Thirteen days of Halloween is from grim and mild blumhouse, and I heart three D audio headphones recommended. Listener discretion advised. Lorrain is coming. We have to hurry down. You will can't possibly beholding your gathering in this weather. We wait for this weather. Child. What? Why? Because the fury of the storm finally matches the fury inside of each of us. I have questions, of course you do. What is the gathering?
And it? And who is George Barrow? It's time for you to take the medicine, the medicine the doctor gave you. What the medicine the doctor gave you? You still have it us, then take it. I feel fine. It's preventative. True. Is George Barrow? Why do I know that name? If you take your medicine, I will tell you. Fine, good, come on, I'll tell you as we walk down to the shore. I don't remember my mother, we have that in common, and I don't know any of the details
of my birth. All I know is what I have been told, that I was found on the beach not far from where you woke. I was found without so much as a swaddle by Papa, silent, wide eyed the waves laughing at my feet. Papa said it was a miracle that he happened out that night at all. He says I couldn't drown or frozen if he hadn't wandered out. I don't remember when he found me, but I have
dreamt about how I got there. Countless gentle hands, fins, tentacles, all passing me through the dark water to my lonely spot on the shore. I did not arrive in Direbrook by accident. I was placed there. It was a solitary childhood, though it never felt lonely. Papa did not care for the townspeople and he tried to keep me away from them in my earliest days. He did not trust them. He did not trust the town or the sea or frequently his own eyes. He forbade me from ever going
into Dyreburg without him. Our trips for supplies and food were brief. I wasn't allowed to speak to anyone, but as time passed I began to recognize faces. The mayor with his toothy smile like a shark's, the priest with his stooped back and scars, but especially the boy, the boy with the cream eyes. It was him hiding behind the trees, peeking around the corners on the street every time we came into town that I found myself drawn
to his name, George Barrow. His family had been in the town for generations and he was the last of his line, and I was mesmerized by him. Of course, he was the only boy I'd ever met, but he was drawn to me too. Without knowing why, one night I woke and without thought, I put on my sweater and my jeans, I slipped on my shoes and went outside. I hadn't the foggiest idea of where I was going, only I had to see George, and then, like magic, there he was. I found him at the well, whispering
secrets into it. He did not seem surprised to see me. That night we walked all over town and he divulged many of the same secrets that I've told you to day. He told me that the townspeople all spoke of the lighthousekeeper's daughter all of the time, that the whole village seemed to hold its breath when we came in the shop. I asked why, and he smiled. You're the mother, he said, and when I asked him what he meant, he told me that all would come clear in time. He began
sneaking to see each other almost nightly. I was smitten, and so was George. I really do believe he loved me, despite everything that came after. It was, after all, love that destroyed everything, Love Great and terrible. When finally he introduced us, George's family loved me, his friends loved me and as I met through him, more and more of the Townsfolk, I couldn't help but wonder what Papa was
so concerned about. These people were pure kindness. I couldn't lock down main street without someone gifting me a flower, the baker, a fresh cinnamon bund, the pastor a kind smile. And what's more, they all called me mother. Oh, I did not know why, nor could I get an answer. They'd all just say soon enough, mother, when you've married my there, you just wait. You are special and you are loved. who was I to argue with people who
regarded me so highly? Are you quite all right, dear? Yes, hi, now my head is swimming and the visions in the sky swimming. Medicine kicking in. Good, good girl, can you keep on? Yes, I feel good, excellent. I finally told Papa. He flew into a rage. I had never seen that before. He was always so even tempered. But warned that I would come to a sorry end, that joy orge would lead me to ruin. So I let George lead me
to ruin. We were married on my twentieth birthday. The whole town was there and though Papa refused to walk me down the aisle, when my face searched the crowd, he was there, his eyes wet, his face so much older, and I found out on my wedding night the truth. The pastor may speak the words of the father in the sea may make his own small sacrifices, but the mother, the mother carries the father's promise to land. Our God is not a jealous God. He requires very little of
US day to day. It doesn't care much for mortal matters. It does not punish us for our sins, just as a judge on his bench does not adjudicate the squabbles of children. Both have more important matters to deal with. That does not mean, however, that the father does not involve himself in our lives. He listens to our prayers and is generous with his blessings, but he does not
give gifts freely. Each blessing requires payment. Each person living here has given and has received for small blessings, a small payment is exacted. A pinprick of blood for a sunny wedding, a beloved fact sacrifice so that a child may recover from a troubling illness. People cannot survive on a patchwork of such small blessings, especially not in a place such as dire brook, with its rocky soil and choppy harbor. For that, something much larger is required. Do
you understand? Stand? This is where mother comes in. Every few generations, the mother appears on the shore. It is written that the entirety of society is to watch out for her, to keep her safe, to keep her sheltered and well fed, for it is the mother's duty to give birth to the child of the father of the sea. Facts. Great Responsibility, yes, and one that I only became aware of once George and I found out that we were expecting. It was the day the doctor told me that I
was with child that everything changed. When I walked out, the whole town was waiting for me in the street, just silent watching. They parted for us when we stepped forward, making a path that led to the front door wars of the church. So Georgia and I went, where we were welcomed by the priest, and that is when I learned the terrible truth of the mother. We were given freely to the people, but for the people to thrive,
my child must be returned to the sea. When the child was born, it was to be taken down to the water and stoned to death and passed into the water for the father to keep. Such was the price of healthy crops and full nets, of ruddy faced children and infinite good weather. It wasn't fair. I didn't ask for prosperity, for peace. I didn't ask for healthy crops or full nets. All I asked for was my own meager happiness, the joy of an orphan who has built
her own family. I asked nothing of the father in the sea. I was afraid to tell George at first, and so I told Papa, and he was the one who made the plan. One night, as George slept, I crept out of the house, across the town square and out to the road where a truck was waiting for me. Papa stood there talking to its driver, who had agreed to take me south that night to safety. He said our goodbyes and I rode away from here. I had a daughter. She was lovely and she smiled often and
had eyes of Kelly Green. We lived in a small house far away from any shore, a place where it was always warm, a small room that I entered from a widow. No one knew we were there. We were safe and content. And then Papa wrote to me. He said that George had gone nearly out of his mind when we left. In the months that followed that he begged and pleaded and threatened Papa for the information, but
it was never given up. He said George grew discouraged and then, finally, as months turned into years, finally had stopped eating, sleeping bathing. said he was wasting away from misery and said that he believed George would soon be dead. I was foolish. I went to him. I don't know why. I left my child with the widow. I made her swear to keep her safe and I came to find George. I I think I believed I'd be able to bring him home to our daughter. Ah Well, they started to arrive.
Who our friends and our neighbors? The gathering is almost upon us. What happened to George? Oh, George was dead. Oh No, Oh, yes, and he was blamed for my disappearance and for the disappearance of the child that was to be dire brooks payment to the father in the sea. They buried him in concrete in the cemetery so that his body would never be returned to the ocean. Jesus, I was caught while visiting his grave. How they tortured me. They threatened no matter what. I wouldn't give up the
location of my child. I wasn't allowed to leave. Even if I could escape, the people the town would just pull me back in. But the China, the child was safe. Years passed and then more years. I watched the town decline and I hardened my heart against it. I watched as the nets came up empty, as families went hungry. I watched as people died from all sorts of strange illnesses grew colder towards each other. I watched boats sink and the dead men appeared on our shores. I thought
myself an island. And then the children disappeared. The father in the sea took them from us because of me, because of my selfishness, my inability to see my role in this story. Love had made blind. And so I came to the ocean and I prayed every day, at dawn, when the sun comes up and lights the waves. I prayed for my child's return. I bargained with our God. I cut myself on seashelves and bled into the water to seal that bargain, and I came back day after
day month. And then finally, on the day my child was to turn twenty, the widdow wrote to me a sorrowful sort of note, spaking my forgiveness for what by the death of my daughter. Hello, pastor, good evening. It's time. Wait, wait, wait, take this final drap. It will finally make everything clear. Go on, let's go on. Carl car through Scott car. She took me to the beach. It was my birthday. I begged her. She said my mother wouldn't approve, that
the ocean was dangerous. Oh I was relentless. Pounded her about it day and night. And she was old and loved me and wanted to see me happy when mother gone for so long. And so one morning we packed her bags and grabbed towels and we went ah and the sea was so vast, exact, really what I dreamt it would be, and Oh, oh so blue. And it. It called, called to me, it called my name. I could hear its voice in my head as it said Gordelia, the same name as my mother. Yes, I was drawn
to it. I dropped everything and walked in. The poor widow she called for me, but I was entranced. She said it was dangerous and I laughed. I laughed because how silly, how stupid it sounded to think that just stepping in could be dangerous. But as I stepped in, yeah, it came out of nowhere. What did the wave as if it has been waiting for me. It had. It knocked me over, pulled me under and the last thing I remember was my skull and hitting the ocean full
Ding me. How did I get here? I prayed for it. Why would you bring me back here? We owed it dead. I owed nothing, I asked for nothing. It is not for us to decide. I will go with you to meet the Father in the sea. No, no, let me go, let me go, let me go, sorry, girl, it is his will. We now drink up from your shaw stones by Your glory, to send your shine. No, no, put the rocks down. Cordelia, I don't want this. I don't Cordelia. It's over. It's the father. Everything returns to him, including US.
We shall celebrate tonight in his kingdom. Wait, the brave daughter. Everything returns to him, everything returns, everything returns in fight stuff. Everything returns to him. H Ha and h yeah, thirteen days of Halloween. Everything returns to the sea, starring Kathy to Jimmy, Bethany and Lynde and Nicholas Dakowski. Written by Nicholas Dakowski, sound design and mixing by Josh Thane, casting
by Jessica Losa. Created by Matt Frederick and Alex Williams, with executive producer Aaron Manky, a production of I heart radio, grim and mild and blumhouse television.