Now when was knee high to a grasshopper, and for some reason the power would go out, we’oud light candles or the kerosene lamp, and sit around the fireplace, and ol’ granny would tell some of the scariest stories. Just think how these hills got settled. The woods were one thing in the daytime, but them old, dark hollers at night, we were always hearing weird noises, and seein’ strange lights and sights we could’nt explain. Was that a panther screamin’?

Or somebody said a little girl died over by that old syckiemore tree where they burried her. Or there was another little girl who used to ask people for a ride home, and when they got to her house, she’d disappear, and her mother told the last good Samaritan they were the thirteenth person who gave her the ride, and that she was killed there in a car accident nine years ago, on the spot where they picked her up.