In 1764 something began hunting and killing humans in the Gevaudan, now the department of Lozere.  There were an estimated 210 attacks, with 113 dead and about 49 injured.  One will note the ratio of dead to wounded.  About 98 of those killed were eaten.  This statue of Marie-Jeanne Valet by Philip Kaeppelin sums up the whole thing quite nicely. https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/marie-jeanne-valet-vs-the-beast-of-gevaudan It did not look like this. Or this. And it sure did not look like this terrifying image from the movie Brotherhood of the Wolf, which was most enjoyable, entertaining, and historically accurate with the general look of the whole thing. Some of the pictures drawn at the time do resemble this thing. See what I mean? This is what the beast looked like.  No, perhaps not.  It is now thought that the beast was a lion, which would explain a lot.  It could have esc...

  He remembered how carefully and expertly Grandmother would fondle the cold cut guts of the chicken and withdraw the marvels therein; the wet shining loops of meat- smelling intestine, the muscled lump of heart, the gizzard with the collection of seeds in it. How neatly and nicely Grandma would slit the chicken and push her fat little hand in to deprive it of its medals. These would be segregated, some in pans of water, others in paper to be thrown to the dog later, perhaps. And then the ritual of taxidermy, stuffing the bird with watered, seasoned bread, and performing surgery with a swift, bright needle, stitch after pulled-tight stitch. This was one of the prime thrills of Douglas’s eleven-year-old life span. Altogether, he counted twenty knives in the various squeaking drawers of the magic kitchen table from which Grandma, a kindly, gentle-faced, white-haired old witch, drew paraphernalia for her miracles. Douglas was to be quiet. He could stand across the table from Grandmama...

Mother is so strict. Me,.. .I wouldn't harm a fly.

  They stood on the thatched floor of the nursery. It was forty feet across by forty feet long and thirty feet high; it had cost half again as much as the rest of the house. “But nothing’s too good for our children,” George had said. The nursery was silent. It was empty as a jungle glade at hot high noon. The walls were blank and two dimensional. Now, as George and Lydia Hadley stood in the center of the room, the walls began to purr and recede into crystalline distance, it seemed, and presently an African veldt appeared, in three dimensions, on all sides, in color reproduced to the final pebble and bit of straw. The ceiling above them became a deep sky with a hot yellow sun. George Hadley felt the perspiration start on his brow. “Let’s get out of this sun,” he said. “This is a little too real. But I don’t see anything wrong.” “Wait a moment, you’ll see,” said his wife. Now the hidden odorophonics were beginning to blow a wind of odor at the two people in the middle of the baked ve...