Rusty Quill presents

Old Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast,

and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences.

So, listen to discretion is advised.

In the sticky heat of the summer of 1941, eyes and doors had begun to open

in some of the darkest places in Appalachia.

In far off, Berra, Pennsylvania, two cars departed from the big old house on coal hill

loaded with enough firepower to besiege a small nation.

The impeccably dressed woman in the back seat would not be caught unprepared again.

In Roanoke, Virginia, the younger brother of a dead man jolted a wake soaked in sweat from a dream

about his long-lost nephew, bolting from his bed he ran for the telephone,

and in a place that isn't a place at all unless it wants to be.

Something that had been waiting for many long years rose to its full towering height and land.

A sound so carnal and full of hate it would have scared the preacher from the pole pit

in the St. Trata, heaven, and it befowled their holy ears.

Greta Ambergay's death had pulled back a veil,

and the path to the children of men stood open.

Meanwhile, in the mouth of a cave halfway up Lost Mountain,

three children sat amongst the ghosts of others who had come before them and read their own histories,

scrolled across hither-two unknown pages in a two-familiar hand.

A young girl with death in her touch traced her fingers morosely over drawings of innumerable monsters and fiends,

muttering as she turned each over.

...