A few miles north of Charleston, West Virginia are massive tree covered mountains. Small towns peppered the mountains except for Putney, and that mountain had only one town, Howardsville. Mysteries and old wives tales swirled around the mountain as long as anyone remembered and it’s probably those same tales that isolated the Putney Mountain. The residents of Howardsville had learned years ago to live with the legends. They just accepted that “things happen” and structured their lives, so as not to get caught up with the mysteries or to be alone on the mountain. The first sign of civilization on the winding road going into town was a two-story house surrounded by a grove of weeping willows. Built in the mid 1800’s by Mr.
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Like the house, Ernest’s best days are just a memory. Life’s circumstances left him alone and turned him into a recluse. Now the only thing to keep him company were his memories and the haunting tales of the mountain he called home. The gossiping people of Howardsville spent their time speculating about Ernest’s connections to the abnormal activities on Putney Mountain, but no one was brave enough to prove it. Fear, ignorance, and the little voices in their heads prevented most locals from wandering beyond the town’s outskirts and onto the mountain. Knowing whatever was up there, although unexplainable, was real, dangerous and probably responsible for claiming many lives. Some thought the ghosts of the twenty-six miners buried alive in 1924 when the coal mines caved in, haunted the mountain while others believed the ‘mountain’ caused the mines to …show more content…
Cassidy’s feet, “Come on up here with me,” he said. Struggling to get on the couch, Claude kept sliding back to the floor. At last, Mr. Cassidy helped him, then smiled as Claude put his head on the old man’s lap and laid beside him.
While watching Claude lay contented beside him, Mr. Cassidy remembered the hearing coming up the following week, he said, “The hearing about the house. It may be falling apart, but it’s still our home. How dare that stuck-up woman want it condemned? If they declare it a Historic Landmark, we’ll be a step ahead of her. She thinks she is so smart, but we’ll fool her, and get it declared a Historic Landmark. It will piss her off, but who cares she can scream loud enough to knock the Putney Mountains clean over into Kentucky and it won’t bother me.” He laughed, slapping his
Like the house, Ernest’s best days are just a memory. Life’s circumstances left him alone and turned him into a recluse. Now the only thing to keep him company were his memories and the haunting tales of the mountain he called home. The gossiping people of Howardsville spent their time speculating about Ernest’s connections to the abnormal activities on Putney Mountain, but no one was brave enough to prove it. Fear, ignorance, and the little voices in their heads prevented most locals from wandering beyond the town’s outskirts and onto the mountain. Knowing whatever was up there, although unexplainable, was real, dangerous and probably responsible for claiming many lives. Some thought the ghosts of the twenty-six miners buried alive in 1924 when the coal mines caved in, haunted the mountain while others believed the ‘mountain’ caused the mines to …show more content…
Cassidy’s feet, “Come on up here with me,” he said. Struggling to get on the couch, Claude kept sliding back to the floor. At last, Mr. Cassidy helped him, then smiled as Claude put his head on the old man’s lap and laid beside him.
While watching Claude lay contented beside him, Mr. Cassidy remembered the hearing coming up the following week, he said, “The hearing about the house. It may be falling apart, but it’s still our home. How dare that stuck-up woman want it condemned? If they declare it a Historic Landmark, we’ll be a step ahead of her. She thinks she is so smart, but we’ll fool her, and get it declared a Historic Landmark. It will piss her off, but who cares she can scream loud enough to knock the Putney Mountains clean over into Kentucky and it won’t bother me.” He laughed, slapping his