Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 7: Afterbirth: Season Finale Part 1

Episode Date: January 9, 2020

Before our time in Barlo moves forward towards its inevitable conclusion, we take one last look back to honor a life that might otherwise remain overshadowed and left hanging from the branches of our family tree.CW: Frank discussion of historical sex work, discussion of childbirth, insect/creature themed body horror, gore, monster-related terror, death by hanging, explosion-related gore, potential danger to a child.Written by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellNarrated by Steve ShellIntro music: "The Land Unknown," written and performed by Landon BloodOutro music: "I Cannot Escape the Darkness," written and performed by Those Poor BastardsLEARN 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 horror, anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences. So listener discretion is advised. Hello, Kentucky, 1917. The night before Sarah Avery ran, the house was emptier without the boys in it. That much was for sure. Carol Ann Avery, wife of Pinky and mother to Sarah sat on her front porch

and looked out at the darkening yard. Old number seven had claimed the father of her child and the closest thing to a papaw that child would ever have. And here she was left alone on the side of this mountain by this smelly old crick knowing

it was just a matter of time. It was beginning. Or ending. Depending on her. how you looked at it. Either way, she shouldn't have to wait too long. She'd seen

the mass graves that old fool Cletus Garvin and his nonsense talking loonies had dug with the help of the union boys. She'd seen what was left of them city boys they barely bothered to sift out of the rubble. She saw bones. She saw blood.

She foresaw fire. She knew what a burnt offering looked like when she saw one. Tonight of all nights she had sent Sarah to stay with her friends of Calloways. She needed a night to herself in this house to settle all the old ghosts and the new ones that might come. Carol Ann Avery, formerly Carol Ann Walker from Turnicott, West Virginia, a town even smaller and dirtier than Barlow, so named because it was meant to stop the bleeding, the exodus of

failed settlements and mines from that area, and rightly named because all it did was caused the amputation of the very same things, had come to Barlow with her new husband and full belly ten year ago. Pinky, a kind but cowardly man, had thought he was delivering his bride and babe to be to the promised land of milk and honey, when in reality he was just settling him down to live in the shadow of his servitude to the deep dark mines. of Kentucky coal. Now, life at tourniquet had been hard. As a woman trying to live,

you either knew how to sell or you knew how to be sold, and the Walker girls weren't anyone's property. Carol Ann was one of seven sisters. I lit her born to an iron spine, never married mama who never had to sell the house they lived and worked out of. She had built the prosperous enterprise

she held in those cold hills, and did her best to see her girls go on to better and safer lives. Life was what it was, and you did what you had to do in the now. Turnicot was two saloons, a brothel and a half, and a graveyard that was running out of room. For the town sat in the West Virginia mountains, coal should be abundant. But strangely, mine after mine had petered out. Company after company folded or sold. money was drying up like a mud puddle on an August afternoon

and Carol Ann's mama saw the writing on the wall and doubled down on getting her girls out and either into better houses if they wanted to stay working or into their own houses to be married off if they didn't. Carol Ann's mama had moved the other six Walker girls out just fine, two weddings, two relocations, one midnight departure that was a bit unexpected and one brand new parlor house opening.

leaving only Carol Ann behind, so calling in one last favor. Sheila Walker introduced her daughter to a favorite regular customer of her own named Eddie Avery. Now, Eddie was not to be her patron or customer. Eddie did want to help, though. Eddie was moving to Kentucky to work for B&L and had a nephew who was young, dumb, and full of hope for the future. It didn't hurt that he was sweet. and kind and had a strong back. He took one look at Carol Ann,

and you might as well have just tattooed her name on his forehead right there. He was in love, brother, and how. Now, Pinky never had to know that Uncle Eddie paid for his first date with Caroline, though he'd never have to pay for another. Before long, Caroline was looking at him with those same goo-goo eyes and had a swelling tummy, and there was a ring on order from the Sears catalog. On their wedding day, Caroline's mommy had said,

well, there goes the last Walker gal. To which Pinky had sweetly yet stupidly replied, No, ma'am, that there's the first new Avery girl. Never mind that didn't make no sense. It was sweet in the moment. Sarah was born two months after they set up house in Barlow. Uncle Eddie had a little money set aside and made sure they didn't have to live in no shotgun house

down in the main camp town, instead buying a lot for cash and setting up on the side of the mountain over in Goshen Creek. Eddie was a good man, and he never saw Caroline as anything other than Sheila's littlest. He also never got over Caroline's mama not coming with him. He couldn't know she was sick nor how little time she had left. And when word comes, she'd been put in the ground right after Sarah was born. He didn't speak for a week. but Edgar Avery swore after that though that he'd take care

as Sheila Walker's little girl and now her little girl even if it killed him and after all this time it looked like it finally had they'd not found Pinky or Eddie's bodies and Carol Ann didn't think anyone

ever would but when she saw the weird little man and the long coat come to the edge of their yard she knew it had begun her mama had warned her when she found out she was pregnant. See, she was one of seven sisters,

born from one of seven sisters. She knew her mama kept stores and nettles and herbs and could brew up a cup that could take a bun out of the oven just as gently as it could. And she knew her mama didn't take to no church and not just because of the whoring. Sheila Walker kept ways that most decent men wouldn't understand. See, she knew her mama had dreams

they could set their watch by in terms of coming true. She knew her mama could look at a customer and know if he meant harm, and she was never, ever wrong about that. She never questioned the nights her mama had her and her sisters sipping milk with camomile mixed in when they were little to help with good dreams, she'd promised. They'd never say the word, but they knew what their mama was. She knew what her little sisters Ellie and Marcy were, too.

And word had it that if you needed an empty belly Or a man gone over in Baker's Gap, Tennessee Marcy Walker was the one to see Just so you know Carolan's mama had told her that her daughter Would more than likely bear gifts Now she might not since Caroline herself Had never really shown much in the way of promise

That gift might be saving itself up to skip a generation And that would draw attention from the wrong place places. So when Sarah Avery came screaming into the world, Carol Ann made sure she was attended by her two closest sisters. Marcy would know what to do with what come out with the baby, nowhere to bury it, charms to say to protect child and mama alike. But Ellie would know the more secret words that would bind Carol Ann of what small shimmerings of gifts she might possess to protecting her daughter. In the case of her of her death. She always thought of it as a just-in-case. But here it was. She knew the little man could not, nor would not, be able to enter their yard.

Her little sister Ellie's other job while she was here had involved small mason jars and iron nails. And even though her little sister was miles away in Esau County, she knew those lines would hold. And hell on top of that, A tiny trickle of the cricket itself broke off to form the north property line of the Avery homestead.

And if this was anything like what her mama had warned her about, that little line of running water would hold better than any hand-turned craft. The distance between the edge of the yard and the porch might have been 15 feet, but Carol Ann could see the stranger. A short, skinny man dressed in boss's clothes. black boots and slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a long, strange black overcoat. The man stood stock still like he was holding the pose to be painted. It was like he was trying to stand how he thought a man was supposed to stand and that weird overcoat flapping and twitching despite there not being a bit of breeze. Ms. Avery, he droned.

his voice sounded like a mouth full of wasps his tongue swollen and uncertain as though words were something he'd only recently discovered he had thin cracked lips and pale skin flushed from the exertion of the walk-up the path to the house Miss Avery he repeated My name is Ignatius Combs

I am with B&L mineral resources I am here to offer you our condolences on the death of your husband Pinkerton Carol Ann almost laughed She hadn't heard Pinky's given name since their wedding day She held her tongue though Her mama had taught her you never give nothing away Especially your name

You are Carol Avery are you not? Carol Ann said nothing, and the little man went on. Ms. Avery, are you aware you are entitled to a substantial payout for your husband's passing,

that he died in a rescue attempt in an effort to protect company assets? And B&L are very grateful for his sacrifice. He paused, consulting a sheet of yellow paper and then continued, Edgar Avery, it seems, was also a resident here, was he not? And it seems he was the actual deed holder as well. Unfortunately, his beneficiaries are no longer living,

and he has never redirected his will to anyone that we could reach. Carol Ann wasn't paying attention to the man's droning, buzzing voice. She was watching his blotchy face because things were moving under his skin. Long, segmented shapes pressed from beneath his cheekbones and chin, bulged his lips, flared his nostrils. Somehow she knew that his eyes were a dull green with burst blood vessels, stayed in the wise. He looked like he was straining himself to stay upright. Like if he blinked or breathed wrong, he just deflate whatever was moving under his skin would just come pouring out. And the idea made Carol Ann almost vomit and faint at the same time. Was he? He was the beginning. That's what he

Miss Avery, if you would invite us in, I would be glad to sign over the check so that you and your daughter could live more comfortably. Alternatively, B&L would be happy to relocate you someplace, much safer to thank you for your husband's use of. service. His words seemed to distort more and more as he rambled on, his eyes pleading for her to interrupt him to ask a question to let him not have to speak. Carol Ann let him sweat. His breathing became more rapid, the squirming under his skin more pronounced. Miss Savory, please.

Let us come in and help in this. trying time. Carol Ann could hold her tongue no more. Us, she laughed. You got a mouse in your pocket there, Sonny Boy? Miss Avery, if you could just send the check in the mail if you have one to send, she said, and turned back into the house. That is not an option, she heard the man say.

There are protocols in the house. situations like these. Carol Ann stepped off the porch. She rounded on the man, temper, flaring, patience, and caution all run out. My husband is dead. The closest thing I ever know to a daddy is dead, and your money ain't going to bring them back, Miss Avery. We have resources.

You do not. Do not make this any more difficult that it has to be. Let us make this easy for you. Get off my land, you weird little vulture. Ignatius Combs sighed resignedly and held up his yellow sheet of paper that was covered with tiny print. You aren't listening, Miss Avery. When Pinkerton's uncle Edgar passed,

his assets were liquidated so a cash payment, could be made to his listed beneficiaries, but none of them, including Miss Sheila Walker, could be found living. So this land was sold. We purchased it. So I'm afraid you have no leverage in this situation. And with that, the man raised his hand

in a casual wave and Carol Ann felt all sense of safety vanished in fact the narrow branch of Goshen Creek that blocked the little man's path stopped parted like in the Bible and he stepped across towards her his strange swelling and shifting face

never changing expression despite the swarm of activity under his skin. Carol Ann began to scream Sarah's name and warning, forgetting in the moment that her child was away and safe, but then there was a blur of motion near the corner of the house, and everything went. Carol Ann woke up under the tree in the corner of the front yard,

the big one where they'd buried the old dog that had come with Pinky and Ed DeBarlow. The one Pinky had carved their names into the day they moved in. and the place where Carol Ann's sister had buried the afterbirth on the day Sarah was born. She felt the rope around her neck. It was good hemp and strong. She felt weak and muddle-headed. Something was in the house. She could hear furniture-breaking, animals growling and roaring, and she thought of Sarah,

but before she could try to speak, Ignatius Combs was right in her face. The skin on his own a nightmare of unnatural movement. and stretched and strained tissue. She could count the segments of the worm that squirmed under his left eye. This wasn't as hard as she said it. I could do this on day. The odd little man flexed his hands

and swung his arms like he was trying to break in the strange overcoat he wore. Nothing to you monkeys at all. Nothing so hard. Someone or something out of her line of vision started pulling on the rope, and she began rising into the air. The hemp fibers biting into her soft skin. Her airways suddenly constricted as her body sought breath that would not come. This is what they do with witches in this plane.

Not so much of a witch you are, but we'll choke you, choke you until you are soft and not. blue and very good. Carol Ann's vision was fading. Her skin indeed turning blue. Ignatius Combs' skin was doing the same. He breathed in deep and sighed and pleasure. Oh yes, there we are. Not some.

Carolan's last sight was two massive things, linking into existence. One emerging, from the house, covered in feathers from her good down comforter, the other digging up the yard, massive creatures, their skin the same shade of blue as her dying face. If a feeling. But I suppose we must be merciful, or at least efficient. Goodbye, Miss Avery. Carol Ann's body lifted into the air, the news slackened for a second.

as some supernatural force pulled her skyward and then let her fall, snapping the rope taut and breaking her neck cleanly. The effect of the charm was immediate. As Carol Ann's body slumped into the shape and state Annie Messer would one day discover her in, a wave of pure blinding force radiated from her like a sonic boom. The ground where the leavings of her daughter's birth had been buried, erupted in fire and wind, the soil become an atari slurry. Both explosions converged on Ignatius combs, blasting his skull into a small ocean of icker and pus.

Blind white worms that screamed with the voices of children flew from that shattered face as finger-length scarlet wasps with the faces of eyeless rats burst from his gut. This primordial chum of venom and burned bile splattered the yard. The quantity so great it filled the tracks and holes of the beast with a hazy mustard brown sewage swimming with the larva of the dread wasps. The parents of these infant abominations, blind and rat-headed, wilted into ash, unprepared for worlds outside of their host's body. so there was some mercy in that. The screaming white worms splattered into the ruined Avery living space

through the shattered windows and began slowly, blindly trying to find each other as if to knit the ruptured little man back together but found themselves stuck like flypaper to the cursed mud that had erupted from the earth. Carol Ann's body swung in its death song. breathless and cooling. I wish I could tell you

she was there to look down and watch as our world stretched and pulled apart the abomination of the swarm that had lived inside of Ignatius Combs. But those who die like Caroline died, like Pinky died, like Eddie died.

If I told you they were in a better place, I'd be lying. to your family. Best not to dwell on it. Hey family, thank you for coming back with me into the past one more time. The story from this point on moves forward, I promise. But as I crafted this week's missive and planned it out, there was one soul that just needed her story told.

The mother of Sarah Avery wasn't a faceless, sad woman. who couldn't go on. No disrespect to those who can't go on. Sometimes you just can't. The Carol Ann needed her story told, and she was heavy on my heart until it got told. And even though Sarah might not ever know what her mama done, you do.

That means something. Don't you think? We've got three more pieces to go, family. Hold on time. Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media. Our intro music is by our friend Land and Blood. Our outro music, of course, is by Those Poor Bastards. Check out their new record Evil Seeds on the Tribulation Recording Company

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