By: The Editor of The Big Sandy Lazer

Date: October 31, 2022 

Before the Native American people first entered this land, and certainly before the white man did, it was known to all creatures and beasts of the land that this hallowed ground, now known as Lawrence County, was under the ward and protection of an ancient spirit. The spirit was said to be born of a constellation, the one named by Ptolemy in the 2nd century that danced across the sky, which the ancient Greeks called Draco. The constellation was hung next to the Northern Star, which some took as an ominous sign, while others perceived as a sign of virtue.

This spirit has been given many names over the generations, though none living, except the Lord himself knows the great spirit’s identity. Whether the spirit was an angelic protector of the lands or vengeful unnatural demon, none can be sure.

It was rumored this serpentine spirit of the stars had a single offspring, sometime after the land was settled and coal mines started invading the sacred buried secrets of the Appalachian Mountains. This offspring was called many things, and those today know it as The Yatesville Devil Eel, or the Serpent of Blaine Creek.

PART 1:

  They called it a mine explosion immediately after it happened. A few days later, they said the tunnel caved in. The company had its official story which it changed as needed to avoid any culpability. The company thugs made sure no one questioned it… at least not out loud, but behind closed doors and in bourbon coated whispers of the night the men discussed the beast they unleashed inside the mine.

According to the company’s lies, of the 365 men who went into the mine that day, all but four made it out. When asked again decades later, the company lied again and claimed they never actually operated a mine in Blaine. Moreover, they had no idea what gave people the idea they ever did.

In reality, only four men actually made it out of the mine that day. Each was offered coin in exchange for their silence and bus tickets for them and their family to be sent far away. All accepted, except for one.

Old Mr. Thompson lived in Blaine his whole life. A true man of Appalachia that respected the hills. He couldn’t be bought off. He didn’t know how to live anywhere else and had little use for money other than to buy clothes and food for his family. His daughter claimed he was the one who named it and first described it.

He called it Old Mombasa. It was a beast which could make itself stretch to over 40-feet long, or as small as a man’s foot. Its eyes were black when the creature was still and lifeless, like a doll that sits in the corner of your room and sees everything without moving an inch. When Old Mombasa moved, though, like it did that night in the mine, its eyes glowed like a full moon beaming over a calm lake.

The other three men, who took the company’s money and were sent away with their families, were happy to forget the horrors they witnessed inside the mine that day. That was until night came and sleep overtook them. They saw their friend’s lifeless bodies covered in blood and bite marks, heard their screams echoing in all directions as the shrieks bounced off the earthen, stony walls of coal. What haunted them most though, was the smile on Old Mr. Thompson’s face as their friends fell. In fact, they weren’t even sure how he made it out of the mine because he didn’t come up on the elevator with them.

When the three men who took the company’s deal ended up dead, Mr. Thompson paid his respects to their families by showing up to their funerals. Each widow greeted the man with the relief of seeing someone who as suffered the same trauma as they have. All the widows elected to have a closed casket and refused to elaborate on why, except to Mr. Thompson. Each man had died in unnatural ways. One had his bones crushed, almost to powder. The other had puncture wounds all over his body. The worst one appeared to have had his skin coated in acid and disintegrated enough to where the muscle and sinew of the bone was all that remained. Each widow appreciated Mr. Thompson showing up and making them feel more comforted by his warm and endearing smile.

Mr. Thompson returned home each time and waited by the door in his single walnut rocking chair. The spring that ran by his house used to run brown from the sludge running off from the very coal mine he worked. Since the mine shut down, the water ran clear and black under the night sky. Unless he smiled at the water, then the light of the full moon would appear glaring back at him.