AN: Once upon a time, there was a book-on-tape (god, I'm ancient…) called The Tailypo: a Ghost Story. Joanna Galdone was the one who read it.

SHE SCARRED MY ENTIRE FOURTH-GRADE CLASS FOR LIFE.

I can't find it on YouTube, more's the pity, but some of you may have heard it. Or seen the book with its creepy illustrations. *shudders* Be afraid. (Those who may have heard it, Joanna Galdone is who I imagine voicing Granny.)

Christineoftheopera-Should be interesting. Shame we won't be in-after last year's...observation...of Easter, we've taken to being away.

Johanna Crane-We've all probably inflicted bodily harm in the name of our books. And no, I do not.

Every so often, if her arthritis isn't acting up too badly, Granny will summon him after dinner and tell him a story.

He never wants to hear these stories. Most of them are family history-always the bloodiest, scariest bits-but some of them are just ghost stories. Like the one about the headless soldier that haunts the attic. Or the hairy, green-eyed beast that chewed his Great-great-great grandfather Julian's arm off after the battle at Chickamauga.

He suspects she goes out of her way to frighten him, either for her own amusement or to make sure he behaves. Probably a mixture of the two. It's successful, at any rate-he doesn't go into the attic unless he really has to, and he hasn't explored the third floor at all.

It's a wild, rainy night in July when she calls him in from the kitchen to tell him a new ghost story. He's a little bit excited-she is very good at telling stories-but mostly apprehensive.

"Did I ever tell you about the Taily-Po, Jonathan?"

He shakes his head and puts as many inches between them as he dares.

"No, Granny."

"I've been remiss…no matter. Dim the lights, child, this is not a story for a well-lit room."

He does so and nearly trips over the footstool on the way back. He can just see Granny's silhouette against the storm outside. She's looking thinner than usual since the accident. He's dreading the day she gets rid of that horrid wooden cane-he'll be in for it then.

"Sit down, boy." He realizes that he's still standing and sits down, twisting his hands in his lap. She swats at them to make him stop. "It wasn't so very long ago. Your uncle, Robert Keeney, was always the black sheep of the family. Left Mother and Dad the minute he turned sixteen and struck out on his own." She takes a sip of her iced tea. "Needless to say, he wasn't very successful. Ended up in a one-room log cabin with three hound dogs."

There's a flash of lightning and he thinks that she looks like a mummy.

"One night, something big and black and furry got into his cabin through a crack in the wall. He lunged for his hatchet and lopped its tail off in one clean chop." She illustrates with her hand and he shudders. "The creature left, of course, and he cooked that tail up and ate it."

Ugh. He's not sure he would be able to stomach eating a furry tail, especially if it came from a…creature.

"He plugged up the crack in the wall and went off to bed." she continues. "And late that night, the scratching started."

Scratching?

She smiles at him, a snake's smile, and runs her nails along his cheek.

"Scraaatch. Scraaatch. Scraaatch."

He can't show her that he's frightened. That tricks works on the bullies, it'll work on her. Basic human psychology-don't react, and they'll get bored and go away.

Right?

She retracts her claws and takes another sip of her tea. Outside, the rain shows no signs of stopping.

"He thought it was a raccoon at first, and called for the dogs. He heard them give chase and got out of bed to fetch his gun. By the time he got onto the porch, the dogs were out of sight, running towards the swamp. With that, he went back to bed, taking his rifle with him."

There's a boom! as thunder breaks over the house. He wonders if lightning has struck the chapel, and if it has started a fire.

"A few hours later, Robert was awakened again. This time he could hear a voice crying outside his window." She swallows. "Taily-po! Taily-po! I'm coming to get my Taily-po!"

He shivers and she smiles that snake's smile again before running her nails across his face.

"Scraaatch. Scraaatch. Scraaatch." He really wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to upset her. "He called for the dogs again and heard them come rushing around the corner of the house. This time he caught a glimpse of something big and black and furry racing off towards the swamp. If he hadn't turned away, he would have seen that there were only two dogs."

He doesn't want to hear anymore, thank you very much. He wants to go to bed and hide under the covers until morning.

"Once the howling had died down, Robert went back to bed. But he wasn't there very long before the scratching started again, and the crying." She doesn't do the scratching this time, and he is grateful. "He called for his dogs, and this time…there was only one."

She is lit up by a flash of lightning, her glass raised to her lips. Why can't she be short and round, like grandmothers are supposed to be?

"It was almost dawn when the voice came back. It was echoing down the chimney, crying out for its Taily-po. Robert called for his dogs, but they didn't come. That thing had led the dogs way out into the swamp, and lost them."

He's twisting his hands again, but she doesn't notice. She doesn't notice anything when she gets into the mood-nothing but fear.

"Robert went back to bed. He was just starting to doze off when his blankets were tugged downwards and two pointed ears appeared at the foot of his bed. Then there were two big, round, fiery eyes, staring at him. Before he knew it, that thing was sitting on his bed, the stump where its tail had been dripping onto the quilt. It opened its mouth, and do you know what it said?" He shakes his head, his mouth too dry to speak. "Taily-po, Taily-po, I've come to get my Taily-po!

Well, Robert shook his head and croaked out, 'I haven't got your Taily-po!'

And that thing just blinked up at him and said, 'Yes, you have!'"

She says nothing for the next five minutes and he wonders if she's dozed off. He risks a question.

"What happened?"

"Why, they never saw him again. Torn apart, they say. Him and his cabin. All that stands out there now is the chimney, and a few rusting pots and pans. I'll take you out there sometime, so you can see." She pats his cheek and gives him a nudge. "Now go on up to bed, child. It's late."

She expects him to sleep now?

He doesn't dare to argue. He just murmurs a good night and goes upstairs, her horrid blue eyes burning into his back as she smiles that snake's smile.

THE END