The Beast of Brighton
Aaron R. Ziegler
Wisconsin State Detectives Maxwell and Nichols were in pursuit of the Beast of Brighton, named so after the predatory hunting grounds of the county of Kenosha. The Beast of Brighton had just claimed a car full of teenagers on Victor’s Point. The detectives heard screaming of another victim not that far off; the sound was in close proximity.
“Hurry, we have to act fast!” Detective Nichols exclaimed.
Detective Maxwell nodded in agreement.
The two detectives were adorned in tench coats, badges hung by a chain necklace from around their necks. Detective Nichols, a veteran in the field of homicide, had dealt with maniacs and gangs of marauders such as this before in his his past work of twenty years working for the Wisconsin State Law Enforcement. Detective Maxwell, just a rookie fresh into the Wisconsin State Law Enforcement from the Dane County Police Department in the urban metropolitan area of Wisconsin. Detective Maxwell was not aware of the coming fight for his life as Detective Nichols who had worked on many cases with the Federal Buruea on many investigations in the Midwest was made aware of what this Beast of Brighton was capable of enabled by an almost superhuman case of psychopathic psychosis that was the methodology for this deranged maniac in the spree murders happening on Full Moons.
The two Detectives traversed through the thick falling snow that had piled on the ground in the Holiday Season as during this time the Beast of Brighton had used this time as a fully-heated cathartic release of the perpetrators deathly bloodlust of monstrous capability. They ran down an old dirt gravel road covered by twelve inches of snow, the blood leading their way to the Beast of Brighton Maniac had left a trail of crimson on the once eggshell colored snow which was now blemished by a bloody sanguine. The Detectives saw this trail of crimson sanguine led to a old abandoned farmhouse and decrepit barn. The gale force Midwest winds smashed against the barn causing the building to shake as the ajar barn doors shook outward then banged at a steady rhythmic bang. Rusty farm equipment surrounded the agrarian facility.
Nichols motioned to Maxwell to follow him at a distance for providing cover as the sanguine trail led into the abandoned decrepit barn. Nichols moved towards the back where the old pig pen was where skeletons of the anatomical were either human or swine; possibly even both as this boneyard of humans and pigs were mixed among each other, laying frozen in the still stagnant waste from years passed. The barn was colossal in size causing Nichols to not help but wonder why the barn wasn’t renovated and taken better care of until he realized it had belonged to a family who were once prominent in the region but one by one had fallen ill and died mysteriously until one son known as Victor of the Killians family. The family had fallen into desolate decay as once the wealthy influential family were buried in the Rosemary Catholic Cemetery, the Killians were now reduced to be being buried in the Paupers Cemetery outside Kenosha.
The Detectives needed to report this mass boneyard of human and swine skeletons in the pig pen. They then realized the Brighton Beast was in the area after discovering the horror they had uncovered.
“I don’t see the Brighton Beast anywhere, this ripper is somewhere, there’s no blood trail…” Maxwell whispered ominously.
Suddenly, the Brighton Beast sprang through the walls tackling Maxwell. The Brighton Beast was ugly appearing to be an amalgamation between a humanoid great ape, troll, and werewolf lycanthrope covered in black quills and dreadfully locked hair. The Brighton Beast had a face like an orangutan with a wolf muzzle protruding from its face complete with razor sharp yellowed fangs speckled by black diseased dots on the gums and teeth with an acrid green slime of mucus foaming from its mouth. It arms long like orangutans with large humanoid hands bearing long claws for mutilating and rendering its prey. Its legs lanky, gangly, muscularly long and leading to large feet with yellowed talon-esque claws from its toes.
Detective Nichols acted fast, he opened fire upon the beast with rapid rounds from his .45 caliber semi-automatic sixteen shot sidearms he held in both hands riddling the best with bullets as it dug its claws slightly into Detective Maxwell with a latching bite of brevity on the Rookie Detective. The Brighton Beast was maniacally irate with enraged fury. The Brighton Beast was about to lunge at Nichols when Maxwell grabbed the Brighton Beast’s legs discharging as many rounds as he could into the Beasts legs and hindquarters causing the Brighton Beast to fall on a large farming tillage machine in its many protruding spikes impaling the Brighton Beast to the tillage machinery. Detective Nichols and Maxwell quickly unloaded then reloaded their sidearms until all ammunition had been dispensed into the now slain and lifeless body that was riddled with bullets that was the abominable Brighton Beast.
“I don’t feel so good.” Maxwell groaned as then he began to violently convulse as he began to change; all-encompassing black quilled hair began to sprout across his body, his eyes bulged from their sockets as they glowed a sanguine red, Maxwell’s entire human anatomy went through a metamorphosis into what was the Beast of Brighton.
Detective Nichols looked at the body pinned to the farming machinery to see that it was a young man of Killian ancestry, the man appeared to him in old photographs of missing persons of regional cold cases in the individual that resembled precisely that of Victor Killian born almost a century ago, Victor still appeared in a youthful age of his early-thirties black wildly matted hair upon his head and bulging wild yet dead eyes gazed at Nichols. Nichols changed his focus to what was Maxwell. Nichols began to fire his two sidearm as both dry-fired as Maxwell… the scourge reborn as the Brighton Beast lunged at Nichols. The full moon illuminated the inside of the barn as Nichols screams were amplified by the crimson sanguine splashed against the walls.
Throughout the County of Brighton, Wisconsin in the years that followed whenever someone in the statewide area or Brighton County was met with a gruesome fate by some maniacal ripper was whispered among Brighton natives as the work of the horror of the Beast of Brighton. In time, gradually. The attacks died down but the legend of the terrifying horror of the Beast of Brighton would be remembered for generations to come. During the Winter Solstice of late-December to early-January, if Brighton natives or imploring travelers who reveled at occult mysteries came to Brighton County, especially near the hauntingly abandoned Killian Manor and Farmhouse dared to listen to the unworldly howls that differentiating from the haunting rush of winter winds. If listened to these howls that signaled an ominous warning of distance to these inquisitive amateur detectives, they would behold the Beast of Brighton in passing as a sign to leave for if too long a time was wasted in listening to the ominous howls of madness. The Brighton Beast would leave another victim that the mysterious Maniacal Ripper of the Wisconsin Midwest left in its wake as this is the official story used by law enforcement and coroners to cover-up the esoteric existence of the Beast of Brighton.