S2/E3 | The Town Square

for very long. It's been said that our neighbors aren't particularly friendly, but I think they just prefer to mind their own business. Don't you worry, they're perfectly harmless for the most part. Just don't wander off on your own. Why? There are many tiny pitfalls, and that is a metaphor. Who is this a statue of? That is Rupert Inverness, the founder of Dire Brooks. He's sneering. Yes, Legend has it that he was a cruel man. I suppose you

had to be to survive here. We were pilgrims, you see, fleeing religious persecution and trusting ourselves to the strong arms of the father in the sea. He carried US across the dangerous waters of the North Atlantic and we praised him for it. But he plopped us down here on these rocky, unwelcoming shores, in a land where we did not belong and which continuously tried to spit us out rocky soil, dense forests, long cutting winters. Only by paying homage to the father in the sea did we survive.

He is a shrewd bargainer, but always keeps his side of the deal so long as you keep yours. And so the ocean fed us when the land refused, and so we built. Inverness was the most faithful among us and the most exacting when it came to keeping our covenant with the Father. The first permanent structure built here

was our church. As a matter of fact, in sixteen thirty over the course of many, many months, the people slept there while the rest of the permanent structures were built, so that inverness to keep a close watch over them. He dictated when they prayed and how, when they slept, what they ate. He did not suffer apostates. What would happened to them if you spoke against the father, the

church or inverness, if you transgressed. If you did not pray, there would be a trial with inverness as the sole judge. In all of our trials held, not one parishioner was found innocent. Why didn't the town turn against him? What could they do? He had the blessings of the father in the sea. He had brought them across the ocean, kept them fed and alive. There was a glow about him. And what happened to those who were found guilty? They were separated from the father in the sea. How we

bury are dead here? Their bones dissolve into the earth and the water eventually carries them to the ocean. Everything returns to the sea. Those found guilty of heresy, however, would be burned alive on the PYRE, their ashes mixed into the mortar that built the walls of this town. So as long as these walls stand, they will never return to the father. My God. Yes, yes, some who live in work have claimed to hear them occasionally moaning

to be released. But speaking of invanessas well. Hello, Mr Mayor Ah mother, what a pleasant surprise to see you out and about. And who's this, my guest? Well, hello there, I see you're enjoying a nice stroll around our dear town. I hope you find it dear, liking staying out of trouble. I hope these are my favorite kinds of mornings, when the world is only beginning to stir and the streets are empty except for a passer by or two. I'd be careful if I were you walking around by yourself.

That's when the how shall I say it, when the more wayward souls tend to go missing. One day, a face that is all too familiar is simply gone, like they were never here at all. I was seven the first time someone close to me disappeared, the childhood friend. We would often run around in my backyard that overlooked the sea, playing tag, digging for insects. Sometimes we would race to see who could climb to the top of this large tree the fastest. He normally won, but a

few times he didn't. He would pinch me. My father was never too keen on him, but I didn't think twice about it. To me, we were just children. Then one day he was gone. At first I thought maybe he had fallen into the sea, but nobody ever washed ashore and, even more oddly, no one in the town seemed to want to search. It was as if he was never even there to begin with. As the years went on, I noticed more and more townspeople went missing.

The high school quarterback, the town florist, an Oyster Mern. Never more than a few people a year, but common enough. It was never a major search for any of them, though. It seemed the authorities weren't alerted, at least none that seemed too concerned. The only real indication that they've ever been here at all were the posters with pictures of their lost faces, slowly aging and weathering. Pretty soon even those would be forgotten debris the wind would occasionally blow

across your path and into the gutter. If anyone had tears to cry, it was done behind closed doors. I asked my father once about my favorite postman, who seemed to be replaced overnight. All he said was he's contributing to the town. I wouldn't learn what he meant until a few years later. I had a brother once, you know, Anthony, a couple of years older than me. He was the one expected to keep up the family tradition. You see, for as long as I can remember, the men in

my family have run this town. The mayorship passed down from my great grandfather to my grandfather to my father, all the way back. My brother was supposed to inherit the authority, but our father was not an unkind man, but he was strict on us, hard he expected us to stay in line. My brother was older than me, so you think he would have led by example. But no,

as Anthony got older he began to rebel. At first it was typical teenage behavior, staying out all night, skipping classes, but then he began to not attend town meetings and went on wild tangents to anyone who would listen about how sick the town was. It made people uncomfortable. My father tried to keep my brother in line, but it was to no avail, and father wouldn't have that. What kind of message would it send if his own son wasn't following the rules? One Night I was awoken by

a crash. My father and brother were screaming at each other. I remember sneaking downstairs, but as I got closer to the bottom, one of the steps groaned. My father turned to see me. I was beckoned down. My father instructed US put on your jackets, we're going for a drive. As we were leaving, my father grabbed his cane, black marble capped with a silver tip and silver handle. This same cane I hold now in my hand. At the

time he never left the house without it. We came here to this very spot, in front of this statue of Rupert Inverness. It was so peaceful. The town was still deep asleep in the early hours of the morning, and it was here, under the oddly glowing street lamps, that I learned our family secret. It before that night, my father had been overly protective of his cane. No one was allowed to touch it. It's always windy here, you get used to it living by the sea, but

that night was still and calm. Not a leaf skittered across the cobblestones. It was as if the moon itself watched in silence. After we got out of the car, my father handed me the cane and told me to click a button at the top twice. I remember looking up and locking eyes with Anthony, both of us paralyzed for a brief moment. Then he blinked and the hesitation was replaced by fear. He screamed and began to run

towards me, but it was too late. I watched as his body dropped to the ground two FT from me, lifeless, his jaw slack, Eyes Open and horror. My father made me watch as the body slowly turned into ash and disappeared without a soul. There was nothing left to hold it together. I stood there motionless, unsure myself what had just happened. As my father told me to click the button once more, I felt cold wet drops on my hand as I did as he instructed. With a strange hum,

the street lamps got brighter. It was only then I noticed my face was wet with tears. You See, what my brother and father had been arguing about was from my rather to take over the family business, but he had refused. We must all pull our weight, and Anthony wasn't willing to. So my father made sure he would pull his weight in another way. After all, we all have to pitch in to keep this town prosperous. My

ancestors knew this, you see. As time went on, people began to slip from the old ways, choosing to make more unsavory choices. My family, who stuck close to great grandfather rupert inverness's ways, remained forever true at Inverness's grave, we made a blood pact that we would forever lead this town, keeping our people in line. It is in shadow that people are led astray. It is our job to make sure that they forever see the light. That's why I keep them in check. I do my part

by cutting off the miscreants. Speaking of you just missed a miscreant yourself. Pity really. As the years have gone on, I've found delights in the entire process. While unfortunate souls not following the rules can be found anywhere, I must always come back here, to the statue of Rupert Inverness to deliver them. Even to this day, he is our conduit. That's better, isn't it? A little light to brighten this foggy morning? Enjoy your stay and be sure not to

break any rules. Yes, or at least be careful. I don't catch you, or you won't be going anywhere for a long, long time. Will I be seeing you with the gathering this evening? I will be there and you're guess. Well, that is most likely, as we do not know where she is from or who is missing her. AH, lovely well, may the father bless you. Everything returns to him. It surely does. Ladies. Yes, you do best to avoid him while you're here. Like all of his ancestors, his zeal

can be occasionally deadly. You sure right. Did he frighten you that much? No, well, yes, but also no. I'm still cold. Go Dear. Why don't we stop by the dinner to get you a coffee? They carry a special blend. Thank you. That would be nice. This way, I remember, watch your step. A trip on this ground could be perilous. Yeah, tomorrow, on thirteen days of Halloween, the diner, of course. I tried to leave. I tried walking, driving, hitchhiking. Nothing worked.

I'd get close to the town limits in blackout, poof then I'd wake up in another area of direbrook. Some hearts are worth in others, and after a while I quit trying. This place. It's not nor moll there are lots of telephone lines, but they don't work. As you've noticed, there's no cellphone reception either and no Internet. Mail never leaves the post office and nothing comes in. I've given notes to people passing through and the hopes I'll be rescued,

but nothing comes of it. I think people forget the moment they leave town. Thirteen days of Halloween the Town Square, starring Kathy to Jimmy, Bethany and Lynne and Brian truxall written by Miranda Hawkins, with additional material by Nicholas Dakowski. Sound Design and mixing by Miranda Hawkins, engineering by violent Ferton, DUBWAY STUDIOS NEW YORK. Casting by Jessica Losa. Created by Matt Frederick and Alex Williams, with executive producer Aaron mackey.

A production of I heart radio, Hman mild and Blumhouse Television