WEBVTT 00:00:01.260 --> 00:00:04.879 In these hills, time don't move the way it does 00:00:04.879 --> 00:00:09.380 in the city. Some places get left behind, not 00:00:09.380 --> 00:00:13.259 just by folks, but by the world itself. The air 00:00:13.259 --> 00:00:16.559 gets heavy, the silence gets loud, and the past, 00:00:17.179 --> 00:00:21.640 well, the past don't always stay put. These are 00:00:21.640 --> 00:00:24.600 five ghost towns in Kentucky where history never 00:00:24.600 --> 00:00:27.920 laid down proper, and the dead might just still 00:00:27.920 --> 00:00:33.090 be punching the clock. Welcome to Kentucky Melody's 00:00:33.090 --> 00:00:36.789 Scary Stories from Kentucky, where we spin yarns 00:00:36.789 --> 00:00:40.429 about ghostly haints, creepy hollers, and spine 00:00:40.429 --> 00:00:43.250 -chilling legends from deep in the hills. So 00:00:43.250 --> 00:00:45.990 grab a chair, dim them lights, and let's dig 00:00:45.990 --> 00:00:51.570 into something spooky. Way down yonder in McCreery 00:00:51.570 --> 00:00:54.609 County, hiding back where the big South Fork 00:00:54.609 --> 00:00:57.210 River snakes through the gorge like a black ribbon 00:00:57.210 --> 00:01:00.950 of sorrow, There used to be a coal town called 00:01:00.950 --> 00:01:05.810 Blue Heron. Now, the bigwigs up in Stearns, they 00:01:05.810 --> 00:01:10.430 didn't call it by name. To them, it was just 00:01:10.430 --> 00:01:14.209 mine number 18. But to the folks who lived and 00:01:14.209 --> 00:01:18.010 bled there, Blue Heron was home. Back in the 00:01:18.010 --> 00:01:21.510 1930s and 40s, that little town buzzed with life. 00:01:21.989 --> 00:01:24.909 Coal dust clung to every board and every man's 00:01:24.909 --> 00:01:29.280 lungs, but it kept food on the table. Families 00:01:29.280 --> 00:01:33.280 stayed in company houses, kids ran barefoot through 00:01:33.280 --> 00:01:37.560 the yards, and the mine never did sleep. The 00:01:37.560 --> 00:01:40.180 shafts swallowed men every morning and spit them 00:01:40.180 --> 00:01:44.599 back out at dusk, tired and black as pitch. Coal 00:01:44.599 --> 00:01:47.859 trains thundered through day and night like steel 00:01:47.859 --> 00:01:51.159 dragons carrying the mountain's bones, but just 00:01:51.159 --> 00:01:55.819 like a fire fed too hard, it didn't last. By 00:01:55.819 --> 00:02:00.079 1962, The stern's coal and lumber company pulled 00:02:00.079 --> 00:02:04.239 up stakes and left. Just left it. Every nail, 00:02:04.599 --> 00:02:09.099 every house, every ghost. The homes started to 00:02:09.099 --> 00:02:12.780 sag, then rot, while the old coal tipple rusted 00:02:12.780 --> 00:02:16.759 under gray rain. Vines crept over everything, 00:02:17.139 --> 00:02:20.500 slow and silent, like the holler itself was trying 00:02:20.500 --> 00:02:24.990 to bury the past. Now, these days, the National 00:02:24.990 --> 00:02:27.770 Park Service has tried to breathe life back into 00:02:27.770 --> 00:02:31.090 the bones. They've put up steel frames where 00:02:31.090 --> 00:02:34.889 houses once stood, like skeletons frozen in time. 00:02:35.430 --> 00:02:38.889 There's signs explaining history and cheerful 00:02:38.889 --> 00:02:42.669 guides walking folks around. But no matter how 00:02:42.669 --> 00:02:45.810 much polish they put on it, something about blue 00:02:45.810 --> 00:02:49.250 heron still feels off, like the air don't sit 00:02:49.250 --> 00:02:52.030 right on your skin. People have said they've 00:02:52.030 --> 00:02:54.270 heard the crunch of gravel behind them, plain 00:02:54.270 --> 00:02:57.490 as day, though they turn around to nothing but 00:02:57.490 --> 00:03:01.490 mist. Down in that old mine entrance there's 00:03:01.490 --> 00:03:06.169 whispers. Low and warning, like the walls themselves 00:03:06.169 --> 00:03:09.669 are muttering secrets. Some folks have seen a 00:03:09.669 --> 00:03:13.189 dark figure, always just ahead, ducking into 00:03:13.189 --> 00:03:16.150 the trees before they can get a good look, a 00:03:16.150 --> 00:03:20.110 miner's shadow still making his rounds. And the 00:03:20.110 --> 00:03:24.169 strangest thing of all, that lonesome train whistle, 00:03:24.349 --> 00:03:28.349 sharp and clear, echoing through the gorge. Ain't 00:03:28.349 --> 00:03:32.629 no tracks left, not for miles. But sometimes, 00:03:33.210 --> 00:03:36.530 late in the evening, it calls out anyway, like 00:03:36.530 --> 00:03:38.849 it's still carrying souls out of that holler. 00:03:39.629 --> 00:03:42.689 They say the men who died down in them shafts 00:03:42.689 --> 00:03:46.909 never did clock out. And some folks reckon that 00:03:46.909 --> 00:03:53.000 mind still hungers. Out West in Muhlenberg County, 00:03:53.620 --> 00:03:56.460 sitting quiet alongside the Green River, there 00:03:56.460 --> 00:03:59.419 used to be a little town by the name of Paradise. 00:04:00.120 --> 00:04:02.419 It weren't much to look at from the outside. 00:04:03.060 --> 00:04:06.479 Just a simple river town built on coal, hard 00:04:06.479 --> 00:04:09.840 work, and neighborly ties. The kind of place 00:04:09.840 --> 00:04:12.319 where folks knew your name and what kind of pie 00:04:12.319 --> 00:04:16.420 your granny made come Sunday supper. The church 00:04:16.420 --> 00:04:20.259 bell rang out across the water. Kids played barefoot 00:04:20.259 --> 00:04:23.259 in the mud and the coal trains rolled slow through 00:04:23.259 --> 00:04:27.480 the trees like giants taking a nap. But in the 00:04:27.480 --> 00:04:32.579 1960s something darker came creeping. The Tennessee 00:04:32.579 --> 00:04:36.000 Valley Authority rolled in like a storm with 00:04:36.000 --> 00:04:39.459 promises of progress and power. They planted 00:04:39.459 --> 00:04:42.600 a coal -fired power plant right across the river 00:04:42.600 --> 00:04:46.389 belching smoke and ash into the sky. till the 00:04:46.389 --> 00:04:50.410 air itself turned heavy and gray. The dust settled 00:04:50.410 --> 00:04:54.610 on porches, on laundry hanging to dry, on folks' 00:04:54.790 --> 00:04:58.110 lungs. The green hills started to look sick, 00:04:58.389 --> 00:05:02.370 and the river, she ran slower, quieter, like 00:05:02.370 --> 00:05:06.449 she knew what was coming. TVA offered to buy 00:05:06.449 --> 00:05:11.089 the town out, said it was the only way. By the 00:05:11.089 --> 00:05:14.829 time the 1970s rolled around, Paradise was just 00:05:14.829 --> 00:05:18.300 a memory. The homes were bulldozed one after 00:05:18.300 --> 00:05:22.920 another like erasing chapters from a book. Families 00:05:22.920 --> 00:05:26.079 packed what they could, left behind what they 00:05:26.079 --> 00:05:29.980 couldn't. Even the graveyard was moved, or most 00:05:29.980 --> 00:05:33.199 of it. Folks still wonder if every soul made 00:05:33.199 --> 00:05:37.939 that trip. Nowadays, all that remains is a lonesome 00:05:37.939 --> 00:05:41.480 roadside marker, a few old stones left behind 00:05:41.480 --> 00:05:44.879 like teeth in the dirt, and the Green River herself. 00:05:45.209 --> 00:05:48.769 winding past the place where paradise once stood, 00:05:49.029 --> 00:05:54.970 slow and too quiet. Too quiet by half. Visitors 00:05:54.970 --> 00:05:58.389 still come by now and then, drawn by stories 00:05:58.389 --> 00:06:01.629 or songs, and some say they've heard strange 00:06:01.629 --> 00:06:04.870 things down there by the water. There's tales 00:06:04.870 --> 00:06:07.790 of church bells ringing, even though there ain't 00:06:07.790 --> 00:06:11.490 no church left to speak of. Some have heard laughter 00:06:11.490 --> 00:06:15.129 carrying over the river at dusk. Laughter and 00:06:15.129 --> 00:06:18.089 old hymns, like a Sunday service still lingering 00:06:18.089 --> 00:06:22.490 in the air. Then there's the girl. Folks say 00:06:22.490 --> 00:06:25.790 there's a young girl in a white dress, seen standing 00:06:25.790 --> 00:06:29.370 knee deep in the river, looking lost. She don't 00:06:29.370 --> 00:06:34.290 speak. She don't move. She just fades, slow as 00:06:34.290 --> 00:06:37.470 breath, like mist burning off the water in the 00:06:37.470 --> 00:06:40.970 morning. And even if you don't see nothing, most 00:06:40.970 --> 00:06:44.930 folks will tell you, you'll feel it. That unshakable 00:06:44.930 --> 00:06:48.350 sense that something's watching you. Maybe from 00:06:48.350 --> 00:06:51.610 the trees, maybe from beneath the muddy water. 00:06:52.089 --> 00:06:56.649 Either way, it ain't gone. John Prine sang it 00:06:56.649 --> 00:07:00.529 plain. Mr. Peabody's cold train has hauled it 00:07:00.529 --> 00:07:04.449 away. But ask anyone who lives nearby, and they'll 00:07:04.449 --> 00:07:08.290 tell you. Paradise might be gone on paper, but 00:07:08.290 --> 00:07:10.550 there's something still lingering down there, 00:07:10.889 --> 00:07:15.500 waiting, watching. Way back in the thick woods 00:07:15.500 --> 00:07:18.740 of Carter County where the hills roll like sleeping 00:07:18.740 --> 00:07:22.300 Giants and the roads twist like they're hiding 00:07:22.300 --> 00:07:25.600 secrets There's a place folks don't much talk 00:07:25.600 --> 00:07:29.120 about no more the remnants of a little town called 00:07:29.120 --> 00:07:33.920 Lawton now Lawton weren't ever a big place just 00:07:33.920 --> 00:07:38.560 a dot on a map if that But it had a mine and 00:07:38.560 --> 00:07:41.540 like most towns in these parts that mine was 00:07:41.540 --> 00:07:45.439 the heartbeat First, they pulled iron from the 00:07:45.439 --> 00:07:48.420 earth, rough red ore that stained everything 00:07:48.420 --> 00:07:52.160 it touched. Men worked it with blood and sweat, 00:07:52.600 --> 00:07:55.860 hauling it out one rusty chunk at a time. But 00:07:55.860 --> 00:07:58.959 when the iron ran out, they didn't walk away. 00:07:59.860 --> 00:08:03.699 No sir, they got clever. Somebody got it in their 00:08:03.699 --> 00:08:06.160 head to grow mushrooms down there in the dark. 00:08:07.120 --> 00:08:10.480 Said the tunnels were damp and cool, perfect 00:08:10.480 --> 00:08:14.540 for farming fungus. But folks say the cold never 00:08:14.540 --> 00:08:18.199 left. Not just the kind that nips at your skin. 00:08:18.980 --> 00:08:22.579 Something deeper, something older. The mines 00:08:22.579 --> 00:08:26.439 sealed now are supposed to be. Trees have taken 00:08:26.439 --> 00:08:29.959 back the land, and what was once Lawton has all 00:08:29.959 --> 00:08:33.139 but vanished into the underbrush. If you ain't 00:08:33.139 --> 00:08:37.419 looking for it, you drive right by. But people 00:08:37.419 --> 00:08:41.450 still go wandering up that way. drawn in by curiosity 00:08:41.450 --> 00:08:45.450 or maybe something else. And now and then, they 00:08:45.450 --> 00:08:49.110 come back, shaking their heads, pale in the face, 00:08:49.450 --> 00:08:53.009 swearing they won't go near it again. They speak 00:08:53.009 --> 00:08:55.950 of winds that come rushing from the mind's mouth, 00:08:56.389 --> 00:08:58.990 even though the shaft's been closed for years. 00:08:59.850 --> 00:09:03.509 Winds that ain't got no business blowing, carrying 00:09:03.509 --> 00:09:07.169 the scent of earth and rot. There's been tales 00:09:07.169 --> 00:09:11.389 of a long, low howl drifting up from deep underground. 00:09:11.990 --> 00:09:15.429 Not an animal. Not any machine. Just something. 00:09:16.250 --> 00:09:21.490 Breathing. Moving slow. Waiting. One fella claimed 00:09:21.490 --> 00:09:24.730 he saw a figure inside, crouched low just beyond 00:09:24.730 --> 00:09:28.009 the seal. Said it wore an old miner's helmet, 00:09:28.289 --> 00:09:31.889 but its face, if it had one, was smooth and blank, 00:09:32.350 --> 00:09:36.200 like it had been wiped clean. Didn't move. didn't 00:09:36.200 --> 00:09:39.639 blink, just sat there in the dark, watching. 00:09:40.399 --> 00:09:44.240 And then there's the fog. Folks say, just before 00:09:44.240 --> 00:09:47.559 sunrise, a pale mist sometimes rolls out of the 00:09:47.559 --> 00:09:51.320 shaft like the mind's exhaling. And in that fog, 00:09:52.080 --> 00:09:56.559 you might hear voices. Not clear, not loud, more 00:09:56.559 --> 00:09:59.899 like murmurs slipping past your ears. Praying, 00:10:00.220 --> 00:10:03.740 crying, calling for help. Ain't no way to make 00:10:03.740 --> 00:10:08.009 sense of it. And maybe that's for the best. Local 00:10:08.009 --> 00:10:10.909 hunters, tough as old pine knots, won't step 00:10:10.909 --> 00:10:15.210 foot near that mine after dark. They say there's 00:10:15.210 --> 00:10:18.529 something wrong with that place, not just haunted, 00:10:18.809 --> 00:10:24.470 alive. And worse than that, it remembers. Now, 00:10:24.549 --> 00:10:27.970 back over in McCreery County, not too far from 00:10:27.970 --> 00:10:30.730 the ghost bones of Blue Heron, there's another 00:10:30.730 --> 00:10:33.769 place where the coal once ran black and deep. 00:10:34.009 --> 00:10:37.830 It's called Barthol, a name that still lingers 00:10:37.830 --> 00:10:41.590 like coal dust in the lungs. Started way back 00:10:41.590 --> 00:10:45.730 in 1902. It was the first coal camp ever run 00:10:45.730 --> 00:10:49.529 by the Stearns Coal and Lumber Company. They 00:10:49.529 --> 00:10:52.690 cut it right out of the hillside, like they was 00:10:52.690 --> 00:10:56.309 carving a town out of the mountain's flesh. Barthol 00:10:56.309 --> 00:11:00.009 had it all. Two big mines digging into the earth. 00:11:00.649 --> 00:11:04.350 Rows of cabins lined up like teeth. a commissary 00:11:04.350 --> 00:11:07.429 where folks would trade script for flour or lamp 00:11:07.429 --> 00:11:10.929 oil, a one -room schoolhouse full of chalk dust 00:11:10.929 --> 00:11:14.590 and hollering youngins, and even a doctor's office 00:11:14.590 --> 00:11:18.429 for when the shafts got mean. For a while, it 00:11:18.429 --> 00:11:21.470 was its own little world, tucked back in the 00:11:21.470 --> 00:11:24.509 hollers, breathing coal smoke and hard work. 00:11:25.090 --> 00:11:29.750 But by the 1950s, the veins of coal started running 00:11:29.750 --> 00:11:33.889 thin, and one by one, Families packed up what 00:11:33.889 --> 00:11:37.590 they could and left the rest to the trees. The 00:11:37.590 --> 00:11:41.190 mines were shut down, the tracks quieted, and 00:11:41.190 --> 00:11:44.470 the woods crept back in, swallowing the town 00:11:44.470 --> 00:11:48.529 like the hills were trying to forget. These days, 00:11:48.929 --> 00:11:52.210 Barthel's been partly brought back, not as a 00:11:52.210 --> 00:11:56.610 town, but as a tourist stop. They rebuilt some 00:11:56.610 --> 00:11:59.509 of the cabins, laid fresh rail where the old 00:11:59.509 --> 00:12:02.649 steel once rattled, Even set up little tours 00:12:02.649 --> 00:12:05.950 for folks wanting a taste of Appalachian history. 00:12:06.950 --> 00:12:10.529 But not everything that came back came back easy. 00:12:11.610 --> 00:12:14.330 See, there's things folks feel when they step 00:12:14.330 --> 00:12:17.490 onto that old ground. The kind of things that 00:12:17.490 --> 00:12:20.230 make the hair on your arms stand up before your 00:12:20.230 --> 00:12:23.649 brain's even caught up. Some will tell you about 00:12:23.649 --> 00:12:27.669 feeling sudden cold inside the cabins. Deep chill. 00:12:27.990 --> 00:12:31.759 Bone deep. even when the July sun's beaten down 00:12:31.759 --> 00:12:35.539 like a furnace. Others have seen lights flickering 00:12:35.539 --> 00:12:38.860 through the trees after dark, like lanterns swinging 00:12:38.860 --> 00:12:42.679 low, moving steady, but there ain't no one there 00:12:42.679 --> 00:12:45.860 carrying them. More than one visitor spotted 00:12:45.860 --> 00:12:49.419 a man at the tree line, standing still as stone, 00:12:49.860 --> 00:12:52.519 wearing a blackened miner's uniform, the soot 00:12:52.519 --> 00:12:56.139 baked right into the cloth. He don't move, he 00:12:56.139 --> 00:13:00.899 don't speak, he just... Watches. And then there's 00:13:00.899 --> 00:13:05.320 some voices. Oh Lord, the voices. Always coming 00:13:05.320 --> 00:13:09.379 from down in the mine. Some soft and sad, like 00:13:09.379 --> 00:13:13.480 praying. Others desperate, begging to be heard. 00:13:13.960 --> 00:13:18.059 And sometimes, screaming. Not loud, but sharp 00:13:18.059 --> 00:13:20.379 enough to cut through the night like a splinter 00:13:20.379 --> 00:13:24.120 in your soul. Tour guides swear they lock the 00:13:24.120 --> 00:13:27.000 doors at night. only to come back in the morning 00:13:27.000 --> 00:13:30.740 and find them hanging wide open. Tools shift 00:13:30.740 --> 00:13:33.980 without hands. Lights flicker without reason. 00:13:34.580 --> 00:13:37.340 It's like the ground itself never settled under 00:13:37.340 --> 00:13:40.799 Barthol, like it remembers every life it took 00:13:40.799 --> 00:13:45.159 and ain't done remembering yet. And finally, 00:13:45.600 --> 00:13:49.080 down in the farthest reach of Bell County, tucked 00:13:49.080 --> 00:13:51.700 where the mountain haulers grow tight and the 00:13:51.700 --> 00:13:54.860 trees press in close, There used to be a coal 00:13:54.860 --> 00:13:58.940 camp by the name of Packard. Most folks alive 00:13:58.940 --> 00:14:02.120 today never even heard of it. It's been gone 00:14:02.120 --> 00:14:05.379 so long, the names nearly vanished from maps 00:14:05.379 --> 00:14:09.379 and memory alike. But if you dig around, you'll 00:14:09.379 --> 00:14:12.879 find it was founded in the early 1900s, born 00:14:12.879 --> 00:14:15.860 out of black rock and grit like so many others. 00:14:16.460 --> 00:14:20.340 It burned bright and fast. The coal was rich 00:14:20.340 --> 00:14:24.299 and the work was steady. Families carved out 00:14:24.299 --> 00:14:27.620 lives between the shafts and the sawdust, kids 00:14:27.620 --> 00:14:30.539 played under the shadow of smoke stacks, and 00:14:30.539 --> 00:14:34.100 the company man always got his due. But when 00:14:34.100 --> 00:14:37.519 the coal veins dried up, the company didn't stick 00:14:37.519 --> 00:14:40.559 around. They packed up their ledgers and their 00:14:40.559 --> 00:14:43.980 promises and left. And soon after, the folks 00:14:43.980 --> 00:14:48.879 followed. But the land, well, it didn't let go 00:14:48.879 --> 00:14:52.519 so easy. What's left of Packard now is buried 00:14:52.519 --> 00:14:56.379 under moss and time, rotted cabin walls lean 00:14:56.379 --> 00:15:00.039 like drunkards in the trees, stone foundations 00:15:00.039 --> 00:15:03.000 peek through the undergrowth like bones, and 00:15:03.000 --> 00:15:07.539 the old mind -mouth still gapes open, dark, damp, 00:15:07.980 --> 00:15:11.519 and quiet as a grave. It should have collapsed 00:15:11.519 --> 00:15:14.919 in on itself years ago, but somehow it holds, 00:15:15.259 --> 00:15:17.759 like something's still breathing down there. 00:15:18.620 --> 00:15:22.620 Folks who wander too close, hikers, campers, 00:15:22.740 --> 00:15:25.899 the occasional ghost hunter, looking for a thrill, 00:15:26.559 --> 00:15:29.820 they come back different if they come back at 00:15:29.820 --> 00:15:33.799 all. Some say there's a strange glow that floats 00:15:33.799 --> 00:15:37.360 over the mind come nightfall, blue -green and 00:15:37.360 --> 00:15:41.320 flickering like fireflies caught in a jar. Others 00:15:41.320 --> 00:15:44.860 heard children laughing in the woods, light and 00:15:44.860 --> 00:15:48.159 carefree, until the laughing stops all at once. 00:15:48.409 --> 00:15:51.450 And the silence falls thick enough to choke on. 00:15:51.990 --> 00:15:56.129 And then there's the figure. Tall, too tall, 00:15:56.509 --> 00:15:59.590 pale as limestone, standing just off the trail 00:15:59.590 --> 00:16:03.029 watching. Eyes catch the light like a deer's, 00:16:03.149 --> 00:16:06.230 but it don't move like no animal. Don't move 00:16:06.230 --> 00:16:10.350 like a man either, it just waits. One camper, 00:16:10.970 --> 00:16:14.129 and he won't go back, not for love nor money, 00:16:14.809 --> 00:16:17.679 swears the woods turned on him. Said the trail 00:16:17.679 --> 00:16:21.240 folded in on itself, trees shifting just enough 00:16:21.240 --> 00:16:24.399 to keep him going in circles. Like the mountain 00:16:24.399 --> 00:16:27.860 was rearranging itself to keep him there. Packard 00:16:27.860 --> 00:16:32.100 don't welcome visitors. Never did, really. The 00:16:32.100 --> 00:16:34.559 mountain takes what it wants, and if the stories 00:16:34.559 --> 00:16:38.700 are true, it still ain't full. Some say the mines 00:16:38.700 --> 00:16:42.279 callin' folk back. Others reckon what's down 00:16:42.279 --> 00:16:46.740 there never left. Whatever the truth is. Best 00:16:46.740 --> 00:16:50.279 you keep moving. Don't linger too long in them 00:16:50.279 --> 00:16:53.860 woods, cuz in Packard, the past ain't buried, 00:16:54.440 --> 00:16:58.740 it's waiting. Now, Kentucky's full of forgotten 00:16:58.740 --> 00:17:03.080 places. The map may say they're gone, the mines 00:17:03.080 --> 00:17:06.140 might be sealed shut, and the houses left in 00:17:06.140 --> 00:17:09.660 splinters. But out here, tucked in the ridges 00:17:09.660 --> 00:17:13.079 and down in the hollers, the land remembers. 00:17:13.579 --> 00:17:17.819 The dead don't always rest easy, and the past 00:17:17.819 --> 00:17:21.839 don't take kindly to being buried. Sometimes 00:17:21.839 --> 00:17:25.740 a place dies so hard, its soul don't move on, 00:17:26.160 --> 00:17:30.039 it just lingers, stuck in the mud, in the stone, 00:17:30.680 --> 00:17:33.559 in the wind that don't blow right. So if you 00:17:33.559 --> 00:17:35.960 ever find yourself wandering near one of these 00:17:35.960 --> 00:17:38.740 old towns and a chill creeps up the back of your 00:17:38.740 --> 00:17:42.349 neck, don't brush it off. That ain't just the 00:17:42.349 --> 00:17:45.829 wind, friend. That's Kentucky, whispering through 00:17:45.829 --> 00:17:50.029 the holler. So, now that you know, have you ever 00:17:50.029 --> 00:17:53.210 been somewhere that felt wrong, even when nothing 00:17:53.210 --> 00:17:57.230 was there? Maybe an old trail, a dead -end road, 00:17:57.630 --> 00:17:59.549 or a cabin that shouldn't have had the lights 00:17:59.549 --> 00:18:04.630 on? Tell us about it, if you dare. We read every 00:18:04.630 --> 00:18:07.890 story, even the ones that keep us up at night. 00:18:08.700 --> 00:18:13.039 Here on Kentucky Melody, we don't just tell ghost 00:18:13.039 --> 00:18:16.599 stories. We listen for the ones the land's still 00:18:16.599 --> 00:18:20.119 trying to tell. From lost towns and restless 00:18:20.119 --> 00:18:23.140 hills to the shadows hiding just past the tree 00:18:23.140 --> 00:18:26.059 line, we're bringing you the haunted heart of 00:18:26.059 --> 00:18:31.140 Kentucky, one whisper at a time. So, the dark 00:18:31.140 --> 00:18:35.819 don't stop here. Another place is waiting. Buried 00:18:35.819 --> 00:18:39.079 in moss, soaked in silence, still breathing. 00:18:40.099 --> 00:18:43.799 So keep your lantern lit and follow us into the 00:18:43.799 --> 00:18:46.960 next one before the night finds you first.