The ONE Archives

ONE ([0.015]): Butchs & Knives

tw: severed limbs, people being used as food, and body horror

[CLICK]

[THE SOUND OF LAMP CLICKING, PAPER RUSTLING, THEN PEN SCRIBBLING FOLLOWED BY LIAM SIGHING]

[LIAM'S VOICE IS HARD TO HEAR; BUT HE SEEMS TO WHISPER A EXCERPT FROM "CANARY IN A COAL MINE" BY "THE CRANE WIVES"]

ARCHIVIST

Uh, right, right. Where was I?

Statement of Tyler Bungard, regarding his strange, new co-worker at a local butcher's shop. Original statement, August 7 2015. Given by Liam Plecak, September 29, 2016.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

For a little 4 years, I used to work at this butcher shop just across town. The shop was a small walnut brown, brick establishment with an extended window to the right and a black craftsman door beside the window. Above the door was a square slate sign with the words: Butches & Knives. Above the door beside the window, there was an white and red portico. Now, for some reason, the lights in some specific parts of the building didn't seem to work so there were wax candles. On the other hand, some tools and shelves items were misplaced, and no-one knew why. Due to this, me and a few coworkers joked that the place was haunted and abandoned. I didn't expect the other half at this butcher shop would claw at my mind for the longest time.

I wouldn't consider my coworkers weird. Sure they do have some old habits they need to brush off, and some of them have an annoying personality, I should say they're weird in their own unique way, personally. When my employer apparently hired this new follow; I noticed how off-putting they are, around me. Sometimes, I see it in the shadows of the shops; too many heads, arms, and mouths. Other times, I noticed they move like there were one too many bones in their body, or their muscles were too much. I tried to dismiss this as some kind of trick on my eyes, but that wasn't until I realised everything went wrong.

The new fellow, apparently, addressed himself as A, F. He wore a white visor, slate sweatpants, a cream classic sweater with a ocean blue button-up with orange aeroplanes on them. His hair was normally black, but on the edges, they were copperish orange and white. I don't know why some people only use initials as their name, but from what I can gather from this guy; he probably wanted to keep his true identity safe, whatever that is. At first glance, A. F. seemed rather quiet and distant from the rest of us; never included in any of our conversations, but as the day, weeks and months passed, he was willing to branch out of his comfort zone; growing attached to us, and from there, I could see that he was both outgoing and energetic. Maybe I was a bit too harsh on him, maybe he isn't so bad.

There was a customer, one time, who I met, at the butcher shop though. They had a hint of a french accent, and seemed pretty chill. He had a bluish light grey trench coat, a slate and white striped crew neck, and silver fingerless gloves. I... I think he said that his name was Davis? Anyways, when Davis came in, asked for pork, then when I had gathered a bag of pork and gave it to him—he just looked me up and down, then said, "Ne perdez pas la tête." Whatever that means. He then just left.

Anyways, for the next few while working with him, some of my coworkers would just suddenly vanish out of thin air. Even if I tried to wait for them to come back; it seemed like they were gone forever. Moveover, the customers came back with a refund, saying that the meat seemed to taste a bit off. I began to feel that A. F.'s shadow and movement wasn't simply a trick of the mind. Maybe A. F. was more than human at this point, but then again, how could I prove he wasn't, without evidence? How can I prove that this butcher shop was no more than a slaughterhouse?