459. Where the Watermelon Rot

SPEAKER_1 (0:00)

This episode is brought to you by Welcome To Horrorwood. This October, AMC Theater's Bloody Disgusting and Ice Nine Kills are bringing Horror's most unforgettable films back to the big screen for Welcome To Horrorwood. It's a nationwide series that highlights five films that have helped define the genre. Scream for Mercy with Hostel, Bunk It, Camp Crystal Lake with Friday the 13th, Cancel Reservations at Dorcia with American Psycho, Bury Your Loved Ones in the Pet Cemetery, and Celebrate Devil's Night with The Crow. Welcome To Horrorwood takes over Friday and Tuesday nights at AMC throughout October, with all screenings beginning at 8 p.m. local time. Get your tickets now at amctheaters.com before it's too late.

Shelby Novak (1:15)

Hello, and welcome to Scare You To Sleep. I'm your host, Shelby Novak, and I'm here to read you a bedtime story. Entries for kids' submissions are officially closed. Thank you to all who sent yours in. If you did not, then no worries. You can always submit next year. So this week I have for you a swamp story. And I know you all love swamp stories. This comes to us from author Tina Michelle. This is Where the Watermelon Rot.

Down by the bay, dad sang softly. Where the watermelon grow, I echoed, hardly pausing with my work. That afternoon had been quiet as we sat on the dock, outside the bait shop, mending the holes in our crawfish traps. The water was smooth and green, and the only clouds were as thin as torn cotton, draped far off in the western sky.

Back to my home. I dare not go.

My voice started to trail off. As I found a knot in the string, I was threading into my needle. Dirty old rotten string. For if I do, my mother would say.

Dad paused. Did you ever see a goose kissing a moose? I grumbled. Down by the bay.

I huffed as I continued to tug at the hopeless length of string. You want to trade? I wordlessly offered over my trap and accepted dad's. Thanks. No problem, Nick. He worked quickly to detangle the knot as I continued to weave his back together.

How do you think we're going to do this season?

Well, Granny always says if there's thunder in October, it's going to be a good season. And we had the big storm right there at Halloween. Must be good luck. He nodded in approval. We fell into silence till dad started to sing the song again. I couldn't remember a time before I knew the song. Down by the bay, where the watermelon grow.

I don't know about watermelon growing, but I've sure seen enough of them rotting. A haggard old man stepped out of the shack at the end of the dock. I didn't remember his name. He limped and thumped along the wood walkway with his big wooden walking cane.

Hey, Ronnie. Dad glanced up over his rusted wire-rimmed glasses to grin at the other man. He flipped the peeling five-gallon bucket of what I assumed was fish over the edge before sitting down on it. You know why things rot, boy. The man leered over to where I was squatted on the mildewed deck wood. His teeth were almost yellow and hardly there at all. I shook my head in response before shrinking back down to my work. It's because of that swamp witch. Don't start in on that, dad chided. Nick is far too young for all that ghost mess. How old are you? The man barked over in my general direction. Almost 11 I gazed out at the moss dangled from the cypress behind his head. I didn't want to look in his almost yellow eyes either. That's plenty old enough to know about the old witch. Besides, he's got to give her something if he's planning to take.

He eyeballed the trap in my hand. You know there ain't no witch in that swamp. Dad gave me a reassuring smile as the old man started in on his story. I do too. I seen her. She took my foot when I went fishing without a gift. He pulled up his pant leg and brandished a stump with an old rusted prosthetic attached. That was gators. Dad interjected. She sent him. He answered, You ever wonder why things rot and rust so quick out here? He asked me.

I shook my head. His leather like tanned skin made his eyes almost seem to glow in that yellowish hue. Things rot so quick because of all the folks she got rotten in the bottom of her swamp. Ronnie, it's true. He turned to dad and continued, You know the story. Dad sighed, It's just a story.

The old witch has been in the swamp as long as I can remember. She was in there before my daddy and my granny too. Way back when she was still kicking, folks used to pay her for all kinds of stuff. Love potions, poison, good luck charms, boo-doo, hoo-doo, all that nasty stuff that preacher don't like.