Appalachian Mountains People Novels & Stories

Sure enough, the Domineers were not far away. The sky was starting to brighten as dawn approached, but it would be a while yet before the morning sun was able to illuminate the woods of the great Appalachians. The Domineers were hiking through the hilly, snow-covered terrain in the form of a party consisting of over twenty men, armed lightly but dangerously. Most of them were extremely anxious about crossing back into the vast realm of no-man’s land after all the Domineers’ encounters with the Runners.

The mountain people community is situated ahead and we will be safe there. He takes a moment to look around before continuing in a gentle, low voice. “The mountain people are generally farmers and officially recognized town residents. They are diligent but cunning spies who gather evidence to bring them to justice. Once we made friends with them, we were able to get some information about them.” Jason explains slowly to Nancy who quietly listens and records all in her brain. S he immediately scans the explanations and figures out the things to do. Jason directed as he swiftly caressed her and smelled her sweetness,

It was truly a wonder. "How the heck did you guys build this inside a mountain?" I looked up at the man who was taking me to the gates of Valhalla with the promises of coffee. He smiled, his white teeth bright in his burnished face. "According to family legend, the original Amatucci came here in the mid-1880s with the original familial migration. They bought land here in Upstate New York. Since they didn't want to live in the mountains full-time, they bought land here and in Albany. They would winter in Albany and summer in the mountains."

"Ten years ago, several linguists studying Appalachian dialects paid for some native speakers to come to the city to help in their research. The hillbillies got paid, got jobs and brought their families down." "When the grant money for the study ran out, the bumpkins had to find another way to support their kin that their minimum wage jobs couldn't providing. Enter the Redneck Posse. Guns, meth, moonshine -- they do it all. They are kind of like Afghan tribesmen except instead of being half a world away by sea, or air, they are a four, or five, hour drive down the interstate," I concluded. The three women exchanged confused looks. The doors opened on my floor.

“Caddel! Our old buddies.” A man between his 50s, almost bald from the front excitedly exclaimed as he opened his arms wide open for a hug from his old pal, standing right before him. “Took you so long, Atlas.” The other man answered, walking straight into his arms and engulfing him in a hug. “We couldn’t take the shortcut. A pack from the Appalachians was staying in the way. We didn’t want to trespass and be a threat to them.” Atlas replied as he parted.