Butcher

Researcher's insight into the Butcher
Undated

The documentation is clearly unreliable. As we piece together the puzzle, we are forced to make many leaps of both logic and faith. Inconsistencies are not altogether surprising considering the sources, and the subjectivity of remembered experience. The big picture makes a certain kind of sense, follows its own internal logic. In spite of that, even I have trouble believing what I've found in regards to its first appearance in Louisiana.

The huge bloated body - clearly a relative of the Meathead - with bits of wood and metal protruding from the skin. A leather apron covers the horrors of its torso, the head of a pig, and - and somehow this is the detail that I find most difficult to believe - a flaming hook. It is comfortable with fire and resistant to heat - likely thanks in part to the apron - and to bludgeoning. A regular bulletsponge, and though more fallible to rending attacks, it is hard for me to imagine how these people managed to kill any of them at all. When driven into a violent fury, its behavior would become erratic, and flames would fly from the aforementioned hook. I shudder to think. What it must have felt like to round a dark corner and come face to face with the empty eyes and glowing hook of that seemingly impossible beast?

If the reports can be believed, these Butchers, as they were called by those who hunted them, were the stuff of nightmares. Either that, or only the most fantastical of tales have survived. Can we really separate the facts from the fictions at this distance? Perhaps not, but I am driven to continue to try, even if I never can be sure of the truth.

Clippings from the New Orleans True Crescent
Authors: Unknown
Newsprint variable sizes

July 19th, 1893

A RARE EXHIBITION.- Perhaps you have heard of the art of Taxidermy. Though you may not count it among the finer arts known to man, it can still be practiced with delicacy and skill. None have practiced the art with such whimsy as Walter Potter, an Englishman well known among his peers in his home country. Photographs of Potter's work will be on display for viewing at the home of local practitioner, Ari D'aunoy, this Saturday, admittance 5 cents.

September 22nd, 1893

Come see BARNUM'S AMERICAN MUSEUM! In town, one week only! Featuring strange and marvelous one-of-a-kind creatures, guaranteed to shock and awe, preserved by scientists to inspire and educate. Tickets available at the home of Mr. A. D'aunoy.

June 1st, 1894

You'll never have to say goodbye to Rover!

If you are mourning the passing of your favorite pet, consider the services of MR. A. D'AUNOY. Birds, dogs, rabbits, squirrels, and cats can be preserved to stay with you always. Remember the good times you shared, and amuse your guests!

Call at the home of Mr. D'aunoy between the hours of 11 and 3 for consultation.

March 31st, 1895

READY FOR HIS PROFESSION.- The body of Taxidermist Mr. Ariel D'aunoy was discovered by a group of fishermen on the road to Stillwater Bayou this past Sunday. It is not know how he came to be in that location or the poor condition in which he was found, being only recognizable by a poorly cast glass eye. Should any Readers have information about Mr. D'aunoy's activities in the past few days, please call on the Constable between the hours of 8 and 10 in the morning. Another reminder to move with caution after dark.

October 23rd, 1895

WELL PRESERVED.- The Great Fire in Algiers sent many prized possessions up in smoke. While our reporting is usually appropriately somber, one curious anecdote proved so remarkable as to be printed. A firefighter, sifting through the wreckage of one home, found preserved a curious collection: a menagerie of taxidermied pets. The eccentric collector would be pleased to know that whatever fire retardant measures taken by the taxidermist proved successful beyond all measure.

Interview with Mrs. Florence Frank
Interviewer: New Orleans Constable
Date: April 2nd, 1895
Typewritten, questions omitted(...) 8.5"x 11"

Sir, I beg your pardon, but I am certain that man brought the plague down upon this town, God rest his soul. The lu has taken so many already. My own sons have the cough. But God has delivered his punishment.

Now I know that the good Lord decreed that animals would carry no soul within their bodies. It was not wrong on hat account. But no healthy-minded man would choose such a profession! Not on my life!

(...)

Mr. D'aunoy first took the quarters adjacent to ours one year ago. I brought him our family's well wishes, as a good neighbor must, and he offered a tour of his shop, for he would both live and work on the premises. I was hocked when he showed me the racks of skins. There were rows and rows of fine, sharp knives, and other strange tools I did not recognize. I didn't know what they were for, but from the look of them, they were horrible. Sharp, horrible things. I hate even to think of them. I took a disliking to him immediately.

I had always thought preserved animals were stuffed, somehow, like a toy bear. I didn't know what had to be one. But Mr. D'aunoy, with no little excitement, explained to me that he made clay models of the animals and hen stretched the skins upon them like a coat! It is no wonder God has cursed us with this plague. Only a man of the Devil would do such things mark my word.

My husband and I made clear that he was not welcome, and yes we encouraged our neighbors to do the same. It as our Christian duty. Of course, our Tommy took a liking to the man. Fool he is. I forbade him to ever cross his threshold, but I'm sure he has, and no manner of hidings will cure the boy.

One day he was just gone. I wish I could say I am sorry to hear he has passed, considering the state they found him. But that was God's justice, you'll mark my word.

Journal of Ariel D'aunoy
Soiled, tidy hand, maroon binding, 4.9"x 6.9"
1/3

March 4. I have been forced to flee my home. The flu reached our neighborhood and I was handed the blame. I had thought more understood my profession, especially after so many came to see the Potter exhibit! I do not covet death. I preserve animals so as to appreciate them! The act is a celebration of life. I feel deeply misunderstood, and yet I have to laugh. I share the plight of so many great artists before me. Though my own lack of skill did not do the art justice at first. I was bad with the eyes, and the results were uncanny. Mrs. Glover fainted when I brought her mounted Cleveland back to her, and made me take it away to be burned. I have since become much more proficient in casting the eyes. She was not wrong. Cleveland's eyes had a glassy, demonic look to them. By the time I was required to cast my own, my skill had improved considerably.

I hope to return to my home in a few weeks, though that may be optimistic. Perhaps the plague will have taken my wretched neighbors by then. The night I left, the three boys already had the cough. The mother won't be long after, once they pass, if their predecessors are any sign as to how the illness progresses. Thinking of how they turned people I once thought of as friends against me, my thoughts grow morbid. Perhaps I should return and stuff the boys. That would show that shipwreck of a woman just how artful I am. But what am I saying? I have never even killed an animal. Would I be capable of preserving a human child? I do not think so.

March 5. This building used to be a Slaughterhouse. [likely_the_one_in_stillwater_bayou]__it_reminds_me_of_home.there_are_several_carcasses(swine) hanging in one room - though this place appears to have been abandoned for some time - and there is plenty of lumber from which I can build drying racks for the skins. I must amuse myself somehow, in the time I spend here in refuge, and I plan to put my mind to the task of preservation. I will have to overcome my aversion to hunting in order to feed myself, and I plan to preserve and mount whatever animals are destined to meet their end by my hand. I have set up quarters in a small room with a sturdy, working door, and in another I have arranged what instruments I was able to bring from the house.

While exploring the other rooms, I have found evidence that someone with a similar, if more gruesome, passion dwelled here once. I hope I do not meet him, though as I said, this place appears to have been empty for some time.

Tomorrow I will build several racks and begin by drying the skins of the pig carcasses I mentioned, and perhaps preparing one of the heads for future use. At the very least, it will be good practice.

Journal of Ariel D'aunoy
Soiled, tidy hand, maroon binding, 4.9"x 6.9"
2/3

March 9. The events of the past two days may be of significant historical importance. Though my hand shakes as I write this, I intend to record the facts before the faults of memory and fancy distort them. If you are reading this, know this is no exaggeration or fabrication. This story is true.

I was on a walk. I am a poor marksman and hunter at best, and I have had to dedicate much of my time here in the pursuit of small game for my supper. As I walked the grounds, I came across an enormous carcass, over six feet tall, and at least 350 pounds. Its flesh was soft, mealy, and pale, and at its shoulder a well of leeches, now dead but clearly not an addition to, but a part of the body. I have never seen anything like it, animal or human. And the creature had no head! Not a head that been removed - a body, naturally formed, without that appendage.

I was badly shaken by the sight, but excited as well. Immediately an idea began to form - I could preserve this fine specimen, and sell it to the Showmen (or - dare I hope? - Ward's?), and make my fortune! It took a considerable amount of work to move the body without assistance, but I found rope and slowly hoisted it onto a small wagon, which I was able to wheel back to my makeshift office. The door was large enough that I could wheel it directly into the laboratory. I skinned it immediately.

Its organs were unfamiliar to me, both in shape and substance. The skin was thick and tougher than it looked, like that of an elephant perhaps. The leeches should be easy enough to preserve - they have a tough carapace and a simple shape to mimic in clay. The creature will be more difficult. I have begun the amateur, and am so far happy with my work. With no brain or eyes to remove, it was a far easier task than even the smallest dog. No trouble with casting eyes this time!

Journal of Ariel D'aunoy
Soiled, tidy hand, maroon binding, 4.9"x 6.9"
3/3 

March 11. Still waiting for the skin to dry. Growing restless, so walked into town for a drink. The news is bad. They are calling it a plague now, as it has worsened. Many are dead, and there were corpses piled in the streets. It would be prudent to wait here as long as I can and avoid the sick.

March 17. The skin is finally dry, and I was able to draw it across the amateur this morning. I found a large spool of wire, which should help hold the form, but it is an unwieldy mass, and I have had to attach the body to a number of branches to hold it upright. Without access to more modern materials, I am forced to improvise. It looks most fearsome. I have no doubt that I will get a pretty penny for it.

March 18. It held together through the night! It was warm yesterday, and I worried that the heat might cause deterioration. However, it is stable. I wrapped my leather apron around the body to ensure that everything holds together as it sets, and to conceal the hasty incision I made, in my shock, to investigate the innards.

This is a dismal place to live, but not at all bad as a workshop. In a storeroom, I found preserved a large quantity of salted meat. At first the smell was bad, but it's sated my hunger while I work. I have been feeling more optimistic than ever. It was luck that brought me here, and this gentleman will surely make my career. There are horrible noises at night, but somehow, I sleep.

March 19. The creature is far too unsettling without a head. Perhaps it sounds silly - it is a monster! - but I have decided to attach one of the pig's heads to its body, to complete the picture, and the experiment has been a success. The thing looks even more horrific. Now to consider how I will transport it into town when I return. It is stormy tonight, and part of the ceiling in my sleeping quarters has caved in. Sleeping in the workshop tonight, if the thunder doesn't keep me awake the night.