The Things I Heard in the Woods
The Things I Heard in the Woods Life in Appalachia has its mysteries. I live in Appalachia—where the forests are deep, older than time itself, and dense with lore. Myths like the Mothman, the cryptids, and the moon-faced people linger in the shadows, whispered from one generation to the next. Most of these stories exist, I think, to keep folks respectful of the dark. As for me? I'm an inside-at-night sort of gal. Not because of ghosts—because of bugs . I like to see the buzzy thing coming at me so I can duck. Still, this time of year we keep the windows open. Last night, just as I was getting ready for bed, something made me stop cold. A sound drifted down from the tall poplars at the edge of our yard: Who-who-wh-wh-whooo? Alright, fine. Our resident barred owl. Nothing unusual. But then—out of nowhere—came a blood-chilling cackle . A laugh. Holy hoots, Batman. Had macaques taken over Appalachia? I kept listening, hoping for something normal to follow. Instead, the calls ...