. Hannah grabbed her broom and dustpan immediately and got to work cleaning. She wasn't sure she had gotten quite all of it, but Jeffrey wouldn't exactly be inspecting the pantry floors. She was more worried about the smell. The smell of herbs and spices and oils filled the kitchen.

She swept and mopped, but still the smell lingered. So, Hannah did what came naturally to her. She made onion jam. She spent hours sweating and slow-cooking pounds of onions. There was no way the whole neighborhood didn't smell the onions coming from her kitchen. She scolded herself as she stood there, her freshly done hair wilting under the steam of onions. Once again, she had let her aunt's irrational hooey get under her skin.

She had a household to run and a husband to look after. Her aunt just didn't understand that. For a second, that lasted longer than she cared to admit. She even considered what Jeffrey had once said about unmarried women causing trouble. The guilt crept back in, and she realized what she needed to do, in order to get all this nonsense out of her head and as to not disrespect her own. aunt's wishes, she would scatter the salt. She would do it tomorrow morning. She would prove to herself that Jeffrey would come through the front door as normal, and she would send a polite thank you

car to her aunt to let her know she appreciated the gift, and she used it just as she said. She wouldn't have to lie to Aunt Gigi, and she would be able to sleep in peace next to her husband again. That evening, Jeffrey called her. to say he'd be late. Hannah didn't question it. In fact, she breathed a sigh of relief that the smell of both onions and of Aunt Gigi's salt would have more time to dissipate.

She couldn't even remember the excuse he had, probably something to do with inventory. It didn't matter. She could read her latest book in peace and open all the windows to air the place out. It was a nice night, anyhow. Hannah had fallen asleep while reading. on the couch, but was awoken by Jeffrey, standing over her, demanding to know what something was.

As her sleep-fogged brain began to clear, she could see in the light of her reading lamp that her husband was holding a jar. He was holding the jar. He looked crazed, almost unrecognizable. It was not a side of Jeffrey she had ever seen before. He demanded to know what the jar was. When she hesitated, he told her he knew it was something from that lunatic up north, that he wouldn't have secrets in his house, so she better just confess. Hannah was in shock. Before she could answer, and she was going to answer truthfully,

he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her off the couch. It was like he was possessed. Sometimes Jeffrey could be a real jerk, but never violent. He picked her up by her hair and pushed her towards the kitchen. He demanded she dumped the contents of the jar in the sink and wash it down the drain while he watched to make sure she got rid of every last speck of this, this witchcraft. It was the first time he had said it. No, it wasn't.

That's right. the first time he used that word was when they visited Aunt Gigi that was the part Hannah had locked away but it all came tumbling back as Jeffrey ranted

he called her a Satan worshipper a heathen a witch all while Hannah opened the jar and watched every oily granule fall into the basin of the same

She turned on the hot water, and as the steam rose, Jeffrey only seemed to get angrier. He told her he never wanted to have to do this, but he needed to make sure she never brought this type of thing into their home again. And as he raised his hand to her, she looked him in the face and saw it. A scratch on his cheek. Something so insignificant and something she wouldn't have normally seen until the next day, where he could have lied, and said he cut himself shaving. And she would have believed him. The smallest amount of blood was crusted around it.

It was jagged and not something a razor would love. leave, but perhaps a fingernail. The next morning, after Jeffrey left for work, Hannah took an aspirin to help soothe her aching and swollen face. She then got into her car and drove. Her aunt Gigi was a five-hour drive away. She would be back in about 11 hours if all went well. Jeffrey would just assume she was at bridge late. He didn't ever worry or get jealous she might be out with another man like some of her friend's husbands. She always thought that was a good thing, and it could be, if it were for noble reasons, like trust. But she knew it was actually because he knew she was wedged under his thumb so tight that she wouldn't dare.

And he used to be right. When she got to Aunt Jijs, she began with a wave of apologies for not visiting, for not writing, for not believing her. She apologized for pretending all the wondrous things she saw as a child were all just figments of her imagination. She apologized for not standing up to Jeffrey when he made them leave. She apologized until Jiji made her stop. There was nothing to apologize for, my dear, she said. You're home now. With that, Hannah told her everything.

About the salt, the scratch. She admitted she had no actual evidence, but she had a gut feeling so strong she just knew she was right. The police would never believe her, especially with the way her face looked. Just a vindictive wife looking to get back at her husband. She worried that the next scratch on his face would be from her, and that she would be just another name they read on the radio. Gigi listened as calmly and openly as she always had.

It was then, Hannah realized she was now one of the women, desperate, angry, sobbing about a man. instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed. She felt something new. A yearning. A yearning to help. An overabundance of empathy and love for these women. A need to help them and any of their daughters who will come after them. But for now, she was the one who needed help.

And Aunt Gigi was more than happy. to oblige. She knew that Hannah would come around one day, she explained. She had something special in her. Gigi told her to take this, Hannah's own small vial of mysterious liquid. You're going to have a dinner party soon. If you happen to know any policemen, now would be the time to invite them for dinner as well.

Any friends will do, though. So, Hannah did as she was told. told. She didn't know any policemen, but one of her book club friends was married to a fireman and another to a lawyer. Those were close enough, right? She spent the next two days calling around, inviting guests, cleaning the house, brining and brazing and baking, all for the perfect dinner party, perhaps her last suburban dinner party. She wore a new dress, yellow with little blue flower details along the hem. The dinner went swimmingly, and for the final course, she brought out individual ramekins of bread pudding. She carefully set Jeffries in front of him, and sat back to

enjoy the show. In a matter of minutes, Jeffrey began to look drowsy and drunk, and with a sleazy wink at his wife, the kind only a car salesman could make, he began. his confession. While he went into great detail of what he had done with all the missing women, where he hid them, how he kept his trophies in his desk at work, and how the reason he always had a new car was so he could get rid of each one he had transported a body in. The fireman had already grabbed the McDonald's phone and called for the police. Jeffrey had odd moments of clarity, where he turned to his wife and accused her. of witchcraft, telling the table that she had poisoned him. No one seemed to believe him. He wasn't

dying after all. It would have been easy to poison him, sure, but Gigi had assured her that an eternity of rest didn't seem fair. No, he needed to spend the rest of his life thinking about what he'd done in the cell of a maximum security prison. His whole life stripped away from him. Hannah didn't worry about losing the house, or that her book club friends stopped calling, or that the country club canceled her tennis appointment and turned her away for, in their words, decency's sake. And all the other things you lose. When you're a housewife whose husband turns out to be a monster, She decided to pack up her car and leave the suburbs for good. Normal is nice for some, but for Hannah,

she needed a cottage in the middle of the woods, a bubbling pot over a fire and the guidance of her aunt in the healing and nurturing of those seeking help. She thought back on Jeffrey's red and screaming face, calling her a witch. She laughed. As if that was a bad thing. Thanks for listening.

Thank you again to creepy for having me. You can find Scare You to Sleep wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can find me on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook at Scare You to Sleep. Sweet Dreams.