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

So listener discretion is advised. The night was cool and clear.

A million stars twinkling brightly overhead against

the blanket of moonless velvety darkness as the old Ford rumbled down the blacktop.

The cab was silent,

save for the puttering of the engine

and the quiet weeping of the young woman in the backseat.

June Gilbert, born June Norris, pressed a soft white cotton handkerchief to her face.

The man in the driver's seat had offered it to her without comment, and she was grateful

for this small mercy. She wasn't ready to hear anyone tell her how sorry they were, how

he was with the angels now, or any of the other empty platitudes she knew would be coming, least of all from

the man she had married. The moment she couldn't even bear to look at Trevor, whose poor judgment had cost her daddy his life and made her an orphan.

The hang dog expression of pity and guilt she had seen in his eyes when her tears began to fall made her want to scream.

If she saw it again, she was pretty sure she would punch him in his sad stupid face and so she kept her head down.

Eyes on her lap, lest she cause Mr. Fields to run off the road.

The man in question, riding shotgun next to their benefactor, glanced over his shoulder at his

wife again and chewed his lip anxiously.

Trevor had never been this close to a death in his family.

His daddy and mama were happy and healthy back home in Hazel County. And while he'd lost. and

happy and healthy back home in Hazel County and while he'd lost his brothers in the war

there'd been no caskets to bury, no dead bodies to see.

It was almost like they went and moved somewhere else, just never visited.

...