Heart Starts Pounding: Horrors, Hauntings, and Mysteries - Folklore: Stories of Appalachian Horror

Episode Date: July 27, 2023

Witches in the woods, screams in the middle of the night, the most haunted piece of land in all of Appalachia. Bring a backpack, because we're going deep into the Appalachian wilderness to hear the most terrifying folklore around.  Subscribe on Patreon for bonus content and to become a member of our Rogue Detecting Society. Follow on Tik Tok and Instagram for a daily dose of horror. Heart Starts Pounding is written and produced by Kaelyn Moore.  Kathi Littlejohn: https://www.youtube.com/@cherokeevideos9203  Shownotes: https://www.heartstartspounding.com/episodes/appalachia 

Don't look at the trees. If you hear your name called in the woods, no you didn't. If you hear whistling at night, no, you didn't. You may have heard these rules floating around the internet for some time now. They've been labeled as the mysterious rules the people of Apalachia live by, following them meticulously without asking any questions, or else. These seem to be traditions set in place to protect the residents of this eastern American mountain range from the dangers that lurk in the

thick woods the area is populated with. But, it depends who you talk to. Some residents claim the area is inhabited with shadowy cryptids and ghosts, claiming they've seen these nightmares with their own eyes, in their own backyards. Others say Appalachia is a beautiful mountainous area of the country with its own culture and nothing more. Talking to people who have had experiences, it feels like there is something supernatural happening in this region. I've heard horrifying stories of random screens

in the woods whistling coming from nowhere in the dead of night, and spiny creatures caught on trail cams with no explanation. And these sightings and stories are generations old. The tales of Appalachia have been turned into some of the oldest folklore America has. Today, I wanna take a look into the creepy lore of Appalachia. I'm going to share some stories I found that absolutely terrified me. Our first two stories are of witches that live in the woods, and our third is about the most haunted piece of land in all of Appalachia. A piece of land that you can still visit today.

And as always, listener discretion is advised. It's that feeling when the energy and the room shifts, when the air gets sucked out of a moment and everything starts to feel wrong. It's the instinct between fight or flight. When your brain is trying to make sense of what it's seeing, it's when your heart starts pounding. Welcome to Heart Starts Pounding, a podcast of horrors, hauntings and mysteries. I'm

your host, Kaelin Moore. This is a community for the Darkly Curious. If you'd like to dive deeper into our community, you can follow Heart Starts Pounding on TikTok and Instagram, or you can join our Patreon, the Rogue Detecting Society, where you'll have access to some archived episodes and bonus content for just three bucks a month. some archived episodes and bonus content for just three bucks a month. The lore of Appalachia has always fascinated me.

Growing up, I heard tales from my grandfather, who was born in a tiny Appalachian town in Tennessee. My grandfather hardly knew his father, so much of his life became folklore. Gaps and his identity were filled with grand stories. He also didn't have more than an eighth grade education and all the history he knew about the world came from the Bible. The way he understood life was from stories passed on.

And as he tells it, that was deep in the DNA of the region. One thing he did know, growing up in a one-stoplight town in one of the poorest counties in Tennessee, was you don't go into the woods. Just like the rules I mentioned earlier, there was an unquestioned faithfulness to the idea that there was something in there that you didn't want to see. He once told me that every time he and his cousin would go near the backwoods to hunt possums, he'd hear a loud scream pierced through the trees, and they would run straight back home. Whatever was in there didn't want him to get too close.

Before we begin, let's look at the geography. The area I'm referring to, Apalachia, is a mountain range that reaches from Alabama to Pennsylvania, as well as the surrounding area where people live. The mountains themselves are believed to be 480 million years old. That's older than Saturn's rings. That's older than trees, like the entire species of trees. So if you pass through them, maybe on the famous Appalachian Trail, you may feel the Earth's ancientness. They're older than we can reasonably wrap our heads around, and maybe that's why there's so much that happens there that we just can't explain. Those are the stories and warnings that have been passed on for generations.

One of these warnings was about strangers. Legend has it there's a northern Appalachian town that still won't allow babysitters to watch their children because of this old Native American story. This is the legend of the Appalachian Mountains, many, many years ago, lived a woman named Mother Tabitha. Mother Tabitha was known for being a baby-mindor in the area. Though she had no children of her own, she would watch over the young children in her community while the parents worked

all hands on deck to bring in as big of a summer harvest as they could. Tabitha was universally beloved for her service. She had a seat at every dinner table in town. She was always welcome to dine with any family. Some felt sad that Tabitha had no family of her own, but most were just thankful she watched over their young ones. But the closeness of this community came with a cost. They didn't speak to many others outside of their own people, so they didn't notice when things weren't normal. Maybe that's why they didn't realize that the mortality rate amongst the

children there was much higher than anywhere else at the time. Sure, it wasn't abnormal for a child to fall ill and die, it was devastating for everyone, but they moved on. Lately, however, it had become a much more common occurrence in town. But no one thought anything of it. One day, one of the older children was tasked with picking up his little brother from Tabitha. He runs from the field back to Tabitha's house, but when he gets to her porch, before he knocks on the door, he can see through a small crack that all of the children

are sitting in a circle making almost no noise. That seems strange, so the boy goes to a window and peeks in, where he sees Tabitha dancing with a caribou-headed figure in the living room. The children were completely entranced by the sight, and the boy, in a panic, ran to get some of the adults in town. A group of the parents came to the door to see what was going on, but the monster was nowhere in sight. Later, though, they learned that under Tabitha's care,

another one of the children died that day from a mysterious and sudden illness. That was enough to enrage the parents who chased after Tabitha, causing her to flee into the woods. As she ran, her dress flapped in the wind, and the parents could see that it was just her head that was human. Under her dress was completely made of children's bones.

Tabatha had been digging up the bodies of the deceased children and eating them. She had been making the children sick so she could replenish her food source. The bone lady, as she came to be known, disappeared into the woods, and some believe that it was to meet with her changeling boyfriend, who was the caribou-headed figure she was dancing with. She was never to be seen again. seen again. So it's no wonder that many in that community won't let their children be babysat. The indigenous people called her the bone lady, but the Christians that moved into Appalachia in the 18th and 19th century had another word for the cruel women who tormented their community.

had another word for the cruel women who tormented their community. When we think of witches and American history, the first thing that comes to mind is the Salem Witch Trials, but thousands of miles away and hundreds of years later, stories of witches lived on in Appalachia. This story comes from Patrick Gainer, a professor of folklore at Glenville State College, who, in 1975, wrote a book about the tales he heard from his peers in Appalachia over the last 50 years. This story was told to him by an old woman

who had a terrifying tale from when she was a young bride in Clay County, West Virginia. This is the Witch of Bouger Hole. Around the year 1900, the woman, who at the time was a young girl on the cusp of adulthood named Ira, had just been married to a man that lived in Bougar Hole on Otter Creek in West Virginia. The area was lush and green with a dense forest broken up by a babbling creek full of big flat rocks that were good for standing on. On the edge of a big clearing in the woods,

lived the man's grandmother. Grandma Thorn was her name, and she lived in a big log cabin that had once been a schoolhouse. At night, she would hang blankets in the window, making the house so dark if the moon wasn't there in the sky you couldn't see it at all. Ira had been nervous about meeting her new husband's grandmother, not because she was afraid of being accepted by the family, but because Grandma Thorne had a reputation in town. When she told people that she was marrying into the Thorne family, she'd see their eyes go wide, their smiles unfurl into a tight-lipped look of concern.

Everyone in town knew that Grammathorn was a witch. In Appalachia at the time, there was a ritual you could do to summon the devil. It was believed that one day, decades ago, Grammathorn climbed to the top of one of the rolling hills of Apalachia, cursed God three times, and fired a gun through a handkerchief at the sun. Legend has it that the hole in the handkerchief started oozing blood after being shot, signifying that the devil had accepted her offer. A man in town told Ira the following story to prove it. One day, a man named Andrew stopped by Grimuthorns.

He wanted to know if he could borrow Grimuth's prized mayor named Old Fanny. He had some plowing he needed to get done and he would bring her a right back. Grimuthorn agreed, but on one condition. Old Fanny was getting older and he could not work her too hard. She wanted the horse back in the same condition she lent her in. Andrew agreed and he took the horse. Hours later, after the sun went down, Andrew came back with Ophani. She was dragging her feet and she was caked in dirt.

It was clear that he had worked her too hard. That's when grandma thorn burst out of the front door. Andrew, you ruined my mare, she screamed. I promise you won't know any peace at night until you're as tired as old Fanny. As she said it, a chill could be felt in the air. It was said like a promise, but it felt like a curse. The next morning, Andrew awoke to all of his muscle sore and burrs in his hair. He had red markings on the side of his mouth from something digging in. His neighbor said it looked like someone had saddled him up and rode him all night like a horse.

For weeks, he'd wake up restless, feeling as if he had run a marathon. They knew that this was the doing of a witch, and Andrew never asked her for anything else ever again. And Andrew never asked her for anything else ever again. Ira didn't know if she believed that story. Sure, Grandma Thorn was odd and a little reclusive, but that didn't mean she was a witch. But then, one night, in the pitch black, someone walked onto Grandma Thorn's porch, lifted up one of the blankets covering her open

window, and shot her dead in her chair. Everyone assumed it was Andrew, but the only evidence they had against him was that grandma had put a spell on him, and that wasn't enough, so they let him go. And while Ira and her old age is telling the story to Patrick, she gets real close and lowers her voice. You know, she says, there's a part of this story not many people know about, but I'll tell you now.

Back in the day, there was a stone basin in town named Henry. He had built chimneys for everyone in town, including Grandma Thorn. In one day, he went missing, disappeared without a trace. Now it was well known that he kept a lot of money on him. People back then didn't really trust the banks, so this wasn't all that strange. But when grandma Thorn heard he went missing, she knew that he had been murdered. And she had a feeling she knew who was responsible, a man named Otis, so she put a curse on the man's horse.

This was a horse that was as team as could be, but now, every time Otis went to ride him, he got bucked off. He couldn't go anywhere. Otis knew the curse had come from Grandma Thorn because she was known for bewitching animals in town. The only way to get rid of the curse was to cut off the ears of the animal and burn them, which he didn't want to do. So he ran to grandma and begged her to undo the curse. She said she'd unbewitch the animal only if he told her where Henry was buried. And so he did. And the next day when he went to get on the horse, he wasn't bucked off. The following week, Iraro was standing in grandma Thorne's home holding her new baby.

She had been married into the family for just a year at that point and was having a few of her friends over to see the child. As the women are standing around Cooing, all of a sudden grandma gets this really dark, far away look on her face. You know, she said, I could light a pipe and by the time it goes out, I could take you to where Henry is buried. I read didn't know why she said that, but it felt like a warning. All of the women went silent and looked around the room.

It was like grandma fired a warning shot, letting the women know she knew where Henry was, and she knew their husbands were responsible. And within a week, she was dead, shot through her window in the middle of the night. The word around town remained that Andrew killed her for being a witch. But I were always felt as though she was killed for knowing too much. In the eastmost corner of West Virginia, not too far from the Virginia border, just situated next to Opaquan Creek, you'll find a monument that looks like a chimney in the woods. On the brick monument there's an image of a man with a cross, and a plaque attached to it that reads, Adam Livingston. That's the man who donated the 38 acres of land

that the monument sits on. Today, it's home to a couple wooden cabins known as the Prizfield Retreat Center. Standing on the land, you can hear the gentle water and the creek. A few cars driving by on the nearby pike and the sound of wind blowing through the leaves. You would never guess that this is the most haunted piece of land in all of Appalachia. This is the mystery of the wizard clip. In 1794, this land was a farm run by Adam Livingston. One evening, just after dinner, Adam heard a knock on his door. And when he opened it, all he saw was the empty darkness of the night. Thinking it was the wind, he went to close the door. When all of a sudden, a solo traveler stepped up onto his porch.

He asked Adam if he could stay the night. There were no ins in the area, but he saw Adam's large farm and thought maybe he would have a room. The stranger had a small amount of money on him and offered to pay for the stay, but Adam was a devout Lutheran. He believed in the kindness of strangers, in loving thy neighbor, and he told the traveler it would be no trouble. But that night, up in the room that the traveler was staying in,

Adam could hear horrible groans as if someone were dying. Throughout the night, he could also hear boots loudly clamoring on the wooden floor. Adam and his wife couldn't take it any longer, and they went upstairs, opened the creaky wooden door of the guest room, to see that the stranger was laying in bed in agony. His lips were blue and he was covered in sweat. He told them he was dying. This seemed strange because just hours ago, he was fine. The stranger had just one request. Could a Catholic priest be called to read him his last rights?

But Adam, living in the middle of the woods, knew that there were no priests that could get there soon enough. He offered to run and try to wake the nearest priest who was a few counties over, but his wife didn't think that would be a good idea. She asked him to stay and watch over the traveler with her. And within a few hours, he was dead. Adam realized he didn't even know the man's name.

And the next day, he buried the man in an unmarked grave in the back of the farm. He wasn't able to give him a proper burial at all. He just threw the stranger into a shallow grave, covered up the hole, and got back to work. But that would prove to be a horrible mistake. The following night, Adam lay in bed when he hears creaking coming from above him. It's undoubtedly the pressure of a foot being placed on a floorboard. It's silent for a moment,

and then stomping. Almost as if a horse were running down the hallway. When he goes up stairs to see what could possibly be making that noise, there's nothing there. The next morning, Adam felt shaken by the event, and tired from being woken in the middle of the night. But he didn't think much of it otherwise. He went on with his usual routine, feeding the horses, taking care of the stalls, and tending to the chickens. Only when he went to go check on his chickens, he noticed some of them had been beheaded in the night.

Four or five chickens lay lifeless as the others packed around them. Their heads chopped clean off as if with a giant scythe. Now Adam was certain someone was messing with him. Maybe one of the other farmers in the area had kids that came to sabotage his livestock. In the evening, Adam sat tending to a fire, thinking about who could possibly be doing this. He fed another log into the fireplace when all of a sudden, as if by some invisible force, the log jumped out back at him. He stomped around the room trying to put out the embers before they grew into full flames. And that's when a chill ran down Adam's spine. This wasn't the neighboring children, the stomping, the chickens, and now this.

Whatever was in his home was demonic, some sort of poltergeist he thought. He called his Lutheran priest to come over and pray and provide a vigil, but the priest quickly realized that what was happening in Adam's home was outside of the scope of his abilities. As he prayed over Adam, snipping could be heard echoing throughout the house. Snip, snip, snip, snip. All around the house,

crescent moons had been cut out of cloth. The table cloth, the curtains, Adam's shirts, everything. The priest left and told the church about what was happening. And as it does in a small town, word quickly spread. This made Adam's property somewhat famous against his will. People would travel miles to see the property

and hear the snipping sound of scissors. One woman claimed that she hit her handkerchief inside of her dress, only to see a crescent moon shape had been cut out of it when she left the house. The poltergeist was given the name, the clipping spook. Adam was getting desperate. The snipping was insufferable and the haunting was getting worse. Plates and cups were smashing in the night. Footsteps above were getting louder and his cattle were starting to die off. He asked anyone who was willing to help. A Methodist minister

traveled to the farm only to have rocks thrown at him by an invisible force during his prayer. have rocks thrown at him by an invisible force during his prayer. A German faith healer traveled to be of assistance, but ran out screaming after the chimney spat out a rock at him. One night, Adam's wife lay in bed with a raging fever from an unknown illness. Adam lay awake with her, fearful that she had whatever illness the traveler died from. Eventually, he falls asleep, and he dreams of a mountain, covered in roots and brush. In this dream, he climbs the mountain, pulling himself up by gripping the roots until he gets to the top. There, standing at the mountain peak, is a man dressed in church robes. Suddenly,

a voice booms all around him. This is the man that can help you. So Adam knew he had to find this man, and the next morning, he ran to a nearby Episcopal church, but the priest there didn't look like the man in his dream. He could still see him when he closed his eyes, the black robes, his tall frame. There was only one place in town that Adam could look. Only one other holy man who he hadn't already enlisted the help of.

He went to the Catholic church in town where Father Dennis K. Hill was working. Right when he walked in, he knew that this was the man from the dream. Father K. Hill returned to the farm with Adam and asked immediately to be taken to the unmarked grave of the stranger. There, he sprinkled holy water and gave him the proper Catholic prayers that he had been denied. After that he had been denied. After that, the haunting stopped, and Adam's wife returned to full health.

As a thank you, they donated all of the land to the Catholic Church when they moved to Pennsylvania years later. The land today is supposedly no longer cursed, though there is a tale about two women who lived on the property in the late 1800s, 100 years after Father K. Hill blessed the land. They said that every now and then they'd hear snipping, only to find that their garments had crescent moons cut into them. If you visit Priestly Field today, you'll see the monument to Adam, If you visit Priestly Field today, you'll see the monument to Adam, but you'll also see another monument. A large wooden cross protruding from the ground over a grave. It reads, in memory of the unknown stranger.

And hopefully, as you're paying your respects, the back of your shirt doesn't get snipped. Just like the witch of Bugger Hole, sometimes folklore is a cautionary tale disguised as a monster. Was grandma Thorn really a witch? Or was she a woman who knew too much? What do children really need to fear? Witches in the woods or putting their nose in other people's business? Years after my grandfather left Appalachia and moved to Connecticut, he had some revelations about the rules he was told to follow as a kid.

It turned out, there were threats to children in the dark woods behind his house. But it wasn't a witch, a bone lady, or a poltergeist. It was moonshineers, locals who had set up secret operations to distill grain alcohol in the woods. Parents didn't want their kids wandering around the forest and seeing something that was none of their business. You never knew what a moonshiner would do to a loudmouth kid that saw their operation.

And the scream at the edge of the woods wasn't a scream at all. His neighbor had tied a string to a bucket and with a bow, he could play it like a violin. Only the sound that came from the string sounded like a woman's shriek. He'd do it to keep the kids away from the moon-shinners. So maybe that's where these rules come from.

If you hear whistling at night, no you didn't. Don't look in the trees. Because at the end of the day, it's none of your business. But the plaque at Priestly Field says otherwise. There's a reason that monument was erected. To say something did happen here. The folklore you heard about this place is true. And when you hear the rules to be safe in the woods, you'd better follow them.

This has been Heart Starts Founding, written and produced by me, Kaylyn Moore. If you'd like to hear more stories of Appalachia, I encourage you to check out Kathy Little John. She's dedicated her life to continuing on the stories and traditions of the Cherokee Nation as an official Cherokee storyteller, and she has amazing tales of slug cryptids and spiny fingered, changeling women. Sound design and mix by Pete's Tree Sound. Special thanks to Travis Dunlap, Grayson Jernigan, the team at WME and Ben Jaffey. Have a heart pounding story or a case request? Check out heartstartspounding.com.

Until next time, stay curious. Woo-hoo! you