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Wailings Along the Pemi

For over a hundred and seventy years stories have slowly trickled through of a most horrifying, but as known, non lethal event. The myth started with the hardened men who spent countless nights in the White Hills where they made their living. These were truly the men of iron whose fables and legacies created the foundation for what would later be referred to as the mountain man. Therefore their words should not be taken lightly. For they are of a culture that does not stretch the belt of truth, but speak what they have seen in fact and no more.

These are men who dared to live under the shadows of the highest peaks, and hunt their prey in the darkest of ravines. They have brought forth stories of their observations and hearings, to those with hunger of the unknown that laid beyond the safety of the fields. It was those who heard the words spoken by the wanderers of the wild, who carried on the stories so that we could some day ourselves learn of their crossings.

One such story managed to work its way down the generations, hidden in text forgotten and unnoticed until recent times. The findings of the forgotten words were brought to light when interest in a similar story of present day pulled at the wheels of curiosity. The story implies that more than recreation and water circulate along the peaceful banks of the Pemigewasset. For those who have had an experience let them relate. However, to those who have not visited the river or have had similar dealings, lend an ear and take warning. For there are rare occasions in the wild for which some dare not utter a word. Moments of time that our present society merely sets aside, and for reasons officials do not speak.

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