THE TAXIDERMIST

[solos]

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[adopt tryout for ; blood moon goobie] + winner not allowed to keep any story or art from my entry <3
[extra moodboard , taxidermy warning]

[tw ; talking about taxidermy + hides , no mention about anything gruesome!]
word count ; 2,228 | character count ; 12,372
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[solos]

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Small bugs scurry across the weedy path, running for safety, fearing of being stepped on. The trek to the house was quite peaceful, although the grasses around the area kept on getting more and more out of control the closer you got to the residence. Thorn and berry bushes line the route, you are careful not to misstep into the growths. A fog rolls in, deep fog floating around the base of the house. Around the house’s front yard there are multiple objects to take note of. Some metal benches sit in the yellowed lawn, paint peeling from the aging and wear-and-tear. Theres an old fountain placed to the right of the pathing. Instead of the water flowing beautifully throughout the lawn decoration, its trickling dirty, green water down itself. Peering into the fountain, you can see some mosquito eggs and tadpoles in the water. Backing off from the filthy fountain, you take notice of some dead rose bushes. What was once a beautiful red shade has now turned to a slightly plum shaded red. Grazing your fingers over the crisp petals, a few fall to your feet.
Walking up the rickety wooden steps, to stand upon their porch. Boards dampened with an unknown liquid; your steps make a squelching noise. Unable to peek through the windows due to the years, possibly decades, worth of dirt and grime, you look more at the porch. Hanging from the left side of the porch hangs a wooden swing, attached to the ceiling of the porch by some weathered chains. Placing your hand on the swaying seat, you feel the boards creak from underneath your fingers. Looking around the porch swing, you take notice of some garden tools and broken terracotta pots. Whoever lives here did not take too much care of the outside of their home… Walking back up towards the front door, you place your hand on the door knocker, seeing if anybody was home. Nothing… Nobody answered… Maybe nobody was home? Maybe this place is vacant…? Just about to turn around and head back down the overgrown path, the front door creaks open a crack. Meeting the gaze of the fiery red eyes, you hear their voice grumble. “… May I help you?” the voice cracks.

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[solos]

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Leading you inside, the owner of the estate closes the door behind you, encasing you in their home. Looking around the home, you take notice of the abundance of taxidermized animals and a few plants here and there. The inside of the home was a neat and organized mess, unlike the unkept garden out front. “… May I get you something to drink?” They voice from behind you, standing around the random visitor. “Oh! Uhm… That would be great actually, thank you.” You answer, grateful for their gesture, not noticing how parched you had become. While the homeowner was in their kitchen fetching some drinks, you take a closer look at some of their decorations. Above the fireplace hung an ordinary deer trophy, beautifully crafted and carefully hung up, the owner clearly had a liking for such objects seeing how great of a condition they all are in. On the mantle sits a full-body fox in motion amongst some grasses. In a sly position, the fox is set to look like they are hunting. On the base there is a golden plaque attached to it. Engraved on the golden plaque, there is a name and year. “Rosie 2002” it reads. Is this the creator’s name? Or… is this the name of the fox? “Oh... I see you found Rosie.” The goobie says, interrupting your thoughts about the animal. “Ah! I have… Sorry if I wasn’t meant to look around any...” You speak up cautiously. “All is well! I uh… brought some tea, I hope it’s something you can enjoy...” Looking down at the tea set, you notice its theme. With a slightly grey background and muted yet dark tones colors forming various plants and forest animals, the tea set looks to be handmade. Sipping your tea once poured, your tastebuds are instantly satisfied with the herbal flavors.
Once you finish your tea the goobie introduces themselves. “I guess I should probably introduce myself… I’m Reverend, I uh… don’t know that many people – or well, not that many people know about me either I suppose.” They laugh nervously to themselves while scratching the back of their neck. Once introducing yourself in return, he shows you around some more before asking if you would like to visit his workshop.

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[solos]

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Making your way down to their shop in the basement, you are greeted with an exotic array of decorations, seemingly similar to their living room. “Ahh yeah… If you haven’t noticed already I uh… like to make taxidermy art…” Their voice cracks as you step closer to one of their creations, a jackalope seeming to be made up of scraps from many different hides. You lean closer to the jackalope, looking at each little detail placed by hand of the artist standing behind yourself. “I think it’s neat how you take your own creative liberties with it! You don’t see many artists straying too far from the natural look of the animals.” You speak up, turning around to face the individual behind you. Reverend looks shocked after hearing your comment, having only received backlash about his creativity and unique spins on his projects. “I… don’t know what to say… Thank you.” Reverend speaks.
Further touring you around his shop, he takes you to his crafting station. The large, thick, dark colored wooden desk is currently being taken up by a piece in progress of completion. On his desk stands a stoat in action, grazing through some green grasses infested with some pastel flowers and dandelions. It seems like it’s almost complete, just missing a few final details.



Turning to a small room that looks to be a closet of sorts, Reverend speaks up. “Ah… I have more work in progress pieces in there… I can show you if you would like?” You ponder what kinds of other pieces he could have in the small room; you accept his invitation. Opening the door, creaking by the sudden motion, you see a multitude of shelving, each shelf hogged by a new piece. Some are mostly finished, some still needing the hides attached, and some seeming like an experimental project. One project in particular caught your eye. Theres the neck up of a maned wolf trophy. Although the creature is not an animal you have seen turn into a trophy before, no. There’s something else that draws your eye to them. Sprouts, clovers and a variety of flowers and other plants grow from their fur. It’s not natural of course, but that is what drew you to it. You love Reverend’s spin on their craft. Next to the maned wolf lay some moss-covered antlers, seeming to be attached to their head later on. “That’s one of my favorites so far… She’s inspired by one of the gobbesses, Augusta Rue if you have heard of her. She comes around every year for the festival Brookstowne holds.” Reverend speaks, arms crossed over his chest as he leans on the doorframe. “I have yet to attend but, I hope I can sometime. I’ve seen it in the paper that gets delivered here every now and then, only one postal person tends to come up here… I’m not too sure why…” He spoke.

Hung on the wall in the small storage room, there was a zebra trophy. Although, the zebra seemed to have been constructed of a tiger’s hide instead of their own. With the differing fur length and overall color pattern, it was something like they had not seen before. “That one I just had some extra remnants of fur so I thought I could experiment a bit with it.” Reverend reasoned. Stuffed in the corner of the small room laid a black crate. Filled to the brim with various hides and hide remnants. It was clear that he didn’t like to waste the hides and the scraps whenever he could help it.


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[solos]

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You notice a small dusty device with earbuds plugged into them… It seems like Reverend was listening to some music before you arrived… Do you take a peek at what he was listening to?

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[solos]

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Stepping back into the workshop, you both walk over to the displays covering the deep ashy green walls. There are a couple more normal and common types of taxidermy, none taking any sort of creative liberty within their craft. Hung up on the wall, there are multiple frames filled with pinned bugs. Ranging from butterflies and moths to beetles and tarantulas, the creatures are well preserved and nicely on display. The frames fill the spaces in between the multiple trophies. Strung from the ceiling there are a few bird taxidermy, positioned in a way to make them look as if they are living and soaring through the home’s atmosphere. The birds mainly consist of smaller species, most of them being the general size of one of the cardinals. Throughout the house, you can tell which type of animal is Reverend’s favorite, or at least is the easiest to get a hold of. On the display walls there are a few deer, all of varying ages, coloring and genders. A few jump out to you, such as a two-headed fawn, a buck with mosses and mushrooms growing from his antlers, and the creepiest craft you have seen yet. A doe with only half of its hide, half of the trophy missing its structure. The empty side shows the insides of the deer, except its only it’s skeleton. You weren’t too sure whether to be creeped out, amazed, or even in awe of the creation. “Did anything inspire this one, Reverend?” You ask curiously, eyes not leaving the trophy. “Not particularly, I had seen the skull of a deer before and always just had the idea floating around I guess.” He answers truthfully, happy to talk about his hobby. “It had to have taken a lot of time and skill to create. It turned out beautiful, Reverend.” Reverend smiles to himself, still not used to receiving compliments regarding anything to do with himself.

Of course, there are a few smaller trinkets here and there. Some old, rotting logs, leather bound books, feathers, and various gemstones are scattered around the bookshelves. Someone's collection can really say a lot about a person, seeing Reverend's collection this up close and personal lets you read into him. You haven't met many who have a hobby as unique and out there as you have today, or at least, not that you know of.

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[solos]

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Heading back towards the entrance, passing all of the rooms Reverend toured for you, you start to think. What exactly got them started with all of this? Surely taxidermy isn’t something you just randomly get into, there has to be a deeper meaning.

Once you arrive back to his velvet couch, you both sit next to one another. Turning to him, you begin to speak up. “Reverend? I hope it’s alright to ask…” You pause for a second, Reverend looking at you in the eyes with their own creamy white and blood orange eyes. “How did you get into like… your crafts?” You manage to get out, Reverend’s lips curl up into a smile for a second before falling neutral once again. Looking away, he responds. “I don’t know really. I used to preserve just bones but… I started to feel bad about it if that makes sense.” Your brows furrow slightly, wondering why he strayed away from the bone preserving. “I don’t preserve bones anymore really. One day I just thought about what could have been happening with the hides and stuff like that and… I don’t know, I just wanted to give them the life they deserve. It makes me happy to take care of them here.” He speaks, not thinking about his words too hard. It made sense to you, giving them a new life and home here with him where he could keep them in good shape. “Not many people loved it when I would preserve just the bones, you can just imagine how they felt when they found out I started to dabble in taxidermy.” he says, hanging his head down low. “That’s why I moved out here, honestly. I used to live in a village near Brookstowne but… I was always the outcast so, not much they are missing with me living out here on my own now.” he quietly exclaims. You start to feel sorry for him, patting and rubbing his back to give your comfort and support. “I think it’s beautiful preserving them in this form, giving them what they deserve is beautiful.” you exclaim truthfully. Reverend looks up at you, tears starting to fill his eyes a little. You can’t decide whether seeing him so emotional over your truth laced words makes your heart break or flutter. While you are happy to bring him some sort of joy about his craft, you can’t help but think about what others must have said to him about such a harmless craft. Bringing him into an embrace, you squeeze each other tightly. Who would have thought that deciding to go down that messy path would lead to something like this.

FIN

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