The disgusting sexual practices of the mountain sisters: they kept their cousin chained up in the basement as a husband.
arrow_forward_ios Read more
Pause
00:00
00:53
01:31
Mute
Developed by
GliaStudios
In the isolated valleys of Missouri's Ozarks in 1892, where families lived miles apart and strangers were avoided, twin sisters Elizabeth and Mave Barrow kept a secret that would stain the land forever.
When his orphaned cousin Thomas arrived, his bedridden father named him Providence.
Thomas would preserve his lineage.
For four years he remained chained in the basement, a husband in a sacred union.
When a child was born, the baby faced a fate too horrible to mention.
In 1896, the sisters' bodies were found in their brother's well, with a confession beside them.
His faith was his weapon, his unimaginable sin.
The year was 1892, and in the most remote corners of Taney County, Missouri, there existed a world that time seemed to have forgotten.
The Ozark Mountains stretched across the landscape in endless waves of dense forests and limestone ridges, with valleys so remote that a man could disappear into them and never be found.
This was not the idealized frontier that people imagined, but a harsher place where survival demanded absolute self-sufficiency and where the nearest neighbor could be an hour's walk away through treacherous terrain.
The roads were nothing more than potholed tracks that turned into impassable mud pits with every storm, leaving entire communities isolated for weeks.
In winter, the isolation became absolute.
The families who settled in these valleys were often migrants from the Appalachian Mountains, people who had deliberately chosen isolation, bringing with them a fierce independence and an equally fierce distrust of government, law, and anyone who asked too many questions.
Barrow Farm was located at the end of one of those ravines, 24 kilometers from the nearest town, Forsyth.
