GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: POLLY MILLER ROAD
If you grew up in upstate New York, you’ve probably heard some version of the Polly Miller story. Witch. Murdered lover. Cursed swamp. The older kids always dared each other to go out there, to Polly Miller Road, after dark. I used to think it was all bullshit. Just local legend. But in the summer of 1999, I found out it wasn’t. Polly’s real—and she’s been waiting.
All we wanted was to run—me and Jess, two girls who’d gotten too deep in Carter’s bullshit. Swayed by the money, the free drugs, and that so-called safe compound tucked deep off Vickerman Hill. We had it made, but the cost was our souls, and that was too steep for me.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE CROOKED ONE
(HE WHO HAUNTS THE TOWPATH - as told in German Flatts, New York – circa late 1850s)
​In the late 1850s, the towpath connecting Ilion and Mohawk, New York, was a vital link along the Erie Canal, bustling with activity. Running parallel to the Mohawk River, it was not only a hub of commerce but also a place of whispered legends among the locals.
One such tale was that of The Crooked One.