The Monster Book. Nick Redfern

his legs and arms to be broken with a wooden ax or hatchet, afterward to have his head struck from his body, then to have his carcass burned to ashes. Also his daughter and his gossip were judged to be burned quick to ashes, the same time and day with the carcass of the aforesaid Stubbe Peeter. And on the 31st of the same month, they suffered death accordingly in the town of Bedbur in the presence of many peers and princes of Germany.”

      The execution of Peter Stubbe was carried out on a “breaking wheel,” and his violent demise (all three men on the wheels are Stubbe in different phases of the torture) for being a werewolf (depicted at top, left). His mistress and daughter (in the background at right) were burned.

      Peter Stuube’s reign of lycanthropic terror was finally over.

      Equally as horrific as the actions of Stumpp were those of an unnamed man who, in the final years of the sixteenth century, became known as the Werewolf of Chalons. A Parisian tailor who killed, dismembered, and ate the flesh of numerous children he had lured into his shop, the man was brought to trial for his crimes on December 14, 1598. Notably, during the trial, it was claimed that on occasion the man also roamed nearby woods in the form of a huge, predatory wolf, where he further sought innocent souls to slaughter and consume. As was the case with Stumpp, the Werewolf of Chalons was sentenced to death and was burned at the stake.

      As I have noted in previous entries in the pages of this book, some reports of werewolves do appear to involve monstrous creatures of unknown origin. But, as the above clearly shows, sometimes the exact opposite is true. And sometimes, regrettably, one of the worst monsters is one of us, the human race.

      SUPERNATURAL HOUNDS OF SOUTH AMERICA

      Few people who have read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic Sherlock Holmes novel The Hound of the Baskervilles can forget those immortal words uttered by Dr. James Mortimer to the world’s most famous fictional detective: “Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!”

      It may come as a surprise to some people to learn that Conan Doyle’s novel was actually based upon real legends of giant, devilish hounds that were said to haunt Britain’s villages and countryside, bringing doom, tragedy, and death in their spectral and demonic wake. Yes, Britain has a long, rich, and varied history of encounters with what have generally become known as “Phantom Black Dogs.”

      Usually much larger than normal dogs, they are said to possess a pair of large, glowing eyes (very often red); they frequent graveyards, old roadways, crossroads, and bridges; and are almost unanimously associated with the realm of the dead. In some cases, the beasts appear to be demonstrably evil; while in other reports evidence is exhibited of a helpful—perhaps even concerned—nature. But whatever these critters are, they are not your average flesh and blood animal. Not at all. They might just be your worst nightmare.

      While the image of the Phantom Black Dog is most associated with the British Isles and mainland Europe, the beast has been seen in many other locations, too—including throughout Latin America. The leading researcher in this field is Simon Burchell, the author of Phantom Black Dogs in Latin America. Running at thirty-eight pages, Burchell’s work is obviously very much a booklet rather than a full-length book. But that doesn’t detract from the most important thing of all: its pages are packed with case after case, each offering the reader little-known and seldom-seen information on the definitive Latin American cousin to Britain’s more famous counterpart.

      The supernatural dogs of South America possess glowing eyes, according to those who have reported seeing them.

      Notably, Burchell’s publication details the truly startling wealth of similarities between those creatures seen centuries ago in England, and those reported throughout Latin America in the last 100 years. Namely, the diabolical, glowing eyes; the association that the phantom hound has with life after death; how seeing the beast may be a precursor to doom and tragedy; its occasional helpful and guiding qualities; the fact that the animal is usually witnessed in the vicinity of bridges, crossroads, and cemeteries; its ability to shape-shift and change in size; and not forgetting the most important thing, of course: its perceived paranormal origins.

      Burchell also reveals how the legends of the phantom black dog of some Latin American nations—such as Guatemala—have been exploited by those with draconian and outdated morals. For example, there are widespread tales of people who enjoy having a drink or several, incurring the dire wrath of the phantom black dog—which, as Burchell says, “was certainly popularized by the Catholic Church which used this legend and others as moralizing tales.”

      Winged hounds—whose appearance and activities smack strongly of the modern day Chupacabras of Puerto Rico—are discussed, as are copious amounts of data that make a link with tales of a truly dark and satanic nature. Burchell also reveals intriguing data suggesting that at least some tales of the black dog might be based upon cultural memories and stories of very real, large and ferocious hounds brought to the New World by the Conquistadors centuries ago—“savage and ferocious dogs to kill and tear apart the Indians.”

      That said, however, it is clear that the overwhelming majority of reports of the phantom black dog in Latin America parallel those of Britain to a truly striking, eerie, and extraordinary degree—in the sense that they appear to be something other than flesh-and-blood entities. As Burchell states:

      “Although the Black Dog may appear at first glance to be a British or north European phenomenon, it exists in essentially the same form across the entire length and breadth of the Americas. Much has been written upon the presumed Germanic, Celtic or Indio-European origin of the legend but such an origin would not explain how a highland Maya girl can meet a shape-shifting Black Dog at a Guatemalan crossroads. It appears that the Black Dog, much like the poltergeist, is a global phenomenon.”

      TEXAS CHUPACABRA

      Over the course of the last few years, I have found myself doing more and more radio, newspaper, magazine, and TV interviews on the phenomenon of the so-called “Texas Chupacabras”—those admittedly very strange-looking, hairless beasts that have predominantly been reported within woods and fields in and around the Austin and San Antonio areas, but that are now being seen with increasing frequency in the vicinity of the city of Dallas, very near to where I live.

      One of the questions that keeps on surfacing during those same interviews is how, and under what particular circumstances, did these mysterious beasts manage to migrate from the island of Puerto Rico—where the Chupacabra reports began to surface in the mid-1990s—to the heart of the Lone Star State? Well, the answer to that question is very simple: they didn’t.

      While Puerto Rico’s most infamous monster may very well share its name with that which haunts the woods, ranches, and wilds of Texas, that’s pretty much where the connection ends. Notably, when I have mentioned this to certain media outlets, there’s nothing but outright disappointment in response. So, let’s take a look at what is really afoot, and how the creatures of Texas have become entwined with those of Puerto Rico.

      This illustration by Alvin Padayachee depicts a chupacabra as a hairless, doglike monster.

      I have been on a number of expeditions to Puerto Rico in search of the island’s bloodsucking beasts, and there’s no doubt in my mind that they exist. I have interviewed numerous