The grim facts concerning Hamdenbourgh

The village of Hamdenbourgh was blessed, or perhaps more fittingly cursed, with a remarkably small and very much stagnant population. This was a predicament that had developed in relatively recent times (I myself witnessed the village in this morbid state some five years ago, and so at once I must insist the reader forgive me for inaccuracies of this report, I dare say things have changed some in the half decade that has passed.)  The village had once been a considered a sizable town, prospering upon the grand business ventures of one Mr. James Trotts in the nearby port of Little Kingsbury.
         This Mr. Trotts had the head of a merchantman and made his fortune importing fine quality beef and oxen from the eastern provinces of Japan, which had been quite the alien land until recent diplomatic developments between the United States and the Japanese. I am sure that if you the reader are of the local region, I need not remind you of the short spell of this fine beefs availability at most local butchers and abattoir. Because of Little Kingsbury's relatively close proximity to the then tiny footmark on most locality maps know as simply “Hamden Church,” such a site would be ideal for a settlement dedicated to the handling, preparation and inland dispersal of fine Japanese beef.
         Hamden Church was formally erected by one Pastor Branden Lakes-heed in 1842 as chapel specifically for the owners and extended family of the five outlying farms, the furthest of which was three miles from this chapel. The chapel itself stood fifteen miles from Little Kingsbury, and so in exchange for a donation of both one percent from each farms market earning, and a small crop taking, the chapel operated to serve as a go between for the god fearing farmers of the area, for fifteen miles is a difficult journey on horseback where as three is quite acceptable.
         By the year of 1853 when Mr. Trotts had started about his cattle import business, the five outlying farms had all disappeared, three from a single fire that spread outwardly from a  boiler explosion that took with it the bordering heath and woodland, and the remaining two were put out of business by the terrible drought of 1851 where in the entire crop of wheat was lost. With them passed the pastor who simply moved out of the chapel house one fine Wednesday morning on horseback and from what I could gather was never heard from again. His chapel stood empty for eight months until Mr.Trotts made the arrangements with the Little Kingsbury church to buy the rights to build upon the surrounding five miles of land, on the prevision that a new fully fledged church be erected in place of the old chapel.
         Mr.Trotts had the head of a merchantman as we have already established and in the single year of importing his beef he was very much in positive pocket; however he felt that in starting his own settlement equipped with butcher, holding pens and wholesaler, he could make something of a Trotts Empire of numerous small businesses relating to the beef industry. 
         Hamdenbourgh was formally founded in 1855 by the newly appointed mayor Mr. Trotts, with the St.Mark's Church the first official structure built upon the site of the old Hamden Chapel. What followed was a remarkable period of furious building by Little Kingsbury citizens who had followed Trotts out on his venture because of the prospects of both a job in his beef empire and a new house at the expense of the by now wealthy Mayor James Trotts.
         The grand plans of Trotts and his several holding pens and numerous butchers never quite came to be; the abitour and butcher were built as priority to allow his beef circulation to begin as soon as possible, as well as this was a horse drawn cart delivery system to take prepared beef to market some forty miles north to the towns and cities in the next county. Before further developments could be made, Trotts died of what postmortem discovered to be food poisoning from terribly spoiled beef found inside his digestive system only some ten minuets after he dropped in the towns high street.
         The late Mr.Trotts had left no heir to the Trotts empire (or what had been finished of the Trotts empire, anyway) and so the business of beef import was handed directly to the Hamdenbourgh town hall, which by now had an immediate vacancy for mayor. It was unanimously decided by the townsfolk that this position should fall to one Mr. Jacob Whitby, the master of the abattoir and head of the Hamdenbourgh butchers guild.
         This is how the town stayed until 1867 where we must resume our recollection of fact. In the years that we miss the town continues to prosper as the Trotts-Whitby Beef Company distributes fine Hamdenbourgh beef from as close as Little Kingsbury to as far as major cities some two hundred miles aways on the nations other coast. Yearly the towns population continued to boom unlike any other town of its size in the province, indeed it was the case that city status may soon be more fitting of the town. It is now necessary that the reader takes my word for fact as there is little evidence beyond my personal investigations and hear-say. It was in the January of 1867 that Japan (unknown to most outside of beef or merchant spheres) discontinued the exportation of cattle following a change of government and a return to the isolationist alien land it once was following a international disagreement with the United States.
         The Trotts-Whitby Beef Company, with its national reputation for the finest beef did not however discontinue the sale of goods. It was the same month that the company renamed itself following the administrative decision of Mayor Whitby, The Trotts-Whitby General Meat Company was formed. The national press took note of this development and for the readers general interest, what follows is an extract from Bovine Today that I have the kind permission to reproduce in this document:


February 1867
Is It Trotts? Its Not? Or is it?

Anyone who enjoys a fine portion of beef in a month with most likely be aware of the fine variety that can be purchased from Hamdenbourgh from the Trotts-Whitby Beef Company. From now on we must either content ourselves with a find white meat (clearly pork though never named so, 'general meat' for a cosmopolitan company selling to a wide spectrum is understandable) or buy elsewhere. Following name change the wholesale of beef has discontinued from Hamdenbourgh and in its place is a new though still very fine quality pork market. With the towns reputation for the finest beef for over a decade, the unavailability of this editors favorite dish is shocking, though it must be said this pork is certainly worth the investment.

      With this borne in mind, the reader may question from where this pork came from; pork of any real quality could be found grazing nationally, indeed it was something of a minor national export considering its fine quality. I will keep the reader no longer from the terrible truth.
      With the formation of the butchers guild came a dark pact that the town must prosper over all else. When the beef imports discontinued in the first of 1867, the guild acted immediately (consider that all industry and so all jobs in Hamdenbourgh were of the meat industry and so all family heads were guild members, including the pastor whom was an honorary member following the agreement with the towns founding a over a decade ago.
      A contingency plan for a market development such as this had been formulated by Mr.Whitby himself, all guild members were to have as many children as possible, households of as many as twelve children were common in Hamdenbourgh, which accounts for the remarkable population increase in the years following Trott's (who would hear nothing of such plans) demise. If the cattle ever stopped following, then the guilds own folks would take its place. Something of a lottery was devised, and every Sunday following the church service several numbers where called out, three digits each. This number corresponded to a number found behind the earlobe of each child in the town that was branded on them at twelve months of age. If ever the need arose the plan could be put into action near instantly the Sunday that followed.
      The slaughterhouse itself was a closely guarded building, with only guild members being allowed to set foot within its terrible doors. The press that arrived to write of the town for magazines or newspapers learned this was to guard the close secrets of beef preparation that only guild members are taught at length over a period of years. By the time the grand and horrendous plan was put into action in the first of 1867 this served to keep prying eyes from the monstrosities of human slaughter and preparation that took place within the four blooded walls. Reader I must confess that my two eyes having seen this interior fit for hell itself cannot bring this one hand to write more of its detail. How I held my sanity following the terrible infiltration of the secret internal chambers is a mercy (or perhaps a curse) of God.
      The demise of Mr.Whitby came swiftly following the introduction of the guilds hellish plan. Mayor Whitby was taking his lunch one gray Thursday when the Pastor (who I am afraid I have failed in my role as investigator to discover his name) entered his chambers and quite without warning, using butchering instruments found nearby, knocked the Mayor unconscious, and proceeded to remove his vocal instruments rendering him mute. Once he awoke and in, from what I have gathered from the town hall aides whom watched petrified though key holds, in great pain was then, using the cord most commonly utilised for roping cattle, was tied to his desk and then lacerated across the chest spilling blood and organ matter upon the carpeted floor. And so ended after some short moments of the most terrible pain, the life of Jacob Whitby.
      When approached by the townsfolk who quickly learned of the death of the Mayor for civil trial, the Pastor in his defense for his actions, told that “As you my fellow townsmen are my folk and to see your own put to death for the profit of but a private enterprise was not something I could easily do, however when my own child was called at the Sunday lottery I could go without acting no longer, and so I took it upon myself to take vengeance upon the twisted mind who formulated the grand plan in a fitting fashion to the way he conducted himself - at the butchers hand.
      Dear reader, this is the end of this terrible but sadly accurate account of the Hamdenbourgh massacre. My final word of advise would be to question the origin of meat you think of eating in the future, and consider the lost lives of the Hamdenbourgh children. The national authorities never found out what had taken place at Hamdenbourgh, for the most of the residents left in droves, leaving empty houses behind them. This accounts for the tiny population of Hamdenbourgh five years ago; all who remained could not bring themselves to raise anymore children following the purge and their own consenting hands only short years previous.







Post Script:

I have since discovered that all the town is totally devoid of life now five years post the original document, the houses have fell into a state of disrepair, and all that stands is the empty St.Mark's church and the slaughterhouse, the taking and giving of life so clearly blotching the landscape to all who look onto the dark shell of Hamdenbourgh.