1.13 - Mercy Mountain History

 Hello listeners. It is midnight in the mountains once again and I, Julian Glass, am here to settle your nocturnal souls.

[intro]

As many, if not all, of you are aware, today is the anniversary of the founding of Mercy Mountain. Which, as we all know, is not yet founded. But it will be! I have decided to participate in this little holiday and read out snippets of some Mercy Mountain history on the air.

Let’s start at the beginning, which is, according to many sources, when white people became involved. The cultured white folk who had already colonized much of the East Coast by the 1700s decided to expand outward into land that obviously belonged to them. These sophisticated folks gently invaded Appalachia and compassionately attempted genocide against the Native peoples who lived and live here, softly seizing the land for their own destructive use.

The settling of Mercy Mountain itself next, but let’s take a quick look around town. Fire chief Frank Barnaby was called in to fight an invasion of woodpeckers. He and his firefighters have begun blasting the infested trees with flamethrowers. Go, Frank.

Meteorologist Janet Gourse is praying to the old gods for the strength to summon a tornado tomorrow.

The rambunctious Smiths are all having difficulty settling into bed. They have an exciting trip tomorrow to Camden Park, an amusement park that is miraculously still alive and kicking.

For my part, I picked up photography again. I’ve started with the natural world, taking pictures of plants and landscapes and some animals. My best picture so far is of a sparrow eating roadkill.

Let’s get back to some history. Mercy Mountain was first settled 200 years ago by a group led by Winston Churchill. Interestingly, this was one year after Mercy Mountain Community College was founded, and two years after the mountain was named Mercy Mountain—named such because the colonizers who initially tried to settle here had to plead to the old gods for mercy after praying instead to their singular brutal deity.

[interlude]

There was an art show in town the other night, listeners. I hope you went, because it was a wonderful event. Local artists, professional and amateur alike, exhibited and sold their artwork. I bought a painting from Sophia Barnes. It depicts a secretary eating potato chips as, in the office behind him, his boss devours a bloody assortment of flowers.

The Rita Hayworth was there as well! She was showing some crocheted swords and smithed blankets. Both were a little out of my price range, but were lovely, of course.

Mercy Mountain Community College archaeology student Akifa Zarouq showed some artful photographs she had taken of her research subjects, namely a set of cork tablets. Myself and everyone who gazed upon these photographs went blind for three hours, but the skill with which those photos were taken was marvelous.

Now for some more history. Fast forward to the Civil War. Mercy Mountain residents abstained from participating in the war, not out of a moral dilemma, but to see who would win so they could side with the victors at the last minute. Sure enough, Mercy Mountain declared war on the Confederacy about five minutes before the surrender was signed. Our generous little town also participated in Reconstruction, exporting all the hydrochloric acid we could make to help rebuild the South.

Did you know, that in the late 1800s and into the early twentieth century, Mercy Mountain used to be much bigger than its current size? We were a sizeable coal town, and at one point in 1899, coal overtook hydrochloric acid as the main export. We were powering the region!

Let’s get to some of Julian’s Midnight Advice.

“Hi, Julian. I fear the salesman. Something about him reeks of threat. He does not fit in this world, Julian. He is gray. In between two things, two places, two times… You understand. At least, I hope you do. Do you see him now? He disappears just like the missing. Except he is the only one who comes back. When will we be gone too? Signed, Terrified in Dogwood Crest.”

…Hi…Terrified. I hope I do not understand. I do not want to understand. And I do not want to be gone.

“Hey there, Julian. My brother is missing. He was on his way to visit with me, and never arrived. He has never gone like this before, and would never leave us like this. I don’t know how to cope, how to survive this. Please give me advice on how. Signed, Grieving and Afraid.”

Hey there, Grieving. [sighs] I do not know how to cope or survive this, either. I’m sorry for that. I just know that I want to see my missing loved one again, and I will find a way to make it through each day bit by bit until they come back.

I…think that’s going to be all for Julian’s Midnight Advice for now, listeners. Let’s move back to some history. Maybe that will cheer us up.

Nothing else notable at all happened until the 1960s, when coal companies began to divest from Appalachia, and the reign of coal here officially ended. People began to leave the region, looking for more and better-paying jobs, as well as places that the federal and state governments were more interested in taking care of. This exodus took place into the ‘70s, when Mercy Mountain citizens turned en masse to sacrificial circles as a way to beseech the powers that be to save the town and its economy. To absolutely no one’s surprise, the sacrificial circles worked, as residents sacrificed billionaires, and other forms of hatred, which said powers find quite savory. Mercy Mountain slowly began to recover, its economy now dependent again upon the favor of the old gods instead of that of the younger coal gods.

Today, Mercy Mountain is flourishing as much as an Appalachian town does these days.

Chloe Holloway, owner of thrift shop Felonious Fashions, is busy ripping out the seams of every piece of clothing currently in her store.

The extraordinarily tall people in red robes who normally fish for catfish and loose souls in the New River amid the darkness but now also run El Toro Rojo are beginning to advertise Two T Tuesdays, where anything on their menu that begins with the letter ‘t’ is buy two for the price of one every Tuesday.

The Bean Throne is closing for the night after another successful day of selling cheese-related dishes and tarot readings.

Stay tuned next for someone attempting to play Imagine Dragons’ “Polaroid” on rubber bands. Have a wonderful rest of your night, Mercy Mountain.