Haunted Tales from Appalachia by Ashley Stinnett

Author:Ashley Stinnett [Stinnett, Ashley C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ashley Stinnett

Chapter 8

Mountain Creatures

22

The Rusty Shackles

Deep in the heart of Wyoming County, West Virginia is a public meeting place called the Rusty Shackles. Some would refer to it as a dive bar while others simply know it as a county landmark. Whatever one chooses to call it-- there is no question--this place has been the center of legends for nearly 60 years.

One late summer weekend, a group of friends from New York were traveling the hills of West Virginia as part of a week-long Appalachian tour. They decided to stop in the southern part of the state to check out mountain hiking and whitewater rafting.

A short time after arriving in the Pineville area, they discovered their next destination.

“Hey, there is this place called The Rusty Shackles. It looks like everybody around here has something to say about it on social media. Unfortunately there aren’t very many reviews, but it sounds sick,” exclaimed one of the friends.

“Heck Yeah! Why don’t we hit it up and see? It looks like it’s only a few miles away,” the other friend said with excitement.

After a few moments of deliberation, the group of four set out to find the bar.

Not being able to rely on a GPS due to choppy cell service, the group had to trust finding the establishment the old fashioned way.

After walking a couple of miles, the foursome spotted an old country gas station that was still in operation.

The friends went inside.

All around, the room smelled of burnt coffee, bad cologne and cigarettes.

“Excuse me. Do you, by chance, know where there is a place called The Rusty Shackles?’ one of the friends asked.

The old man behind the cash register sat there with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He didn’t make a motion as if not to hear the question.

One of the friends grabbed a travel mug that had the words, “Almost Heaven” inscribed on the side. He took it over to the old-fashioned style coffee maker that was on the checkout counter.

“How long has this coffee been brewing?” he asked.

The old man perked up a little bit.

“About a half hour. I brewed it myself,” he proclaimed.

“Man, I love coffee. Have you had that brand Southern Coal Fire?” the friend asked.

Now the old man’s attention was completely on the group.

“Oh, absolutely. We sell that a lot. Folks love it a bunch around here, “the old man said with excitement.

“Hey, where did you say you were trying to get to? He asked.

“The Rusty Shackles,” one of the friends said.

The old man slowly put down his coffee, folded the newspaper in half and tossed it aside. He gently rose up out of his chair and began looking at each and every one of the group members.

“Ya’ll stay away from that place. You hear me. It aint no good. It aint never been no good. I can tell ya’ll are traveling. Those accents are up north. Don’t go in there. A lot of crazy and stupid people are in there, doin bad things,” he said sternly.

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