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Virginia folklore

Don't you Fish on Sunday

Don’t You Fish on Sunday

    Jonah was a big strong man who worked as a carpenter. Most everyone in town liked him, but they all knew that his weakness was fishing. Jonah would go fishing every chance he got; even on Sundays when everyone else was in church. And that got folks in town riled up. There was a rumor – started so long ago no one could remember the details – that bad luck would come to anyone who fished that part of the river on a Sunday. For decades, pious folks had avoided the river on the Lord’s Day, just to be safe.

    Why Dogs Chase Cats

    Why Dogs Chase Cats

      Once long ago, Dog was married to Cat. They were happy together, but every night when Dog came home from work, Cat said she was too sick to make him dinner…

      Hold Him, Tabb

      Hold Him, Tabb

        Yep, I remember what it was like before the railroad came through these parts. I used to earn my living by carting supplies from town to town on horse-drawn wagons. Not easy work, no sir. Especially in winter. One cold December day, I was traveling with my buddy Tabb, when it began to snow. Gee wilikers, it was cold! We needed to find shelter quick, and I was delighted when I spotted an abandoned house.

        The Hairy Toe

        Hairy Toe

          Once there was an old woman who went out in the woods to dig up some roots to cook for dinner. She spotted something funny sticking out of the leaves and dug around until she uncovered a great big hairy toe. There was some good meat on that toe which would make a real tasty dinner, so the old woman put it in her basket and took it home.

          Phantom Lovers of Dismal Swamp

            He couldn’t believe it when she fell ill just a few short weeks before their marriage. His betrothed was beautiful, strong, and healthy, but she just faded away before his eyes. He held her in his arms as she gasped out her last breathe, and was inconsolable long after her body lay buried beside the Dismal Swamp…

            Vision of War

              I don’t do battlefields. Oh, it’s not because I am against history. Nope, the truth is I’m psychic and I find battlefields…overwhelming is the best word I can come up with. The fact of the matter is, I don’t deal at all well with being psychic, having been raised in a family of scientists and “seeing is believing” kind of people. I was the only one on either side of my family who had any sort of ESP, and it made things rather difficult growing up. For instance, when my high school class took a trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, I fainted as soon as I stepped out of the bus, overhelmed by the smells and sounds of the Civil War battle which I saw raging before my eyes. It was freaky. And embarassing. Pretty much the story of my life. Anyway, after that, I decided to avoid battlefields.