The stories that ooze out of The Screamin' Hollar Inn, a 250 year-old tavern turned present-day biker/sports bar located in the legend-rich heart of the South Jersey Pine Barrens, are unbelievable! 

Or, are they?

SYNOPSIS:

TALES FROM THE SCREAMIN’ HOLLER INN

A Weekly, One-Hour, Mystery/Horror TV Series In The Vein of “The Alfred Hitchcock Hour,” Rod Serling’s “Twilight Zone,” and “Grimm”

By Paul Evans Pedersen, Jr.

WGAe I207515

The Screamin’ Holler Inn is a 250-year-old tavern that operates in the heart of the New Jersey Pine Barrens to this day. Each weekly episode is born in, then oozes out of the Inn at night. What goes on here at night is unbelievable.

Or is it…?

Every night, each episode introduces a new cast of characters who stream in and out of the Screamin’ Holler. Hunters. Fishermen. Bikers. Campers. Loners. Lovers. Locals. Not to mention folks just passing through. They drink and talk about where they’ve been and where they’re headed … about their jobs, wives, husbands, and kids; about their pet peeves, joys, and sorrows … and they talk about their plans—the innocent and sinister alike.

Conversation often turns to the Inn itself. It’s a place rich in history, legends, and lore.

As patrons undress their hopes and fears, airing them out, getting them off their chests, stirring over them like the last drink of the night, someone is listening. In the shadows at the far end of the bar, taking it all in, sits an old, white-haired, bearded man. He could be Santa Clause sans the costume, but SKOONTCH is actually the owner of the Screamin’ Holler Inn, and has been for as long as anyone can remember.

SKOONTCH sits there with his glass of scotch next to his notepad and Bic pen every night, listening and watching as his customers talk and interact with one other, and with his bartender, LORI CLEVENGER.

LORI is a shapely, clad-in-cut-off blue jean shorts, blue-eyed and blonde-to-her-belt “Piney gal,” as she calls herself. Tough as nails, she’s as quick to tell an unruly biker to go fuck himself in her no-nonsense “Down Jersey” accent as she is to coddle and nurse SKOONTCH into a nice, warm state of scotchification every night. “I’m the real fuckin’ Jersey Devil,” she likes to say.

Each night at the Inn, as tensions relax into the uninhibited, a customer—or sometimes it’s Lori—will say something to someone, or start an argument with someone about something they saw on TV, or read about in the local paper, or heard about from some local Piney, or even witnessed themselves. Maybe it’s another supposed sighting of the legendary monster that has reportedly haunted the Pinelands for nearly 300 years. Maybe it’s about a body some dog dug up in the woods. Maybe it’s about a baby being ground up in the rear wheels of a speeding bus. Maybe it’s about some rare coins that were found on the beach in nearby Barnegat, or a sighting of the season’s first school of bluefish.

Whatever it is, every night something said around that ancient wood bar piques SKOONTCH’S interest, causing him to pick up his pen, let out his trademark bellowing laughter, and begin to write. And, as he writes, we dissolve into another episode of TALES FROM THE SCREAMIN’ HOLLER INN.

TALES FROM THE SCREAMIN' HOLLAR INN