Stories of Appalachia

Preface

Hello family, 

And I mean family. I aint have much of one left, and that's what I reckon we are. You and I readers. People connected by experience, language, and culture. This place brings us together, binds us together. Whether you're deep in the hollers of Tennessee and West Virginia; or in the Blue Ridge of Virginia and North Carolina, we're one Appalachia. 

I've traveled all across and lived in nearly every place up and down the coal fields and the blue ridge. I was born in rural Tennessee, an hour and a half north of Knoxville, in a place that didn't even have a traffic light. We moved to LaFollette when I was nine- where I began to remember and witnessed more phenomena. Then to Knoxville where I learned about the mysteries of the Appalachians. Finally to Johnson City, where I continued to learn the histories of all who came before and their experiences. I've traveled to the remotest places of the woods in search of the stories I had witnessed and heard as a child. In my travels, I learned how to respect the mountains that remember all, and to avoid what lurks beneath the canvas of trees. What my momma called her, "Rules of the Woods," I have expanded upon as a warning to those who do not respect the mountains. Each of chapter is the name of a rule, and a little story, or lesson if you would, to further your understanding of them rules. The lessons of which are made for those who would just as soon go a'wanderin' in them woods, especially at night. I mean woods, not forest. To call it such is an insult, you might have better luck spitting on your nana. The mountains don't too kindly to disrespect, and they never forget. 

These mountains are old, very old. In their time on Earth, they have seen many things. The weathered hills and trees hide many of these stories of the past. They were here long before we settled and will outlast long after we're dead...