Rusty Quill presents

Old Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences.

So listening to discretion is advised. The assembled body of onlookers were on the edge of their seats as the things

sitting upon the witness chair closed its eyes, smiling luridly as it relived the memory of striking

its deal with Trevor Gilbert and unleashing its minions upon the man as he ran for his life to the place that was not Burke's Ridge.

Such a lovely day it was, Mr Poe purred in his infected wound of a voice,

it's always a lovely day when you can do a bit of business

and make a new friend in the bargain.

Yes it is.

There was such a salacious joy in the thing's words that even some of the beings of the dark flinched,

while the black stag bobbed its head from side to side as if to say,

well yes, naturally.

Mr Poe seemed lost in his recollection until the representative of the dark Miss Gray cleared

her throat, smiling politely until she had regained his full attention.

So this man, Trevor Gilbert, did you allow him to make it home on that day, Mr. Poe?

Oh yes, oh yes, my dear, Mr. Poe answered in a patronizing tone.

Miss Gray lifted one immaculately shaped eyebrow.

Favoring Mr. Poe with the look a raptor gives a small woodland critter before it swoops down and invites it to dinner.

Mr Poe's stumbled.

An expression of abject terror briefly dimming the orange of his eyes.

Oh, I mean, I mean, I mean,

Miss Gray.

...