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

So listener discretion is advised.ized.

Doc Underwood and his employer stood looking up the hill at their destination. A tall skinny farmhouse in the shadow of Mount Mitchell, with a sagging roof and a front porch that skewed left at an angle that

didn't look quite safe. They had discussed their plan at some length on the way here. To wit,

they would meet with the owner of the property

the widow olivine Maxwell and use their considerable gifts of gab to win the

old girls trust waltz in out of there with a veritable smorgasborg of antiques and occult artifacts of varying shapes and sizes.

What they found instead of an aging home occupied by a single woman in the twilight of her days.

Was a small army toting furniture and other items out the open front door and loading them into wagons.

Some were lifting dressers and wardrobes while others carried boxes of

clothes and who knew what else out to the men standing by the wagons who would inspect each

item, making note of it in a ledger before tossing it into the nearest horse-drawn

cart. One of the laborers carrying a box of pots and pans caught sight of them

and after delivering his goods to the nearest wagon trotted over hat in hand.

He swallowed shakily and greeted them with some trepidation.

Jack? Not? Nicky? Jack, not.

Nicky. Thought you said this would be an easy job, son.

Sweet old lady was no clue of what she had and so forth.

Nicodemus Hart was a flim-flam man of the highest order, recognizable to most as the

purveyor of hearts remedy, a patent medicine to cure what ailed you.

Never mind that it was three parts of alcohol two parts sugar water. People bought it by the case.

Nicky Hart was Jack's man on the ground in Western North Carolina and a long time acquaintance.

...