Rusty Quill presents

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

So, this new discretion is advised.

The holiest days of phone and shadow, a special holiday mini-series.

Chapter 1 Blood is Blood

Rowanoke, Virginia, 1922

Nadine Rig had never been on her own before.

She kept her head down as she hustled with her suitcase through the crowded train station, and down a narrow side street that veered off toward the river.

She'd put her long raving hair up under a scarf and a hat and wore a plain brown travelin dress with sensible shoes.

She was tired already. Her feet soar.

Nadine wasn't used to so much, while couldn't much less drag in all of her worldly possessions behind her.

She looked again.

At the letter she'd received in response to the advertisement, she'd placed under a false name in the leader, about selling in a state lot of jewelry, with a short preview of said lot's contents.

She needed the money.

She needed to escape this dirty city and didn't care if she had to sell her mama's headstone at this point to get out.

Looking up.

She saw the name of the grimy little bar and grill indicated in the letter and slipped inside.

Looking about at the dimly lit, greasy room, she wondered how she ever got to this point.

She used her handkerchief to wipe off a seat at a table by a winder, sat down to watch the street for the woman who would answer her letter.

She wouldn't used to live in like this, she'd tell you, not at all.

Nadine's daddy had been one of the richest men in Virginia.

Benjamin Rig had owned much of the land that had been purchased at a premium by the lock rail road when they pushed their iron fingers to the new river valley.

...