Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 4.5: The Bad Death and Resurrection of Annie Messer

Episode Date: December 13, 2019

An interlude.CW: Religious themes, gore, eye mutilation/blinding/death/ facial mutilation/resurrection by monsters/supernatural means.Written by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellNarrated by Steve ShellIntro music: "The Land Unknown," written and performed by Landon BloodOutro music: "God's Dark Heaven," written and performed by Those Poor BastardsAdditional vocal work by Allison MullinsLEARN 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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Right about now. Old Gods of Appalachia is a whole. an anthology podcast and thus may contain material not suitable for all audiences so listener discretion is advised the bad death and resurrection of Annie Messer an interlude the flies on Carol Ann Avery's face shifted and waved like a mourner's veil the wind had set her to Tarnin Caletus and Annie Messex who arrived at the Avery place to find it ravaged by violence and unspeakable darkness. The only sound outside the flies was the creaking of the branch as Carol Ann stared unseeingly down at the pair of them.

Annie Messer was stunned in the blessed silence for a moment before tears filled her eyes and she babbled and cried. Oh, my Lord, Cletus. I've never seen anything. like this. This poor family? Oh my lord. We're Sarah. We got to find Sarah. Oh my God. You reckon we were to cut her down? I mean we have to cut her down, right? It's the right thing to do. We can't just leave her up there. The ride from Barlow to Goshen Creek should have taken a couple of hours and a slow cart at best, but Annie Messer insisted on stopping once for prayer beside a particularly pretty waterfall, and again to make water herself, and she never was a woman for traveling in a straight line to begin with, but then she started to swear they were being watched,

which of course required them to stop for even more prayer, but she wasn't wrong, though. Coletus would have swore they were being followed, but not followed exactly, tracked, hunted. He picked up on the sounds shortly after they left Barlow proper, and the first few times he turned his head, he expected to see men on horseback or at least a cart like theirs emerging from the woods as the ground spoke and thick branches bent and groaned as something massive pushed through him. Every time they stopped and looked or even took cover in a bunch of trees to see if who or whatever would pass them, there was nothing. No one. As they grew closer to Goshen Creek, Cletus went cold. The voices had begun to speak again.

They told Cletus not to worry, but this was all part of their vision, bringing them the Avery Girl would absolutely give them. guarantee his family's safety. Just bring her. Bring her. Bring her. Bring. The voices almost howled with ecstasy now that they stood here on the far side of the creek. In the shadow of Pinky Avery's late wife,

the air was barely breathable. Where Carol Ann had emptied herself after departing her body, a dark stain marked the ground. And from that stain a can't. black sludge spread. It grew and spread like a fungus, pungent and ripe with the smell of spoilt meat. It climbed the trunks in nearby trees

and had begun to creep up the steps of the Avery cabin. The yard itself was a different sort of horror. The ground was gouged and slashed. In places it looked like things with great clawed feet feet had pushed off from the soft earth leaving ragged craters filled with a putrid bile-colored icker once worse tiny things swam in those pus-clouded depths and the thought of what might live in there may cleetus want to scream until his heart gave out the door to the cabin was in splinters the glass of the wind of

panes lay in a thousand broken whimpers on the desecrated front room floor piles of some sort of animal scat littered the floor and were smeared across the bare walls blind white things too large to be called maggots moved among that nightmare of filth and stench what furniture had been in the room was kindling now the down of pillows and blankets stuck matted with the foul waste to the walls and floor

something or someone had tore through this house and befouled it. Someone or something had been looking for Sarah Avery. Sarah Avery, who made the voices practically salivate. Sarah Avery, who he wouldn't know if he saw her, because her family never come to church and who never got saved nor baptized. Sarah Avery, who was just a little girl.

Thankfully, Sarah Avery, who was not here. Between the voices, rapturous approval of his presence here, the Avery Homestead and the yammering of Annie Messer who honestly could not shut up if you paid her good money Cletus's head was about to bust. But suddenly, Annie Messer's voice fell silent along with the voices that had been rattling inside of Cletus's thugs. The change was jarring and Cletus spun to see what was going on. Annie was staring at a spot just beyond the corner of the cabin. for something massive and nothing at all seemed to compete to occupy the same space at the same time. Cletus squinted hard at it.

It was like his eyes wanted to see whatever it was that Annie was staring at, but his mind wouldn't let him. Light bent and shimmered and refused to show the shape of whatever was staring Annie Messer down. From behind him, the ground squelched and thrummed as something hit. heavy dropped from the branches of a nearby tree. Kleta's turned as quick as he could to see what was there, to see what had followed them over a too long wagon ride for most of a day without ever once being seen.

But before he truly understood what was happening, the voices in his head, no, a singular voice this time. The voice in his head had growled a word loud as a gaited a whisper that had ever used to speak to him, and it felt like his head was indeed split open, As he screamed and clenched his eyes and fell back to the ground. And when he opened him, he wished he'd been born blind. What had dropped from the tree.

What had followed and stalked them all day. And what had apparently just charged him with the might and speed of a draft horse lay sprawled on the ground, fully visible. Glita saw it. Wish to God he hadn't. What can you do? If you had to compare it to anything, it might have been a dog or maybe a wolf, except its hide was strangely hairless. Its skin a pale blue and visibly soft like that of a drowned child.

It had at least six legs and the tangle of limbs on its lower half. Each one ending in thick black claws that seemed to retract like a cat's. Well, they'd have to, he thought. There's no way it could walk otherwise. Then he looked closer at its legs. Each limb was covered in eyes. Brown with bloodshot whites. Green with scarlet blobs floating around the iris.

Milky white and sightless orbs that seemed to pant like open mouths. And a pair of scarlet ones that smoldered and throbbed, a sick blood clot brown. His body was thick and broad like a bore. His head was that of a hairless wolf or something wolf-like, but with not meriously wrong tusks growing from the underside of its jaws. Its ears were wide and bat-like. Its brow held three eyes, two that looked black and empty,

and one like a burning golden sun in the center of the center. of its forehead. Its maw was an endless valley of blades and spires, some that looked like teeth, and others like cruelly sharpened stones. Its tongue hung from its limp jaws, long and black and forked, smoke or steam rising from where the viscous rope

met the cooling rotten air. His breathing was ragged but was beginning to steady, Before Cletus could react The thing was on its feet Tongue retracted behind that cave end of a mouth And it was staring at him The tip of the tongue now sent in the air like a snake That center eye locked on his face

And again The solitary voice in Cletus's head Spoke a word he did not understand But was clearly a command The low thing in front of him coward It is a dog He thought It's one of their dogs and I think it just got told.

Without warning, the thing leapt past Cletus and into the woods, its body vanishing back into the shimmer of unsight that seemed to be its natural state. He turned to see if Annie Messer had seen it too and remembered she had been staring in the opposite direction. She stood, rooted in the same spot where he'd left her. So he called her name, but she didn't answer. He called again and began to walk towards her and realized that she was shaking, twitching, seizing as if she was having a fit,

but she did not fall over and as Cleetus got closer, he saw why. From a blur at the edge of the cabin, an impossibly long black tongue issued forth from seemingly nowhere and had latched onto Annie Messer's eyes and face. Its tongue was in fact forth. And each point was lodged deep and working deeper into Annie Messer's eye sockets. There was a sound like frying eggs. If Annie was screaming, Cletus could not hear her. Her hair began to smolder and her body began to wilt the smell of rot and sickness growing thicker.

And settling without warning, this second thing flickered into being. It was twice for size and thickness. height of its kin. This one stood on its four back legs and it held up the other two as if in prayer, and then it roared and snapped its head and all six legs to the earth, pulling and retracting its tongue in the same movement, whiplashing Annie face first into the swamp of the yard, her neck and spine audibly shattering with the sound of a tree fall in winter. The thing lowered its head and leaned in to tear into Annie's corpse when close. Cletus yelled. The word that came from his mouth was not a word he understood or that his mouth even knew how to properly shape.

But the message was communicated. He stood between the monster and his meal and held out a single hand and the word came again, lower, more threatening this time. And the larger thing considered him, deadly tongue tentatively slithering forward than retracting as if sensing something, foul and in the distance its companions cry gave notice it gave cleetus one last look up and down and then left into the woods beneath the cloak of bending light Cletus went to Annie's body then and turned her over her face was a ruin ripped from forehead cheek bone her eye sockets had been cooked dry and cauterized by the digging tips of the thing's tongue. Her neck and spine had been shattered into a bag of bloody gravel. Cletus had had enough. If those things were their dogs, what was he? Was he anything better or

more than a monster leading innocent men and women and good Lord, now children to death and damnation? What did he become? Well, he was done. That's what he'd become. With effort, he loaded Annie's shattered body onto the cart, shocked to that their mule was just standing idly there as if nothing had happened. He settled everything up and headed back along the road to Barlow, saying a prayer for Sarah Avery that those things never found her and that their paths would never, ever cross. When Cletus made it back to the schoolhouse, it was late afternoon.

The sun came dazzling through the leaves of the trees, and it was peaceful and quiet and gentle. Cletus almost took an easy bird, but then he saw tracks in the school yard. His heart jumped thinking he was looking at six-legged tracks with unnatural claw marks, but he looked closer, he counted only four. But until today, he would have said these were the most fearsome tracks he'd ever seen, because they would mean that the largest bear ever to walk these hills

walked right into the yard of the schoolhouse. He saw no sign of a bear, though, and proceeded to unload Annie's corpse. into the one place she'd ever known happiness, where it could await the same fate destined for the rest of Barlow, a baptism of vengeance and fire and dust. As Cletus settled Annie in the back of the room, the voices, who had been constant and a steady hum since he saw the tracks outside, kept repeating the same phrase over and over.

First you rise, then you clean her. Prepare her for the fire. First you rise, then you clean. Prepare her for the fire. Cletus laughed. For the first time in years, he laughed a real, hard belly laugh that shook him to the bones. Your dog killed her. Clean her yourself, you goddamn haints.

He winced, expecting punishment. Expecting the black lung to rise and choke him for his defiance to undo the seven years given him. but nothing came. The voices repeated the phrase three more times and then faded from Cletus's mind. Cletus shrugged it off and set to closing up the school and heading off to find his wife and family to finally get them the hell out of Barlow.

And in his rush he never noticed the sleeping form of a young girl in a far corner, completely exhausted and covered by shadows in a picnic blanket taken from Miss Annie's desk. Hour later, Annie Messer rose. She'd heard the instructions given her

before the messenger had left, taken the voices with him. She led herself by sound and sight now, for blessed darkness be her eyes now, praise. And she found the bucket of water she'd brought in from the well that morning, along with a clean rag beside him. She made her way over to Sarah Avery,

sleeping body. She'd need to be cleaned up. She'd need to be comforted. She needed to be ready. Annie hummed as she worked, washing the mud and dirt from between Sarah's toes and off her feet and legs and arms and shoulders, and from her lovely young face, picking out briars and bits of weeds from her hair, humming until she felt the girl stir start to row out. She knew it wouldn't be long now. How are we family? It's good to see y'all. Looks like we're learning some things after all.

Found out how those boys got up and done what they did. Found out how Cletus Garvin got there. And now we found out what happened to poor Miss Annie. Only a few more things to learn before our time in Barlow comes to an end. But don't you worry, we got a little bit to go. We're not ready to go home just yet. Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media. Today's interlude was written and performed by Steve Schell.

The voice of Miss Annie was Allison Mullins. Today's outro music is by those poor bastards. Family, have you truly found your way home yet? Are you following us through the darkness on Facebook and Instagram as Old Gods of Appalachia? Are you tweeting into the void to us at old God's pod? Are you following us, family? Are you following us truly and closely?

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