Spooky tales for you to tale

Greetings gals and ghouls!


Being that it’s a little more than a week before the best spooky day of the year, I thought I would post a few spooky tales that are meant to be told orally. (They don't translate well in written form.) That way you have a week to get them under your belt in plenty of time to thrill the kiddies and adults alike, while making you the center of attention at all those spooks balls and ghoul gatherings.

Storytelling in its original form is quickly becoming a dying art. It has been replaced first by radio and then by film and television. Those forms are all well and good but the personal connection between storyteller and audience has been lost. This is especially true with scary stories once told by campfires on cold lonely nights. The skill with which a talented yarn spinner could send chills down the spine of his listeners can not be matched and unfortunately has almost died out completely.

So come along with us and the crazy few that work hard to make sure this age old tradition gets resurrected from time to time. Take a step back to simpler times and spookier nights, when the storyteller and the imagination of the listener was king.



The Big Toe

A boy was digging at the edge of the garden when he saw a big toe. He tried to pick it up, but it was stuck to something. So he gave it a good hard jerk, and it came off in his hand. Then he heard something groan and scamper away.
The boy took the toe into the kitchen and showed it to his mother. “It looks nice and plump,” she said. “I’ll put it in the soup, and we’ll have it for supper.”
That night his father carved the toe into three pieces, and they each had a piece. Then they did the dishes, and when it got dark they went to bed.
The boy fell asleep almost at once. But in the middle of the night, a sound awakened him. It was something out in the street. It was a voice, and it was calling to him.

“Where is my to-o-o-o-o-e?” it groaned.

When the boy heard that, he got very scared. But he thought, “It doesn’t know where I am. It never will find me.”
Then he heard the voice once more. Only now it was closer.

“Where is my to-o-o-o-o-e?” It groaned.

The boy pulled the blankets over his head and closed his eyes. “I’ll go to sleep,” he thought. “When I wake up it will be gone.”
But soon he heard the back door open, and again he heard the voice.

“Where is my to-o-o-o-o-e?” it groaned.

Then the boy heard footsteps move through the kitchen into the dining room, into the living room, into the front hall. The slowly they climbed the stairs.
Closer and closer they came. Soon they were in the upstairs hall. New they were outside his door.

“Where is my to-o-o-o-o-e?” the voice groaned.

His door opened. Shaking with fear, he listened as the footsteps slowly moved through the dark towards his bed. Then they stopped.

“Where is my to-o-o-o-o-e?” the voice groaned.

(At this point, pause. Then jump at the person next to you and shout:)

“YOU’VE GOT IT!”


“The Big Toe” also has another ending.
When the boy hears the voice calling for its toe, he finds a strange looking creature up inside the chimney. The boy is so frightened he can’t move. He just stands there and stares at it.
Finally he asks: “W-w-w-what you got such big eyes for?”
And the creature answers: “To look you thro-o-o-ugh and thro-o-o-ugh!”

“W-w-w-what you got such big claws for?”
“To scra-a-a-tch up your gra-a-a-a-ve!”

“W-w-w-what you got such a big mouth for?”
“To swallow you who-o=o-le!”

“W-w-w-what you got such sharp teeth for?”
“TO CHOMP YOUR BONES!”
(As you give the last line, pounce on one of your friends.)



It’s Him!

The woman was the meanest, most miserable person you could imagine. And her husband was just as bad. The only good thing was that they lived in the woods all by themselves and couldn’t bother anybody else.
On day they were off somewhere getting firewood and the woman go so mad at her husband that she grabbed an ax and cut his head off, just like that. Then she buried him nice and neat and went home.
She made herself a cup of tea and went out on the porch. She sat there rocking in her rocking chair, sipping her tea, thinking how glad she was that she had done this awful thing. After a while she heard this old, empty voice out in the distance moaning and groaning, and it was saying:

“Whoooooo’s going to stay with me this cold and lonely night? Whoooooo?”
“It’s him!” she thought. And she hollered back, “Stay by yourself, you old goat.”

Soon she heard the voice again, only now it was closer, and it was saying:

“Whoooooo’s going to sit with me this cold and lonely night? Whoooooo?”
“Only a crazy man!” she shouted. “Sit by yourself, you dirty rat!”

Then she heard the voice even closer, and it was saying:

“Whoooooo’s going to be with me this cold and lonely night? Whoooooo?”
“Nobody!” she sneered. “Be by yourself, you miserable mole!”

She stood up to go into the house, but now the voice was right behind her, and it was whispering”

“Whoooooo’s going to stay with me this cold and lonely night? Whoooooo?”

Before she could answer back, a big hairy hand came around the corner and grabbed her, and the voice hollered”

“YOU ARE!”
(As you say the last line, grab one of your friends.)



Clinkity-Clink

An old lady got sick and died. She had no family and no close friends. So the neighbors got a gravedigger to dig a grave for her. And they had a coffin made, and they placed it in her living room. As was the tradition, they washed her body and dressed her up in her best clothes and put her in the coffin.
When she died her eyes were wide open, staring at everything and seeing nothing. The neighbors found two old silver dollars on her dresser, and they put them on her eyelids to keep them closed.
They lit candles and sat up with her so that she would not be too lonely on that first night that she was dead. The next morning a preacher came and said a prayer for her. Then everybody went home.
Later the gravedigger arrived to take her to the cemetery and bury her. He stared at the silver dollars on her eyes, and he picked them up. How shiny and smooth they were! How thick and heavy! “They’re beautiful,” he thought, “just beautiful.”
He took the dead woman. With her eyes wide open, he felt she was staring at him, watching him hold her coins. It gave him a creep feeling. He put the coins back on those eyes of hers to keep them closed.
But before he knew it, his hands reached out again and grabbed the coins and stuck them in his pocket. Then he grabbed a hammer and quickly nailed shut the lid on the coffin.
“Now you can’t see anything!” he said to her. Then he took her out to the cemetery, and he buried her as fast as he could.
When the gravedigger got home, he put the two silver dollars in a tin box and shook it. The coins made a cheerful rattling sound, but the gravedigger wasn’t feeling cheerful. He couldn’t forget those eyes looking at him.
When it got dark, a storm came up, and the wind started blowing. It blew all around the house. It came in through the cracks and around the windows, and down the chimney.

BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! It went. Bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! The fire flared and flickered.

The gravedigger threw some fresh wood on the fire, got into bed, and pulled the blankets up to his chin.
The wind kept blowing. BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! It went. Bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! The fire flared and flickered and cast evil-looking shadows on the walls. The gravedigger lay there thinking about the dead woman’s eyes staring at him. The wind blew stronger and louder, and the fire flared and flickered, and popped and snapped, and he got more and more scared.
Suddenly he heard another sound. Clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink, it went. Clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink. It was the silver dollars rattling in the tin box.

“Hey!” the gravedigger shouted. “Who’s taking my money?”

But all he heard was the wind blowing, bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! and the flames flaring and flickering, and snapping and popping, and coins going clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink.
He leaped out of bed and chained up the door. Then he hurried back. But his head had bearly touched the pillow when he heard, clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink.

Then he heard something way off in the distance. It was a voice crying, “Where is my money? Who’s got my money? Whoooo? Whoooo?”

And the wind blew bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! And the fire flared and flickered and snapped and popped, and the money went, clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink.
The gravedigger was really scared. He got out of bed again and piled all the furniture against the door, and he put a heavy iron skillet over the tin box. Then he jumped back into bed and covered his head with the blankets.
But the money rattled louder than ever, and way off a voice cried, “Give me my money! Who’s got my money! Whoooo? Whoooo?” And the wind blew and the fire flared and flickered and snapped and popped, and the gravedigger shivered and shook and cried, “Oh Lordy, Lordy!”

Suddenly the front door flew open, and in walked the ghost of the dead woman with her eyes wide open, staring at everything and seeing nothing. And the wind blew, bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! and the money went clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink, and the fire flared and flickered and snapped and popped, and the ghost of the dead woman cried, “Oh, where is my money? Who’s got my money? Whoooo? Whoooo?” And the gravedigger moaned, “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!”

The ghost could hear her money going Clinkity-clink, clinkity-clink, in the tin box. But her dead eyes couldn’t see the box. So she reached out her arms and tried to find it.
(As you tell the story, stand up with your arms in front of you and bein groping around you.)

The wind went, Bizee, bizee, BUZ-OOOOOO-O-O-O! and the money rattled, Clinkity-clink, clikity-clink! And the fire flared and flickered and snapped and popped, and the gravedigger shivered and shook and moaned, “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!” And the woman cried, “Give me my money! Who’s got my money? Whoooo? Whoooo?”

(Now quickly jump at somebody in the audience and scream:)

YOU’VE GOT IT!


I hope you’ve enjoyed this weeks selection and will pass along the chilling tales on a dark and creepy evening in front of the fire or a blazing jack-o-lantern!

Dane Dravor

Stories taken from: Scary Stories Treasury. Collected from folklore and retold by Alvin Schwartz

ISBN 0-06-026341-5