Tailypo

Region: Appalachia
Location:Southern Appalachia (North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee)

Tailypo is one of the classic Appalachian cabin stories, told by lantern light and passed down through generations. The tale usually begins with an old man living alone in a remote cabin with only his three loyal hunting dogs for companionship. One night he hears a rustling outside and shoots at a strange creature trying to enter his food stores. In the morning, he finds he has severed a small, strange-looking tail. He cooks and eats it, puzzled but unconcerned — until sunset, when something begins scratching at his cabin walls and calling out in a chilling, drawn-out voice: “Tailypo… Tailypo… I want my Tailypo…”
  The creature itself is rarely described clearly, which makes the story more unsettling. Some versions say it has glowing eyes and thin, wiry limbs; others claim it crawls like a large, emaciated animal. What matters more is the *sound* — the scratching, pacing, and relentless repetition of its demand. Each night, the Tailypo returns, the voice growing closer, more insistent. The dogs try to defend the old man but are picked off one by one, vanishing into the darkness with a yelp. As fear mounts, the man barricades himself inside, but the creature eventually gets in.
  The story traditionally ends with the old man disappearing, dragged into the woods or torn apart, leaving only the echo of the creature’s voice on the wind. Some storytellers soften the ending; others make it more gruesome. In all versions, the Tailypo is a lesson in consequences — about violating the natural order, taking what doesn’t belong to you, or ignoring the warnings of the wilderness. It’s simple, eerie, and enduring, the kind of story mountain families tell because it still works every time.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The spark is human. The polish is digital.

 

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