Halloween! Some Stories for this Evening's Fire

Tis then night for the unseen to be seen once more, and prowl the earth. Are you ready with your treats and tales for this evening's fun? Here are a few short and slightly spooky tales (the bones, really--you can fill in the details as you tell) to tell while you keep watch for the things that go bump in the night...or the hall...or on the stairs...

Tailypo: an old man who lives alone in a cabin in the woods with his three dogs (Uno, Ino, and Cumticocalico) thinks he'll have to go to bed hungry. Then he hears "scritch, scritch"--a critter is trying to get in his cabin through a gap between the floor and the log wall. He sees two little pointy ears, two red eyes, and big fluffy tail. He grabs his hatchet and cuts off the tail of the unusual creature. He tries to cook the tail for dinner but it tastes terrible so he throws it in the yard fofr his dogs.The creature returns again and again for its tail( "Tailypo, Tailypo, all I want is my Tailypo"), and with each appearance another dog disappears, until finally it is just the old man and the creature. “All I want is my Tailypo,” the creature says. "I don't have your ol' tailypo!" the old man cries. "You know, and I know, that you....DO! No one ever saw gthe old man or his dogs again, but on moonlit nights, listen and you might here the creature saying, “Now I’ve got my taily-po!”

Big Hairy Toe: someone digs up a big hairy toe in their garden. They take it home, cook it, and eat it. And...you guessed it...the owner of the toe follows them home, moaning, "who's got my great big hairy toe?" Through the house, up to the bedroom, locked the door,repeat the refrain “Who’s got my big hairy toe." And finally inside the bedroom…"YOU DO!"

Coming to Get Your Liver: little Johnny is scared to go to bed alone.He is in bed with the covers pulled up. Then he hears a spooky voice saying, "Johnny, I'm on the first step, coming to get your liver!" Johnny hides under covers, etc (you can stretch these tales out as far as you have the imagination to do!) until finally the voice is...right...outside...his...door... Then it's in the room and...gotcha! 

Golden Arm: a man or woman loses an arm and replaces it with a gold prosthetic limb. When the person dies, the arm is buried with them. Somebody digs up the grave and steals the golden arm. And of course, the thief is hounded by a voice that keeps repeating "who's got my golden arm?" (sound familiar?). You know the rest.

The tales are all similar, but so much fun to tell, especially if you can get the pacing right.

The photo above was taken by William Hope, a famous "ghost photographer" at the turn of the 20th century. To read a play based on this photo, check out this blog. It's a good read, and would be fun to do as reader's theater too. And for moreabout William Hope and his photos, go here and here. Arthur Conan Doyle always believed in Hope's authenticity, although others proved his photos were frauds. Such a shame--wouldn't we all love to believe such photos are real?

 

Happy haunting!

 

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Who's There? An All Hallow's Eve Poem

 

The sky hangs low as a chill wind blows the clouds

to scour and scrub the tops of trees,

raking leaves to dampened ground to carpet brown and rust and red;

Beneath the loam the dead stir and shiver as autumn hovers

in sheets of rain and ice that coat each stone and glistening bone 

in drapery so pale and fine;

as spiders weave their webs and daylight ebbs the spirits rise
and seek the heat of fire and hearth, tapping at the windowglass
with cracking nails and fingers frail while inside
we huddle, backs to walls; our voices call in faint surprise,
"Who's there? Who's there?" And silence is the one reply
but still we call, and still they crawl about our eaves and sills,
and listen to our ghostly tales,  and sing a mournful wail
lost in the sighing of the wind and weeping of the dead.


Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.