Well, hey there, family. If you love old gods of Appalachia and want to help us keep the home fires burning, but maybe aren't comfortable with the monthly commitment, well, you can still support us via the ACAST supporter feature. No gift too large, no gift too small. Just click on the link in the show description, and you too can toss your tithe in the collection plate. Feel free to go ahead and do that right about now. See you next time. The general rules are of toepassing. Oh Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences. So listener discretion is advised. Oh, Appalachia, Oh, Mother, who has filled our heads and hearts with maps and legends to keep us on the straight and narrow. Iron-edged truths wrapped in the softness of your stories, teaching us the lessons that keep us safe, both feet on the path, one in front of the other, eyes locked, never once looking off into the trees, never following that voice calling from the throat of night. We have learned so much from what you have spun for us, O teller of tales and weaver of endless yarns. We have grown tall in the shade of the green and are eager to be fed. But we know there is much more to learn. Take us off the milk And put us on to the meat So that we might hear true and be stronger for it Let us wander now The stacks of that labyrinthine library Held in the minds and tongues of our mamas and mamas Our papas and daddies Let us sneak into the deepest root cellar Where the stories our youngest uncle told us when nobody else would Are stacked like jars of pickled gossip Let us gather now And speak the bones of those stories Best left unspoken into the thick air of this place Let us make it heavy with the weight of the things we were Until now, unprepared To carry in our hearts like blood clots made of memories Let us sit at the feet of those who raised us And pay heed to the secrets they'd promised they'd share When we were older Oh Mother we are older now Years like whetstones both sharpen and grind us away in the same smooth motion Our skin is thicker our stomach stronger so fill our bellies with this bitter brew of blackened roots and hard truths Show us why we should fear the dark once more. Show us that not even the Promethean kiss of fire promises safety within its wavering ring of warmth. make us see at last how little that illumination truly does to protect us from the barely-glimpsed beasts and monstrosities that lumber just outside the edges of the light. Oh, Appalachia, wake us from our dreaming and bid us bear witness to the truth that lies before us, veiled and still unclear, dusty furniture cluttering the landscape of our late mamaw's living room. Uncertain shapes shift in the gloom. One moment an armchair in the good china cabinet, the next the hulking outline of a vast and shapeless beast. Pale eyes watch from the gathering dark outside the window, finding us more by scent than sight. And fear smells like the richest supper and finest of wines to them. They stand stock still in the lightless parlor, daring us to move, to switch on the light and prove that all is safe and well, and that they're only a trick of the light, but we won't. There is comfort in that darkness to a degree. And anyway, it was probably only a bad dream now, wasn't it? Oh mother We have rippled the edge of your pages Like a preacher looking for the perfect verse To pull out a context But beneath the familiar lies lay truth We have dared not look in the eye before now We may have known that the folks in these tales Walked in our world But now we must meet them face to face Invite them in for supper And pretend not to notice the blood beneath their fingernails or the strands of gristle between their teeth. In the wake of a great victory, a slip of a girl is carried to a place of rest and convalescence. In the shadow of the blue ridge, the sick have come to breathe deep and be healed, but what healing can come when shame clings like a monarch's blood to one's hands? who can forgive the unforgiven, the forsaken, who can carry her forth to walk in the light of the green once more, and if they even should, because choices have consequences, and it is difficult to maintain balance walking with one foot in the shadow and the other in the light, knowing that if she falls, so falls the rest of her kind, and maybe the world. In a lost and forgotten place, at the end of an iron road that no mortal man can safely travel an elder of a long bloodline kneels at a forbidden altar to break an ancient promise in an effort to save what left of his family He learned that lost boys can grow into men with hardened hearts and little girls who disappeared into the ocean of night can wash up on the shore to stand between the rise of wicked kings. There are prophecies and promises here, but is any of it worth the cost? And once that train leaves the station, there's nowhere to go but forward. A collector of sorts calls in markers and sends his unwitting emissaries into the world to retrieve pieces of a puzzle that only one such as he would seek to solve. Curiosity killed the cat, but it ain't killed him yet Once his pockets are full and his smile secure He'll meet an old friend to trade these treasures for something he holds more dear than black gold or precious gems These jigsaw keys will unlock the path to where the darkest of our tales begin A place that is not a place or sits a house that is not a house and what lay within it damn not once not twice but thrice so come oh mothers and fathers aunts and uncles mamaws and papaws and all those who came before we ask that you gather round our fire and offer up a full recounting of these tales Press them like bloody coins into our hands So we might come a little closer To understanding the night that surrounds us Threatens to swallow us Whispers to us gently from the tree Caution us that we are never far From the talons of what sleeps beneath these mountains And that their bellies quiver and quake With the hunger for what we call our own Recite the ancient litany of how the green Stood against the ravenous dark and remind us that clinging to the light only makes us easier to find and consume. Help us remember, O Appalachia, that candles burned against the darkness provide the very light that casts the longest shadows. When the fire dies down And the woods go quiet And you think you've told every tale you know An old flame blooms To reshape the darkness So you lock your eyes on the trembling glow The faces you find are so familiar They could almost speak Their stories fall where the light won't reach And you can feed the fire to curse the darkness when the voices call But in the end long shadows fall Well, hey there, family, and welcome to Old Gods of Appalachia, Season 6, Long Shadows. It is with great delight we welcome you back to the hills of our Appalachia. We missed y'all. I hope y'all missed us too. Now, I am not alone here in the void at the start of this dark and lonely road. Joining me this season in the old well behind your mamaw's house is my boon companion and favorite mistress of the dark, Cam Collins. How are you, witch? I'm just fine, old man. Are you ready to get this show on the road? Indeed I am, family. Indeed I am. We're going to be walking some of the deepest and darkest trails that wind back through these ancient mountains of ours and reveal some things that have been long hidden. as well as pointing out some horrors that have been staring us in the face this entire time. Old questions may be answered, but even more vexing queries could be posed. You might think you have the final piece of the puzzle, only to find the picture on the box has changed. You never know with us now, do you, family? There are fresh new horrors to experience, along with a disturbingly familiar face or two, all of whom have cast their own long shadows across our beloved Appalachia. We promise you are in for one heck of a ride this time around, y'all. And we want to thank each and every one of you that has stuck by us for the past six years. We truly could not be here without you. As always, we want to show some extra love to those family who make their home over in the holler. Our paid subscription service where we have hours and hours of exclusive storylines, like Build Mama Coffin, Black Mouth Dog, Familiar and Beloved, and more, along with other special benefits for those who cast their lot into the collection plate. Join us over at oldgodsofappalachia.com slash theholler today. And this is your, yes, every first episode of almost every season is always around 13 minutes long reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of Deep Nerd Media distributed by Rusty Quill. Today's prologue was written by Steve Schell and edited by Kim Collins. Our brand new intro and outro music The Land Unknown Where the Light Don't Reach verses Is of course by Brother Land and Blood We'll talk to you soon family Talk to you real soon himself.
