The Appalachian Mountains are home to some of Mother Nature's finest work.
They are also home to some of Evolution's worst mistakes.
This is the true story of a social worker, brought into a misshapen world, governed by its own carnal desires, to he...
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Dear Unsuspecting Reader,
I work for a mobile medical unit, that provides health services to low-income communities. The area where I am most often stationed, is located in the deep Appalachia area of the North Carolina mountains. You probably know this area best for our southern drawl or the 'Brown Mountain Lights' phenomena. Ya' know, those strange iridescent lights you can see fire rocketing across our hills and valleys on any given night?
Scientists will tell ya' they are a chemical reaction between some kind of gasses, with names I can't even pronounce! Storytellers will claim the lights come from lost Cherokee Indian souls. Ya' see, this area has seen its fair share of Indian massacres, some ending tribes completely. You could say, we are a little slice of purgatory, built on blood rich soil.
Here's where I need to become a lil' careful in my words. I'm not one to gossip, but we have a lot "close-knit" families up here in these woods. They shun everything we take for granted now, like electricity and running water. They rely solely on the land for all their resources. The most troubling aspect of these people, is their belief in keeping a strong bloodline. You just go ahead and read into that what you will. We affectionately call them...the Ditch People.
It doesn't take a genius to know, their lifestyle leads to a lot of mental and physical issues, that require our attention. Ya' see, these people are almost always born at home and never even get themselves a social security number. They simply come and go, popping their heads in and out of these hills, as they pretty well please.
You can't call em' on the phone or send em' a letter. Contact comes and goes by word of mouth. Someone who knows someone will relay to them, we are setting up a mobile medical unit and that is all it takes for them to find us. Sometimes I wonder if they have some kinda' special powers or gift for tellin' the future, but that is probably my mind creating hogwash.
I can't begin to tell ya' how it feels to be sitting on the steps of a mobile bus, at the bottom of the mountain and wait for the Ditch People to arrive. They almost always come in emaciated rag wearing packs. Their elderly are mute. Their adults incoherent. Their children only speak in riddles and nursery rhymes. It is the scariest, yet saddest thing I have witnessed in my long years, until three weeks ago.
Ya' see, on November 1st, I had finished my shift and was navigating the back roads of Brown Mountain trying to get home. It was approximately 3am, as we will keep our units open a full 24 hours! This ol' state doesn't maintain its private roads. Most are just dirt paths edged by rotting trees and sprinkled with wildlife that you dodge or find stuck in ya' front fender later.
The night was bitterly cold and required my heat on full blast. I played a little Hank Williams on the radio and adjusted my seat within an inch of my frosty windshield. I was gonna make it home in time to watch Hee-Haw reruns, if it killed me...and it almost did.
