Part 1 (1/2)
Harlan County Horrors.
Edited by Mari Adkins.
Introduction.
by Mari Adkins.
When I close my eyes and think of Harlan County, the first images to appear behind my eyelids are of Martin's Fork Lake, the view from Raven Rock at Kingdom Come, the night sky at Camp Blanton, and the gazebo at Resthaven. Savage beauty draped in a cloak of savage darkness is the epitome of Harlan County. Ugliness, wastefulness, and scars caused by deep, strip, and mountaintop removal mining-and other things-have altered the lush, verdant landscape. The very beauty and abundant game that enticed the pioneers to remain there and evolve into rugged mountaineers would become their downfall.
In the beginning, a pioneer could claim for his own any sc.r.a.p of land on any hillside or creek bottom. With the abundance of wild game, he didn't have to bother with sowing large crops; small ”kitchen door” gardens for needed vegetables and herbs sufficed. The early mountaineer and his family lived a solitary existence, rarely seeing anyone outside their farmstead, as they had no need.
Things began to change once the timber barons came into the c.u.mberland Plateau in the mid- to late-1800s and saw the vast stands of enormous hardwood trees. Once these were depleted-leaving the landowners with little cash in return, for they had been convinced to sell the timber rights without any claim to the actual land-the area became ripe for the removal of the black gold buried beneath the mountains and hillsides. With water supplies oftentimes buried or otherwise left useless from logging operations, the mountaineer found himself with no choice but to sell his land for what little he could receive for it and move his family into any one of the number of growing, thriving company owned and operated mining towns.
In the mid- to late-1960s things began to change somewhat, as new roads into the plateau brought in a handful of new jobs and opportunities. But unless brought on by outside forces, change has always been slow to come in the Kentucky mountains.
At the brink of my own change and awakening within Harlan County, I moved to Loyall in October 1995. I can't, in all honesty, make any sweeping proclamations about love at first sight, but I can say the county grew on me, tugged at some deep, hidden place within my soul. And I came to call that place ”home.” I know I sit and talk about Harlan County enough to make peoples' ears bleed, and my running joke is that I know more about Harlan County and love it more than some of its native people. In fact, I'm p.r.o.ne to-and known for-packing friends into my car to make the long drive down so I can share the county with them.
This love brought about the birth of the book you now hold in your hands. I can't quite remember what we said in the Spring of 2007, but one day while I waxed on about Harlan, Jason Sizemore-esteemed High Overlord of Apex Publications-said, ”We should do a special Harlan County anthology. Fill it with regional stories by regional writers.” I thought it would be fun. So we went to work, but due to the fickleness of the publis.h.i.+ng industry, we had to cancel our plans. Admittedly, when the idea first came about, Jason and I thought we were just joking around. But then a miracle happened in the spring of 2008. We got serious and said, ”We can do this.” Then he looked at me and said, ”You can do this.” So I did this. I rea.s.sembled writers, sent out announcements, and we all went to work.
The Harlan County backdrop described above-the futility of the mountaineer-is difficult to understand or imagine unless it's witnessed or experienced. One only need to step into the county to feel the hopelessness some of these people still live with every day, the darkness enshrouding their lives. With this in mind, I told the writers, ”Go forth and create an image of Harlan County.”
From the time the first stories began coming in, I knew Harlan County Horrors was going to be something special. Aliens, witches, vampires, portals to h.e.l.l, zombies, djin, Aztec priests, chupacabra, zombies, and more dance a magical, oppressive, often violent reel through coal, ash, and blood.
It is my sincere hope that you derive as much pleasure from Harlan County Horrors as I did in putting it together. It is my gift of love to the county and to its people.
Mari Adkins.
June 2009.
Lexington, KY.
”The Power of Moonlight”
Debbie Kuhn.
Debbie Kuhn is the non-fiction editor for Doorways Magazine. She loves to read and write genre fiction, especially horror stories that involve a nasty ghost or two. Debbie has a habit of roaming around old southern cemeteries after dark. If you happen to run into her at midnight when the moon is full, don't forget to play dead. Curious folk might find it safer just to visit her web site, debbiekuhn.com. She currently lives in Louisville, KY.
Bobby Lee Blackburn got killed exactly three weeks before he was to marry his childhood sweetheart at the New Hope Baptist Church. He died just the way he feared he would-deep underground, alone in the dark, his body entombed forever.
Priscilla Stevens had decided to wors.h.i.+p Bobby Lee when they were seven years old. On the day she fell in love, he'd been chasing her around Old Man Griffey's fish pond and she'd tripped and fallen in. Bobby Lee had grabbed hold of her long, strawberry-blonde ponytail and had yanked her out of the water before she could drown.
That boy would always be her hero, even after he broke her heart.
The first time he left her was when they were twelve. His daddy found a better job over in Virginia, and he and his parents moved away from Harlan County. Pris had cried herself to sleep every night for two weeks, keeping her Granny Maeve awake.
About a month after Bobby Lee went away, the old lady woke Pris late one night and told her they'd be taking a walk up the winding mountain trail behind their farmhouse. The two of them sneaked down the back staircase and left without waking Pris' mother.
The full October moon revealed the goldenrod in bloom, and the air smelled crisp and clean and dry. Granny Maeve's knees cracked and popped a little during the climb, but otherwise no sound could be heard except for a light wind rustling through the trees. Nestled in the narrow valley below, the coal town of Russell Fork had fallen silent, with only a few lights left twinkling to give away its presence.
They kept going until they reached a rocky plateau, barren except for a lone sycamore tree. Granny Maeve found a large flat stone to sit on and motioned for Priscilla to join her.
”This spot will do. We can see the Blood Moon and it can see us.”
Pris wondered why it was called a Blood Moon when it wasn't even red, but she stayed quiet and watched as her grandma fished around in the pockets of her grey wool sweater. The old woman pulled out a small vial of what she called her ”sacred” oil, and then a photograph. The picture had been taken at Pris' birthday party in January. Her mother, Dorie, had snapped a photo of Pris and Bobby Lee sitting next to each other at the kitchen table. Pris was leaning forward, getting ready to blow out the candles on her chocolate cake.
”An only child and an only child,” Granny Maeve muttered. She smeared a dab of oil onto the picture and handed it to Priscilla. ”You want your friend to come home again, don't you?”
Pris stared at her grandmother, and nodded.
”Well, you can use the power of moonlight just like your granny can. Most folks around here don't believe in such things, and them that do don't think it's right to use the gift, so you best keep quiet about what we're up to-don't you even tell your mama.”
”I promise I won't, Granny.”
”All right, then. For this spell to work, the moonlight's power has to be mixed with the truth, girl, and the truth is in your tears. You have to cry for Bobby Lee if you want him back-show your love and your need for him-and let your tears fall like rain on that picture so he knows how you feel.”
Pris held the photograph up close to her face. Moonlight reflected off the s.h.i.+ny oiled surface. Bobby Lee's perfect dark eyes smiled up at her. She missed him so much her body ached with the pain.
The tears came easy.
Granny Maeve patted her gently on the back as she sobbed. ”That's good, my darlin'. Now talk to him, out loud, and tell him what you want.”
Pris took a deep, shaky breath, tasting the saltiness of her own tears. She gazed up at the moon's brilliant face.
”Bobby Lee, come back to me. Come back to me, please.”
She repeated the phrases several times until her grandma told her she could stop. Wispy grey clouds had drifted across the moon.
”There now, child. It's done.”
Granny Maeve spoke the truth. Bobby Lee and his parents moved back to Russell Fork right before Christmas, giving Priscilla the best present she had ever received.
During their soph.o.m.ore year in high school, Bobby Lee fell for Kara Chambers. Pris wasn't surprised-Kara was half-Korean and seemed exotic compared to all the other girls they knew. Her family had made a lot of money during the coal boom of '74. Now they owned the flower shop in town, and they also ran a catering business out of their grocery store.
Everybody talked about how perfect Kara and Bobby Lee were for each other and what a striking couple they made with their dark good looks. It wounded Pris to see them together, but she felt certain that one day Bobby Lee would realize Kara wasn't right for him and that his best friend was also his true soul mate.
Even though Granny Maeve could have shown her how to speed up such an epiphany, Pris didn't want to win Bobby Lee's heart by using magic. No, his love for her had to be real or it would never last.
It was better to remain hopeful and suffer the wait.
In the meantime, Pris learned all she could from her grandmother about the power of moonlight. She dated a few boys who bored her and a few who didn't. She talked to Bobby Lee whenever he made time for her. She never complained about the times he wouldn't.
And when Kara dumped Bobby Lee right before graduation, Pris was there to pick up all the fragile little pieces of his heart. In June-on the summer solstice-she took him for a drive up to the top of Black Mountain, the highest peak in Kentucky. Pris made love to Bobby Lee on a rough blanket under the Rose Moon. He was her first.
She opened his eyes. He opened his heart.