Shelterwood is a suburban gothic horror about getting everything you want, and what you give up in the process. And they’re crowdfunding! Give them money!
Transcript is here, and below the cut!
HANNAH
Hi everyone! Hannah here. While you’re waiting for the return of one magical time-and-space transcending place, can I offer you another spookier option, just in time for Halloween? Shelterwood is a suburban gothic horror story about getting everything you want, and what you give up along the way. It is made by my dear friend Stephen Indrisano, and it is a found footage feast of weird and awful familiarity. Give it a listen, and if you like it, pop down to the link in the description—they’re crowdfunding for season two and I really want to see that happen. I have to know what comes next! And I bet you will too. Enjoy!
SHELTERWOOD EPISODE ONE: LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION
CONTENT WARNINGS: Suicide and self harm; harm to an animal; unreality.
SOLOMON
Shelterwood contains mature themes, may not be suitable for all audiences. For a full list of content warnings, please check our transcript in the episode description. Listener discretion is advised.
[Intense but thoughtful piano music plays.]
NICK (V.O.)
52% of all Americans live in neighborhoods they would describe as suburban. That’s 180 million people living in intentionally developed communities across the United States. But what is suburbia? Is it white picket fences in neat little rows, or long rolling acres for the kids and a dog? Colonials or McMansions? Does a suburb need to have cul-de-sacs, or a neighborhood watch? When you think of suburbia, what do you picture? Because I can almost guarantee, it’s not exactly what I picture.
The truth is, suburbia is defined not by any one aspect of its design, but by distance; by absence. Suburbia isn’t rural, but it isn’t urban either. It doesn’t have manufacturing or an abundance of restaurants and stores. It isn’t agricultural and lord knows there isn’t a whole lot to do. What suburbia is, is a borderland. It can only ever exist on the outskirts—the outskirts of cities, mostly, but also the outskirts of farming communities, manufacturing hubs, or tourism hotspots.
This podcast is about one particular suburb. A suburb not on the border of any one city, job site, or transit hub, but rather one on the border of material reality itself. This is a story of disappearances, and homecomings. Loss and grief, family and belonging. And yes—fair warning to our more skeptical listeners—this is a story about the supernatural. I have seen and experienced things on this investigation which are—to vastly undersell it—impossible.
I’ve walked miles of roads in this other place. I’ve fought through verdant fields of cutting grass, guarding four-story brownstone mansions with drawn shades and silent gardens. I’ve traced cul-de-sacs so massive that you can barely detect their sloping curve until you end up right where you began. I’ve worn through the soles of my shoes on cobblestone laced with moss, on gravel strewn with shells and bleached coral, on pavement as smooth as silk and twice as shiny. I’ve bled for this story—in fact, I’ve been sent to the hospital, and eagerly returned. I’ve been scarred, bloodied, battered, all in the service of finding someone.
Yes, this is, sorry to say, a story about me. I know, ego-much, but it’s just good ethics to note that up front. I’ve been searching through the byways and sidestreets of these impossible suburbs, investigating the disappearance of my sister, Saddie DeRoso. Her vanishing act, over a decade ago now, shocked the world, and it shattered my family. It robbed me of a loved one. So I’ve been searching. As you’ll see, it has been a harrowing ride, and as such this podcast will discuss dark themes and may contain audio disturbing to some listeners. Discretion is advised.
Welcome to Shelterwood.
[Shelterwood intro theme plays.]
[The theme fades into different piano music. It’s light and bouncy, but not exactly cheerful.]
NICK
My name is Nicholas DeRoso. I’m an actor by day, and a history podcaster by night. Acting leaves you with a lot of weird days off. So, I would spend my free time in the most embarrassing way possible: traveling the DMV—that’s D.C., Maryland, and Virginia, NOT the department of motor vehicles—going to sites of historical import, and generally geeking out about it. That show ended rather abruptly, however, when I found… well, what I found. More on that in a bit. For the rest of you wondering where you’ve heard the name DeRoso before, it’s probably this:
[Newscast music starts abruptly.]
CASEY FRANKLIN
Good evening, my name is Casey Franklin, you’re listening to Action Five News. Our top story tonight is a bizarre crime in Potomac, Maryland, involving the disappearance of a young girl, an internet chain-email, and a probable case of arson. All of that and more is coming up, right after the weather…
[Piano music starts again.]
NICK
In 2008, my sister, sixteen-year-old Saddie Alexandra DeRoso disappeared on a clear October night. Her disappearance was heralded by a catastrophic house fire, tendrils of black smoke billowing, unfurling, spilling into the afternoon light. By the time the authorities arrived, the only trace of her that remained was a cryptic note, placed in our mailbox, left, apparently, by Saddie herself. These are the details which captivated the nation: a missing girl. The charred remains of a house. And an email, printed out, neatly folded, a final missive. We could start this story at any of these places, but I would like to begin with the note. Solomon, my best friend and co-producer, is going to read it now. It starts with the subject line, “URGENT: MISSING” You’ll be hearing a lot from them over the course of this show, so, consider this your introduction. You ready Sol?
SOLOMON
Yeah. Here goes nothing. So, like Nick said, it’s a printout of an email with the subject line “URGENT: MISSING”, in all caps with a few question marks at the end for good measure. At the top is a note, that reads, “Police are looking for a missing person, and they need your help! She disappeared last week but first she wrote this in her diary.” and then there’s this weird little poem, entitled “I’m Going Far Away.” It’s just two short stanzas. Here’s how it goes:
[The music shifts to something considerably more eerie.]
SOLOMON (con’t)
“I’m going far away today, to where there are no tears.
I’m going somewhere no one aches or hurts or frets or fears.
I’m headed to the Land of Dreams, where everybody smiles.
A land of hope and joy and love that stretches out for miles.
“I wish that you could see it there, that neighborhood sublime.
Beyond the iron gate and wall, between the slats of time.
I think that you would like it too! Why don’t you try and see?
I’m going far away today and you should come with me. ”
Then there’s this creepy jpeg of a teenager smiling with her eyes blacked out. Her mouth has been digitally altered to reach up to her cheek bones. It’s classic early creepypasta stuff, but… it’s unnerving all the same. At the bottom of the email, Saddie wrote, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better there.” in black ball-point pen. The script is a little shaky.
NICK
I was at college, out of state at the time, so I saw all this the same way everyone else did: through TV cameras and grainy early-2010s cell phone footage. The fire was very likely set by Saddie, unless there was someone else with her that night. The accelerant used to stoke the fire was turpentine, which we later learned she purchased in large quantities from a few different arts supply stores in the area. Because turpentine burns so black, the smoke could be seen for miles around.
SOLOMON
It’s easy to understand why this story went viral. The fire was spectacular, of course, but what really set Nick’s personal tragedy apart from the million other tragedies that occur every day was that chain letter that Saddie left behind. That chain letter did what it was designed to do: it spread.
[News intro music]
NEWSCASTER 2
Tonight, with another shocking development in the case of Saddie De Roso, a mysterious chain email, with the subject line, Urgent: missing…
NEWSCASTER 3
…and police remain baffled today over the chain-email, leaked to the press by an anonymous informant…
NEWSCASTER 4
…the email…
NEWSCASTER 5
…baffling email…
NEWSCASTER 6
…really highlights the dangers of cyber communications for today’s youth. Back to you.
[Back to standard piano background music]
NICK
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that letter. Here was a fake plea by the police, demanding action, demanding to be shared with others. And then when Saddie disappeared, it turned up in an actual investigation. That’s compelling. It makes for good television. And at the time, it was horribly new. Like, people used to worry about will-o-whisps and Pied Pipers. In 2010, suddenly we had the technology for this. In time, chain emails gave way to new digital monsters—Slenderman, Momo, and whatever comes next. But I think what makes this lineage really scary — is that every now and then, one of those monsters seems to reach out from fiction to grab someone. Saddie was taken on the national stage.
[Music changes, speak sounds tinny as if recorded from a television.]
CASEY FRANKLIN
Moving on to the ongoing search for Saddie DeRoso, the sixteen year old girl from Bethesda, Maryland who allegedly burned her family home down before running away. After repeated requests for an interview or comment, a spokesperson for the DeRoso family has finally come forward:
SPOKESPERSON
Good afternoon and thank you for being here. The DeRoso Family asks for the nation’s patience and grace during this tumultuous time. We have placed our faith in the police and we are sure that Saddie will come back home to us soon. That is all we’re prepared to say at this time. Thank you, and please, if you have any information, contact the Montgomery County Police Force.
[A brief clamor, which is quickly cut off.]
CASEY FRANKLIN
There have been, however, no new developments in the case for over two weeks and law enforcement is reportedly baffled by the disappearance. An anonymous source within the MCPD told Action Five, ‘it’s like she just vanished’. If you have any information about Saddie DeRoso, please call…
[Clip fades out, audio/music return to normal.]
NICK
At the time, my parents chose to remain silent—a silence they have maintained in an attempt to avoid further attention. Unfortunately, that decision has only helped fuel rumors and speculation about murder and conspiracy, child trafficking, ritual sacrifice, and about a million other proto-Pizzagate conspiracies which place Saddie’s disappearance on our shoulders.
SOLOMON (V.O.)
What you’re about to hear is an interview Nick and I put together well before the majority of his journey. We hope it clears the air a bit, and clarifies what Saddie’s disappearance did to Nick and his family.
[A button is pressed. Background music stops.]
SOLOMON
Hey man, how are you feeling about this?
NICK
I’m okay. I’m a little nervous.
SOLOMON
You’re going to be fine.
NICK
Yeah, thanks. This is just something I’ve been sitting on for so long, you know? Now that it’s finally time to open up, I’m finding it… more vulnerable than I anticipated.
SOLOMON
Makes sense. You’re in control here, though, okay? We can stop, edit stuff out—whatever you need.
NICK
Yeah. Oof, okay. Let’s get going.
SOLOMON
Cool. So just to start with, I happen to know the answer to this, because we’re like, real life buds, but is it true that you’ve become estranged from your parents?
NICK
Unfortunately, yes.
SOLOMON
Gotcha. And when was the last time you saw them?
NICK
I guess it would be… six or seven years now? I know how that sounds, but it is for the best. The last time I saw them was like, Christmas 2016. Look, anyone who’s got a separated or complicated family can tell you that the holidays can be really rough. For us, you know, after, uh, Mom and Dad had this way of… pushing me. Like, purposefully bringing up topics they knew that I had trouble with. A-and it was never presented as intentionally malicious, but… they knew what bothered me and I knew they knew what bothered me. And, I just, I don’t do passive aggression, so, I tended to get… heated. We’d fight, and after a certain point I decided it was for the best to just avoid them all together.
SOLOMON
That sounds hard.
NICK
Yeah.
SOLOMON
What was the nature of those fights?
NICK
This and that. Some mundane stuff about whether I was dating, y’know, what my career was doing, but… it was always really about Saddie. So, they think she died that night, and that I’m like, developmentally stunted or something because I don’t buy it. I always thought she was still out there, somewhere, maybe under an assumed name or just so far away that no one put two and two together. My parents thought—think—that I’m delusional, which my father in particular is very vocal about, you know, once the arguments really get going. I think they gave up on finding her, which—in fairness, I am also very vocal about. This difference of opinion generally devolves into a shouting match between me and Dad, and it—I can tell it really breaks mom’s heart, so… yeah, I don’t just keep in contact anymore.
SOLOMON
Why don’t you tell me about Saddie? What was she like before she disappeared, before the cameras started rolling?
NICK
Sure. Yeah. Um, so Saddie was born when I was three, June 19th, 1994. She was actually born on my birthday, so we shared that. We were twins separated by a few years, or so—it’s what we used to say. I never minded, because we were immediately very close. She was a—just a great kid. So funny, too. We were pretty much inseparable, even with the age gap. But um, she wasn’t great with emotions—hers or others. I learned pretty early on how to handle myself around our parents and, you know, keep the peace, but… she needed me around to stay above water. We kept each other afloat, really. Oh, and she was an amazing musician. Like, pick up an instrument and learn to play it in an afternoon amazing.
SOLOMON
Wow. Um, how was she before she disappeared?
NICK
I… I think she must have been really struggling, mentally. She was sixteen, at that point, which is just a hard age. I was nineteen. I had been struggling myself, with college. So I was up in Vermont, and she was down in Maryland, and we weren’t talking very much because I was busy. Um, it was October- Mom told me later that she had depression, that she had been sleeping like 14 hours a day and wasn’t eating well. Why they hadn’t told me before she disappeared I’ll never understand, but that’s just how our family is. Communication is either shouts or whispers. So I was at college, in my own world, and then she was gone.
SOLOMON
What was that night like for you?
NICK
(beat)
Well, it was late. I was up because I was supposed to be writing an essay but instead I was just kind of sitting there, you know.
SOLOMON
(chuckles)
Yeah.
NICK
It was snowing these skinny little snowflakes, because it was already so cold out in October. And—my Dad called. Usually Mom called, so that was the first thing that was wrong. And when I picked up, he was—he was in this panic. I’d never heard him like that before or since. He wasn’t coherent, at least not to me. He said the house was gone, that it’s all gone. His voice had this awful, like, ragged quality to it? Like, he was just barely holding it together. So I hung up and called Saddie, and when she didn’t answer, I just… I called Mom and asked if Saddie was okay, and she said—I’ll never forget this—she said, we just don’t know. Just like that. Nonchalant. We just don’t know. So it’s at this point that I started to really panic. I hung up and I remember thinking that I just needed to get out, so I got up out of bed and I went out into the freezing cold air without a coat or anything, and I just let it sting for a bit. I don’t know how long I was like that, but eventually my roommate got back from the library or whatever and brought me inside. He was a good dude, but he was high just all the time, and he really didn’t know how to help. Anyways, once I was a little more under control I called Mom again, and she explained everything—that the house was on fire and it was bad, that Saddie had left some kind of weird note on the yard, that Dad was in shock. And the next day you—er, Solomon, for those listening—gave me a ride to the airport and got me home.
SOLOMON
And what happened when you were back in Maryland?
NICK
The media machine started. It was just—hell. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life, not before and not since. And these people would hound us, whenever we went out for groceries or just to get the morning paper, anything. We all agreed not to talk to any of the cameras, because we were in shock. My parents were sure that Saddie died in the fire, but that doesn’t make any sense, because she left a note, you know, a goddamn note that she was going somewhere! And there was no body anywhere. Not to be gruesome, but when someone burns to death, it leaves behind a body, a skeleton at least. But Dad said it was a fucking suicide note, and Mom just went along with it. And that’s bullshit, it’s just bullshit! She wouldn’t have done that, they didn’t even know their own daughter well enough to know that she wouldn’t, um—(choked up)—she wouldn’t—
SOLOMON
Okay, hey, take some deep breaths.
NICK
(cries)
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just—I knew, I knew, I knew she was still out there. Someone like her doesn’t just up and—do that—it doesn’t make sense.
SOLOMON
Nick, are you sure you still want to go through with this?
NICK
(sniffles)
Yeah. Yes, yes. I have to, for her.
[Background music resumes.]
NICK (V.O.)
So, that’s what the world knows. My sister, Saddie, disappeared at 16, leaving behind a charred foundation, a grieving family, and a mystery. It caught national attention, attracted internet sleuths, and as for me? Well, I kept searching, too, on my own.
SOLOMON (V.O.)
Before we make our way forward, we want to leave you with a memory, something to hang on to. Something to humanize this mythical Disappeared Girl.
As Nick mentioned, Saddie loved music. She had a YouTube channel, which is now unlisted thanks to a barrage of conspiracy theorists in the comments, where she would write and perform songs on piano and guitar. This was one of her first videos. We hope it makes her more real for you. More human.
SADDIE
(tinny)
Hey! Um, welcome to my channel. I uh—write songs. Anyways, um, here’s one. Take two.
[Saddie starts playing some gentle acoustic guitar]
SADDIE
(sung)
Living alone in the world is a hard thing to do
Being with friends isn’t easy when they don’t really know you
When you’re afraid and alone and upset
Brimming with rage, filled with regret
Remember this song, remember this song
Remember this song, remember this song
and sing:
I’m not alone!
I’m not alone!
Give me a call and I’ll pick up the phone!
I’m not alone!
I’m not alone!
I’ve got a melody, a dumb little song
I’m not alone.
[Clears throat, spoken] That’s as far as I’ve gotten. It still needs like, another verse or two but it actually sounds like a song for once so… yeah! I hope you enjoyed it. Okay. Bye!
SOLOMON
When we return, we return to Shelterwood. Stay with us.
SOLOMON
So far, we’ve told you one half of the story. Don’t get me wrong, it’s super important—to Nick, and to me. But we want to acknowledge that as a society—as a world—we’ve kind of buried the lede here. See, for as long as there have been people with homes and maps, there have been stories of places just beyond the borders. Call it Atlantis. Call it El Dorado. Call it what you will. In her note, Saddie called it the land of dreams. Nick, well… he would come to call it Shelterwood.
[A car door shuts, crickets are heard in the background.]
NICK (Field)
Okay, uh. Note to Soloman, this is the raw audio for episode ninety-one on Glen Echo park. All the Intro Voiceover stuff should already be uploaded. I’ll send you some audio from the drive too, I know how you feel about capturing ambiance or whatever. Uh, I think that’s everything so, [Clears throat] Here we go!
[Background music.]
SOLOMON
When Nick and I used to make the other podcast—Midatlantic Hidden Histories—this is how we’d do it. Nick would take his mic with him somewhere and just kind of… ramble.
[Crickets]
NICK (Field)
Hello, dear listener! I am in a parking lot—well kept up, there are some dogwood trees lining the lot that are in bloom, looks like maybe a community garden out by the exit as well, which is lovely, uhhhhhh…
[Okay just assume for the rest of this bit that there’s crickets under Nick’s lines and background music under Solomon’s.]
SOLOMON
Normally I’d clean all this up in post, but for this, I think it’s important that you hear everything.
NICK (Field)
It does look like mine is the only car here, even though there are what—two dozen or so other spaces? I was definitely expecting some more, like, foot traffic or whatever on a day as nice as today because I have just arrived at the one and only Glen Echo Park, out here in the tiny suburb-within-a-suburb of Glen Echo, Maryland. Only, I must be at some sort of back entrance or something, because this is not what the internet told me Glen Echo Park would look like. Anyway, here we go.
[Footsteps as Nick starts walking around.]
NICK (con’t)
Okay! So, first impressions—things are off to a rocky start as I appear to be at a side lot or something here in Glen Echo. According to my phone it is… 2:20 P.M. and there is seriously no one out here. I can hear birds chirping and kids playing… somewhere, off in the distance. There should be a little footpath here across a wooden bridge over to the park itself. But… the bridge I’m looking at… is a little worse for wear. It looks like an old train crossing, which would make sense because, you see, the park itself was a train stop on the way into D.C. This bridge is black metal and has been covered over in… Well, to be honest, some pretty shoddy plywood. And across the bridge looks like, well, mostly woods. So I’m assuming this is a back-door kind of deal. I’m not sure why GPS brought me here, but what can you do, right? Onwards and upwards!
[The sounds of walking and ambient “park” sounds continue as Nick starts to speak in voiceover and creeping mystery background music starts to play.]
NICK (V.O.)
I believe that what I found that day was a kind of tear in the fabric of reality. A wormhole, of sorts. A portal. Across that bridge was not Glen Echo Park but another suburb, not on the outskirts of D.C., but on the outskirts of what is considered to be our material reality.
[In the recording, the sound of Nick’s walking, and of the world around him, start to change and distort. It’s surreal, and not without its beauty.]
NICK (V.O., con’t)
What you’re about to hear is the crossing of a threshold. It feels every bit as surreal as it sounds. The first few steps are normal. Soles on, on wood. And then, there’s a kind of membrane that you pass through. The air clings to your skin, like a spiderweb. It takes a few paces to push through. While you’re in that moment—in the push—there is a bombardment of sensations. It feels like… falling. Like drowning. Like the moment just before smoke turns to fire. There’s a moment of intense head rush, and then the membrane breaks and you’re through.
[There’s a loud snapping as he crosses over into the other world.]
NICK (Field)
Oh my God. What was that?
NICK (V.O.)
I remember the first time I opened my eyes underwater, when I was a kid. That feeling, of being somewhere alien, but also somewhere bright and clear and crisp—that’s what it’s like on the other side. Our world is beautiful, but it’s also messy. It’s beautiful in bare moments that you have to hold on to. This other place? It isn’t like that. The world over there is painted in Technicolor. What looked like a thicket of underbrush from our side of the bridge is actually an Eden’s bounty of flowering trees, singing birds, and high, green grass. The forest grows dense and dark, but there’s a clear path laid down through it. That path—really, just a few steps of cobblestone—leads to the Shelterwood Gate.
NICK (Field)
Okay, uh—this definitely isn’t Glen Echo Park. I’ve just come across a huge wrought iron gate, very ornate, black and, and woven. Overtop there’s a sign, or a banner of sorts. It reads, Welcome to Shelterwood: Land of—Oh my God. Solomon? It reads: Welcome to Shelterwood: Land of Dreams.
[More creepy, mysterious music.]
SOLOMON
Beyond the gate was a development of sorts. Nick looked out through miles upon miles of Shelterwood circumscribed by the wall. And what, exactly, is Shelterwood?
NICK (Field)
Okay—I’m—I—I’m looking out. At a—like, a patchwork of neighborhoods. The view is at once neat and hectic, a storybook image of every kind of geography, every kind of neighborhood, every kind of home. There are trailer parks and Victorian mansions, apartment buildings and shotgun shacks, and castles and campers, and it–it just goes on and on, contained by the wall. It’s all one great, big, impossible suburb. [Beat] Hold on, I’m just gonna call you.
[Perspective shifts and we’re now with SOLOMON. Their phone rings.]
NICK(Phone)
Heyyy buddy. Are you recording now?
SOLOMON
Yes, I’m recording! What’s happening?? You crossed a bridge and now you’re, what, in Narnia?
NICK (Phone)
I mean, kinda! I don’t know, dude, it’s—it’s like I’m in some old movie from the 60s. Everything is kind of pastel and—very—colorful? Vi-vibrant, I guess. I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s the only way I can think to describe it.
SOLOMON
What about you? Are you okay?
NICK
Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, I almost fainted coming across the bridge but now that I’m here I feel great.
SOLOMON
My dude. You are kind of freaking me out here.
NICK
I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, it’s just… I really think this is the place, Sol. I mean, we’re close enough to home that she could have walked here that night.
SOLOMON
Slow down. Who?
NICK
Saddie.
SOLOMON
Oh. (beat) Oh.
NICK
So, you know, if she made it across the bridge, she could be here. She could be here, which is why no one ever found her.
SOLOMON
Where is here exactly?
NICK
It’s like—okay I’m on a hill, I think, because I’m looking out—or down maybe—on… houses. Houses and streets. Hundreds. No, thousands of them. And then—there’s a tower of some sort in the middle. Way, way far off.
SOLOMON
What, so like a city?
NICK
No, it’s more spread out than that. I think it’s all one big neighborhood. It goes on for a long way. There’s this big brick wall, closing it all in. And there’s a big iron gate that I’m under and it it reads, “Welcome to Shelterwood, Land of Dreams”.
SOLOMON
I still don’t follow you.
NICK
(Mild exasperation)
I’m going far away today, to where there are no tears.
I’m going somewhere no one aches or hurts or frets or fears.
I’m headed to the Land of Dreams, where everybody smiles.
A land of hope and joy and love that stretches out for miles.
SOLOMON
Nick—what?
NICK
It’s the poem! From Saddie’s fucking letter.
“I wish that you could see it there, that neighborhood sublime.
Beyond the iron gate and wall, between the slats of time.
I think that you would like it too! Why don’t you try and see?
I’m going far away today and you should come with me.”
SOLOMON
Jesus H. Christ.
NICK
I know! Just—here, I’m sending you a picture.
[Phone notification.]
SOLOMON
Oh my god. Where— what—
NICK
I don’t know dude! Should I go down and check it out, or what?
SOLOMON
I—are you being serious right now?
NICK
Of course!
SOLOMON
I mean, how confident are you that you’ll make it back?
NICK
I mean, look, I guess I don’t know, but what if I leave and I can’t find this place again? What if I drive away to get like, supplies or whatever and it goes back to being a regular bridge? I couldn’t live with that. I mean, I really don’t think I could live with that.
SOLOMON
Ohhh, okay. I get it, but—be careful. You don’t have a phone charger on you, do you?
NICK
Just my little emergency battery pack.
SOLOMON
Right. Of course. You call me back in an hour. If I don’t hear from you, who can I call in your area to go try and find you?
NICK
My Mom, I guess. I don’t know if she’d believe in any of this but my folks still live pretty close.
SOLOMON
Got it. Stay safe, Nick. You come back to us.
NICK
I will. Wish me luck.
SOLOMON
Yeah man. Good luck.
NICK
Thanks.
[Call ends]
SOLOMON
(exhales) Okay. One hour.
NICK (V.O.)
I descended into Shelterwood with a mix of fear and awe and… hope fermenting in my gut. I remember that my hands were shaking. Uncharted territories lay ahead as I walked down Main Street. And just give you a taste of the world I discovered, here’s a sampling of Shelterwood’s many, many subdivisions.
NICK (Field)
Oookay here we go. Streets with names. I am at the corner of Main and Willow Street. Willow street goes off in either direction with neat rows of Cape Cod-style houses with scrubby grass in front. I can smell the beach (chuckle) and hear the ocean! God I want to check it out but… for now, I’m just going to try and see where Main Street leads.
SOLOMON
As Nick descended into the neighborhood, he tried to take note of the streets he passed. Some were relatively normal.
NICK (Field)
White Oak Street. Looks like a 50s sitcom. Even the cars are old.
Palm View, huh? Feels like… New Mexico, maybe. Hot at this corner.
Is that a mall? Oh man, I want to go check out the mall. God that’s tempting. I’m gonna get my ear pierced outside of time and space. Ugh. Maybe later.
SOLOMON
Some were… less so.
[There is a desolate wind.]
NICK (Field)
Hey, wai—This is Vermont! How—where were the mountains hiding before? That’s Manfield—that should have been visible blocks ago. Ugh— weird. Weird weird weird.
Coming up on a dirt road now. Street sign looks like driftwood. It just reads “no trespassing.” Is that—Solomon, there’s a—there’s a bird. It’s crucified out in the woods through there.
[Creepy distant loon call]
NICK
Oookay. Time to go
[NICK hustles faster away.]
SOLOMON
The more Nick wandered, the stranger things became.
[Dead silence]
NICK
So I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking for. Main Street has been pretty consistently paved, but I’m coming up a wide cross avenue with no street sign and it is… what is that, tile? There are no houses, either, actually. There’s… nothing out here. Just fields and a road, if you can call it that. Looks like old broken pottery. Is that…? Solomon, way off in the distance, there’s a—a figure running. Just, running. It’s so flat on this street they must be miles out. I’m not sure if they’re running towards or away from me. Um… I don’t think I wanna find out.
NICK (V.O.)
Sometimes there were long stretches of blank road with only trim grass and high hedges. Sometimes the streets would crowd together like children telling secrets. Some streets would recur, maybe looping around to meet the road again and again. I’m not sure how long I walked, because time is kind of loose in Shelterwood—but one thing remained constant: the building at the end of Main Street.
NICK (Field)
Just passed Rockefeller Avenue, again. That must have been the third or fourth time. Same houses, I think. Uh, Colonials in neat rows with neat lawns. I can’t see the next intersection yet, but—I can see something.
NICK (V.O.)
At the center of Shelterwood, there is a building unlike any I’ve ever seen. It’s made of marble and granite and concrete and steel and about a dozen other materials that I cannot readily identify. If I had to define its shape, I guess I’d have to call it a tower, although that implies order of some kind or other. Approaching the town hall was like watching the ground rush towards me in a nightmare about falling. It seemed to corkscrew up out of the ground, like it grew there. It’s beautiful and stately as a town hall should be, but it’s also… disturbing. Like, viscerally disgusting to look at. The building bubbles out and curves in on itself and it cuts the skyline at odd angles, terminating in a capped dome with a strange, rusted weathervane, easily hundreds of feet tall. If ever there was an imposing building, it would be The Shelterwood Town Hall.
SOLOMON (V.O.)
Next time on Shelterwood:
NICK
Solomon? What’s that old poem? “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came?”
[Outro music]
STEPHEN
Shelterwood: A Suburban Gothic was written and produced by Stephen Indrisano and Indrisano Audio, LLC. This episode featured: Stephen Indrisano as Nicholas DeRoso
SAM
Sam Stark as Solomon Crockett.
KENDRA
Kendra Murray as Casey Franklin.
SARAH
Sarah Golding as Newscaster 2.
DONNA
Donna Xia as Newscaster 3.
VIRGINIA
Virginia Spotts as Newscaster 4.
VARUN
Varun Sathi as Newscaster 5.
LAUREN
Lauren Kong as Newscaster 6.
NOIR
Noir Thornton as the DeRoso Family Spokesperson.
ALEX
Alexandra Rose DeAngelis as Saddie DeRoso.
SIVAN
Directed by Sivan Raz.
MADELEINE
And Madeleine Regina.
EMILY
Songwriting by Emily Branam
ALI
Composition by Ali Hylton.
SAM
Dialogue editing by Sam Stark.
ROOK
Transcripts by Rook Mogavero.
BRAD
Sound design by Brad Colbrook. Additional music by Monument studios.
EMMA
Produced by Emma Puranen.
STEPHEN
Special thanks as well to our executive funding producers: Cam Collins and The Fellowship of the Breaking Dawn, a.k.a. The Vermont Party Association. Although some of the locations, people, and events in Shelterwood may seem real, worry not—this is a work of fiction. Thank you for listening. A Bloody FM Production!