Legend Says: The Complex Composition of Folktales

Art by Ricki Kalayci

Since the dawn of time, humans have always told stories. From images recorded on cave walls, to radio broadcasts, to the novels sold in bookstores today, our species is one of the storytellers. Before the printing press allowed us to produce millions of copies of written works, we often passed down stories orally. Each culture has their own set of legends that have been shared with each new generation to escape the abyss of time. Nearly everyone can think of a “local legend” that has been passed down through their family or community. These myths and stories that are based in specific cultural areas are known as folktales. Many regions have folktales that tell the story of a creature, venue, or superstition that has lived on for decades, or even centuries. Shared around campfires or whispered as bedtime stories, folktales are a significant part of every culture and possess the unique ability to transcend the abyss of time.

The folktale that has always been shared in my family, often when camping in my home state of Maine, is called Tailypo. The story is about an old man who lives in a cabin deep in the mountains with his hounds. During a hungry season, he chops the tail off of an unfamiliar animal and eats it. Each night, the creature returns, scratching at the man’s bed posts and killing off his dogs, demanding that he gives back its “tailypo.” The creature eventually devours the man and proclaims “now I’ve got my tailypo”.

While my father, who always told the folktale, may have shared it just to give us a scare, there’s some more substance behind it. A quick search of the origins of Tailypo taught me that the story is from the entirety of Appalachia, not just Maine, and there’s multiple variations of the plot throughout the east coast. As a folktale that has been spread throughout an entire region of North America, there’s bound to be something culturally significant about it. Other forms of Tailypo talk about humans mistakenly taking bones or even toes from the woods, only to be killed by a monster to whom they belonged. This theme of being punished when taking from woodland beasts suggests a deeper lesson that the tale is trying to pass on through the generations. Because Appalachia is so densely wooded and unexplored, it makes sense that this story warns its listeners not to take things from nature that are unrecognizable, for the sake of their survival.

Mary Grace Purser, an Emerson freshman from Georgia, recalls a folktale so influential in her life that it affects the actions of her and her family. Lake Lanier, a large reservoir in northern Georgia, is believed to be haunted. This is because, Purser explains, in the 1950s when the lake was created for the purpose of flood control, the government flooded towns, leaving them completely submerged when the lake was fully finished. Since then, Lake Lanier has been a hotspot for a mysteriously large number of accidents and deaths. Purser says that she never goes to the allegedly haunted lake, especially because of her mother’s own experiences there when “she felt like she was being dragged under […] by hands.” 

Despite trepidation surrounding the lake, Purser says that a lot of people feel that “it’s rightfully haunted” because of the “historically black towns” that were chosen to be evacuated and flooded for the creation of the body of water. Since its construction happened when Jim Crow Laws were still in place, it's unlikely that the location was chosen randomly. “The Deep South is a very superstitious place… a lot of the people there are more willing to believe in what most people wouldn’t,” says Purser. The stories of strange happenings at Lake Lanier seem more complex when we acknowledge the racial tensions that underscore the history of its making. Beneath the chilling deaths, the folktale of Lake Lanier carries a warning to prevent others from erasing communities due to racial biases, lest you be dragged under the water by the wronged spirits who lurk beneath.

Sophomore Emerson student Youran Cai, who is from Shanghai, China, recalls a tale that is popular in Chinese mythology. The story is about an herbalist whose wife was able to make a cure for a plague. The couple rejoiced, until a monk told the husband that his wife was a disguised demon, and if he fed her a potion, the wife would reveal her true form. When the husband gave his wife the potion, she transformed into her true form of a giant snake, and the shock killed him. The wife, who loved her husband dearly, tried to steal a life-giving herb but was caught. When she explained her reasoning for stealing was the love she had for her husband, she was allowed to take it, and she successfully revived her husband.

This story reflects what Cai identifies as major themes in Chinese mythology: karma and honesty. “Honesty is a big virtue in Chinese culture,” Cai says. Stories like that of the herbalist drive home the karmic importance of truthfulness that China holds as a cultural value. Cai adds that that folktale is “kind of like a fantasy about how heterosexual couples will be happy in the end, because we’re a very hegemonious society.” The story enforces the traditional image of a happy husband and wife that they want their community to replicate.

All folktales, no matter what region of the country or world they may originate in, pass down a moral standard or way of behaving that societies want their people to adhere to. A creature from the woods, a haunted lake, and a serpent wife all work as reminders in the form of stories. Cai says “we learned about a lot of folklore in school.” The teaching of these tales to new generations signifies the importance of passing on a societal value. So next time you hear a folk tale being shared, think about what customs and values lie beneath the story.