Give Me Back My Tailypo
A Reimagining of the Appalachian Folktale
The air that day was as cold as the moment just before snowfall.
I lived alone in a cabin deep in the mountains.
The nearest village was a long walk away, and once winter came, the path was nearly impassable.
My only companions were my three dogs.
They were hunting dogs—
the kind that lifted their heads at the slightest sound in the dark,
the kind that followed me with no command the moment I picked up my rifle.
That autumn, food was scarce.
My traps were empty.
Even with the rifle, I could hardly spot a rabbit.
The dried meat was gone, and only a final piece of corn bread remained.
That night, I almost returned empty‑handed.
Until I saw two yellow eyes between the trees.
At first, I thought it was a bobcat.
Its body was the size of a dog.
Black fur covered it from head to tail, and its ears were pointed.
It moved low to the ground—
but its tail was strangely long.
I raised my rifle.
Bang.
The shot echoed through the mountains.
The creature screamed.
It sounded like an animal, but the end of the cry…
it almost sounded human.
I started to reload, then froze.
A long tail lay on the ground.
Covered in black fur.
Still twitching.
I heard the creature fleeing deeper into th