ARSON MYSTERY OF PIKE COUNTY DISTILLERY INTENSIFIES
Moonshone Manorhouse Distillery claimed cryptids fueled their latest bourbon; did rivals or monsters burn the business to the ground?
Keeping Tabs Weekly, Summer 2019
Pike County, KY—In the dark hollows of eastern Kentucky, a new kind of bourbon has been brewing since last winter—one that’s allegedly hell-fired. The Moonshone Manorhouse Distillery, tucked deep in the hills outside Phelps, announced the release of its new small-batch bourbon, Hellhound, this last spring, claiming it was “cooked with heat straight from the underworld.”
At least, that’s how distillery spokesman Harlow Beggins first proudly told reporters during a tour of the grounds.
“We’re not afraid to admit it,” Beggins said as he leaned against an oak barrel stamped with a snarling dog’s head logo. “We don’t use coal or gas here. We use the heat of three Kentucky Hellhounds. Nasty monsters, but they keep the stills warm, the mash sweet, and the competition running scared.”
But did those make-believe creatures set the distillery ablaze—or was it more reality-based jealousy?
The Fiery “Truth” Behind the Bourbon
The distillery’s process seemed, at first glance, entirely legitimate. Like any Kentucky bourbon, Hellhound began with a mash bill heavy on local corn, with rye and malted barley mixed in. The blend was then cooked with carefully controlled heat to convert the grain’s starches into sugar before fermentation. But while most distilleries use gas-fired stills or steam coils, Moonshone Manorhouse claimed its heat source was “alive and hungry.”
Most locals found this seemingly silly marketing ploy to be disturbing, as they alleged they’d heard animal howls echoing through the valley at night, a sound described as “half-wolf, half-freight train.”
And that’s where CEO Jerry Plimpton of Pilgrim’s Still, a third-generation family distillery, came in.
“When their distillers open the furnace hatch, there’s a blast of air hot enough to blister bark off trees,” Plimpton claimed. “You can see shadows moving in there—shapes with eyes like coals and jagged teeth like fire pokers.”
He added, “That isn’t right. It isn’t normal. And it shouldn’t be tolerated.”
But Just What Are Kentucky Hellhounds?
Folklore experts trace the legend of the hellhounds back generations in eastern Kentucky. Said to roam the hills of Pike and Letcher counties, these supernatural monstrous black dogs are believed to guard buried moonshine stills or old coal shafts, their presence marked by the stench of sulfur and scorched earth as well as a trail of bodies of those who violated those stills.
Stories—likely begun by Moonshone Manorhouse—allege that the hounds’ heat can boil mash and blacken copper and spokesman Beggins said two days before the fire that destroyed the distillery that anyone hearing the monsters’ howls up close “won’t taste whiskey again on this side of the grave.”
Rivals Heard the Howls; Did Pilgrim’s Still Answer?
Other area distillers weren’t laughing off the claims of Harlow Beggins as mere marketing. Several had already reported unexplained noises drifting through the forest at night—metallic scraping, low growls, and shrieks that echoed down the hollers.
“We thought it was a wildcat at first,” said a manager from a nearby operation who requested anonymity. “But no wildcat can rattle windows three miles away. Whatever they had heating those stills, it wasn’t natural.”
The fires that consumed Moonshone Manorhouse’s mash and still houses may have been sparked by the unholy breath of devilish dogs brought from the underworld to create bourbon—or they might have come from a match in the hands of Jerry Plimpton of Pilgrim’s Still.
It is alleged that Mr. Plimpton’s body was recovered from the smoky remains of the still house.
Law enforcement in Pike County wouldn’t comment for this story.
Despite these chilling rumors—or perhaps because of them—sales of Hellhound Bourbon have surged. Few bottles remain on Pikeville shelves, with locals eager for “a sip of the supernatural—and possibly the afterlife.”
“We’ll Bring Back the Kentucky Fire,” Says Beggins
At a press conference, Harlow Beggins, while refusing the respond to direct questions about Jerry Plimpton’s possible involvement and death, said that the anonymous owners of Moonshone Manorhouse intend to rebuild—and they’ll still have ominous hellfire from canine snarls to heat their stills.
“The Hellhounds are part of our collective heritage,” he said. “And they give our bourbon its bite. Other distilleries could have taken their chances with the hounds years ago—if they’d only had the guts. But now it’s just us, and you can taste the heat, the smoke, and maybe—just maybe—a bit of the howl in the hills.”
When scattered applause from some members of the media responded to this, Beggins grinned and with fire in his eyes said, “Hallelujah.”
