Story 1031: The Gentleman Butcher

The town of Red Veil was quaint once. Nestled between ashen woods and a river that never ran clean, it was the kind of place where shutters stayed closed after dark, and the fog whispered your name if you lingered too long.

Then came the plague. And with it, the Butcher.

Not the kind who worked meat and bone behind market stalls. No, The Gentleman Butcher was something else entirely.

He came in a coach drawn by horses that never breathed, dressed in a suit that never stained, and spoke with a tongue dipped in honey and horror.

He called himself Mr. Thorne. Polite. Impeccable. And utterly inhuman.

His first act was charitable.

He offered to feed the hungry. The town, now starved and surrounded by ghouls, had little choice but to accept.

The meals were warm, seasoned, and satisfying. The wine was sweet. The bread soft.

But soon, the missing began.

Children first. Then vagrants. Then the mayor’s daughter.

And yet the people kept eating.