A hidden message. A white whale. A pocket watch that changes everything.



The Farm is a mystery-thriller audio drama about family secrets, betrayal, and survival.

Story created by Melody Herr  

Audioplay by Adriana Laplanche 

Story Editor Melody Herr 

Produced and Created by Melody Herr 

Edited by Sebastian Jones 

Sound Design by Enoch Quintanilla 

Music by AviShai Dayanim & Ellysa Rose 



Starring: 

Ellysa Rose as Reilly Whitaker 

With Special Guest star Rushi Kota as SHERIFF ACHAK

And Co-Starring: 

Brendan Bradley as CAM 

Donte Paris as JOSH TILLERMAN 



Featuring: 

Mark Veau as the RADIO REPORTER 

Georgia Bridgers as IDA McINTYRE 

Jeanne Taylor as MOLLY

Omari Williams as BRETT

Andrea Grano as Sheriff Hernandez

Georgia Bridgers as Ida McIntyre

TRANSCRIPT: 

Speaker A:

And move. You don't want to do this, Cam.

You don't know anything about what I really want to do.

Speaker B:

I got a few ideas, actually.

Speaker A:

Toss your keys to the side. Do it.

You killed Gregory.

Yeah, I did. You're smiling about this?

I didn't think you'd be the one to figure it out. Guess Riley likes you for your brains, too. Why? What did he do to you? A better question is, what didn't he do?

He had a good father, Josh. Strong, hard-working. It's a shame you're nothing like him.

Speaker B:

Everything's been falling apart since you came to town: Gregory, the farm, the animals, the Bill Hook, Harrison.

Speaker A:

I call it falling into place.

Speaker B:

Riley's gonna know what you did.

Speaker A:

You're gonna pay. Yeah? How's that?

Josh, Riley knows I'm here. I beg to differ. No, no, I told her right before.

You're lucky I need you alive, Josh. Consider this an act of mercy.

Speaker C:

You're listening to the Farm, A Little Fish Entertainment and Honeydew Studios Production. This is episode eight. What doesn't kill you maims you.

Dust on the floor and dreams in the train. Another night talking to the rain.

Speaker B:

You are a mess.

Speaker C:

And you're a dick. Let me go.

Speaker B:

Well, I can't let you drive.

Speaker C:

First of all, I can sleep in the back of the car.

But secondly, what are you gonna do, take my keys?

Speaker B:

Dude, I don't want to wrestle you.

Speaker C:

Brett, move.

Speaker B:

I'm not letting you near that car. It is too much of a risk.

Speaker C:

Fine. Screw it. I'm walking home.

Speaker B:

Riley. Seriously?

Riley. God, you suck when you're drunk.

Speaker C:

I knew I wasn't okay, but that didn't mean I needed a babysitter. Especially not Barrett. Playing the nice guy while trying to steal my promotion. I used to think I could count on people, but these days, I don't even trust my own instincts, let alone anyone else's.

What a jerk. Oh, and speaking of jerks.

Speaker B:

Hey, Riley, it's Josh. Please call me back when you get the chance. I promise you, what you saw today, it's not what you think.

I care about you. And us. It could be us too much to betray you. Riley, call me.

Speaker A:

Please.

Speaker C:

I don't know what to believe.

Speaker D:

Josh.

Speaker E:

Riley. What on earth are you doing out here so late?

Speaker C:

Oh, I was just walking home.

Speaker E:

You're as drunk as a skunk.

Get inside. You can sleep on the cot in the back and rest up till morning.

Speaker C:

But I really should head home. Like, really.

Speaker E:

And your father would damn near rise out of the grave if I let you walk alone at night.

So get inside, young lady. Get in there.

Move it.

Speaker C:

Okay, okay, okay, Mrs. Molly.

Speaker A:

Leave.

Speaker B:

98.3Fm before we dive into the forecast this morning and beyond. I want to put it off, actually, as long as I. I can, because it's not good news. Just make sure you have umbrellas. We'll get to that momentarily. Batavia police have finally released more details on the recent death of longtime resident Gregory Whitman, whose real name we now know to be Gregory Edward Hawthorne.

Our very own D. James has the latest coming up from the newsroom, and she'll have more updates for details on that new release.

Speaker A:

Oh, not so fast, pretty boy. You don't want to tire yourself out. You're not going anywhere.

How are my rope tying skills? You want to give me a little wiggle? That'll do. Tight as a whistle. I guess there are good parts to being an ex boy Scout, huh?

Oh, I hope you don't mind that I took your phone. Now let's see who's gone. Oh, looks like they're missing you at work, Joshy. Don't worry. Your job is the last thing you need to worry about.

Not like BFC to grow back.

Okay, I'm going to take off your gag now, but if you decide to scream like a girl, I'll pop you right here and make up a wonderful little story about how you just couldn't handle Riley rejecting you after all this time and blew your brains out with your own gun. Deal. Mm.

That tastes like shit. Well, blood and manure stained ropes don't mix, do they?

Speaker B:

Why are you doing this to me?

Speaker A:

To Riley?

You really want to know, Josh?

All right.

Do you know what it's like to be a fuck up, Josh? Huh? Like a genuine, real fuck up? From the first day you were born, you were just wrong. Conceived out of a dirty little secret.

Raised like a special little problem. You're either never enough or entirely too much. Do you know what that's like?

Speaker B:

I didn't realize this would be a therapy session.

Speaker A:

Try again.

No, I don't know what that's like. It's terrible. It's fucking terrible. It's lonely. It's the feeling of being marked before you even know who you are or what you're capable of.

Doesn't matter how much you want to be good or what you want to give to the world. All anyone ever sees when they look at you is a fuck up. I know you don't know what that's like. I know Riley doesn't either. But if things had just gone Right in my life, the way I deserved.

Then this whole place would be mine. No dead animals, no rotten milk, no piling bills. So once you take the fall, thanks to this, a bill hook. Along with a few other strange coincidences. Like your obsession with Riley, you skirting around the farm, you're skirting around Riley.

Leave her out of this. And this farm will be mine, like it always should have been. You're crazy.

Help. Help.

Speaker E:

Shut up.

Speaker A:

I warned you.

Now you can enjoy another long nap as I add your prints to this lovely little murder weapon and drop it off at the station.

Speaker C:

Oh.

Speaker A:

There you go. Thanks, genius.

Sleep tight.

Speaker E:

Riley, dear, you awake? It's almost seven.

Speaker C:

Oh, Jesus Christ. My head.

Speaker E:

Language, sweetheart.

Speaker C:

God. Who are you?

My dad?

Sorry. Bad headache.

Speaker E:

I figured. I brought you coffee and painkillers. Didn't want you driving with a bad head on your shoulders.

Speaker C:

Oh, thank you, Molly.

Mmm. Geez, what'd I do without you?

Speaker E:

Stumble home like a drunkard?

That ain't like you, sweetheart.

Speaker C:

To be fair, it was a really rough day.

Speaker E:

You had a really rough few weeks, actually. But I don't want that to mean you put yourself in harm's way. Your father would never forgive me if I let you get caught up.

Speaker C:

I know, Mal. I'm sorry.

Speaker E:

It's all right, baby girl. Oh, you stink like a skunk too. No, really, like beer, whiskey and whatever else lives in the yeti.

You best head home to clean up. I'm opening the diner soon.

Speaker C:

You usually open at 6.

Speaker E:

I wanted to give you some time to sleep in.

Speaker C:

God, I really don't deserve you.

Speaker E:

Yes, you do, baby. Now, I left some of yesterday's pastries up at the front. Take them home for you and Cam.

Consider it breakfast.

Speaker C:

Do I have to?

Speaker E:

There's nothing wrong with a food girl.

Speaker C:

No, no, no. I mean, do I have to head back to the farm?

Speaker E:

Everyone's gotta face the music eventually, dear.

Speaker C:

I know.

Can I get a second coffee to go?

Speaker E:

Yeah.

Speaker C:

The only thing worse than my hangover was facing the music back at the farm. But I needed answers. And Cam was the only one who might actually give me some late night something like that.

Speaker A:

Coffee? Oh, thanks.

Speaker C:

Oy, buster. Hope you didn't miss me too much. Hey, no tugging. You're no better, boy. What's gotten into him?

Speaker A:

Not a clue. He probably just needs some ball catching. I wouldn't worry.

Excuse my French, but you look like shit, Riley. Is this cause of Josh?

Speaker C:

He didn't come by, did he?

Speaker A:

You know, I'll answer your question when you answer mine.

Speaker C:

I Saw him talking to my co worker Brett, over at BFC yesterday. Don't say I told you so.</p