WEBVTT 00:00:00.860 --> 00:00:03.439 There's places in these hills where the moss 00:00:03.439 --> 00:00:06.900 don't grow right. Where the wind hushes sudden 00:00:06.900 --> 00:00:10.220 and the woods go so quiet you can hear your heart 00:00:10.220 --> 00:00:14.199 knocking in your ears. That's where the old Cherokee 00:00:14.199 --> 00:00:17.820 said the little people still walk. Not just a 00:00:17.820 --> 00:00:21.839 tale, not just a warning, but a living, breathing 00:00:21.839 --> 00:00:26.019 truth. Well, evening, y 'all. You're listening 00:00:26.019 --> 00:00:29.140 to Kentucky Melody, where the past ain't never 00:00:29.140 --> 00:00:32.929 really past. And some legends still walk the 00:00:32.929 --> 00:00:36.990 ridgelines come dusk. I'm Earl, your host, and 00:00:36.990 --> 00:00:39.710 tonight we're stepping into the truth behind 00:00:39.710 --> 00:00:42.630 one of the oldest stories east of the Mississippi. 00:00:43.789 --> 00:00:47.950 The Yunwe Junestea, the little people of Cherokee 00:00:47.950 --> 00:00:51.189 lore. But what if I told you this ain't just 00:00:51.189 --> 00:00:55.270 a story? What if folks have seen them, not just 00:00:55.270 --> 00:00:59.369 back in the day, but in recent years? What if 00:00:59.369 --> 00:01:03.229 they never left? The name rolls off the tongue 00:01:03.229 --> 00:01:08.469 like a splinter of air. Yun we jun sti. It don't 00:01:08.469 --> 00:01:12.230 come loud. It don't come proud. It slips through 00:01:12.230 --> 00:01:15.349 your lips like a word that knows better than 00:01:15.349 --> 00:01:19.310 to be said. Straight from the old Cherokee tongue. 00:01:20.010 --> 00:01:23.230 It means the little people. But don't you go 00:01:23.230 --> 00:01:27.159 picturing no fairy tale creatures now. No winged 00:01:27.159 --> 00:01:30.079 pixies or flower -crowned tree spirits dancing 00:01:30.079 --> 00:01:34.400 in the dew? No, sir. You best set that storybook 00:01:34.400 --> 00:01:38.219 down. And listen close. Because this ain't make 00:01:38.219 --> 00:01:41.560 -believe. The elders didn't call them legends. 00:01:42.040 --> 00:01:45.079 They didn't call them myths. They called them 00:01:45.079 --> 00:01:50.260 real. Knee -high. Maybe smaller. But shaped just 00:01:50.260 --> 00:01:56.890 like us. Arms. Legs. Fingers. Eyes. Still, there's 00:01:56.890 --> 00:02:00.890 something off, something wrong, in the way they 00:02:00.890 --> 00:02:05.709 almost look human. Their hair, gosh, that hair, 00:02:05.950 --> 00:02:09.409 jet black, hanging down so long it brushes the 00:02:09.409 --> 00:02:13.289 ground, hides their feet, like a shroud trying 00:02:13.289 --> 00:02:16.430 to keep them from being truly seen. And their 00:02:16.430 --> 00:02:20.389 eyes? Well, folks that seen them don't talk about 00:02:20.389 --> 00:02:23.560 those much, not because they forgot. Because 00:02:23.560 --> 00:02:26.639 remembering too well has a way of calling things 00:02:26.639 --> 00:02:30.199 back. They make their homes where the sun gives 00:02:30.199 --> 00:02:34.759 up, where moss clings like skin, and the rock 00:02:34.759 --> 00:02:39.000 sweats cold even in July. Caves that ain't on 00:02:39.000 --> 00:02:43.020 no map. Laurel thickets that twist and breathe 00:02:43.020 --> 00:02:47.240 when the wind dies down. Underground hollers 00:02:47.240 --> 00:02:51.300 where no bird sings. And if you stumble near 00:02:51.300 --> 00:02:55.000 them, you'll feel it in your stomach, in your 00:02:55.000 --> 00:02:58.759 teeth, like the earth itself's holding its breath. 00:02:59.960 --> 00:03:03.900 Now, not all of them are cruel, some are quiet, 00:03:04.419 --> 00:03:08.020 some are kind. There's tales of children lost 00:03:08.020 --> 00:03:11.979 deep in the woods, only to wander back come dawn 00:03:11.979 --> 00:03:16.719 unharmed, with no memory but the feel of a small 00:03:16.719 --> 00:03:20.270 woman's hand guiding theirs. There's mountain 00:03:20.270 --> 00:03:23.569 healers who say certain dreams whisper what route 00:03:23.569 --> 00:03:28.469 to pull what leaf to crush What time to cut the 00:03:28.469 --> 00:03:33.750 bark? Those dreams ain't always dreams Sometimes 00:03:33.750 --> 00:03:38.030 it's the gentle ones helping but never wanting 00:03:38.030 --> 00:03:43.250 to be seen But the woods they ain't made of kindness 00:03:43.250 --> 00:03:47.110 alone. There's tricksters among them ones that'll 00:03:47.110 --> 00:03:50.789 take your flint Flip your compass, move your 00:03:50.789 --> 00:03:53.870 tracks when you ain't looking. Make you walk 00:03:53.870 --> 00:03:57.169 the same stretch of trail over and over, laughing 00:03:57.169 --> 00:04:01.530 at you the whole time. A high, brittle laugh, 00:04:01.830 --> 00:04:04.990 like wind whistling through busted glass. You'll 00:04:04.990 --> 00:04:08.270 swear you've been here before. And you have. 00:04:08.909 --> 00:04:14.229 Only now it's different, twisted, wrong. And 00:04:14.229 --> 00:04:18.779 then, then there's the others. The ones nobody 00:04:18.779 --> 00:04:22.660 dares describe too much. The ones the old Cherokee 00:04:22.660 --> 00:04:25.800 warned about, in ways that stick to the bone. 00:04:26.379 --> 00:04:29.639 The ones that don't trick, don't laugh, don't 00:04:29.639 --> 00:04:35.379 help, just watch and wait. See those warnings? 00:04:36.279 --> 00:04:39.500 They wasn't carved in stone. They was passed 00:04:39.500 --> 00:04:43.959 down, mouth to mouth, night to night, like embers 00:04:43.959 --> 00:04:48.079 in a coal bucket. Don't you stare at them? Don't 00:04:48.079 --> 00:04:51.420 you follow their lights and for the love of all 00:04:51.420 --> 00:04:54.600 that's holy? Don't you speak their name after 00:04:54.600 --> 00:04:58.959 dark? Because once they know you see them once 00:04:58.959 --> 00:05:02.279 they know you believe They might start believing 00:05:02.279 --> 00:05:06.339 in you too, and that's a kind of attention. You 00:05:06.339 --> 00:05:09.860 can't uninvite Some things in these hills don't 00:05:09.860 --> 00:05:14.100 want nothing except maybe to be remembered and 00:05:14.100 --> 00:05:18.939 remembering is how they find you. For as long 00:05:18.939 --> 00:05:22.500 as the Cherokee have walked these hills, their 00:05:22.500 --> 00:05:25.220 elders passed down solemn words to the young 00:05:25.220 --> 00:05:29.399 'uns, not all that walks in these woods walks 00:05:29.399 --> 00:05:33.939 like us. The little people, they said, weren't 00:05:33.939 --> 00:05:37.240 just some far -off tale meant to spook children. 00:05:38.079 --> 00:05:43.000 They were real, and they demanded respect. The 00:05:43.000 --> 00:05:46.120 old folks spoke of different kinds of them, not 00:05:46.120 --> 00:05:49.720 all alike in heart or habit. There were the ones 00:05:49.720 --> 00:05:53.040 that guarded the stone places, mean as hornets, 00:05:53.500 --> 00:05:56.819 and twice as still. You trespassed near their 00:05:56.819 --> 00:06:00.680 caves or took something without asking, and they'd 00:06:00.680 --> 00:06:05.160 know, not just see it, they'd feel it. Those 00:06:05.160 --> 00:06:08.459 ones didn't take kindly to footsteps, where they 00:06:08.459 --> 00:06:12.189 didn't belong. Then there were the ones hiding 00:06:12.189 --> 00:06:16.449 in the laurel. Mischievous, some said. They'd 00:06:16.449 --> 00:06:19.850 twist your sense of direction, laugh in the shadows, 00:06:20.410 --> 00:06:23.750 or lead your eyes one way, while your pack went 00:06:23.750 --> 00:06:28.750 the other. Tricksters by nature. Not mean, not 00:06:28.750 --> 00:06:31.949 quite, but they sure enjoyed reminding you who 00:06:31.949 --> 00:06:37.470 was in charge out there. And finally, folks whispered 00:06:37.470 --> 00:06:40.839 about the gentle kind. The ones said to heal, 00:06:41.339 --> 00:06:44.740 to help, to whisper to the sick or the lost. 00:06:45.259 --> 00:06:49.699 They were kind, but not tame. Even the best of 00:06:49.699 --> 00:06:52.680 them didn't suffer fools. If you came to their 00:06:52.680 --> 00:06:56.980 woods with pride or mockery in your heart, that 00:06:56.980 --> 00:07:01.339 kindness could turn fast. The Cherokee knew. 00:07:01.959 --> 00:07:05.019 You don't take from the forest without asking. 00:07:05.759 --> 00:07:09.959 You don't mock. what you can't understand. Folks 00:07:09.959 --> 00:07:14.060 that did. Well, they'd come home confused or 00:07:14.060 --> 00:07:18.800 sick or not at all. Sometimes a strong, healthy 00:07:18.800 --> 00:07:21.639 man would stumble back from a short hunting trip, 00:07:22.300 --> 00:07:25.199 babbling nonsense with scratches down his legs 00:07:25.199 --> 00:07:28.379 and eyes glassed over like he'd seen something 00:07:28.379 --> 00:07:32.240 the world wasn't meant to show him. But there 00:07:32.240 --> 00:07:35.399 were those, medicine people mostly, who said 00:07:35.399 --> 00:07:38.339 they were chosen. They'd vanish into the trees 00:07:38.339 --> 00:07:43.500 for days, no food, no gear, no plan. And when 00:07:43.500 --> 00:07:46.439 they returned, they held knowledge they never 00:07:46.439 --> 00:07:50.339 learned from man. They knew roots no one had 00:07:50.339 --> 00:07:54.980 named, spoke of voices, singing in dreams. And 00:07:54.980 --> 00:07:59.160 all they'd ever say was, the little ones taught 00:07:59.160 --> 00:08:04.350 me. Back in the late 1800s, A man by the name 00:08:04.350 --> 00:08:06.730 of James Mooney set out from the Smithsonian 00:08:06.730 --> 00:08:10.490 to record the old stories of the Cherokee. Thought 00:08:10.490 --> 00:08:14.009 he was just gathering folklore at first, tales 00:08:14.009 --> 00:08:17.129 to tuck away in books and behind glass cases. 00:08:17.949 --> 00:08:21.290 But the deeper he listened, the more he started 00:08:21.290 --> 00:08:25.290 to realize. These folks weren't talking in riddles 00:08:25.290 --> 00:08:30.389 or fables. They were speaking the truth. In his 00:08:30.389 --> 00:08:33.710 work, Myths of the Cherokee, Mooney wrote down 00:08:33.710 --> 00:08:36.730 story after story that'd make the hair on your 00:08:36.730 --> 00:08:41.769 arms stand straight. One told of a child, vanished 00:08:41.769 --> 00:08:45.230 without a trace, who wandered back days later, 00:08:45.830 --> 00:08:49.169 wearing a calm smile and speaking Cherokee like 00:08:49.169 --> 00:08:52.350 he'd been raised on the tongue, even though he'd 00:08:52.350 --> 00:08:55.710 never heard a word of it in his life. The family 00:08:55.710 --> 00:09:00.700 said he was different afterward. Quieter. like 00:09:00.700 --> 00:09:04.679 he'd seen things he couldn't explain. There was 00:09:04.679 --> 00:09:07.779 another tale from a hunter who followed the sound 00:09:07.779 --> 00:09:10.519 of distant drums echoing through the hills one 00:09:10.519 --> 00:09:14.299 moonless night. He came back not with a buck 00:09:14.299 --> 00:09:19.299 or a turkey, but empty -handed and hollow -eyed, 00:09:19.700 --> 00:09:23.700 mumbling strange words and blind in one eye. 00:09:24.480 --> 00:09:27.519 Said the light he saw out there wasn't from no 00:09:27.519 --> 00:09:33.110 fire, Nor no man. And then there's the one that 00:09:33.110 --> 00:09:38.049 gives me chills. Every time. A stone path, carved 00:09:38.049 --> 00:09:41.370 by hands smaller than any man's, leading straight 00:09:41.370 --> 00:09:44.450 into the mountain. The Cherokee said it went 00:09:44.450 --> 00:09:47.909 to a place that didn't belong to us. A hidden 00:09:47.909 --> 00:09:51.769 city, deep beneath the hills, where the little 00:09:51.769 --> 00:09:54.809 people still danced and sang, and kept their 00:09:54.809 --> 00:09:59.470 secrets far from prying eyes. Now, here's the 00:09:59.470 --> 00:10:02.970 part most folks overlook. Moony didn't write 00:10:02.970 --> 00:10:05.850 these stories off like some bedtime nonsense. 00:10:06.549 --> 00:10:10.809 No, sir. He wrote it plain as daylight. To the 00:10:10.809 --> 00:10:15.169 Cherokee, these beings are real. And by the time 00:10:15.169 --> 00:10:18.409 he packed up and left, I reckon he wasn't so 00:10:18.409 --> 00:10:22.370 sure they weren't. Now, here's the part most 00:10:22.370 --> 00:10:26.019 folks overlook. Mooney didn't write these stories 00:10:26.019 --> 00:10:31.320 off like some bedtime nonsense. No, sir. He wrote 00:10:31.320 --> 00:10:35.419 it plain as daylight. To the Cherokee, these 00:10:35.419 --> 00:10:38.620 beings are real. And by the time he packed up 00:10:38.620 --> 00:10:42.700 and left, I reckon he wasn't so sure they weren't. 00:10:44.159 --> 00:10:48.460 Back in the 1930s, over in Cullowhee, North Carolina, 00:10:48.889 --> 00:10:51.210 They were laying the groundwork for what had 00:10:51.210 --> 00:10:55.070 become Western Carolina University. Seemed like 00:10:55.070 --> 00:10:58.830 just another campus project. Dig the land, lay 00:10:58.830 --> 00:11:01.750 the concrete, build some new structures for the 00:11:01.750 --> 00:11:05.730 coming generation. But they found something else, 00:11:06.169 --> 00:11:11.429 instead. Beneath the soil, workers started uncovering 00:11:11.429 --> 00:11:14.950 strange tunnels. Not natural haulers or animal 00:11:14.950 --> 00:11:18.889 dens, but arched passages. carefully shaped, 00:11:19.429 --> 00:11:22.590 no taller than a man's waist. The walls were 00:11:22.590 --> 00:11:26.230 smooth, worn like they'd been used, and used 00:11:26.230 --> 00:11:30.629 often. You ask folks that were there, or the 00:11:30.629 --> 00:11:33.649 sons of men who worked that job, and they'll 00:11:33.649 --> 00:11:37.590 tell you the same thing. They was carved by hands, 00:11:38.049 --> 00:11:41.009 small ones, like a people that lived under us. 00:11:42.269 --> 00:11:46.690 And then came the bones. Not rumors, not whispers, 00:11:46.970 --> 00:11:51.029 tiny skeletons, full sets, with adult teeth, 00:11:51.450 --> 00:11:54.809 even wisdom teeth in some cases, which meant 00:11:54.809 --> 00:11:58.450 these weren't no children. They were grown, whatever 00:11:58.450 --> 00:12:01.750 they were. Some say the skulls were slightly 00:12:01.750 --> 00:12:06.250 off, too round, too smooth, but that's just from 00:12:06.250 --> 00:12:09.029 the folks who dared to take a close look before 00:12:09.029 --> 00:12:13.490 the higher -ups stepped in. The story goes the 00:12:13.490 --> 00:12:18.220 site was shut down overnight. The dig rerouted, 00:12:18.659 --> 00:12:23.519 and them tunnels covered up. Now, if you walk 00:12:23.519 --> 00:12:26.419 the campus today, there's a couple of dirt mounds 00:12:26.419 --> 00:12:29.360 that don't seem to belong to any layout. They 00:12:29.360 --> 00:12:34.080 sit there, quiet. No plaques, no paths, just 00:12:34.080 --> 00:12:38.639 grass and shadow. Some Cherokee elders still 00:12:38.639 --> 00:12:42.159 visit, now and then, standing in silence by those 00:12:42.159 --> 00:12:46.730 mounds, hat in hand, and one of them, when asked 00:12:46.730 --> 00:12:50.789 what used to be there, didn't even blink. That 00:12:50.789 --> 00:12:54.549 was their village, he said. They didn't disappear, 00:12:55.049 --> 00:12:59.490 they just went deeper. Now, here's where things 00:12:59.490 --> 00:13:03.210 start creeping awful close to home. Right here 00:13:03.210 --> 00:13:05.830 in the hollers and ridges most of us grew up 00:13:05.830 --> 00:13:11.809 roaming. Down in Wolf County, back in the 1970s, 00:13:12.029 --> 00:13:15.129 a pair of hikers wandered into the Clifty Wilderness. 00:13:15.549 --> 00:13:19.009 following the old trail that snakes along Hell's 00:13:19.009 --> 00:13:22.409 Kitchen, that tight stretch of river where the 00:13:22.409 --> 00:13:25.850 rock walls rise up like tombstones on both sides. 00:13:26.610 --> 00:13:29.830 They weren't expecting nothing strange, just 00:13:29.830 --> 00:13:32.669 looking for a place to pitch a tent and maybe 00:13:32.669 --> 00:13:37.009 catch a trout or two. But as the sun dipped low 00:13:37.009 --> 00:13:39.870 and the shadows started clinging to the cliffs, 00:13:40.889 --> 00:13:43.850 one of them spotted something standing up high, 00:13:44.309 --> 00:13:48.210 something small. watching, just staring down 00:13:48.210 --> 00:13:51.629 from a ledge like it had been waiting there all 00:13:51.629 --> 00:13:56.230 along. They didn't say much, just picked up and 00:13:56.230 --> 00:14:00.149 moved on. But the next day, another woman out 00:14:00.149 --> 00:14:03.090 in that same patch swore she saw three figures, 00:14:03.490 --> 00:14:06.809 no bigger than toddlers, dancing slow on a flat 00:14:06.809 --> 00:14:10.350 rock, moving in a circle like they was part of 00:14:10.350 --> 00:14:14.600 some kind of ritual. When she blinked. They was 00:14:14.600 --> 00:14:18.500 gone, like they'd slipped right down into a crack 00:14:18.500 --> 00:14:23.340 in the stone and melted into the dark. Over in 00:14:23.340 --> 00:14:27.740 Laurel County, back in 1999, a couple was camping 00:14:27.740 --> 00:14:31.559 near Laurel Lake. Nothing fancy, just a night 00:14:31.559 --> 00:14:35.100 out under the stars. But they woke up to something 00:14:35.100 --> 00:14:39.659 strange. Their gear, every last bit of it, was 00:14:39.659 --> 00:14:43.259 laid out in perfect little piles, pots, pans. 00:14:43.470 --> 00:14:47.190 boots, even their matches, arranged neat -like, 00:14:47.429 --> 00:14:50.029 like someone had taken the time to study it, 00:14:50.330 --> 00:14:53.990 organize it. But that ain't what got them. It 00:14:53.990 --> 00:14:57.769 was the footprints, tiny, in the mud, dancing 00:14:57.769 --> 00:15:02.750 around the campfire circle, barefoot. Not a child's, 00:15:02.750 --> 00:15:06.250 not quite human, neither. They left that morning 00:15:06.250 --> 00:15:13.480 and didn't come back. Then came 2022. The floods 00:15:13.480 --> 00:15:18.340 in Weizburg. Water took everything with it. Houses, 00:15:18.679 --> 00:15:22.679 bridges, memories. But once the rains let up 00:15:22.679 --> 00:15:25.500 and the mud settled, folks started whispering 00:15:25.500 --> 00:15:29.320 again. Some said they saw little figures in the 00:15:29.320 --> 00:15:32.720 early evening, darting along the roadside, crouched 00:15:32.720 --> 00:15:37.000 low, moving too quick to be kids, too wrong shaped 00:15:37.000 --> 00:15:41.139 to be raccoons or dogs. One old -timer put it 00:15:41.139 --> 00:15:45.009 best. The flood flushed out more than debris, 00:15:45.409 --> 00:15:48.230 he said. It flushed out what had been hiding 00:15:48.230 --> 00:15:52.350 beneath us all along. And not too far from there, 00:15:52.529 --> 00:15:56.690 back in 2015, a ranger patrolling out near Natural 00:15:56.690 --> 00:15:59.950 Bridge and Slade caught a sound that didn't sit 00:15:59.950 --> 00:16:05.429 right. Laughter, not loud, not playful, but high 00:16:05.429 --> 00:16:08.389 -pitched and scattered, like wind rattling through 00:16:08.389 --> 00:16:12.210 bone pipes. She spun her light through the trees, 00:16:12.529 --> 00:16:17.269 saw nothing, but her radio went dead. Static, 00:16:17.549 --> 00:16:21.529 hissing. Her skin crawled. She said it felt like 00:16:21.529 --> 00:16:24.590 something was watching her from all sides. She 00:16:24.590 --> 00:16:27.789 left the woods early that night and never walked 00:16:27.789 --> 00:16:32.110 that trail alone again. And here's what might 00:16:32.110 --> 00:16:35.950 just chill your bones a little more. The Cherokee 00:16:35.950 --> 00:16:39.190 ain't the only ones telling stories like this. 00:16:39.370 --> 00:16:44.529 not by a long shot. All across this country, 00:16:45.009 --> 00:16:47.610 from the misty cypress swamps of the deep south 00:16:47.610 --> 00:16:50.950 to the pine -thick trails up near the Great Lakes, 00:16:51.769 --> 00:16:54.049 tribes have whispered of small -spirit folk that 00:16:54.049 --> 00:16:57.889 live just outside the edges of our world, always 00:16:57.889 --> 00:17:02.830 watching, always hiding, always waiting for folks 00:17:02.830 --> 00:17:07.470 to either show respect or step wrong. The Choctaw 00:17:07.470 --> 00:17:10.670 down in Mississippi talked about the Bopoli, 00:17:11.490 --> 00:17:14.049 strange little men that had lurked near campfires 00:17:14.049 --> 00:17:17.190 testing your heart, peeking at your soul when 00:17:17.190 --> 00:17:20.710 you thought you was alone. They say if you was 00:17:20.710 --> 00:17:24.650 honest, humble, and good, you'd be left in peace. 00:17:25.369 --> 00:17:28.410 But if you was boastful or cruel, you'd wake 00:17:28.410 --> 00:17:31.869 up with something missing, your voice, your memory, 00:17:32.349 --> 00:17:37.180 maybe even your sanity. The creek and Seminole 00:17:37.180 --> 00:17:40.779 folks, not too far off from us, spoke in hushed 00:17:40.779 --> 00:17:43.279 tones about a breed of wild little ones that 00:17:43.279 --> 00:17:47.220 had lived near the sacred groves. Playful, sure, 00:17:47.619 --> 00:17:50.740 but dangerous if you crossed them. Folks who 00:17:50.740 --> 00:17:53.599 mocked them or disrespected the woods came back 00:17:53.599 --> 00:17:57.859 confused, or not at all. And if they did make 00:17:57.859 --> 00:18:00.680 it home, they weren't quite the same no more, 00:18:00.980 --> 00:18:05.000 like their soul got scuffed up in the dark. Way 00:18:05.000 --> 00:18:09.819 out west, the Hopi told of the Ant People, strange, 00:18:09.880 --> 00:18:13.400 quiet folk who, in the old times, saved humanity 00:18:13.400 --> 00:18:16.539 from destruction. When the world was burning 00:18:16.539 --> 00:18:20.220 or flooding, they took the Hopi people underground, 00:18:21.079 --> 00:18:24.720 gave them shelter, food, and songs to carry forward. 00:18:25.519 --> 00:18:28.900 When the surface was safe again, the Ant People 00:18:28.900 --> 00:18:33.880 sent them back up. Wiser than before. Some say 00:18:33.880 --> 00:18:36.299 the Hopis still leave gifts in certain caves 00:18:36.299 --> 00:18:39.619 to thank them, just in case they're still listening. 00:18:40.500 --> 00:18:43.220 Even the Chickasaw tell tales of children who 00:18:43.220 --> 00:18:46.579 vanished into the woods for days, only to return 00:18:46.579 --> 00:18:49.599 with strange knowledge, hands that could heal 00:18:49.599 --> 00:18:53.140 burns, eyes that saw sickness before it came. 00:18:53.680 --> 00:18:57.059 They never remembered who taught them, only that 00:18:57.059 --> 00:19:01.119 they weren't alone out there. So it don't matter 00:19:01.119 --> 00:19:04.819 where you're from. Georgia Clay or Arizona Red 00:19:04.819 --> 00:19:09.359 Rock, these stories rise up the same way. Little 00:19:09.359 --> 00:19:14.000 folk in hidden places, watching, waiting, judging. 00:19:15.400 --> 00:19:19.079 Makes you wonder, don't it? Maybe these stories 00:19:19.079 --> 00:19:22.400 ain't separate after all. Maybe they're just 00:19:22.400 --> 00:19:26.099 echoes of the same truth, passed along from tribe 00:19:26.099 --> 00:19:31.500 to tribe, campfire to campfire. The truth that 00:19:31.500 --> 00:19:34.279 there's something out there in the woods, older 00:19:34.279 --> 00:19:39.640 than any of us and not quite gone. Even now, 00:19:40.039 --> 00:19:42.900 even in these times of high -speed roads and 00:19:42.900 --> 00:19:46.359 satellite maps, the old ways ain't been forgotten. 00:19:46.920 --> 00:19:49.880 You'll still find Cherokee elders setting a pinch 00:19:49.880 --> 00:19:53.440 of tobacco by a spring or leaving a hunk of sweet 00:19:53.440 --> 00:19:57.019 bread at the base of a tree. Right where the 00:19:57.019 --> 00:20:00.730 trail begins to turn wild. Not out of habit, 00:20:01.250 --> 00:20:05.450 not for show, but out of respect. They say the 00:20:05.450 --> 00:20:08.829 little people are still there. Maybe not watching 00:20:08.829 --> 00:20:11.869 with eyes like ours, but feeling the shift of 00:20:11.869 --> 00:20:15.009 every footfall, listening to the tone of every 00:20:15.009 --> 00:20:18.670 word spoken in their woods. Just because you 00:20:18.670 --> 00:20:22.470 can't see them, one old man said, don't mean 00:20:22.470 --> 00:20:26.309 they ain't there. He wasn't smiling when he said 00:20:26.309 --> 00:20:29.200 it either. He was looking straight into the trees 00:20:29.200 --> 00:20:31.740 like he was expecting something to blink back 00:20:31.740 --> 00:20:36.359 at him. And another elder, quiet fella, slow 00:20:36.359 --> 00:20:39.980 to speak but sharp as frost, put it even plainer. 00:20:40.819 --> 00:20:44.640 They remember what was done to this land, and 00:20:44.640 --> 00:20:48.980 they remember who showed them respect. So next 00:20:48.980 --> 00:20:52.180 time you find yourself deep in the hills, far 00:20:52.180 --> 00:20:55.940 from signal, far from sound, and the world around 00:20:55.940 --> 00:21:01.740 you goes real still? Step soft, speak kind, and 00:21:01.740 --> 00:21:04.880 leave a little something behind, cause you ain't 00:21:04.880 --> 00:21:09.140 the only one walking those woods. If this story 00:21:09.140 --> 00:21:12.319 gave you goosebumps, go on and hit that like 00:21:12.319 --> 00:21:15.839 button, and don't forget to subscribe. We're 00:21:15.839 --> 00:21:19.299 always digging up what others forgot, and uncovering 00:21:19.299 --> 00:21:22.579 what most folks would rather leave buried. Got 00:21:22.579 --> 00:21:25.940 your own story about the little people, or a 00:21:25.940 --> 00:21:28.619 place where the woods feel like they're listening? 00:21:29.779 --> 00:21:33.400 Drop it in the comments below, or send it over 00:21:33.400 --> 00:21:38.400 to us at KentuckyMelody .com. Just mind yourself, 00:21:39.180 --> 00:21:42.079 and don't speak their name after dark. We'll 00:21:42.079 --> 00:21:45.380 see y 'all next time, right here, where the haints 00:21:45.380 --> 00:21:48.039 still whisper on Kentucky Melody.