Wolfsburg is a small town of around 6,000 people in northeastern Germany. The Beast stalked this town in 1888 and 1889 and dined on small children. A total of 11 were killed before the Beast vanished.
It was the way it ate them that made it famous. It broke their jaws. It crushed their heads. It sucked all the blood from their bodies, leaving empty skins behind. Frightened townsfolk descried a panther-bear-coyote thing with big teeth: The Beast of Wolfsburg.
The Beast suddenly made an unexpected appearance last week. “This nervous town chewed its collective nails today,” the local paper reported, “dreading the pitch of night that might bring a return visit by a mystery killer-beast with vampire lust.”
The Beast of Wolfsburg endures because its rampage had style. It didn’t just kill children. It drained them. You’re not just a beast if you suck kids dry. You’re a vampire beast, with the word “vampire” being used as an adjective. This monster was so horrendous it deserved a modifier.
When the news account of a blood-sucking fiend slinking around in the woods gets out you suddenly have shotgun-happy creature killers piling into town. An estimated 1,000 people poured into town, loaded for beast.
For all the attention it gathered, the beast racked up a fairly unimpressive body count. Total count was a half-dozen domestic dogs killed and empty skins left behind.
After two weeks of no sightings the mayor raised a dead bobcat up a flagpole and declared it the vanquished Beast of Wolfsburg.
Now the towns people of Wolfsburg can go back to being the proud citizens of the headquarters of Volkswagon AG.