About this episode
The Appalachian Mountains are the oldest mountain range in the world, and they've been collecting secrets for longer than human memory reaches. Tonight we go into the old green dark — the deep, cathedral-quiet forest of the Appalachian chain — and we don't come back out until we've walked through six of the most haunting, bone-deep stories this ancient landscape has ever produced.We start in Hancock County, Tennessee, in 1923, where a sixty-one-year-old farmer named Elias Combs runs his trapline in the pre-dawn dark and comes face to face with the Wampus Cat — the Cherokee creature known as Ewah, a being caught forever between woman and beast, whose eyes burn yellow-green and whose stare can strip a man of his mind. Three shots from a Winchester.Not even a flinch.From there we move to the ridgelines of Burke County, North Carolina, where the famous Brown Mountain Lights have been appearing above the Linville Gorge since before the Civil War, baffling scientists and federal investigators for over a century. But the lights aren't the thing to be afraid of. The lights are the distraction. What walks in the timber below them is another matter entirely — and the Perkins family found that out the hard way in the autumn of 1850.Then we go deeper into the Cherokee homeland of western North Carolina, back to the violent winter of 1780, to meet the most feared figure in all of Cherokee supernatural tradition. The Raven Mocker doesn't look like a monster. It looks like an old person. It enters the homes of the dying, and it takes their remaining years — gently, quietly, without leaving a mark except for one: the missing heart. A healer named Ayita held the detection medicine alone in the dark against it. She survived.Her hair went white that night. She was thirty-two years old.We move north to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, and the story of a woman with no recorded name who died on fire on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad tracks in October of 1833. She's been screaming on that rail corridor ever since — seen by railroad engineers, bridge tenders, night watchmen, park rangers, and anyone else unlucky or curious enough to be near the old right-of-way after dark. The cold she leaves behind lasts about three seconds. The sound she makes lasts a lifetime.High on Grandfather Mountain in Avery County, North Carolina, four college students from Boone made camp in October of 1971 and were visited by something that came down off the upper ridgeline in silence, stood at the edge of their fire, and placed a warning directly into their minds without speaking a word. One of the four never recovered fully.Robert, who eventually told the story, went back alone in November to stand on the trail where it had stood — and realized it had a clear view of their camp for a very long time before they ever looked up.And we end at the northern tip of the chain, on a seven-mile road in Warren County, New Jersey who
