Dead Atlanta is doing something a little different for its "Big 5-0"...answering your questions! Grab a seltzer or a glass of Prosecco and dig into the history of the podcast itself.

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It's 1920. You sit in the audience surrounded by excited chatter rapidly shuttling from lips to ears. Heads bow in close and eyes crease into smiles in anticipation of the show. A hush engulfs the audience as Francis Renault sweeps onto the stage, a beautifully made up face leading the way, the train of the dress trailing behind. You can't believe that just a few hours ago, you saw him eating a sandwich in the store in a suit. 

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If you've ever driven on Atlanta's streets, you've no doubt been on John Wesley Dobbs Avenue or passed Spelman College. Who really was the man the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport is named after? 

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Trigger Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence.

A guy on TV catches your eye—there's something about him that just draws you in. Little do you know, this moment is about to change your life, it's about to change the nation's. 

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It's 1977 and you and your sweetheart are ready to take your relationship to the next level. Unfortunately, you need some privacy—something neither of you have. Your parents are night owls and your little brother's bedroom shares a thin wall with yours. Your sweetheart's bedroom is up the creaky stairs and right on top of their parents'. So what to do? Do you go to one of your homes and risk being caught by a family member, or do you take a gamble and move your connection to the outdoors and risk being murdered by The Lover's Lane Murderer? 

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Checking out of your hotel room, the door clicks behind you, the wheels of your suitcase churning rhythmically on the floor behind you. You pass an open door and more than actually seeing them, your subconscious registers the shapes of three people standing and talking inside. The bed is in disarray. 

You hear their voices fade as you continue down the hall. "...I just walked in and...he was here...like that. Like..." the voice breaks off.

Suddenly you register that two of the people were dressed in blue. The police. What's going on?

This is part two of hotel deaths.

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"Thank you." You grab your key card and wheel your suitcase to the elevator where two young women are whispering intensely. 

"...right here, in this hotel!" Says the redhead. 

The elevator dings and the dark-haired woman rolls her eyes as she steps inside. "You're just trying to scare me. It's not going to work." 

You follow behind them onto the elevator, the doors closing shortly after and you feel the pull in your stomach as it drifts upward.

You hear the redhead shift closer to the dark-haired woman, lowering her voice even more now that the three of you are in close quarters. "I'm not!" She whispers. "I swear to god—" the elevator dings as it reaches your floor and the doors open. You step off the elevator and start down the hallway "—she died right on this floor!" 

You spin on your heel and the two girls lock onto your eyes, mouths slightly agape realizing they've been overheard. The doors softly shut. You're all alone.

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"...if only you could know how happy I am when I fly a plane! I never feel so completely close to God as when I’m up in the blue."

Editor's note: Hazel Jane Raines grew up in Macon, GA but was born in Waynesboro, GA.

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You board the train in Macon, GA, feet heavy. You slide into a seat soaked through and unnerved by the rain pounding on the side of the car, but content you have some time to dry out before exiting. As the train pulls away from the station, your eyes close, completely unaware you are on a train to nowhere.

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TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic descriptions of physical violence. You turn onto your back, the screams and flitting shadows from the edges of the dark nightmare so real your heartbeat feels as though it's punching your ribs. "Move!" it urges. Only when you hold the gaze of the person standing at your bedside and sweeping an axe above his head that you realize too late your eyes are open, and this isn't a nightmare, it's reality. Lights out.

This is our season finale, listen back to the episodes you missed, we'll see you next season!

Introduce the next Dead Atlanta episode! Call ‪(404) 596-6118‬ and leave us a voicemail. Include:

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