Creepy things happen sometimes. Halloween is around the corner and this past Thursday I had planned another article in our Appalachian Hauntings series about Richard Drummond, a coal miner (22-23 y.o.) who was lynched in 1893 by Tennessee militia soldiers during the Coal Creek war near Briceville, Tennessee, and whoseContinue Reading
As I slipped out the screen door, Granny caught me by the shirt collar. “I gotta job for you, boy,” she said. She marched me around the house on the upward slope of the hillside; the kudzu was thick, and my feet tangled as she hurried me along. “Not soContinue Reading
He left work early and didn’t expect her to be home. But the hazy air from a fresh shower greeted him as soon as he opened the door. A pungent linen soap pierced his nostrils. He saw her straightaway at the small kitchen table in her pink bunny bathrobe, herContinue Reading
The following tale can be found in Ivy Love Brown’s short story anthology, Mr. Lotman. This particular story was originally published by Appalachia Bare in 2019. With the author’s permission, we are revisiting the story and adding her warm tribute to the person who inspired the tale. Please enjoy .Continue Reading
Introduction I was born and raised in Clendenin, West Virginia, a small town in Appalachia. When I was fourteen, my mom piled me and my sisters into a brand-new blue Chevrolet Impala convertible and we headed west to California, then to Miami, and finally back to West Virginia for aContinue Reading
“There’s been another school shooting,” announced Mrs. Anderson. She was sipping coffee from a chipped mug and reading the news on her phone. “It happened at Goode High just yesterday.” She looked expectantly at Tom, waiting for him to react to what she just said. Tom was Mrs. Anderson’s son,Continue Reading
It was the farthest north they had ever been. It being Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. They being George Washington Cline and Henry Lafayette Marcum of Mingo County, Virginia, which bordered Kentucky in the southwestern part of the state. Most people there in Mingo County were related to each other. George and HenryContinue Reading
After school one day, me and Gerod were walkin’ by Auntie Clem’s house and heard Ol’ blind Lester and her jawing up a storm so we decided to stop by. Everybody knowed and loved Auntie Clem. She was kin to most everybody in town. We went running right up onContinue Reading
The following story, first appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. It was so convincing that the editors listed the author as “Edward Lang” instead of “Edward Francisco.” I was named for my great-grandfather, David Lang. David has long been a source of speculation and fascination owing toContinue Reading
We lived in safety in a holler down at the foothills of Appalachia. We was holed up in a big compound with highwalls and all manner of protection and arms. The place used to be a gated community. Our folk took to callin’ the place The Kingdom. We’d learn aboutContinue Reading