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Old Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast,

and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences

so listener discretion

is advised

The Miranda Coffey hadn't been a vampire for all that long. She had not faced down the

ceaseless passing of time, nor borne the weight of centuries upon her slender shoulders. She

had not left a litany of lost

loves and forgotten friends in her ageless wake, nor had she learned to endure the slipstream,

traitorous nature of time itself. She had not discovered the way that years could seem like

moments and decades feel like days, nor had she learned the stoic ways of moving through the ages

that those of her kind adapted lest they lose themselves to madness.

She did, however, feel like she'd been hiding under the dirty old drop cloth at the back

of a work van for an eternity.

If the smoking hot older vampire who'd introduced himself as Troy had bothered to secure the doors of her single wide prison cell, he'd done a half-ass job of it.

Mr. Peacote had left her to a meal of cold, gelatinous blood, sealed up in IV bags like a six-pack of a sanguineous capri son.

She'd barely touched the stuff despite her hunger.

The texture and flavor were just nasty and wrong. It was like trying to eat a hamburger that had

been cooked on a grill, then placed directly in the refrigerator. All the heat and juice had

...