Superstitions of Appalachia

Do not whistle at night, you'll summon them. If you hear a woman screaming, it's not what it seems. When someone calls your name, don't answer, even if it seems to be a familiar voice. What's the worst that can happen? A mimic might follow you home, calling your name at all hours, disturbing your mind and trapping you in your dreams. Movement will seem impossible, and you'll struggle to breathe. They call it sleep paralysis, but in the hills of Appalachia, it's believed to be something more sinister. Smudging with cedar is suggested to ward off the spirits and cleanse your home.

Yet, I've never taken the superstitions seriously. I have nothing to fear. Those screams are only a bobcat prowling in the shadows. These ancient hills hold a multitude of spirits. I live with them in peace. The echoes of my bloodline drift on the breeze, a reminder that they were here before me. I've walked through the deepest hollers and wandered the woods well past dusk, the moon my only guidance. The creatures of the wild recognize my presence. Their eyes are upon me, but they do not flee. So maybe the things of superstition simply step out of my path. Whatever animals or spirits lurk in Appalachia, I would willingly face them in the night rather than confront the nature of man. There is malevolence in some people that does not exist in the veil of the trees.