Kentucky Urban Legends
Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Goatman, Mothman; all these names are incredibly common across the United States (and in large part, the world). They have their own infamous sense of untouchability, as they have virtually nothing to do with our humble little state. However, you’d be surprised to learn that since its establishment as a state in June 1792, Kentucky has gained its own little handful of spooks and specters (and even a few cryptids thrown in) that call the bluegrass state their old Kentucky home.
The earliest known story of anything supernatural happening (or living) in Kentucky takes place around the time of Daniel Boone. According to onlyinyourstate.com, a creature known as the Hillbilly Beast stalks the state’s woodlands. Alleged sightings and accounts of this entity have striking similarities to America’s Bigfoot. Whether it is the same creature or not is unclear, however what is clear is that this creature is roughly seven-to-nine feet tall and smells absolutely foul.
Another beast—arguably one more malicious than the previous one—rumored to loom around Kentucky is the Pope Lick Monster. Like the Hillbilly Beast, this demonic entity has ties to another well-known creature (more so now thanks to ghost hunting shows like Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural or Ghost Adventures: The Goatman). Unlike Texas’ version, the Pope Lick Monster is far more interactive and malevolent. Living beneath the railroad trestle bridge over Pope Lick Creek (in the Fisherville neighborhood of Louisville, Kentucky), this effigy has been known to use hypnosis to lure its victims to stand in front of oncoming trains.
The majority of folktales that crop up here typically have roots in the 1950s. One particular story—which has sincee been proven to be nothing more than a cruel rumor, according to Times Leader author Peggy Gilkey and her husband Ken—tells of Mary Evelyn Ford and her mother Rebecca, who resided in a little town known as Pilot Knob (which is located in Marion County, Kentucky). Both Rebecca and her daughter were accused of witchcraft back in the early 1910s, which subsequently led them to be burned at the stake for their alleged crimes. While Mary’s mother was buried in Marion, her daughter was laid to rest in Pilot Knob cemetery (which is now permanently closed). According to several rumors, nine-year-old Mary was believed to be a far more belligerent spirit than her mother. Because of this, she was entombed in concrete and her plot is fenced in by steel crosses. As the tale continues, those who visit the cemetery were at risk of being pulled into the girl’s grave by Mary herself (however she could not escape the area surrounded by crucifixes). As mentioned previously, this story is nothing more than a fallacy. Peggy Gilkey and her husband Ken acquired Mary’s death certificate and found that her cause of death was not a fiery one (she was actually five years old when she died). The little girl died from Peritonitis (inflammation of the stomach lining), while--according to a 1920 census--her mother was still living. When Mary’s mother did eventually pass, it was not from being torched. The Times Leader author concludes her analysis of the story by saying, “Shame on the one that started this story about the ‘Little Witch Girl.’ Tell your Halloween stories and have fun but not at the expense of others.”
To round off, just keep in mind that whatever you choose to believe, just be respectful of others and DO NOT take things at face value. Someone did say, “Things aren’t always what they seem” for a reason, right?