Thanks for sticking with us, folks.
That was Billy, Don't Be a Hero by Bo Donaldson and the
Haywoods. A real fan favorite, Ain't that
so, Al? Sure is, Johnny.
Let me tell you what else is a fan favorite.
What's that Al? General public safety.
How's that Alan? Well, Johnny, there's a big
thunderstorm brewing and I'm a personal fan of staying safe and
so should you folks. Storms are rolling in as early
as this afternoon, so be sure to get all your errands done
before. And make sure you have plenty of
batteries, water, and of course, you can't forget the snacks.
That's what I'm a fan of. Sure thing, Johnny, but before
that happens, we still have a little more time to rock out.
This is Hey Natalie, grab your flashlight off the counter while
you're in there. I think we can probably get away
with just three for no. Victoria, Grace, settle
yourselves. I know it's not a typical camp
evening, but that doesn't mean we need to get out of hand.
Thank you, girls. Now sit down with the others.
9:10 Nice all Tigers accounted for.
Are we really stuck inside all night?
No campfire. Afraid so.
The storm's not letting up anytime soon, I don't think.
But we're supposed to have stories by the fire tonight.
This is so boring. Boring.
Not a chance. You've got the perfect setup
right here. Best bunk Fort in camp.
Want to tell history for sure? Yeah absolutely.
We made one with like 2 sheets and some rope when I was a
camper. You guys have so many different
extra perks, especially with Wolf Cabin being closed right
now. They have extra stuff to share
since there's less of you this summer.
Why did they close it though? I heard it was because some kids
started a fire and it burned down half the furniture, no?
Way it was haunted, the ghosts of all the trails almost killed
a kid. Oh, whatever.
Ghosts aren't real. Yeah, huh.
Careful, Mary, they might hear you and come for you next.
Well. I think it's just made us bump
like sardines. I can never sleep with all the
snoring in here. Well, you might see it as
cramped, but I see it as an opportunity for adventure, for
bonding. Speaking of.
Let's do something fun to pass the time during the storm, yeah?
You guys ever made shadow puppets?
Shadow puppets? Yup.
All you need is a flashlight and a little imagination.
We'll project them on the walls of the Fort and watch this the
wing. And then the there's the beak
that looks like the hawk we saw on the hike.
Oh, that's so cool. Let me try.
Go for it. We can make a whole story out of
this. You guys make the characters and
Amanda and I will narrow. Don't be silly.
I'm going. Let's make a.
Lion no A. Tiger.
Yours might be. A tiger, but mine's going to be
the hero. And so the brave rabbit faces
off against the mighty dragon to protect her.
Forest, my Dragon's gonna win. Not if the rabbit has help from
the creature under camp. Wanna tell?
Creature. What, like a monster?
It's nothing, just some old campfire stories and legends.
We have plenty of those around here.
Totally made-up though. Wow, not all of them are just
stories. What do you mean?
Some say on nights like this, when the rain pounds down on the
cabins, you might catch a glimpse of her.
Brooke. Who's that?
Maggie? Come on, you'll scare them over
some stupid legend. See.
And you haven't even started yet.
Hey, it's just a bad storm, OK? Are you scaredy cats or tigers?
Tigers. Well, we're not scared.
It was just. Loud.
Yeah. We're not scared of Thunder.
All right, this story, it's not like the others.
It's not about ghouls or ghosts or things that go bump in the
night. This one is about something
much, much worse. It's about what happens when the
woods decides to keep you. The night is still, the forest
dark, a distant screen, a Lantern spark.
Through tangled woods you make your way, where unseen eyes
observe their prey. A creaking branch, a whispered
name, a chilling wind, an Epping flame.
The path ahead is cold and frail.
Secrets weave through night's thin veil.
Old legends speak of spirits near, of those who vanished,
drowned in fear. Moonlight fades and shadows
swell on the trail to wanna tell.
The. Years ago, before Camp Wanatel
closed, there was a camper named Brooke.
She came to Camp Wanatel eager to spend her summer by the lake,
swimming, hiking and telling scary stories by the campfire.
She was like any of you, young, adventurous, naive.
But Brooke? Brooke had a secret.
She just wasn't afraid. When there was a thunderstorm,
she would park herself outside her cabin just to feel how thick
and electric the air was. The darkness in the forest when
night fell felt good. It was a feeling she craved more
and more the longer camp went on.
The counselors warned her, though, told her the woods
around camp Wanna Tell weren't normal, that they had a way of
changing after dark. But Brooke didn't listen, and
she wouldn't be breaking any rules.
She shrugged off their warnings, convinced they were just trying
to scare her. But the woods don't like to be
ignored. One night, when a storm was at
its worst, Brooke decided to sneak out.
The others were huddled inside, safe and warm, but not Brooke.
No, she was drawn to the storm, to the wildness of it all.
She wanted to feel the wind on her face, the rain on her skin.
So she grabbed her flashlight and crept out of the cabin,
disappearing into the night. The rain came down in sheets,
blurring the trees into dark, towering shapes.
The wind whipped through the branches, and the path to the
lake was nothing more than mud and slick roots.
But Brooke didn't care. She trudged forward, deeper into
the woods, the thrill of being alone with the storm pushing her
forward. But soon the path became
unfamiliar. The trees, once familiar
landmarks, now looked foreign, twisted and gnarled in ways they
hadn't before. The rain blurred her vision and
every step felt like it was taking her further from camp,
further from safety. That's when she heard it.
A low sound like a whisper carried on the wind.
It was too faint to make out, but it was there, just beyond
the rain. Brooke stopped, her heart
pounding, and listened. It came again, a little louder
this time, a voice calling her name.
She turned, her flashlight casting shaky beans through the
storm. But there was no one there.
Just the trees. The endless dark trees swaying
in the wind. She shook it off, told herself
that it was just the storm playing tricks on her, and kept
walking. But the voice didn't stop.
It followed her, growing louder, closer, until it was all she
could hear. And then the ground beneath her
shifted. It was subtle at first, like the
earth was breathing beneath her feet.
But then it happened again, stronger this time, a slow,
deliberate ripple that made the mud beneath her feet feel alive.
She froze, staring down at the ground as the rain soaked
through her clothes. And that's when she saw it.
The earth moving like something underneath was waking up.
She tried to move, but her feet were stuck.
The mud had turned thick like tar, and it clung to her boots,
pulling her down. She yanked her foot free, but
with every step the ground seemed to grip her tighter.
And then she felt something cold, something wet wrapping
around her ankles. It wasn't the mud.
No, this was something else, something that wasn't supposed
to be there. She looked down, and her heart
stopped. The earth was moving, shifting,
like hands reaching up from beneath the surface, pulling her
down. For the first time, Brooke was
afraid, and she screamed. The storm swallowed her voice.
She clawed at the ground, tried to pull herself free, but it was
no use. The more she struggled, the
deeper she sank, the earth rising up around her, cold and
unyielding, no matter how much she yelled.
That's when she knew she wasn't going home.
The woods wanted her and it was going to take her.
You can't reason with something that isn't human.
The mud climbed higher, creeping past her knees, her waist,
pulling her deeper. Her flashlight fell from her
hand, disappearing into the muck.
The world around her went dark. The rain was all she could hear,
pounding relentlessly as the earth claimed her inch by inch.
Brooke almost stopped fighting. She realized in that terrifying
sinking moment that she wasn't just lost in the woods and
sinking in the muck. She was being buried alive.
The earth was swallowing her whole, and no one would ever
know. She could feel it now, the
weight of the earth pressing down on her, cold and
suffocating. The rich and heavy landscape,
once comforting, now ripped horrified gasps from Brooke's
mouth. The ache of shallow breaths and
stinging rain. The panic in losing her grip,
long lost yet replaced with nearly bone breaking efforts to
push upward. The damp soil wrapped around her
like a shroud, pulling her into its depths.
And in those final moments, as the mud reached her chin, as her
breath came in shallow, desperate and uneven.
What was that in her strain? She brushed her foot against
something with give a a plant root, an animal.
Fear clutched poor Brooke. She searched for the focus, for
bravery, for survival. And then it clicked.
Skin. She could feel them beneath her,
buried deep in the earth. They had been waiting for her,
their cold hands brushing against her skin, their whispers
filling her ears. And just before the mud closed
over her, just before the world went black, she understood.
She wasn't the 1st and she wouldn't be the last.
Now it was her turn to wait with the others under the mud.
She would wait until the next one came in the next in the
next. That's not true.
Right. Some of the other councillors
say they felt the grass tripping on a hike and looking back to
see nothing in their way. OK, OK, that's enough, Max.
It's just a silly story, you guys.
Nothing to worry about. Now who can make a snail?
Do you think she's real? No, of course not.
Why did you specifically avoid the bigger puddles then?
Getting our clothes wet is one thing, getting them muddy is
another. I'm sure that convinces the
kids. Who you're about to wake up.
I saw how nervous you were when Joey and Mark started asking if
anyone had more light bulbs. Didn't he say his mom bought 2
boxes of them? It wasn't this bad this early
last year. Maybe we're just freaking
ourselves out for nothing. Last year wasn't bad.
How do you explain whoever was calling my name from outside the
cabin? It was pouring that night.
One of the other councillors was just playing a mean prank.
They know how much that legend gets to you.
Then why do you keep telling it? What do you?
Mean you help you jump right in every time.
You've told that stupid story every summer since we were 11,
Maggie. When I made a big deal about it
after, well, after Connie, everyone said I was just crazy.
Who told you it to begin with? I don't remember.
Just say you made it up I. Didn't someone told me?
I just can't remember who it was.
A random person, one of the campers.
Amanda, come on, cut it out. You're going to wake them up.
I always drop it when you tell me to drop it because it freaks
me out, but anytime it starts pouring you just have to talk
about poor Brooke that got eaten by the woods.
Stop it, I don't want to talk about this anymore.
You just convinced these campers quicksand is real.
OK, but there are a couple of spots near the lake to look out
for. There's always something calling
my name outside when it rains too hard, but you're scared.
The kids will hear you. It was a woman, all right?
I thought she was a counselor. You heard it here at Guanadel.
Yes, I was trailing behind everyone on a lunch hike because
of how many puddles there were. I was hopping in them and then
the woman said if I wanted to stay at camp and not end up like
Brooke that I'd avoid the mud. And then you asked about Brooke.
I thought she meant my neighbor's little sister.
I asked her if she knew her and she just stared at the trees for
a really long time and said if I wanted to know what happened she
would make sure I didn't get in trouble.
Then she told you the story. Then I was the first person you
told. Everybody heard that story that
summer. No one went for any muddy hikes.
Now I'm even more creeped out. So do you think it's true?
Maybe whatever took Brooke came for Connie.
I don't think I want to find out, Miss Wade said she went
home. So just believe that.
Try to get some sleep. Towed cabin still has a bunch of
lights on. It.
Wouldn't hurt to leave one of the lanterns on.
I brought extra batteries. You always bring extra
batteries. I'll put it on the table near
the door. Do you really hate it that much?
Yeah, I'm sorry. Credits to the cast in order of
appearance, Tory Dr. as Alan Wilson, Jeff Montz as Johnny
Callan. Jay Wassell as Amanda McMillan.
Rachel Schumacher as Maggie Robbins.
Marlon Danshui as the narrator. Additional voices by Eli King,
Kelly The Kelhop, Martin Green, Joshua Chamberlain and credits
to our crew. Executive producer and associate
writer Erin Valentine. Lead producer and associate
writer Saff Bridebel. Lead writer Adele King.
Script editors Eli King and Xavier Searle.
Law keeper Eli King. Lead audio engineer, composer
and associate writer Meg McKellar.
Audio engineers SD Hernandez and Jacob Gucci Yamaguchi.
Lead visuals artist Dexter Valentine.
Visuals artist MB Lee, thank you for listening to 1.7 Miles to
Lake Wanatel, a Honeydew Studios production.
We hope you enjoyed. Tune in next Saturday for a new
episode.