The Tale of a Tail

June 17, 2013
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The Story

It’s my imagination. It can’t be true. I opened my eyes again. The man was still in the window. I wondered if I was dreaming.

“Ouch!” Nope. Not dreaming.

Anyways, you’re probably wondering who I am, where I am, and what I’m doing. I am investigating to see if that story is true.


You’re telling me you don’t know the story?

You know? (Shudder)

The Tale of a Tail?

Okay, well apparently you don’t, so I’ll tell it to you.

In the year 1921, Bob Chao of Kentucky lived in a hillside farmhouse, with his lovely wife Barbara, and two sons, one named Joe and one named Jerry. One day his wife died and his sons moved far, far, away. The man grew old and lonely.

People who dare to walk up that creepy path say they hear him talking. Rumor says he talks to the ghost of his wife. But we all know what really happened. He was talking to his cat.

Then, on Halloween night, some teenagers came up to egg his house, but they heard that sound.

That sound that makes babies cry.

The loud, painful, screech of a cat.

They decided to, well, run.

Soon after, a little girl approached the house to ring the doorbell.

She rang it, and backed away.

There was a brief silence, and then she heard footsteps slowly creep toward the door. The knob steadily turned, and then the door creaked open to reveal a shadowed figure.

The man was very tall, had the face of a cat, and the body of a man. And as he turned around, the girl spotted a tail on his back. To this day, no one knows what happened, to that girl, to that man, or to that cat. No one dares go to his house.

Until now.

This story has been entertaining and frightening children at campfires for years. But many believe it is true. No one dares to find out more.

Until now.

The Investigation

Now that you know the story, I can tell you my name. I’m Jack Trenton, and I’m investigating the Tale of a Tail. I’m almost fifteen, and I biked ten miles to get here. I’m sweated out.

I was walking up towards the house when I heard a crash inside. I quickly hid behind the run-down shed and caught my breath. It’s been thirty minutes, and I think it would be safe to go up now.

I creep towards the house, counting my steps, watching my every move, careful not to make a sound. I can’t seem to find a way in, but then I see a storm shelter door that must lead down into the basement.

I silently open the door, and crawl inside. When I get in, I see a light on. I almost scream. My heart is pounding so loud that it can be heard by everyone. I have to put my hand over my mouth so I don’t breathe too loudly.
Then, it goes downhill. I drop my backpack on the floor, and my apartment keys fall out of it. They make a loud ring on the concrete floor. I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. I hide behind a super-old washing machine praying that whoever it is won’t come over here. I peek around the corner, and it’s a man, about five foot seven, and he looks like he may be in his eighties.

He says, “Who’s there?”

I don’t move a muscle.

“Who is there?” He demands.

“I’m not going to hurt you; I want to know who’s there, please,” He continues.

He seems kind of friendly. Kind of.

“Hi.” I start to say. “I’m Jack. Jack Trenton. I didn’t believe you were a …..”

“Cat? That rumor has been spread about me for years.” He walked into a wall, literally, walked into a wall.

“Umm, sir, if you don’t mind me asking, are you blind?”

“Sadly, yes. Let me tell you a story, boy. A very long time ago…..” He began to tell me the story.

“I wasn’t all ways blind; it started one beautiful summer day. I was working in my workshop, in this very basement, and I was hammering a nail in. You can probably guess what happened. I couldn’t see in one eye, at first, but then it spread to the other, so I was officially blind. My wife didn’t want anything to do with a blind person, so she moved as far away as she could, taking the kids with her. That Halloween night, when the girl walked up to my house, I was only wearing a costume, and I was going to hand out candy. The only reason people heard voices, was because I talked to make me feel less alone.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. I…”

“You should probably go, I need to start packing.”

“Packing?” I ask. “For what?”

“I’m leaving this town. I am going to move to Canada, change my name, and live the rest of my life there.”

“Well sir, good luck.”

“Please, call me Bob.” He stuck out his grimy hand. I shook it.

“Good luck, Bob.”

“Thank you, Jack, same to you.”

I opened the storm door, when he said, “And Jack, truths are to be trusted, and rumors are to be forgotten.”

I smiled and left.

I came to three conclusions after that:
I was late for dinner.
The man was wearing a costume, and he was blind, so it made the appearance of the rumor.
He wasn’t a bad guy after all; he just needed to talk to someone. And now he can move and leave the tale behind.

This is not my last investigation. What mystery is next? I guess we’ll have to find out.

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