#Appalachian ghost

[guy60660]

Raymond Thompson Jr | Appalachian Ghost | MoCP

[tngolfplayer]

The Wendigo

The Wendigo is a mythical creature that is said to inhabit the forests of the Algonquian people of North America. It is typically described as a tall, thin creature with a deer-like head and antlers. The Wendigo is said to be incredibly strong and fast, and it is often associated with cannibalism.

The Wendigo legend is thought to have originated in the Algonquian tribes of the Great Lakes region, but it has since spread to other parts of North America, including the Southeast. There are many different variations of the Wendigo legend, but they all share some common elements.

One common belief is that the Wendigo is created when a human is driven to cannibalism by hunger or greed. The Wendigo is said to be a manifestation of the person's darkest desires, and it is driven by an insatiable hunger.

Another common belief is that the Wendigo is a spirit that inhabits the forest. It is said to be a trickster spirit that lures people into the woods and then kills them.

The Wendigo is a feared creature among many Native American tribes, and it is often used as a cautionary tale about the dangers of greed and selfishness. The Wendigo legend is also a reminder of the importance of community and sharing.

There are no confirmed sightings of the Wendigo in the Southeast US, but the legend persists. Some people believe that the Wendigo is a real creature, while others believe that it is a myth. However, the Wendigo legend continues to be a part of the cultural heritage of many Native American tribes in the Southeast.

Here are some additional details about the Wendigo legend:

The Wendigo is said to be able to mimic human voices, which it uses to lure its victims.

The Wendigo's breath is said to be so cold that it can freeze a person to death.

The Wendigo is said to be immune to fire and bullets.

The only way to kill a Wendigo is to destroy its heart.

The Wendigo is a powerful and terrifying creature, and its legend continues to fascinate and frighten people today.

[itwasntaphase]

📍where I am blogging from

[empress-ghoul]

Rising Waters, part one

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au | ongoing cw: environmental disasters, supernatural elements, blood, typical canon violence

You didn’t know where to go when the water rose. When the creek came up and lapped in waves at the four walls of the cabin you’d lived in your whole life.

This should have been another autumn thunderstorm, just like the ones you’d dealt with every other year. But when you woke up in the early hours of the morning, the sky still pitch black and the heavens still pouring down, you knew it was not like every other autumn thunderstorm.

The water was up to your thighs in your bedroom and up to your waist in the kitchen. If you didn’t get out now, then you wouldn’t get out again.

There was a moment where you thought about grabbing something. Your grimoire, maybe your mother’s cookbook? But judging how high the stream was outside, you knew they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Fear and adrenaline were wonderful motivators. You didn’t think about how dangerous swimming through the flood would be after you climbed out through the window. It wasn’t like there were many other options.

The flood spat you back out on land, where you thanked the Green and prayed It would keep you safe. You like to think It cared about you, but you didn’t hold out much hope.

Grabbing onto a tree, you used it to pull yourself up with shaking arms and watched as your home, your very life, drift down past you. There was no time to mourn, as you now needed to figure where you were in relation to the main road.

You knew this land, of that you were certain. But the pouring rain and rising creek made navigation a bit of a tricky task. Not only that, but the clouds plotted out the moonlight. The smart thing would be to wait until the rain stopped to start moving, but the water was rising still and you needed to get to higher ground. That should be easy.

Your true problem came when you realized you weren’t alone in the woods. Then it turned from problem to problems when you realized there were at least three massive figures surrounding you.

The lightning in the sky provided you with the occasional glimpse. Silhouetted among the trees as you ran through the trees, pouring rain, and rising water, you saw them.

They couldn’t be human. Not with the speed they moved at or the unnatural grace at which they did. You thought about the day you and your mother ran from your father. You thought about your mother and terror built in your gut, rising in your chest and throat.

She would have called them what they were, whether it be superstition or truth. Your mother would have called the hollow men.

Men whose very souls, the very essence of being truly alive, have been carved out. What’s left is a body with no sense of purpose other than what’s been given to them…or carnal violence. But seeing three all gathered in one place and working on a common goal - hunting you down - is not exactly common. And it begs the question: where is their handler?

Even with the rain that had soaked you through and continued to beat down, you knew you were crying. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming your senses and you soon found yourself completely turned around. You used to know these woods like the back of your hand, but in a storm like this, that meant nothing.

It was as if the land was warping. Changing and mutating to prevent you from finding your way to the road. Not like it would do you any good at this point. Any of your “neighbors’” cars would have been swept away by now and emergency services wouldn’t start running again until after the rain slowed.

More tears came with the strike of lightning that illuminated the massive figure running past you. Was that a skull face?

You found yourself in a clearing, frantically turning around as the forest rustled and wind howled. The figures were now closing in on you and a sob escaped your lips as. They had been trying to get you here. You should have kept running, but it all began to catch up to you.

Standing on shaking legs and bloodied feet, you wondered when they would pounce. Maybe they’d let you die from fear before hearing you limb from limb and sinking their teeth into your flesh.

Unfortunately, these men didn’t seem that merciful. It was like a game to them, you thought.

You landed on your back. The wind was thrown from your lungs, tears burning in your eyes while you wheezed for breath while crying from the pain. Your head spun as the hysteria caught up to you.

There was nothing left to do but crawl in a pathetic attempt to…to what? Escape? Make them take pity and spare you? You weren’t sure. You just wanted to survive.

A large hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled back down into the mud, dragging you towards them as you clawed at the earth.

Those same rough hands flipped you over and the lightning flash once again illuminated the hollow men - only calling them that because there was no other explanation for how terrifying these men were - while they pinned you down. The rain was smothering, drowning you as it pelted down. You looked up, unable to make out their faces clearly through your blurred vision.

The appearance of a fourth one, the only one who spoke and thus the one who controlled the three others, made your blood run cold.

It was a deep rooted fear, one of being surrounded and trapped by man. Being so trapped, and so helpless, and so utterly terrified in the midst of a storm of a century, of a tempest you never had a chance of escaping, drove that terror in deep.

“Hail witch.”

A scream came up and tore itself from your throat so hard that blood filled your mouth. The thunder drowned it out, along with the sound of his boot hitting your head.

[kmartmolotov]

i’m made of waste

[eldritchgh0st]

The Not Deer

commissions open! DM me if you are interested

[spiritofthebackroads]

Locust Grove, Oklahoma🦌

[marsinthecorner]

@oldgodspod featured an old story I remembered from my childhood: Tailypo. A ghost story that had me paranoid as a child, especially when I heard scratching outside the house. Mom and dad always had to reassure me it was raccoons.

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Pocahontas, VA

📸 Lorna Milligan

[kimberly40]

The Ghost of Helen’s Bridge- Helen’s Bridge (officially known as Zealandia Bridge) is a landmark located in Asheville, North Carolina. Built in 1909, this picturesque stone arch bridge once served as a vital link between the grand Zealandia Mansion and the surrounding roadways.

But Helen’s Bridge is more than just an architectural gem—it is steeped in local legend. The tragic tale of a woman named Helen has fueled whispers of the paranormal for generations. According to the legend, Helen’s life was shattered by the death of her young daughter. Overcome with grief, she tragically took her own life on the bridge.

Visitors to the bridge often report unsettling encounters. Some say they feel cold drafts or catch fleeting glimpses of a woman in white—believed to be Helen, forever searching for her lost child. Others claim to hear her mournful cries echoing in the night.

Whether these experiences are the result of a vivid imagination or genuine paranormal activity, the legend of Helen’s Bridge continues to captivate the curious and the brave. It serves as a poignant reminder of the powerful grip of grief and the lasting imprint of tragedy on the human spirit.

[phantasma-ghoulia]

Appalachian Cryptid Rain ghoul

Rain with instead of fish features, he has amphibian features. Tadpole-like tail, extra inner eyelid, webbing between his fingies. Instead of blue he is more a greenish tint to blend in with the more algae rich water and the aquatic plant life of the Appalachian lakes

He has a soft melodic Appalachian accent and the rumors about him have been slowly spreading amongst hiker communities. He's not quite got cryptid status but he's becoming a bit of a local legend.

Because he's not any kind of notoriously sought after cryptid, hikers aren't warned not hike the trail that goes by Rain's lake.

Oh well, hikers go missing sometimes, right? Probably went and poked at a bear, right? Cause there isn't anything weird in these woods...

[oldnorthcarolina]

Ghost plant — Black Balsam, North Carolina — Summer 2024

[itwasntaphase]

There's something so lovely about the idea of decomposing. A sort of poetry that comes with returning to the earth. Moss taking over my skin, vines tangling into my bones, flowers growing from the nutrients in my blood, animals using me to feed their young. I hope after I die I get to haunt a spot where the forest meets the sea so that I can ominously stand looking over the ocean. I am also content with Haunting a large woods filled with animals that I can spend eternity running with. Life is so beautiful but I feel death will be just as beautiful in its own strange way.

[empress-ghoul]

Rising Waters, part two

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au cw: supernatural elements, kidnapping, threats of violence

Unconsciousness was heavy. Your body was weighed down by an unseen force that seemed to tell you, do not wake up. You did not want to wake up. Even in this half aware, half not state, you knew the dangers of waking up. You remembered the hollow men chasing you and the fourth one, the one who appeared to be the handler, stomping you out with a steel-toed boot. 

So yes, unconsciousness was preferred, no matter how heavy it was.

Your dreams felt sticky. Like molasses poured over them, refusing to let anything through. Slow moving images of distant memories. Your mother, and the day you buried her. The kudzu, and the constant threat of being overtaken by it. The Green…

It reached out a vined hand and wrapped around your wrist, snaking the rough skin up your arm and pulling. You were letting It take you, letting It pull you down, when something pulled back. Something darker, more angry and hateful, wrapped around your throat and dragged you away from the soft warmth you’d grown to love.

Kicking and screaming. 

Being awake wasn’t much better than the heady feeling of unconsciousness. Your body was still heavy, but now it was accompanied by a pulsating pain in your skull and a deep ache in your body. The latter was most likely due to the previous night. 

It took you a while to get your bearings and figure out where exactly you were. Chained to a bed in a small room - in what appeared to be a cabin - with one window far above where you could reasonably climb out, with a man sitting in the corner. 

A gasp pulled itself from your throat, hoarse and burning as it came up. You remembered screaming and it appeared you were now paying the price for it. 

“Quiet,” the handler gruffed. “Already got a bloody headache from your shrieking.”

You pulled on your chains when he stood up, your eyes going wide as you frantically tried to kick him away from you. 

“Stop fuckin’ moving!” he snarled, grabbing your ankle. Your body went rigid. “Been a shit few weeks for us, and I’m not in the goddamn mood.”

Speaking wasn’t an option so you just stared, wide eyed and shaking, at the man. He threw your ankle back down on the bed and glared down at you. 

Like the hollow men he was burly. A mass of muscle that wore a flannel that was one size away from bursting at the seams. You could make out what used to be a finely kept beard but had now overgrown and turned wild. He sat down slowly, calming himself with a deep breath while flexing and relaxing his hands repeatedly.

Your words came out croaking and guttural. “You…you don’t sound like you’re from here.”

He turned to you, letting his hands go limp before shaking his head, not entertained by your attempt at conversation. It was hard to tell if he was angry at you or because of you, or if it was something else entirely. But his gaze was so dark, cruel, and utterly unforgiving. He looked ready to strike, ready to lunge and wrap his fingers around your throat and crush you beneath his calloused hands. 

A few tears escaped your eyes and you flinched when he shifted closer. It didn’t discourage him. 

“You should thank us,” he said. “We saved you from the flood.”

No, you wanted to say. No you didn’t. You saved yourself from the flood. You dragged your ass out the window and managed to swim through the creek before getting to land again. This man and his hollow men were the ones to chase you through the woods until you collapsed.

“Thank you,” was all you managed to get out. “Can I have your name?”

Now he smiled. A mocking, poor facsimile of a smile that made you want to recoil and scream. “Not getting my name, witch,” he scoffed. “Call me Price.”

He was smarter than you expected, but it made you nervous that he called you what you were. It wasn’t like you would give him your name, even if he knew what to do with it, but the fact that he knew what you were…

“Why did you call me that?” 

Price shrugged. “Call it as I see it. Not too hard to tell.”

How long had they been watching you? Two weeks at least. That was when the wild game had started to deplete. You recalled vegetables missing from your garden, a few preserves and jars of pickled vegetables vanishing from your stockpiles - stockpiles that were now long gone - and you shuddered. 

“You…you’ve been sending your hollow men to spy on me?” you asked, ignoring the burning in your throat.

At this, Price raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he didn’t know. He clearly wasn’t from the region and might not understand what was wrong with them. Then he laughed.

Full-belly, hearty, laughter. It was a few minutes of this until he wiped the tears from his eyes and caught his breath.

“Hollow men,” he chuckled. He said the term like he knew. “You think that’s what my men are? You think they’re the fuckers who’ve had their bodies emptied and souls ripped out? Almost, but not quite.”

You began to tremble. The only thing worse than believing someone was a hollow man, was learning that they weren’t. Price called for them and you were soon staring at the three men who had hunted you that night.

Looking upon them in the low lamplight was deeply upsetting, especially the one in the mask. You kept your eyes open, unblinking, locked on him in a terrified stare. There was too much hatred and anger behind his eyes for him to be hollow. Now that you could see him you realized if you could see his soul, you’d see something too stubborn to be ripped out and too ugly for anything to want to consume it. The other two seemed to be as equally stubborn and hateful

Perhaps it had been the hysteria of the night before that made you believe they were something else. Or perhaps they simply were. Not hollow men, but something else. You didn’t know what.

“Why are you here?” you croaked. Tears came to your eyes again. They were all in the room now, crowding around the bed you were chained to. 

“Big man fucked us over,” the one with the mohawk stated. “Told us to handle you. Didn’t bother t’mention what you were.”

Big man…these were company men. 

“You’re from Shepherd & Graves Co., aren’t you?” You couldn’t stop the shaking in your voice. “You came to kill me.”

“We did,” Price said. “But the boss didn’t tell us what we were walking into. Or that we’d drown trying to do it.”

You sucked in a shaking breath in an attempt to stop yourself from sobbing. “I don’t wanna die.”

It came out as a whimper and you hated how pathetic it sounded. Of course you didn’t want to die, no one wanted to die. But you didn’t want to die by the hands of these men. These horrible men— these dogs. 

None of them really reacted to you and you half expected them to start tearing your limbs off (or your clothes). Price just blinked. 

“Like Soap said,” he began, completely ignoring your plea for life, “the big man fucked us over, then left us to drown when the storm blew in.”

You didn’t care. If you were courageous, you would tell them that their grudges meant nothing to you. They should have meant nothing. Because the longer you looked at it, the more you came to realize that their fates were slowly being woven into yours. 

“You want to live, yeah?” Price asked. You nodded slowly, unsure what his definition of live was. “Then you’re gonna help us.”

[thesehauntedhills]

Unknown woman, ghost or human?

The following photo has caused a stir among internet users, everyone is divided into two camps, some say that there is a ghost in the frame, while others say that it is a person. Here is what the author of this photo writes:

My name is Sharon Cappolelle Townsley. I took this photo many years ago while watching my grandchildren's half-sister play in the yard with other children in the evening. I was watching them through a security camera. There could not have been other adults in our yard, but later I saw that the camera captured a photo of a strange woman leading a child by the hand. No one knows who it was. I don't know how to explain it either.

[churcvh]

The Poss House

visited a lovely old house that belonged to a family named the “Poss” family a few weeks ago. this is the back of the house, i didn’t get any good pictures of the front sadly. i visited with my parents and my father, who has had many “paranormal” experiences, felt very uneasy and had a huge cold spot show up behind him despite the 100+ degree Georgia heat. i didn’t capture any ghosts on camera, but we left pretty fast after that!