426. Dear Geoffrey

Radio Silenced Directors Matt Bettenelli open and Tyler Gillette are back for round two with

“their new horror comedy film, "Ready or Not Two" here I come.”

Samara Weaving returns as Grace, the Battle Warren and Bulluddy Bride, and is joined by stars, Katherine Newton, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Sean Hadsey, Nestor Carbano, David Kronenberg, and Elijah Wood after Grace Mary's into a mysterious family, and is forced to play a life or death theme of hide and seek. She emerges victorious, but what she didn't know is that by winning, she triggered a

whole new twisted battle. This time with her estranged sister faith at her side, the duo faces a shadowy group of rival devil worshiping families who control the world, and they must fight to the bloody death for the ultimate prize. Two times the kills, two times the Satanic rituals, and two times the human combustion

don't miss the full tilt insanity, ready or not to, here I come, when it hits theaters March 20th. This week's episode is sponsored by the Retro Supernatural Slasher, Blood Barn. Set in the summer of '85, Blood Barn follows Josie and her six closest friends, as they gather for one last weekend that her family secluded barn before college.

“But when a long varied family secret is disturbed, a malevolent spirit awakens, possessing”

them one by one, in a brutal quest for revenge. Critic Jesse Hobbs and of Citidum calls it, "a splattery love letter to '80s DIY horror." Once it gets going, it works. Blending the cabin in the woods paranoia of the evil dead with the possession field chaos of the extra-sist, Blood Barn delivers practical gore, escalating dread, and race

to survive until sunrise. Don't miss, Blood Barn. Watch the trailer and learn more now. [Music] Hello and welcome to 'Scare You to Sleep'.

“I'm your host, Shelby Novak, and I'm here to read you, a bedtime story.”

This is another story that I wrote a while ago that I've dug up and dusted off, and realized in hindsight that my subconscious was trying to tell me something at this time in my life that I couldn't see while writing it, but here we are now in the future and I'm so happy to share one of my more darkly, whimsical tales. This was previously featured on the Creepy Podcast in 2023, "Please enjoy dear Jeffrey."

[Music] Hannah 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 a dear Jeffrey. She found cleaning was a good time to be with her thoughts on the latest book or article

she had 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 small-ish 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, but no matter, it was addressed to only her and not to miss her and Mrs. Jeffrey McDonald, another abnormality, but how exciting to receive a package, especially when one doesn't remember ordering anything.

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 to 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 and 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 Eve's dropping 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,

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 new sense to have around. She no longer clumsily lets 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 too.

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 Hanna 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 troubled and, with that,

Hanna tuned to Mount, 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. Hanna 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, Hanna 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 on Gigi asked, she would do it to appease her old aunt. Hanna walked to her front door and opened it. She reached in the jar with her thumb and four finger 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 Geoffrey asking questions about it, or, "God forbid, try to use it to season a stake." That evening, Geoffrey 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 Geoffrey 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.

Hannah met his eyeer with a smile, and stuffed a spoonful of all rotten 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 cold run like her Aunt Gigi, but there was something about the way she made her way around the kitchen that seemed to lift the spirits of 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 and 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 coincidence has 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 went rain, 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 is 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 poison, 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 hand-made paper.

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 jars slipped through her fingers and shattered.

The oily salt mixture went everywhere. It's gathered to all corners of the small pantry floor.

“Hannah grabbed her broom and dust pan immediately and got to work cleaning.”

She wasn't sure she'd 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's been 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 whoy 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 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 to say he'd be late. Hannah didn't question it, in fact she breathed desire relief that the smell of both onions and of on 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, but 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 dump 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 spec 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

worshiper, a heathen, a witch, all while Hannah opened the jar and watched every oily granule

“fall into the basin of the sink. 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 believe, but perhaps a finger nail.

“The next morning after Jeffrey left for work, Hannah took an aspirin to help suit 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 friends 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 Gigi's, 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 Gigi 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 vile of mysterious liquid. You're going to have a dinner party soon. If you happened 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. 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,

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 ramicans of bread”

putting. She carefully set Jeffries in front of him and sat back to enjoy the show. In a matter of minutes, Jeffry 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.

“Jeffry 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

had done. In the cell of a maximum security, prison, his whole life stripped away from him. Anna didn't worry about losing the house, or that her book club friend stopped calling, or that the country club canceled her tennis appointment and turned her away for, in their words, decency sake, and all the other things you lose. When you're a housewife whose husband turns out to be a monster. No, 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, and thank you to past me for writing this story. I hope you enjoyed it. I was going to say I hope it inspired you not to poison your husband's but to, you know,

maybe make some changes in your life because I sure did. If you like the show, please follow it on social media @scarydysleep, and if you like to follow me personally, you can follow me on Instagram @shelbybnovac, and you can follow the Facebook group or join the Facebook group. The scary-to-sleep Facebook group, there's also scary-to-eat the spin-off of the main group where we all talk about food that we've made or just food that we've gotten, food in general. We celebrate food. If you have a story like

considered for the show, please send it to [email protected]. Please put in the subject line whether it is a true story or a fictional one. And yes, there was a teensy bit of a delay on that Q&A episode. It will be coming out. I will actually hopefully recording that this weekend. My schedule got a little bonkers. I had a little meant to be about it. It's fine. I felt like my life wasn't my own, and everyone was taking my time from me, and I had a little bit of

amount down, but don't we all? Sometimes, don't we all sometimes feel like our lives aren't being driven by ourselves? It happens. I'm getting control of it, though. I have not baked anything this week, but I did leave a message for myself one evening this week to find the next day, because nighttime me knew that morning me wouldn't remember, and I'm glad I did. I guess I was once again in a weird tapioca mood. I don't know what's wrong with me lately,

“but it just said tapioca mango coconut toasted. So I think at some point this weekend I'm going to”

make some tapioca and put some mango and toasted coconut in it to see if nighttime me was on to

had those things as one. So we'll see by the way, if you hear this before Tuesday, March 3rd,

“there are tickets. If you go to the bloody disgusting website, I'm going to be doing a Q&A”

with my friend Michael Rothman. We're going to be talking to Sean Williams Scott for his new

movie, "Dolly" that we will be having a free screening for in Burbank at the AMC-16. I don't know if

“tickets are sold out yet, or not sold because they're free, but you can find that link on the”

bloody disgusting website. So come on by if you're local and you'd like to see me top to Sean Williams

Scott, I'm sure excited about it, but yeah, it's on a Tuesday, so it's kind of a weird day,

but you know, if you can stop by, that'd be great, love to chat, and oh, that's my oven dinging. I'm baking tatar dot. And I didn't realize I'd be gone. The be ready so soon, BRB, it's not exactly on the answer to hear my oven going off, but here we are, aren't we, and I'm not going to go

“delete it, because I think you could all relate to, I don't know what to, but I don't know.”

Okay, I'm going to go this a little bit of a shorter ramble. I hope you're all having a fantastic week, and you have a great weekend, and a great week, and I will be back next week with that Q&A, which will be a bonus episode. It will be, it will come out earlier in the week, and then a regular episode will be out on Friday. So some of you who are like, I don't care about your Q's, or your A's, or any of that, don't worry. You will not be neglected with a regular, with a lack of

a regular episode. It will be a bonus episode. So I will see you next week, and go get some sleep, sweet dreams.