"The Terror of Kyneton: Bucky the Butcher"
 

Kyneton, a quiet country town in Victoria, Australia, nestled among rolling hills and historic bluestone buildings, had always prided itself on its peaceful charm. That changed one stormy autumn when a nightmare came to life — a figure in overalls and fiery red hair who called himself Bucky.
It started with whispers. Kids claimed they saw a small man in a Chucky costume lurking near the old train station after dark. They said he laughed — not a child’s laugh, but something twisted, mechanical, broken. Most thought it was just a prank, some local trying to scare people ahead of Halloween. But then the bodies began turning up.
The first was a local mechanic found in the alley behind his shop. His throat had been slashed, and next to him lay a crudely drawn picture: a grinning doll holding a knife, and scrawled in red ink — or was it blood? — the words: "Bucky woz here!"
Over the next few weeks, the killings escalated. No clear pattern.

A retired teacher. A teenage graffiti artist. A couple traveling through town. Each victim left with the same calling card: a cartoonish sketch of the Chucky-like figure and a mocking signature. The press dubbed him Bucky the Butcher, and Kyneton was thrown into fear.

At the heart of the storm lived Maureen Griggs, a widow who'd been on the same street for 60 years.
“I’ve seen floods, fires, even that meth lab explosion back in 2010,” Maureen told Channel 9 News, standing outside her Victorian-era home. “But this? This Bucky fella? It’s pure evil. Not just sick — evil. Like the devil himself crawled into that doll suit.”
Locals barricaded their homes. Shops closed early. Police patrolled in twos.

Despite the efforts, Bucky always seemed one step ahead. Security cameras caught glimpses — a small, hunched figure in a patchy red wig, painted freckles, and a butcher’s apron — skipping through the shadows like a child at play.
 Speculation ran wild. Some thought it was an escaped mental patient. Others believed it was a local with a grudge, hiding in plain sight. But no one could guess when — or where — Bucky would strike next. 
It wasn’t until the annual Kyneton Daffodil Festival that things came to a head.

With the community trying desperately to reclaim some sense of normalcy, families gathered for the parade. Children marched with flower garlands and music floated down Piper Street.
That’s when he appeared — in the middle of the crowd, smiling, waving with a bloodied puppet hand.
The chaos that followed was swift and brutal. He lunged at a food vendor with a hunting knife, but this time, he didn’t escape. A former army reservist, now a local baker, tackled him to the ground and held him until police arrived. 

Underneath the mask, Bucky was revealed to be Stephen Harlan, a former children’s party performer who'd once worked the Kyneton circuit. A breakdown, a string of personal tragedies, and a disturbing obsession with horror films had led him down a twisted path.
But the town didn’t care about the why.
They only remembered the fear. The way the laughter echoed down empty streets. The drawings. The blood.
Even now, years later, Maureen still warns the new neighbors:
“Don’t go out at night if you hear laughing near the old station. Some say Bucky’s gone. But evil like that? It doesn’t just vanish.”
And sometimes, on cold windy nights, a few swear they see a small shadow dancing between the streetlights… and hear that broken, childlike giggle.