Klara was enjoying a peaceful vacation in a picturesque little town. It was one of those places where time seemed to slow down, where the locals knew every corner, and every stranger was immediately recognized.
One afternoon, as the sun mercilessly scorched the cobbled streets, she wandered into an old souvenir shop.
The bell above the door jingled, welcoming her with stale air mixed with the scent of wood and aged fabric. She walked among shelves filled with dream catchers, handwoven tablecloths, and strange artifacts. And then she saw it.
Hanging on the opposite wall was a taxidermy crocodile. Its glassy eyes gleamed in the dim light, and its jaws were frozen in a silent scream. Below it, a sign read: Do not touch.
Klara smirked. Warnings like that only fueled curiosity. And inside her, that nonsensical, childlike urge immediately flared up—**I’ll touch it just because!**
She reached out and brushed her fingertips against the rough skin. It was hard, cold, unnervingly real.
Nothing happened.
She shrugged, turned, and headed for the exit.
But something was wrong.
As she took a step, she felt an odd resistance behind her. As if she were dragging something along. She turned—and her heart clenched in terror.
A long, scaly tail coiled beneath her skirt. Heavy, green, and horrifyingly real.
Klara screamed.
The shopkeeper and a few locals rushed over, but none of them looked particularly surprised. Instead, she heard them murmuring to each other. Among the whispers, she caught a single word she understood: “Another one.”
“You touched the crocodile, didn’t you?” the shopkeeper asked in broken English.
“Yes! What is this? What’s happening to me?!” she shrieked, trembling in fear.
The man sighed. “You’re not the first, and you probably won’t be the last. There are already a few people out there with a crocodile tail.”
“What?!”
“It’s a cursed crocodile. Whoever touches it grows a tail. It’s just… a curse.”
Tears welled in Klara’s eyes. “Then why don’t you get rid of it?!”
The man looked uneasy. “Well… we’re afraid to touch it. We don’t want a tail either.”
She stared at him in stunned silence.
“I bought the shop with it. The previous owner did the same. It’s been here forever,” the man continued. “There aren’t many shops around, so we don’t have much choice—we have to keep running it. But we do have a warning sign!”
Klara didn’t hear the rest. Tears streaming down her face, she bolted from the shop, dragging her grotesque new appendage behind her.
At the hotel, chaos erupted. Guests gawked. Staff averted their eyes as if this were something unpleasant but not unusual.
She didn’t stay. She stuffed her belongings into her suitcase and headed straight for the airport.
Of course, there were problems. They almost didn’t let her board. And when, by some miracle, she managed to get on the plane, she realized she couldn’t fit in the seat.
She had to stand in the back the entire flight, her tail curling uncomfortably around her legs.
As soon as she landed, she went straight to the hospital.
The doctors were in shock. Tests, ultrasounds, CT scans… Eventually, they concluded that it wasn’t a prosthetic or some elaborate disguise. The tail was genuinely a part of her body.
They decided to operate.
When she woke up, she felt a wave of relief. The tail was gone.
The doctors wanted to keep her for observation, but her wound healed at an unnaturally fast rate. Too fast.
And then…
One morning, she looked down—and saw a small stump.
By evening, it had grown longer.
Within a week? Fully regrown.
It was hopeless.
Nothing could save her.
The tail was back. And it was stronger than before.
Klara spiraled into despair. She sought out more specialists, healers, even charlatans. No one could help her.
Her new reality seemed inescapable. Forever, she would drag this burden behind her.
And in a tiny shop in a forgotten town, the taxidermy crocodile still hangs on the wall.
On its knotted skin, glinting in the dim light, a sign remains.
Do not touch.