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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. Overnight shift. overnight shifts at Woodhaven Sanatorium tended to be peaceful.

The quiet of the deep hours after midnight, broken only by the coffin of one patient or

the labored breathing of another. With the diminished population of the facility in the coffin of one patient or the labored breathing of another.

With the diminished population of the facility in the wake of the opening of the new state hospital, it was even quieter than usual.

Phyllis Moore had pulled the graveyard ship this week and she didn't mind it all.

Since her husband had passed a couple of years before,

she didn't sleep so well. In any ways, she liked taking care of folks. Her babies and grandbabies

had all grown up and moved across the mountain to work at the paper mill in Beaufort, about 25 miles

west of Asheville. She found the silence of an empty nest didn't much agree with her,

so she just kept on working well into her mid-70s.

Phyllis liked Doc Robinson,

and she and Ms. Marjorie belonged to the same sewing circle, so to speak.

So Woodhaven had been a good fit.

Phyllis was also one of only three people on staff who could care for patients on the private wing,

no questions asked.

She'd seen things down that narrow hallway that would curl a coal miner's toenails.

...