Enter the mysterious world of Granny Grit, a lean, weathered and leather-tough sage who resembled “a crisp twit of twine with a knot for a head.” Her stories captivate and terrorize her young audience, and her voice rings with the authority of the aged and the language of the Ozark hills. Granny weaves spine-chilling tales that introduce her throng to a bizarre cast of characters: a madwoman who fashioned pictures from rocks, a chicken who swallowed an elephant, a woman who conjured and lived with ghosts to stave off her loneliness. There are crying trees, gypsies, and a creeper; colorful oddballs with distinctive names, like hot-tempered Nashville Grit and Young Ep, whose quest to find the end of the rainbow leads him back home. And, as the title promises, there is the “thing without a name,” a formless, faceless changeling with rancid breath—and a tale that Granny Grit expertly crafts to entice the children to practice good behavior. Read The Thing Without a Name. I guarantee you will delight in these mysterious, spooky, bone-chilling yarns — and, that you will never let your hands dangle over the edge of the bed at night.