Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 2.5: Let There Be Green

Episode Date: November 21, 2019

An interlude.CW: Supernatural events involving a child.Written by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellNarrated by Steve ShellIntro music: "The Land Unknown," written and performed by Landon BloodOut...ro music: "God's Dark Heaven," written and performed by Those Poor BastardsAdditional vocal work by Veronica LimeberryLEARN MORE ABOUT OLD GODS OF APPALACHIA: www.oldgodsofappalachia.comCOMPLETE YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA RITUAL:FacebookInstagramTwitterBlueskySUPPORT THE SHOW:Join us over at THE HOLLER to enjoy ad-free episodes, access exclusive storylines and more.Find t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and other Old Gods merch at www.teepublic.com/stores/oldgodsofappalachia.Transcripts available on our website at www.oldgodsofappalachia.com/episodes.Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of DeepNerd Media. All rights reserved.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/old-gods-of-appalachia. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Starting point is 00:00:01 Well, hey there, family, if you love old gods of Appalachia, I 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 ACAS 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.
Starting point is 00:00:26 Right about now. In the ruins of a mountain schoolhouse. A little girl sleeps. And I wish I could tell you that after the past few days that she was sleeping deep and dreamless, but that would be a lie, family. And I do my best to always speak true. Sarah Avery tossed and turned
Starting point is 00:01:11 in the corner of the schoolhouse where she had settled for the night. Her body twitching and spasming, her head tossing from side to side as nightmares danced across her heart. and mined like turkey buzzards circling a corpse. She saw her mama in the tree, heard the growls and the snarls of the things that came in the house and chased her through the woods,
Starting point is 00:01:37 smelled the stitch of her uncle and daddy burning and dying a second time, saw the pain in her uncle's face as he gave up his very soul to give her a chance to get away. The sounds of the bear as it ripped her uncle's shell to shred, heads and then her own words echoed back to her take it back you can have it all back who was she even talking to in that moment everything was lost was it God was it Jesus neither one of those felt right the way the sunlight filtered through the green overhead the trees the leaves all of it
Starting point is 00:02:24 That seemed to be what could keep her safe, and when all else had failed, she turned to the mountains that were more of a mother to her than her own could ever be. She turned to the green. And as the horrors of the past few days sank into the murky depths of her subconscious, another voice rose. A voice that echoed from far away and not far away. a voice ageless, both old and young at the same time, a voice that rose from the mountain itself and spoke what almost sounded like a prayer, but Sarah knew it was so much more.
Starting point is 00:03:10 And before Sarah could bring herself to wakefulness, she sat bolt upright, her eyes still closed, her body moving automatically, as she walked toward one of the few desks left, standing in the schoolhouse. Her face still slack. Her eyelids still closed over her rapidly darting eyes. On the surface of the desk lay a composition book.
Starting point is 00:03:35 Daniel Calloway's name was written on the cover, though Sarah Avery could not see that through her dreaming eyes. She opened to a blank page and started to record what the voice was saying. green. Let there be thickened trees and unshorn grass, choking weeds and hen-herring brambles. Let there be honey-venom flowers and sap sticky vines that will not break. Let there be kudzu with suffocating canopy, light-swallowing gorges, the dark places where sunlight goes to be cinders. Let them rupture and extrude, let them come roaring forth, bursting timber and cornerstone, proving that we have built nothing of permanence here.
Starting point is 00:04:42 Winter chain them to old locust trees. Let them be food for the dark, wet tongue of the shifting mountain. Let them scream as fishers grind their black scabs together to become blood brothers with the god of fire and soot that they have worshipped with paystubs like altars, families as burnt offerings. Let them split their throats crying, Elahi, Elahi, Lama Shavakhtani, and receive only silence in return. Let us finally admit we were digging graves this whole time. And what we were burning was the daylight promise to those we called precious baby little man. Let us confess that tomorrow's never mattered to us, that promises were enough,
Starting point is 00:05:48 that it was good enough for you will be good enough for them, even when there is no good left. enough let us throw sizzling sticks and dynamite down howling black shafts let the place where knees truly learn to bend blacken and ripple like the sea floor let the monstrous stone throats finally choke let these temples fall because their god is dead had been dying for decades let us mourn him properly now. They do not need our darkness to burn anymore. So let us end this. Let there be green, great, rooming swaths of endless breathing mouths. Let them sing of our absence. Let the cities go dark for the lack of our smolder. And let the stars find these mountains as they were made whole blessedly. With the last words scridged into the damp paper, Sarah Avery calmly replaced it in the leaves of the composition book, closed it, smoothed the cover with her hands, her eyes never open
Starting point is 00:07:29 it, her face never changing. The air in the schoolhouse was still and calm. the rain had long since stopped and a cool wind blew now Sarah stood walked calmly back to the corner where she had been slumbering before laid back down
Starting point is 00:07:52 and promptly faded into a deep and dreamlessly that she so richly deserved I hope you've enjoyed your first interlude episode family we're going to say goodbye to Sarah Avery for a little while but you'll find out real quick
Starting point is 00:08:25 and our Appalachia goodbyes don't last that long Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media today's interlude was written by Steve Shell our outro music is by those poor bastards the voice of the witch queen
Starting point is 00:08:45 was Veronica Limeberry we appreciate all of you who have completed your social media ritual, finding us on Facebook and Instagram as Old Gods of Appalachia and on Twitter at Old God's Pod. We also want to thank everyone who has joined us on Patreon and contributes those few or more than few dollars a month to help us keep this show in production and to help fund some of the amazing things we have coming. Family, I had a conversation slash meeting today about something super exciting.
Starting point is 00:09:17 So if you would like to commit yourself to a tie or just place an offering in the plate, A dollar, $5, $10, $15, $20, your first born, a fatted calf, really, it all spins. You can do that at www. patreon.com slash old gods of Appalachia. For a few dollars a month, you can rack up some really, really sweet treasures that are going to start shipping out in the month of December. Come join us, family. www. patreon.com slash old gods of Appalachia. If you're not a member of the Old Gods of Appalachia Fellowship Hall group on Facebook, come find us. If you're scared of Facebook, I don't know what to tell you.
Starting point is 00:09:56 That's where we gather. But thank you so much for your support. For more information about the show, including cast and creator bios, join us at www. www.orgodds of Appalachia.com. We're going to be returning to Barlow next episode. We're going to be jumping back in time. We still haven't figured out how those 51 miners got back up. up now have we? See you next time family.

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