Halloween 06: Tales from the Crypt

[WesternOutlaw]

Lamanda shared the following story on the "What Has Scared You the Most" Thread, and it got me thinking, we should have another thread for spooky stories/poems only. Share yours here. These can be short stories or poems that you have written or you have obtained from the web. No contest, but rather just sharing your Tales from the Crypt *skull*.

Tailypo

The story I'm gonna tell you comes from the South...the dark places...the gloom places. And out this swamp comes a creature with a great long tail behind. And, when Tailypo comes outta that swamp, he's just a hoppin' and a skippin', and a dancin'. Why, he dances to the right and the Tailypo's left and he dances to the left and the Tailpo's right. Just hoppin' and dancin' havin' himself a good ole time, when he looks up on the mountain...and sees a cabin. Tailypo hadn't never seen no cabin before. So he climbs to the top of that mountain.

When he gets to the cabin, he starts in a sniffin' (sniff, sniff, sniff) at the cracks in the walls and scratchin' at the door. (scratching). Inside there is an old man sleepin' on a cot. Old man wakes up. "Who's that?" he yells. Old man looks out of a knot hole.

Eyes, eyes, eyes! Well, if you can call them things eyes!

Old man calls out, "How come? How come you most curious critter. You a standin' outside my door a hoppin' and a sniffin' and a scratchin'! Why I show you!"

And he went back into the kitchen and got himself a...butcher knife! He come out and snip-snap; slip-slap! He cut Tailypo's tail clean off.

Then, the old man he went back to the kitchen and got himself a fry pan and he took that tail and flip-flop/ flippity-flop! He ate that tale blood and bone.

Now I haven't met any swamp critters myself mind you...but I don't think I could have eaten that tale. And, poor ole Tailypo, he just run off into the wood on those little bitty legs of his. (boogidy-boogidy-boogidy) Well, if you can call them things...legs!

Then, that old man went back to bed...and he slept.

It was long though before a moon rose up over that mountain. And. just as it did, it hid behind a tall oak tree...and there was darkness everywhere. And if you listened real careful you could hear..."Tailypo, Tailypo, I want my Tailypo" And that sound...that sound...it hurt!

Why it wasn't long before that sound was standin' right outside that old man's door. (louder) "I want my Tailypo!"

Old man woke up. "What is that sound I hear. Why that sound is a gray sound...that sound don't have no bottom to it." So, he reached under his bed where he kept his three fine hound dogs. "Here, Dogs!"

Those hound dogs jumped up and they started chasing Tailypo. Tailypo ran and ran until kersplash-a! He jumped right into that swamp. Right over his head...well, if you can call that thing a head!

The old man rounded up his dogs and went back to bed...and he slept. But it wasn't long before that moon that I was tellin' you about? Well, this was this cloud, like a hand that come over it and everything was in darkness. And if you listened you could hear a sound, a sound comin' in on little cat's feet..."Tailypo, Tailypo, I want my Tailypo! I'm a comin' closer...comin' closer!" It wasn't long before that sound was standin' at the foot of that old man's bed, (louder) "I want my Tailypo!"

Old man looked up. "How come? How come you most curious critter? How come you a standin' at the foot of my bed. Why your shape is a gray shape...why that shape don't have no bottom to it." And, with that he called for his three fine hound dogs. Those hound dogs come out like greased lightin'. They grabbed hold of that Tailypo's rear end and off all four of them went (brow-wow-woww!) All the way down to the swamp...where that most curious critter...lives. Well, dogs don't know...they just be...The old man waited for dog to come back...but they never came back. So he went back to bed...and he slept...and he slept.

Now, you remember that moon that I've been tellin' you about - well, it was there. It was! But there wasn't any light, 'cause all light had been gobbled up in the darkness. And, if you listened, listened real hard you hear, "Tailypo, Tailypo...I want my Tailypo. I'm comin' closer, comin closer. With the moon, with the moon, with the moon...darked out!"

It wasn't long before that sound was sittin' on that ole man. Ole man wakes up. "Who is that? Who is that starin' at me with them curious eyeballs?" Then, that ole man reached under his bed for his three fine hound dogs. "Here Dogs!" But, dogs don't know...they just be. "Where's my dogs?" Everything stopped. "Where's my dogs?" Everything listened. "Where's my daaaaaawgs?"

"Where's my Tailypo!"

Now, the people that lived down in the valley. They never saw that ole man again. But they do say that on a night when the moon is full, and there is cloud, like a hand, that comes over the moon. Well if you listen real hard you can hear, "Tailypo, Tailypo...I...got...my...Tailypo."

Well, there you have it.. Definately was always scared by the story, especially if you have a good story teller to read it with a scratchy voice for Tailypo.

~Amanda

[Asuka]

I have two old japanese ghost stories (Kwaidan) to share with you. It

[WesternOutlaw]

I have to post The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. An all time classic.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -

This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -

'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.

Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -

Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -

Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -

On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'

Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee

Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -

On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -

`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Also, one of my all-time favorite spooky poems, The Ghoul by Jack Prelutsky:

The gruesome ghoul, the grisly ghoul,

without the slightest noise

waits patiently beside the school

to feast on girls and boys

He lunges fiercely though the air

as they com out to play,

and grabs a couple my the hair

and drags them far away.

He cracks their bones and snap their backs

and squeezes out their lungs,

he chew their thumbs like candy snacks

and pulls apart their tongues.

He slices their stomachs and bite their hearts

and tears their flash to shreds,

he swallows their toes like toasted tarts

and gobbles down their heads

Fingers, elbow, hands and knees

and arms and legs and feet-

he eats them with delight and ease,

for every part's a treat.

And when the gruesome grisly ghoul

has nothing left to chew,

he hurries to another school

and waits. . . perhaps for you. *skull*