Welcome! Welcome! Today's feature is Alligator skin boots! Worn by mass murderer Charles Joseph Little in 1985, the 'Butcher of the Bayou' killed some 11 souls in just 2 short hours! Before being gunned down in a hail of bullets by the local sheriff's department, ol' Chuck could be heard ranting about Voodoo Witches stealing his family. In a final stand local newspapers called 'a gruesome scene from Hell,' He squared off in town square before breakfast.

Let's see what these boots have to share.

***

Charlie Jo snorted at the witch in front of him. "Listen hear, you hoodoo doodoo bruja. I don't want you talking to my kids no more! Just cause they take a shortcut that barely cuts through your property don't mean you can talk to 'um. I don't want you messin' with their minds and making them think your hokum is real like you done with some the other folks in town."

Madame Domengeaux regarded the bumpkin before her. He was trying to use his admittedly large frame to intimidate her. But the threat was offset by the man's sizeable beer belly. "Dem in town knows right. It be you who don' know. I is a Faith Healer, I just be 'elpin those who need 'elpin. Leave me now, for you say somet'ing you gon' regret." She hoped her neighbor would leave her porch in peace. Her family and other like minded believers had been here for almost 50 years. There was pretty big network of oungan and manbo in rural Louisiana. She hoped that she wouldn't have to call on them for help.

The Little's had moved in a few years prior and at first they had gotten along fine. She had even shared some of her excess from her garden. Then Mr. Little had gotten word that she was a traiteuse. Madame Domengeaux would accept visitors and lay her hands on them and perform little rituals to help with pain and ills, never asking for anything in return. Some would bring gifts for her but she would refuse unless pressed. Finally, the man huffed and puffed and just pointed at her through the screen.

"I said my piece, just keep your mouth shut around my kids." Charlie Jo stormed off back to his house. Dumb witch. Faith healing? Sounded like devil worship. He knew that voodoo was regarded pretty pleasantly in the area, but he didn't trust it. To him it was just one sacrificed chicken away from calling up the devil and selling your soul. He stomped up his steps and ripped open his screen door. "Linnette! Get me a beer!"

Charlie Jo slammed the door and sat down heavily in a ratty old recliner in front of a television. He switched it on an swore at the static on the screen. He got up and adjusted the bunny ears and when he had a mostly clear picture he flopped back into the chair. "I don't have a beer in my hand, woman!"

Linnette Little practically ran into the living room with the cold beer in her hand. She put it in Charlie Jo's open hand. With surprising speed, he grabbed her wrist. "I went and talked to that bitch next door. I don't want you or the kids talking to her anymore. She's a witch and liar. Ain't no good gonna come from that mix."

"But she's always been so good with the." Linnette winced as Charlie Jo squeezed her wrist harder. "You're hurting me." He let her go and she stumble back a few steps.

"You want another shiner for talking back? No. More." Charlie Jo sipped the beer and turned to the TV. He laughed at something, completely ignoring the tears on his wife's cheeks. She walked back to the kitchen to check on the supper she was making. Her husband may be an asshole but he had given her two beautiful children, Charlotte and Charlie Junior, and made a decent living to provide for his family. He used to be so sweet. Then he hit her.

The phone rang.

"Linnette! Answer the phone!" Charlie Jo roared then laughed at the TV again.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Linnette, its me. Can you talk?"

***

Charlie Jo woke up. It was just after four in the morning. He got up and went to the bathroom. When he turned to get back in bed he noticed Linnette wasn't in bed. "Linnette! Come to bed, damnit!" When he didn't hear her meek footsteps padding to their room he opened the bedroom door. "Linnette!" He turned the lights on and stepped out in the hall. He opened his daughter's door. She wasn't in bed either. Frantic, Charlie Jo stomped to his son's room. Empty. He called 911.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Within a few minutes a Deputy Sheriff was in his house. Charlie Jo was pacing in his living room in his tighty whitey's, swearing and hollering about his neighbor.

"Let me get this straight, Charlie Jo. You say your neighbor cast a voodoo spell on your family because she was mad at you for threatening her to stay away from your kids?" Deputy Robicheaux read from a notepad.

"Yeah!" Charlie Jo waved his hands exasperatedly.

"You don't think she just left with the kids? Did you check to see if anything was missing? Clothes, food, anything like that?" Deputy Robicheaux had been here before for a domestic disturbance. The wife looked a little shaken up, maybe hiding a bruise, but had refused to press charges or speak out against Charlie Jo so nothing had happened.

"Why the fuck would she leave?" Charlie Jo yelled.

I wonder, thought the deputy. "Right, I'm gonna go see if I can rouse Madame Domengeaux, you put some pants on and hold tight. Maybe wait by the phone in case she calls?" Charlie Jo blushed when he realized he was in his underwear and retreated up the stairs.

Deputy Robicheaux walked across the lawns to Madame Domengeaux's house. She was in a robe at the door.

"Erryting alright, lawman?"

"Miss Domengeaux, I'm Deputy Robicheaux. Your neighbor claims to have a grievance with you and that you cast a spell on his family."

"Say what now?" the Madame put her hands on her hips.

"I think he's hungover, but I was wondering if you saw Miss Little and her two children at all this evening." He said holding his hands up in defense.

"I ain't seen dat man's family. Dey probly run out on him, always yellin' and hittin'." She said. "Its sad, dey use to be good people."

"Thank you for your time, if you think of anything." There was a heavy 'chunk-chuk' sound behind the deputy. He turned and saw Charlie Jo with a shotgun pointed at Madame Domengeaux.

"Where are they?!" Charlie Jo shouted.

Time seemed to slow. Deputy Robicheaux grabbed the barrel and reached for his holster. Madame Domengeaux tried to slam her door. Charlie Jo pulled the trigger. The buckshot ripped through the deputy's hand and peppered the house. For a moment everyone just stood in stunned silence after the blast. Then in a moment of clarity, Deputy Robicheaux ran back to his car.

"Shots fired, shots fired! Officer hit!" He called into his radio.

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to! You yanked on it!" Charlie Jo stammered. He sprinted back to his house. He needed to run. He grabbed the keys to his truck and stuffed his feet into his alligator skin boots. Back outside he heard sirens and jumped into his truck. It roared to life. As he pulled out of his driveway, he saw Madame Domengeaux on her porch, staring at him. She raised a hand in his direction. Panicking, Charlie Jo stomped on the gas pedal and squealed his tires as he made his getaway.

It seemed like everywhere he looked, he saw Her. That voodoo bitch had cast a spell on him as he ran away. He passed a car and the driver looked exactly like Domengeaux. He yelped and jerked the steering wheel, slamming her off the road. The car crumpled around a tree and he breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was coming up. If he could only. "Fuck!" Charlie Jo swore as Madame Domengeaux appeared before him again. This time on a bicycle of all things. She raised her hand. There was something in it. He didn't take any chances and flattened her before she could cast another spell. With a sickening thump-thump the truck drove over her.

He was almost in town. Laughing and crying, he thought about how his life was over. He had shot a cop and his family was missing. He'd be in the loony bin or the slammer before the end of the day. He should pull over and give himself up. He didn't see the truck pull out until too late. He t-boned the truck and together they went off the road into the sun room of a local eatery.

Coughing and in pain, Charlie Jo staggered out of his mangled truck using his shotgun as a makeshift crutch. It was broken. Parts of him were definitely broken, too. He looked around to check for pedestrians and the other driver. Each body around him looked like Madame Domengeaux. He screamed and scuttled out of the diner.

"Charles Joseph Little, put your hands up!" A voice boomed at him. Charlie Jo saw cops and deputies all around the crash and destroyed building.

"I just want my family back! That witch took them!" Charlie Jo turned to look back into the diner, using his broken shotgun to point inside.

"Gun!" The officers all fired. The pain Charlie Jo felt as their bullets tore through him was muted by confusion. The bodies in the diner were not Madame Domengeaux. Just normal people.

***

So, not really a Butcher. Just a man out of his mind who, by collateral damage, killed some innocent people. They say Linnette Little came to identify his body. She had left him. Imagine that. And while Madame Domengeaux hadn't put a spell on his family, she did use some black magic to turn a good man into an abuser. Why? Who knows. That's not the story of the alligator skin boots. Maybe in the future we'll see her featured in the Curio.

I've been your Curator and you've been my Patron. Come back soon for the next story. For now though, I have work to do.