[NR] Telling A Tale - Chapter 768

Old Liam turns back to the party, “So, I’d say things are a wee bit different than I first said.”

Courtney raises an eyebrow, “It sounds like you got more out of that story than we did? Or him for that matter.”

Old Liam nods, “Bit O’ folklore we’ve heard from those who made a living here before people officially lived here. Now, critters losing their tails? Even if they’re not lizards? Strange, but not by much.”

Rosha, “Story?”

Old Liam shrugs, “I guess that might be the best way to tell it.

“Anyways, there’s a bunch’o versions of this story. Or rather, the critter features in a number of similar stories that I’m sure some academic type will smoosh together one day and chuckle at how us frontier folks are ignorant rubes. For this though, I’ll just spin out the local version.

“Set near the end of winter, some guy with a rough shack in the woods over yonder was low on food. Drought year my gran used to say, other tellers didn’t mention that though. So the man grabs up his wood-cutting axe and calls his two dogs to go and find some critter to help tide them over.

“Those dogs pick up a hot trail lickety split! So the man rushed along behind them, axe ready, to finish whatever the dogs managed to get a hold of.

“He was expecting the usual. Maybe a deer if lucky. Likely a squirrel or rabbit, half starved. It had been a rough winter. Instead, though, he found something. Else.

“Them dogs managed to corner a black-furred critter with a long, long tail. Its claws fended them off, but cornered as it was, the man has a chance! On his command, his dogs pounce forward, one snagging a leg.

“Wasn’t a good grip, but enough. The man got a swing in and the beast let out a devilish how. Yet, in what should be a familiar turn at this point, he only takes off the tail. Still, it was quite the tail! So as the critter escaped into the brush, the man isn’t too angry, taking the tail home with him. Leastwise, he figured, it was more than a squirrel.

“Back home, he stewed it up good with a handful of beans and some rough flour. The two faithful mutts got themselves the bones and some of the meat, while he had his first full meal in days. Then night came and he turned in for bed, cept the wind was howling something fierce! And in his journal the next day, his writings swear it sounded like someone was calling out.”

The old man cups his hand over his mouth and stage whispers through it, “Tailypo, tailypo, I’m coming to get my tailypo!”

“Anyway, the next day is bright and the clouds are gone from the sky, so the fellow ignores what must have been nightmares and spends some time poking around for something else to eat. Once night rolls round though, the wind isn’t howling as much and the voice is all the clearer for it.

“Got his dogs spooked as they started barking and howling, till they crashed into the kennel door hard enough to break free. The man jumps out of bed and starts hollering out the window for the ‘mangy mutts’ to get on back. Then he hears some scuffling and figures may be best if he got dressed and joined in.

“Cept by the time he was dressed and out the door, the old lady was back. Just the old lady, though. The man of the kennel was nowhere to be seen! So the guy, now all dressed up tromps around his cabin, trying to find his dog, but can’t see nothing. Then next day after a fitful sleep, he follows the prints and finds the scene of the scuffle. No dog, though, even with the old lady sniffing around for her partner.

“This freaks the guy out, and so the next night, he lets the lady stay in the house. Partly because the kennel door is still broken, but mostly because he figured she’ll detect whatever is out there first.

“And I must admit! That she did. Middle of the night, that dog was up barking her head off! The man wanted to scold her quiet, so as he could hear what was out there. Cept it didn’t stay out there. A rock slammed into the wooden shutters, breaking the latch and throwing them open! The lady dog took this as an invitation and jump herself on out of there and chased after whatever had caused the trouble. And obviously, given how the things had gone so far, she didn’t come back.

“By this point, the man was quite worried, his handwriting in his journal was all jagged and abrupt. He figured the next night was his turn. And on the wind were the calls of Tailypo.

“At this point, the story shifts. Spring has arrived and a small group of traveling merchants make their way through the wood, heading towards the old man’s property. Just one more place to stop by on their long route, selling salt and such for furs and such.

“They find the house dead quiet, one window open with the shutters banging against the wall as the wind plays with it. Inside is quite the fright! Savage claw marks mar the floor and bed. The axe embedded in the wall deeper than rightfully makes sense.

“Yet no blood. No man. Nothing but a bean porridge stew that seemed to have had meat at one point, but twas all picked out cept the smallest fibers. One thing they do find though is the man’s journal. Which is how we got the tail I just told you. Not passed down to me by my grandpappy, though he did tell us such tales.

“No, I saw the journal myself. Can’t vouch for it 100%, mind you. Those original peddlers long ago passed it on to others with their part of the tale written in at the end by themselves. However, I do believe the story because it wasn’t all that was in there. First good portion of that journal was exactly that. The man’s journal. Just the everyday nonsense we all live through and it read right. Not like a tale to tell, but a life lived.

“And that’s what I’m thinking we’re up against.”