Midnight Syndicate - Cage of Solitude from Gates of Delirium
This will set the scene for the next Ripper Journey!
20151218
20151204
Concluding details *(very graphic WARNING)
Several hours after the departure of both groups, a gruesome discovery is made...Stella's handy work and her mental undoing.
*(The Illustrated Police News-
The throat had been cut right across with a knife, nearly severing the head from the body. The abdomen had been partially ripped open, and both of the breasts had been cut from the body, the left arm, like the head, hung to body by the skin only. The nose had been cut off, the forehead skinned, and the thighs, down to the feet, stripped of flesh. The abdomen had been slashed with a knife across downwards, and the liver and entrails wrenched away. The entrails and other portions of the frame were missing, but the liver etc., it is said, were found placed between the feet of this poor victim. The flesh from the thighs and legs, together with the breasts and nose, had been placed by the murderer on the table, and one of the hands of the dead woman had been pushed into her stomach.)
*(The Illustrated Police News-
The throat had been cut right across with a knife, nearly severing the head from the body. The abdomen had been partially ripped open, and both of the breasts had been cut from the body, the left arm, like the head, hung to body by the skin only. The nose had been cut off, the forehead skinned, and the thighs, down to the feet, stripped of flesh. The abdomen had been slashed with a knife across downwards, and the liver and entrails wrenched away. The entrails and other portions of the frame were missing, but the liver etc., it is said, were found placed between the feet of this poor victim. The flesh from the thighs and legs, together with the breasts and nose, had been placed by the murderer on the table, and one of the hands of the dead woman had been pushed into her stomach.)
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| © Mary Evans Picture Library-used with permission |
Barking and East Ham Advertiser
United Kingdom 24 November 1888
United Kingdom 24 November 1888
THE WHITECHAPEL MURDER
The remains of Mary Janet Kelly, who was murdered on the 9th of
November, in Miller's-Court, Dorset-street, Spitalfields, have been
interred in the Roman Catholic Cemetery at Leytonstone. The body was
enclosed in a polished elm and oak coffin, with metal mounts. On the
coffin plate was engraved: "Marie Jeanette Kelly, died 9th Nov., 1888,
aged 25 years." Upon the coffin were two crowns of artificial flowers
and a cross made up of heartsease. The coffin was carried in an open car
drawn by two horses, and two coaches followed, from the Shoreditch
Mortuary. An enormous crowd of people assembled at an early hour,
completely blocking the thoroughfare, and a large number of police were
engaged in keeping order. As the coffin appeared, borne on the shoulders
of four men, at the principal gate of the church, the crowd was greatly
moved. Round the open car in which it was to be placed men and women
struggled desperately to touch the coffin. Women with faces streaming
with tears cried out "God forgive her!" and every man's head was bared.
The site was quite remarkable, and the emotion natural and
unconstrained. Two mourning coaches followed, one containing three, and
the other five persons. Joe Barnett was amongst them, with someone from
M'Carthy's, the landlord; and the others were women who had given
evidence at the inquest. After a tremendous struggle, the car, with the
coffin fully exposed to view, set out at a very slow pace, all the crowd
appearing to move off simultaneously in attendance. The traffic was
blocked, and the constables had great difficulty in obtaining free
passage for the small procession through the mass of carts and vans and
tramcars which blocked the road. The distance from Shoreditch Church to
the Cemetery at Leytonstone by road is about six miles, and the route
traversed was, Hackney-road, Cambridge Heath, Whitechapel-road, and
Stratford. The appearance of the roadway throughout the whole journey
was remarkable, owing to the hundreds of men and women who escorted the
coffin on each side, and who had to keep up a sharp trot in many places.
But the crowd rapidly thinned away when, getting into the suburbs, the
car and coaches broke into a trot. The cemetery was reached at two
o'clock. The Rev. Father Columban, with two acolytes, and a
cross-bearer, met the body at the door of the little chapel at St.
Patrick, and the coffin was carried at once to a grave in the
north-eastern corner. Barnett and the poor women who had accompanied the
funeral knelt on the clay by the side of the grave, while the service
was read. The coffin was incensed, lowered, and then sprinkled with holy
water, and the simple ceremony ended. The floral ornaments were
afterwards raised to be placed upon the grave, and the filling-up was
completed in a few moments, and was watched by a small crowd of people.
There was a very large concourse of people outside the gates, who were
refused admission until after the funeral was over.
Note- next story will start in a week or so; stay tuned!
20151203
Cheshire Cats
Untangling themselves, Jack gasps for breath and Warren stands, unsteadily on his pegs. I think they're gone Jack, ripped...his words trail off. Having received a head injury, Warren isn't entirely sure what he just saw since things are still a bit wonky and his head is throbbing like a marching bands drummer.
Jack croaks out a yes; his throat is very sore and bruised. Warren extends a hand and pulls Jack up; their bodies bang together, still gripping hands, There is still time to follow them, right Jack? Almost nose to nose, Jack whispers, How did you...Warren interrupts and shows him the glowing wrist device. When did you...grab your bags Jack, Warren interrupts once again. Still in a whisper, There isn't any reason for you to go. Reason? Warren speaks incredulously. Frankly, you astound me my dear Jack; can't be helped now and you obviously need my help 'old boy.'
A low hum beings to fill the air, accompanied by a strange electric charge that makes the hair on the back of Warren's neck stand up. Moving towards the 'rip zone', Jack and Warren look at one another in anticipation. Looking at his own wrist device, Jack sees the rip 'fart' is happening in three seconds, it will be a small one; could make things interesting on the other end. Best not to tell Warren, it would take too long. Well? asks Warren. Any moment now...just then, police whistles blow! Turning to see the men in blue coming down the street, Warren says, none too soon either. Grinning, they disappear like Cheshire cats. The constables, stupefied, mouth's gaping open, look to each other. Did ya see tha' Henry? See what...
Jack croaks out a yes; his throat is very sore and bruised. Warren extends a hand and pulls Jack up; their bodies bang together, still gripping hands, There is still time to follow them, right Jack? Almost nose to nose, Jack whispers, How did you...Warren interrupts and shows him the glowing wrist device. When did you...grab your bags Jack, Warren interrupts once again. Still in a whisper, There isn't any reason for you to go. Reason? Warren speaks incredulously. Frankly, you astound me my dear Jack; can't be helped now and you obviously need my help 'old boy.'
A low hum beings to fill the air, accompanied by a strange electric charge that makes the hair on the back of Warren's neck stand up. Moving towards the 'rip zone', Jack and Warren look at one another in anticipation. Looking at his own wrist device, Jack sees the rip 'fart' is happening in three seconds, it will be a small one; could make things interesting on the other end. Best not to tell Warren, it would take too long. Well? asks Warren. Any moment now...just then, police whistles blow! Turning to see the men in blue coming down the street, Warren says, none too soon either. Grinning, they disappear like Cheshire cats. The constables, stupefied, mouth's gaping open, look to each other. Did ya see tha' Henry? See what...
20151202
Promised Revenge
Warren, still dizzy and bleeding, throws himself against Norman's legs. All three fall into a pile of groping arms and wiggling legs, like a bug on it's back. A frantic struggle engulfs the trio; déjà vu flashes into Jack's mind, but unable to speak above a croak, attempts to get the knife from Norman, even though Warren may have a better advantage. Amid the grunts and groans, a yell escapes one of the men and exclaims, You bastard! Norman scrabbles to his feet, having freed himself; cradling his gashed, bleeding arm, dashes the short distance to Stella and Grace. Giving a grunt, yelling obscenities, and promising revenge, Norman and the two sisters, bags in hand, enter the time rip; a strange glowing wave of colors and distortions. In a flash they are gone, whizzing back in time to meet a man who will unlock the secrets of the mind.
Old Pete has found Constable George and Henry; running, they leave the old man behind and head for the alley. Could this be the Ripper murderer? Billy clubs at the ready, they were prepared for anything...
Old Pete has found Constable George and Henry; running, they leave the old man behind and head for the alley. Could this be the Ripper murderer? Billy clubs at the ready, they were prepared for anything...
20151201
Friends No More
Stella couldn't help herself, she had to look at him. Oh, god! He looked so concerned and so young. Even in her muddled mind, she knew the horrors destined for this naive man. Norman was fast approaching him...Oh, god...help me.
Having reached the door, she enters; commotion ensues and the door swings wide, a bag is flung out the opening, then another, followed by shouting protest. Shortly, Jack is shoved out to where his belongings had landed in a heap. Bewildered he turns to re-enter, but the door is slammed in his face. What the hell is going on? Jack shouts to the uncaring wood door; unaware of the two men in the alley.
Jack?! Calls out Warren, now recovered from his own unexpected, but less violent encounter with Stella. Moving towards his friend, Warren is accosted from behind. The two struggle to get a footing over the other. Jack turns to see the fight and before he can reach them, Norman strikes Warren down. Blood gushes from his head as he tries to sit up.
One of the neighbors has peered out the window to see the raucous and decides to alert the local bobby. With all the commotion, between the three men, old Pete slips out, unobserved and heads down the narrow street in search of Constable George.
Stop! Growls Norman as Jack is within a few feet of them now. Squatting, Norman wraps his forearms around the half conscious Warren and squeezes his neck. Stop, or I will break his neck! You wouldn't dare! Wouldn't I....the madman who slew defenseless women...I would gladly rid myself of this f'ing annoying and too clever friend of yours! Norman's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets for the fury he felt; veins popping on his neck like worms. It would serve no purpose to your plans. Oh, now you care about my plans?! Ha-ha-ha. How terribly amusing, but I won't be deceived by you Jack...my betrayer. Norman's eyes narrow to small black beads and a smile that would make the grim reaper shiver covers his sweaty face. Come here Jack, if you wish to save your friend. Warren begins to feel the ground beneath him again, but plays possum since Norman has a strong grip on him still.
Jack approaches, knowing this situation could go wrong very quickly and the danger to Warren was extreme. In one swift motion, Norman releases Warren and lunges at Jack, pining him against the cold brick wall. With one forearm on Jack's throat, Norman punches his gut with his left fist in rapid succession. A wave of nausea envelopes Jack. Norman leans in and breathes into his ear, the man who was once his best friend, you have betrayed me for the last time 'brother.' Jack's vision blurs and the lack of oxygen is rendering him unconscious. Norman reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his blade...
Having reached the door, she enters; commotion ensues and the door swings wide, a bag is flung out the opening, then another, followed by shouting protest. Shortly, Jack is shoved out to where his belongings had landed in a heap. Bewildered he turns to re-enter, but the door is slammed in his face. What the hell is going on? Jack shouts to the uncaring wood door; unaware of the two men in the alley.
Jack?! Calls out Warren, now recovered from his own unexpected, but less violent encounter with Stella. Moving towards his friend, Warren is accosted from behind. The two struggle to get a footing over the other. Jack turns to see the fight and before he can reach them, Norman strikes Warren down. Blood gushes from his head as he tries to sit up.
One of the neighbors has peered out the window to see the raucous and decides to alert the local bobby. With all the commotion, between the three men, old Pete slips out, unobserved and heads down the narrow street in search of Constable George.
Stop! Growls Norman as Jack is within a few feet of them now. Squatting, Norman wraps his forearms around the half conscious Warren and squeezes his neck. Stop, or I will break his neck! You wouldn't dare! Wouldn't I....the madman who slew defenseless women...I would gladly rid myself of this f'ing annoying and too clever friend of yours! Norman's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets for the fury he felt; veins popping on his neck like worms. It would serve no purpose to your plans. Oh, now you care about my plans?! Ha-ha-ha. How terribly amusing, but I won't be deceived by you Jack...my betrayer. Norman's eyes narrow to small black beads and a smile that would make the grim reaper shiver covers his sweaty face. Come here Jack, if you wish to save your friend. Warren begins to feel the ground beneath him again, but plays possum since Norman has a strong grip on him still.
Jack approaches, knowing this situation could go wrong very quickly and the danger to Warren was extreme. In one swift motion, Norman releases Warren and lunges at Jack, pining him against the cold brick wall. With one forearm on Jack's throat, Norman punches his gut with his left fist in rapid succession. A wave of nausea envelopes Jack. Norman leans in and breathes into his ear, the man who was once his best friend, you have betrayed me for the last time 'brother.' Jack's vision blurs and the lack of oxygen is rendering him unconscious. Norman reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his blade...
20151130
Utter Frustration
Stella winces at the pain in her jaw. Her eyelids open slowly; a pair of grey, silver flecked eyes stare back at her. Those and the firm grip around her waist are known to her, yet it could be another illusion...reality seems to have slipped off some place far away.
Why did you scream like a banshee? Silence. Damn it Stella, what is wrong with you? With her continued silence, Norman's frustration mounts. You've really gone over the edge this time. We must get back, avoiding any contact with the police in the process. Stella looks at him blankly. Shaking her, Norman exclaims, Bloody hell...are you listening to me?
Releasing his hold on her, Norman starts to walk off, but Stella stands, frozen on the spot. Turning around, Norman frowns and walks back; grasping her hand, he leads her back towards 'home.' Still silent, Stella follows like a distracted child; not being dragged, just without feeling or emotion. Not having time to concentrate on pondering what exactly Stella was up to or why she acted so hysterically, Norman carefully navigates them back several streets. Looping around, they successfully outwit the constables pursuing them.
All seemed well until they reached the narrow street which crosses the threshold of their very emanate departure location. Norman was instantly and utterly vexed! Grinding his teeth, he let out a low hiss. Betrayed! Yanking Stella to his side, he whispers instructions in her ear. Unsure she would carry out his command, he gives her a forceful shove towards the figure walking 100 yards in front. Stumbling slightly, Stella turns halfway and looks at Norman. His maniacal expression caused a chill in her spine and fear drove her on. Moving swiftly now, she passes the man and breaks into a run. Startled, the man falls against the brick wall, stopping him cold. Her ghost like face looks back at him and he calls out, Wait! Please miss, I must talk to you!
Why did you scream like a banshee? Silence. Damn it Stella, what is wrong with you? With her continued silence, Norman's frustration mounts. You've really gone over the edge this time. We must get back, avoiding any contact with the police in the process. Stella looks at him blankly. Shaking her, Norman exclaims, Bloody hell...are you listening to me?
Releasing his hold on her, Norman starts to walk off, but Stella stands, frozen on the spot. Turning around, Norman frowns and walks back; grasping her hand, he leads her back towards 'home.' Still silent, Stella follows like a distracted child; not being dragged, just without feeling or emotion. Not having time to concentrate on pondering what exactly Stella was up to or why she acted so hysterically, Norman carefully navigates them back several streets. Looping around, they successfully outwit the constables pursuing them.
All seemed well until they reached the narrow street which crosses the threshold of their very emanate departure location. Norman was instantly and utterly vexed! Grinding his teeth, he let out a low hiss. Betrayed! Yanking Stella to his side, he whispers instructions in her ear. Unsure she would carry out his command, he gives her a forceful shove towards the figure walking 100 yards in front. Stumbling slightly, Stella turns halfway and looks at Norman. His maniacal expression caused a chill in her spine and fear drove her on. Moving swiftly now, she passes the man and breaks into a run. Startled, the man falls against the brick wall, stopping him cold. Her ghost like face looks back at him and he calls out, Wait! Please miss, I must talk to you!
20151126
Future or Past?
Out of the corner of his eye, Warren can see the pulsing green light; an orb like jewel, with many facets. What secrets are hidden there? As if it were daring him or even taunting, for that matter, to act. Way ahead of you... Warren stops his packing, realizing he is talking to an inanimate object. Why...did I just do...that? Walking over, he picks up the piece, off the dresser, suddenly he feels the pulsing travel through his body and scenes begin to flash before his eyes; like he is traveling to them, but not moving. Hard to make out, but some of the faces are familiar; the two women, pale and grey, one in a nurses uniform and the other...a straight jacket? Another flash and he is in a lab with two men, they are bent over vials and other strange apparatus...just as quickly as they had started, the flashes stopped. Back in his own room, Warren sets the device on the bed and wonders what it all means. Mrs. Bennett said I hadn't been myself since these awful murders started, but really, its been since I saw Jack. My life has been turned inside out and upside down; I am no longer certain about many things and yet, I trust this man who claims to time travel. Utterly laughable.
With a sigh of determination Warren continues his task, being careful to pack only essentials, he decides to write a quick note to Mrs. Bennett. Briefly he explains he is going away for awhile; if he has not returned in a month's time, she is to pack his belongs and contact his Aunt in Stoke-upon-Trent. Placing the note and some money on the dresser, Warren scans the room one final time. I may never see this place again...I also may die in the next hour as well.
Placing the device around his wrist, Warren grabs his carpet bag and departs. Standing on the stoop, he decides to go to the most logical place, the address of the two women. Will Jack know to go there? He felt he would, maybe because of the coded note Norman sent or maybe it was the pulsing of this strange device.
Warren sets off, expecting the unknown and suspecting great danger.
The device pulsed faster now and the glowing orb began to change color...a rip in time will form...soon.
With a sigh of determination Warren continues his task, being careful to pack only essentials, he decides to write a quick note to Mrs. Bennett. Briefly he explains he is going away for awhile; if he has not returned in a month's time, she is to pack his belongs and contact his Aunt in Stoke-upon-Trent. Placing the note and some money on the dresser, Warren scans the room one final time. I may never see this place again...I also may die in the next hour as well.
Placing the device around his wrist, Warren grabs his carpet bag and departs. Standing on the stoop, he decides to go to the most logical place, the address of the two women. Will Jack know to go there? He felt he would, maybe because of the coded note Norman sent or maybe it was the pulsing of this strange device.
Warren sets off, expecting the unknown and suspecting great danger.
The device pulsed faster now and the glowing orb began to change color...a rip in time will form...soon.
20151125
Unexpected Meeting
Pacing the room, Grace is nearly beside herself in worry. Why? Why did Stella go out and why isn't she back yet? We are running out of time...
Suddenly, she feels an overwhelming sense of fear and dread; moving to the door and pulling it open, a rush of cold, damp air hits her face, a scream echos. Stella! On instinct she runs towards the direction it came from; rounding the corner she comes face to face with Jack. A gasp escapes her lips and Jack pulls her to him. Oh, Grace, he murmurs. Hugging her tightly, he bends over and kisses her tear stained face. Wanting to give in, Grace struggles with her feelings and fears. No, I can't do this now, Stella is in danger. Jack, please, stop. Pushing away, she tries to get passed him, but he grabs her arm. No, the police are coming, you must go back. My sister needs me! Wrenching free, Grace angrily says, you could help me! Jack seeing the distress on her face, in the dim light, tries to calm her. There is no need; Norman has her. Shocked by his response, Grace steps back confused. What? Norman... In a direct and gentle manner Jack says again, Grace, please...go back.
Bewildered, Grace heads back, with Jack following behind a few paces. Watching Grace walking in front of him, like a vision in a dream, his heart is ripped to shreds once more; I have been trying to help you.
Suddenly, she feels an overwhelming sense of fear and dread; moving to the door and pulling it open, a rush of cold, damp air hits her face, a scream echos. Stella! On instinct she runs towards the direction it came from; rounding the corner she comes face to face with Jack. A gasp escapes her lips and Jack pulls her to him. Oh, Grace, he murmurs. Hugging her tightly, he bends over and kisses her tear stained face. Wanting to give in, Grace struggles with her feelings and fears. No, I can't do this now, Stella is in danger. Jack, please, stop. Pushing away, she tries to get passed him, but he grabs her arm. No, the police are coming, you must go back. My sister needs me! Wrenching free, Grace angrily says, you could help me! Jack seeing the distress on her face, in the dim light, tries to calm her. There is no need; Norman has her. Shocked by his response, Grace steps back confused. What? Norman... In a direct and gentle manner Jack says again, Grace, please...go back.
Bewildered, Grace heads back, with Jack following behind a few paces. Watching Grace walking in front of him, like a vision in a dream, his heart is ripped to shreds once more; I have been trying to help you.
20151124
Grip of Fear
Stella moves silently through the early morning mist of fog; passing a few people as she makes her way back to their lodgings. Whitechapel is never completely asleep, always a drunk or prostitute about.
Having gorged on blood, in such a frenzy, she is incognizant. With most of her clothes burned, she feels cold and the damp air is no longer refreshing; it bites into her exposed skin. A fear begins creeping up her spine and slowly starts to intensify, spreading as she gets closer to 'home.'
Flashes of the heinous act she committed begins to haunt her; Mary's face appears in the mist before her. Stopping suddenly, Stella pinches her eyes shut to make the mirage disappear. She hears screaming behind her and turns around; putting her hand over her own mouth in fright to keep from screaming herself. Nothing. No sound. No one there.
The fear grows to consume her and she quickens her pace. Almost there now, just a couple more turns and I'll be safe with...Stella?...Why are you out here? That voice, I know that voice. Now stiff with mortal dread, Stella turns once again. Eyes wide and mouth falling open, she lets out a blood curdling scream. Like a flash, he hits her square in the jaw, knocking her unconscious. Bloody stupid! A police whistle sounds off in the distance. Moving quickly he picks up Stella and heads off. Another f'ing mess to deal with.
Having gorged on blood, in such a frenzy, she is incognizant. With most of her clothes burned, she feels cold and the damp air is no longer refreshing; it bites into her exposed skin. A fear begins creeping up her spine and slowly starts to intensify, spreading as she gets closer to 'home.'
Flashes of the heinous act she committed begins to haunt her; Mary's face appears in the mist before her. Stopping suddenly, Stella pinches her eyes shut to make the mirage disappear. She hears screaming behind her and turns around; putting her hand over her own mouth in fright to keep from screaming herself. Nothing. No sound. No one there.
The fear grows to consume her and she quickens her pace. Almost there now, just a couple more turns and I'll be safe with...Stella?...Why are you out here? That voice, I know that voice. Now stiff with mortal dread, Stella turns once again. Eyes wide and mouth falling open, she lets out a blood curdling scream. Like a flash, he hits her square in the jaw, knocking her unconscious. Bloody stupid! A police whistle sounds off in the distance. Moving quickly he picks up Stella and heads off. Another f'ing mess to deal with.
20151123
Determination
No, Mrs. Bennett. Warren speaks in a grave voice. You do not comprehend the gravity of this situation. Warren stares up at the woman who had been almost like a mother, since he moved in three years ago. A sweet and quirky lady that is god fearing and determined to help anyone in need. Mister Warren, things have been mighty strange of late and I may not understand all the fancy methods, contraptions, but I do know folks. You haven't been yourself since the awful Ripper Murders started. She shivers at the thought. Saints preserve us. With a heavy sigh, Mrs. Bennett sits on the side of the bed, exhausted for concern over this caring, young man. I've only tried to be a help... I know and you have been. You've always taken good care of me and the others under your roof. Warren sits up, feeling like his feet are grounded again. With a gentle touch, he puts his hand on hers. Smiling, Warren looks at the stubborn Irish woman, I have a friend that needs my help and like you, I must act. With her other hand, she pats his and smiling back says, alright deary, you know best...in this case.
Getting up, Mrs. Bennett's heel hits a hard object under the bed and she cries out, ouch! What in thunder do you have under there? Reaching down, she picks up the strange object. Have you been tinkering again? Warren is now up, with dressing gown on, moves to collect the metal piece. As Mrs. Bennett hands it to him a green light starts to pulse. She exclaims, What in tar-nation is it doin'? Warren, perplexed, sets it down on the dresser. I am not at all certain, but I believe it's significant. Well, you seem to have recovered and I need my bed. You help your friend deary and be careful! I will and Mrs. Bennett, she turns, faces him as she stands holding the door, Thank you...for everything.
Getting up, Mrs. Bennett's heel hits a hard object under the bed and she cries out, ouch! What in thunder do you have under there? Reaching down, she picks up the strange object. Have you been tinkering again? Warren is now up, with dressing gown on, moves to collect the metal piece. As Mrs. Bennett hands it to him a green light starts to pulse. She exclaims, What in tar-nation is it doin'? Warren, perplexed, sets it down on the dresser. I am not at all certain, but I believe it's significant. Well, you seem to have recovered and I need my bed. You help your friend deary and be careful! I will and Mrs. Bennett, she turns, faces him as she stands holding the door, Thank you...for everything.
20151122
Unfinished Business
Jack pays the cab driver, giving him extra for the time he didn't realize was spent and for being good humored for all the stops. Right'o gov, next time yer in 'ol London town, look up 'ol Tom; cheers to you! Tipping his hat, Tom drives off into the darkness. Nearly 4 a.m. now, Jack conceals one bag in the bushes and keeping the other containing the instruments to extract the parasite and potential emergencies, should they crop up.
Setting the dial as far as it would go, like a clock, Jack activates the time distortion module for a third time, glowing amber now; this could mean there is a limit on how often it can be used, especially in one 24-hour period.
Walking past the frozen statues of night nurses and orderlies, Jack locates the critical care ward. His assaulter lay motionless in the bed. Using the bedside table, the bag is opened and Jack lays out the tools he needs on the foot of the bed. Taking tools in hand, he proceeds to undo Norman's handiwork. With time 'frozen', removing the parasite is an easy task this time around. Completing the surgery, Jack packs everything up and starts to leave the ward when time re-sequences itself. Coming towards him is an orderly carrying linens. Hey! You! What do you think you're doing here? Approaching, in a non-threatening manner, Jack addresses the aggressive man. I'm afraid I'm lost...My name is Dr. Jackson; I'm from Brompton Hospital and I was checking on a patient, that had recently consulted me. You're here a bit early Doc; best come back at 9 a.m. Yes, I'll do that and thank you.
Swiftly, Jack descends the staircase and passing the nursing station, tips his hat. Nurse Havershome is shocked to see him, before she can say anything, Jack says, over his shoulder, see you tomorrow nurse and out the door he goes.
Grabbing his other bag, from the shrubs, he starts the long walk back to Whitechapel and the rendezvous to rip. Why would Norman tell me when and where? I will have to be on my guard and then there is Grace to consider; what danger might she be in?
Too many questions swirl around his tired mind and the weather is making the walk a damp one...I'll not be missing this!
Setting the dial as far as it would go, like a clock, Jack activates the time distortion module for a third time, glowing amber now; this could mean there is a limit on how often it can be used, especially in one 24-hour period.
Walking past the frozen statues of night nurses and orderlies, Jack locates the critical care ward. His assaulter lay motionless in the bed. Using the bedside table, the bag is opened and Jack lays out the tools he needs on the foot of the bed. Taking tools in hand, he proceeds to undo Norman's handiwork. With time 'frozen', removing the parasite is an easy task this time around. Completing the surgery, Jack packs everything up and starts to leave the ward when time re-sequences itself. Coming towards him is an orderly carrying linens. Hey! You! What do you think you're doing here? Approaching, in a non-threatening manner, Jack addresses the aggressive man. I'm afraid I'm lost...My name is Dr. Jackson; I'm from Brompton Hospital and I was checking on a patient, that had recently consulted me. You're here a bit early Doc; best come back at 9 a.m. Yes, I'll do that and thank you.
Swiftly, Jack descends the staircase and passing the nursing station, tips his hat. Nurse Havershome is shocked to see him, before she can say anything, Jack says, over his shoulder, see you tomorrow nurse and out the door he goes.
Grabbing his other bag, from the shrubs, he starts the long walk back to Whitechapel and the rendezvous to rip. Why would Norman tell me when and where? I will have to be on my guard and then there is Grace to consider; what danger might she be in?
Too many questions swirl around his tired mind and the weather is making the walk a damp one...I'll not be missing this!
20151120
Unlucky #13
Stella should have felt chilled to the bone, but she wasn't, thinking about her plans made a fire in her soul. It had been several hours before she felt the opportunity to get Mary alone was approaching. Watching her movements had been entertaining at first, but now she was bored with the chase.
All had gone quiet in the narrow, shadow filled lane and as Stella drew closer to #13, she could hear faint singing. There was some light coming through the curtained window. Gently, Stella wraps on the door, since trying the knob and finding it locked, it had to be risked. The broken window pane was a second option, but Mary might notice her hand reaching in to unlock the door.
Mary hears the noise and gets up to answer, hoping the caller is her fancy man, and opens the door to greet her lover...red, flashing eyes, fingers like talons with nails knife sharp, and gleaming white fangs of a wolf sink into her neck before she can move or utter a sound. All turns a murky grey blur and Mary looses consciousness.
The black velvet cloak silently falls to the floor, into a pile, and Stella carries her limp prey to the bed; looking at Mary laying there, Stella's rage boils out-of-control. Acting on shear impulse and letting herself go completely, Stella begins ripping and shredding flesh;knife in hand, she mutilates the once attractive woman now sprawled on the small bed. Stella is soaked in blood and spatter covers her grey face, licking her lips, she gives a low growl of pleasure...Mary Kelly is good and truly dead...you will NEVER have my Norman again.
Surveying the situation and what must be done now, Stella strips off her dress and stokes the fire to a roaring flame. Tossing her blood soaked dress on the fire makes it even hotter, melting the spout on the tea kettle, helpless on the stove top. Making sure there is 'no trace' of her being there, she looks around the room one last time. Swirling the velvet cape around her shoulders and dawning the hood she exits. The rain was now a heavy mist and Stella feels refreshed by the wet air; drawing in a deep breath, she heads back to meet her sister and with any luck, Norman, so they can finally be on their way.
It is finished.
All had gone quiet in the narrow, shadow filled lane and as Stella drew closer to #13, she could hear faint singing. There was some light coming through the curtained window. Gently, Stella wraps on the door, since trying the knob and finding it locked, it had to be risked. The broken window pane was a second option, but Mary might notice her hand reaching in to unlock the door.
Mary hears the noise and gets up to answer, hoping the caller is her fancy man, and opens the door to greet her lover...red, flashing eyes, fingers like talons with nails knife sharp, and gleaming white fangs of a wolf sink into her neck before she can move or utter a sound. All turns a murky grey blur and Mary looses consciousness.
The black velvet cloak silently falls to the floor, into a pile, and Stella carries her limp prey to the bed; looking at Mary laying there, Stella's rage boils out-of-control. Acting on shear impulse and letting herself go completely, Stella begins ripping and shredding flesh;knife in hand, she mutilates the once attractive woman now sprawled on the small bed. Stella is soaked in blood and spatter covers her grey face, licking her lips, she gives a low growl of pleasure...Mary Kelly is good and truly dead...you will NEVER have my Norman again.
Surveying the situation and what must be done now, Stella strips off her dress and stokes the fire to a roaring flame. Tossing her blood soaked dress on the fire makes it even hotter, melting the spout on the tea kettle, helpless on the stove top. Making sure there is 'no trace' of her being there, she looks around the room one last time. Swirling the velvet cape around her shoulders and dawning the hood she exits. The rain was now a heavy mist and Stella feels refreshed by the wet air; drawing in a deep breath, she heads back to meet her sister and with any luck, Norman, so they can finally be on their way.
It is finished.
20151112
Distortion of Time
Time is a dimension unseen; by watching a clock and the second hand ticking around, we observe the passing of time, but is it really? The sun moves across the sky and it becomes dark, showing the day has passed, but how long is that, really? Calculations and equations, theories and facts, everything that is believed can be shattered in less than a moment...of time.
Jack hated dragging Warren with him, but there are still a few things left to finish before meeting Norman; letting Warren on the loose would put too many people at risk.
The horses came to a halt, following the 'whoa' of the driver. Jack exited the carriage and told the driver to wait. Once again he pressed the 'gadget', after setting the timer (controls length of event),...this time he waited to observe the strange stillness. How odd to move in between the seconds, to exist on a plain as though he were a ghost. Time didn't actually stop, in a way, it went into hyper-speed for him and what took minutes were only nanoseconds for everyone else.
Going to his room, he washed his face and changed clothes. What a relief to put on his travel coat, he was ready to go, leave this time period. Bags were already packed in preparation for a quick departure; two carpet bags held all he owned or needed for these 'flights' through time.
One more task to complete besides getting Warren home. The parasite had to be destroyed; the host may not survive either...it would be unfortunate, but how many others died needlessly because of Norman?
Jack left money on the dresser and blew out the lamp. Down the stairs and out the front door, slipping the latch key through the letter box. No unfinished business here.
Back in the carriage, Jack pats Warren's leg. Hey! he says quietly, how are you doing? Warren's mind feels like someone used a whisk on it. I...I'm...not sure. There are...flashing prisms...and orbs swirling....rocking my vision. Warren bends forward and hangs his head. I feel like...I'm going to...vomit. Jack scoots across to sit next to Warren. Putting an arm around his friend, he wonders why such a response since it should not affect anyone, other than mild disorientation for those closest to phenomenon (like forgetting what you were just doing.) It will get better, soon...sit back and try closing your eyes. Warren relaxes and drifts into a fog...darkness upon darkness...no, no, this isn't where I should be. Warren struggles and claws at the black...NO! his own voice wakes him. Mrs. Bennett grabs Warren by the shoulders. Oh, Mistar Warren, I twer plum worried 'bout you. Thrashing and talk'n in yer sleep. Your friend said you'd taken ill, sudden like; over worked, poor dear. Said you needed rest. Mrs. Bennett stifles a yawn. Now you just lay yerself down and go back to sleep. You'll feel right as rain in the morn'n. No, I can't do that...I've got to get to Jack. Jack? Oh, you mean Mr. Jackson. He is fine and said not to worry, all would be taken care of. You don't understand...Oh, I understand all right, you need to rest and so do I. Land sakes, it's just about 4 a.m...
Jack hated dragging Warren with him, but there are still a few things left to finish before meeting Norman; letting Warren on the loose would put too many people at risk.
The horses came to a halt, following the 'whoa' of the driver. Jack exited the carriage and told the driver to wait. Once again he pressed the 'gadget', after setting the timer (controls length of event),...this time he waited to observe the strange stillness. How odd to move in between the seconds, to exist on a plain as though he were a ghost. Time didn't actually stop, in a way, it went into hyper-speed for him and what took minutes were only nanoseconds for everyone else.
Going to his room, he washed his face and changed clothes. What a relief to put on his travel coat, he was ready to go, leave this time period. Bags were already packed in preparation for a quick departure; two carpet bags held all he owned or needed for these 'flights' through time.
One more task to complete besides getting Warren home. The parasite had to be destroyed; the host may not survive either...it would be unfortunate, but how many others died needlessly because of Norman?
Jack left money on the dresser and blew out the lamp. Down the stairs and out the front door, slipping the latch key through the letter box. No unfinished business here.
Back in the carriage, Jack pats Warren's leg. Hey! he says quietly, how are you doing? Warren's mind feels like someone used a whisk on it. I...I'm...not sure. There are...flashing prisms...and orbs swirling....rocking my vision. Warren bends forward and hangs his head. I feel like...I'm going to...vomit. Jack scoots across to sit next to Warren. Putting an arm around his friend, he wonders why such a response since it should not affect anyone, other than mild disorientation for those closest to phenomenon (like forgetting what you were just doing.) It will get better, soon...sit back and try closing your eyes. Warren relaxes and drifts into a fog...darkness upon darkness...no, no, this isn't where I should be. Warren struggles and claws at the black...NO! his own voice wakes him. Mrs. Bennett grabs Warren by the shoulders. Oh, Mistar Warren, I twer plum worried 'bout you. Thrashing and talk'n in yer sleep. Your friend said you'd taken ill, sudden like; over worked, poor dear. Said you needed rest. Mrs. Bennett stifles a yawn. Now you just lay yerself down and go back to sleep. You'll feel right as rain in the morn'n. No, I can't do that...I've got to get to Jack. Jack? Oh, you mean Mr. Jackson. He is fine and said not to worry, all would be taken care of. You don't understand...Oh, I understand all right, you need to rest and so do I. Land sakes, it's just about 4 a.m...
20151110
Illusion?
The carriage gently sways as the horses trot along the wet cobblestone streets. Rain drops streak across the glass window pane in the door. It's dark now and businessmen are leaving work, in a hurry. Warren can only make out flashes of umbrellas passing under lamps. The wet material shines like obsidian.
The day had not gone to plan at all. Warren was still undecided about the bully Ó Seachnasaigh dying and whether anything could really be done. How could he have explained what was wrong to Dr. Duchamp? An alien parasite sir...I have this friend...no, I am not a lunatic.
Warren would be dead now if Jack hadn't taken the chance and great risk to save him. Why did he, really? They were total strangers, yet Jack waited, watched, and obtained information, illegally, just to try and save me. Warren's mind was swimming in questions. Nothing is making sense anymore.
There was a thunderous crack and a strange flash of light...as if waking from a dream, Warren opened his eyes; when did I close them? He felt a little disorientated and tried to focus in the darkness. Realizing the cab had stopped, he went to grab the door handle to get out, just then a hand grabbed his...No! don't open the door, the voice said. With a start, Warren jerked his head and saw a dark figure seated across from him. A small flicker of light glowed from the end of a stick (flashlight) and illuminated the face of Jack for an instant and then it clicked off.
How...when did you...I don't understand...Jack interrupts the broken speech of his bewildered friend. In a low, direct tone he says, We must go now!
Jack gives instructions to the driver and the carriage is on the move again, only much faster than before. Warren sits silently as they race through the streets to an unknown destination. Jack's lips were moving, but Warren couldn't hear the words...Can this be real?
The day had not gone to plan at all. Warren was still undecided about the bully Ó Seachnasaigh dying and whether anything could really be done. How could he have explained what was wrong to Dr. Duchamp? An alien parasite sir...I have this friend...no, I am not a lunatic.
Warren would be dead now if Jack hadn't taken the chance and great risk to save him. Why did he, really? They were total strangers, yet Jack waited, watched, and obtained information, illegally, just to try and save me. Warren's mind was swimming in questions. Nothing is making sense anymore.
There was a thunderous crack and a strange flash of light...as if waking from a dream, Warren opened his eyes; when did I close them? He felt a little disorientated and tried to focus in the darkness. Realizing the cab had stopped, he went to grab the door handle to get out, just then a hand grabbed his...No! don't open the door, the voice said. With a start, Warren jerked his head and saw a dark figure seated across from him. A small flicker of light glowed from the end of a stick (flashlight) and illuminated the face of Jack for an instant and then it clicked off.
How...when did you...I don't understand...Jack interrupts the broken speech of his bewildered friend. In a low, direct tone he says, We must go now!
Jack gives instructions to the driver and the carriage is on the move again, only much faster than before. Warren sits silently as they race through the streets to an unknown destination. Jack's lips were moving, but Warren couldn't hear the words...Can this be real?
20151109
Missing
Stella...Stella! Good News! Grace burst into their rooms in excitement, with adrenaline pumping, her escape from the nasty landlord and chase that ensued from the Britannia Public House, made her giddy. Having stopped in a doorway to see if anyone still followed, to get out the the rain, and read the note. There was enough light from a nearby lamp and her hawk like vision allowed her to read. It was short and direct, like all communication from or with Norman. He only got 'chatty' when he was manipulating people. Translated it read:
Departure at 6 a.m. on 9 November.
Prepare all necessary items for transport.
Be ready!
Stella? Are you asleep? Grace, calm now, moves to the small table at the side of the room to light a lantern; only a faint glow emanated from the fire grate. Turning towards the bed, Grace carried the lantern, holding it up to cast light on the head board area. Empty. That's odd...why would Stella go out on a night like this?
Taking off her wet clothes and slipping on her night shift, Grace made a new fire. A chill had settled in her bones...a chill that was foreboding. Where is Stella...would she have gone out alone? Maybe Norman arrived sooner and they went out. If so, why...when the plan was to leave in a few hours.
Grace suddenly becomes concerned. Something is very wrong here.
Departure at 6 a.m. on 9 November.
Prepare all necessary items for transport.
Be ready!
Stella? Are you asleep? Grace, calm now, moves to the small table at the side of the room to light a lantern; only a faint glow emanated from the fire grate. Turning towards the bed, Grace carried the lantern, holding it up to cast light on the head board area. Empty. That's odd...why would Stella go out on a night like this?
Taking off her wet clothes and slipping on her night shift, Grace made a new fire. A chill had settled in her bones...a chill that was foreboding. Where is Stella...would she have gone out alone? Maybe Norman arrived sooner and they went out. If so, why...when the plan was to leave in a few hours.
Grace suddenly becomes concerned. Something is very wrong here.
20151107
Decision Time
Jack lay on the cot, the sound of rain can be faintly heard. Starring at the flickering flame, in the lantern, he wonders what happened at the hospital. Did Warren get to talk to the man who attempted murder and what might he have divulged. Jack felt no malice towards this misguided hulk, another pawn of Norman's. How many have come before him that met an untimely end or serious misfortune because of the foolish alliance they were conned into. Something has to be done for this unfortunate wretch; no one deserves to die such an agonizing death and the risk of others getting infected is too great.
Stroking the time distortion device Warren passed him, Jack wonders how much time he'll have, once its activated. What proximity limiting function has to be factored...Norman was always ingenious, sadistic, and in creating his inventions, an element of insanity tinged the functionality when finished. Norman's cryptic note implied this tiny device would allow the stoppage of time and give the bearer an opportunity to escape. Timing will be critical and waiting for Warren to return was making him antsy. What could be the delay? There would be much to accomplish...
Hey!...you...get up. Constable Crane broke the silence and gave Jack a start; he didn't hear him coming. He was standing at the cell door. Time for you to sign this confession and be processed at the Yard. I don't understand...where is Detective Warren? You never mind about that. Opening the cell door in a slow creak, Crane moves into the small space; between Jack and the now open cell. With paper and a loaded quill pen, the Constable gets a smirk on his face and asks, Can you even write? Of course, Jack responds dryly, but I am not supposed to sign anything unless Detective Warren is present. Annoyed at Jack's uncooperative attitude and failed attempt to belittle the prisioner, Crane's voice comes out like a growl. Oh, is that so? You're some kind of Barrister now too, are you? A crooked smile crosses the Constable's ruddy face and he moves a step closer to Jack, in a threatening manner. Don't give me any trouble or you may find yourself visiting with the doctor again.
Jack was watching this over eager Constable very carefully during this whole event. Upon hearing hinges creak at the main door, followed by heavy boot steps, of several men, Jack realizes the plans had changed and Warren wasn't coming in time. A decision had to be made...now.
In an instant, the immediate world froze and Jack leaves his cruel captors behind, but not before he gives Constable Crane something to remember...one swift and forceful punch to the privates should do the trick. That will wipe the smile off his face, Jack chuckles to himself.
Stroking the time distortion device Warren passed him, Jack wonders how much time he'll have, once its activated. What proximity limiting function has to be factored...Norman was always ingenious, sadistic, and in creating his inventions, an element of insanity tinged the functionality when finished. Norman's cryptic note implied this tiny device would allow the stoppage of time and give the bearer an opportunity to escape. Timing will be critical and waiting for Warren to return was making him antsy. What could be the delay? There would be much to accomplish...
Hey!...you...get up. Constable Crane broke the silence and gave Jack a start; he didn't hear him coming. He was standing at the cell door. Time for you to sign this confession and be processed at the Yard. I don't understand...where is Detective Warren? You never mind about that. Opening the cell door in a slow creak, Crane moves into the small space; between Jack and the now open cell. With paper and a loaded quill pen, the Constable gets a smirk on his face and asks, Can you even write? Of course, Jack responds dryly, but I am not supposed to sign anything unless Detective Warren is present. Annoyed at Jack's uncooperative attitude and failed attempt to belittle the prisioner, Crane's voice comes out like a growl. Oh, is that so? You're some kind of Barrister now too, are you? A crooked smile crosses the Constable's ruddy face and he moves a step closer to Jack, in a threatening manner. Don't give me any trouble or you may find yourself visiting with the doctor again.
Jack was watching this over eager Constable very carefully during this whole event. Upon hearing hinges creak at the main door, followed by heavy boot steps, of several men, Jack realizes the plans had changed and Warren wasn't coming in time. A decision had to be made...now.
In an instant, the immediate world froze and Jack leaves his cruel captors behind, but not before he gives Constable Crane something to remember...one swift and forceful punch to the privates should do the trick. That will wipe the smile off his face, Jack chuckles to himself.
20151105
Death bed
Warren follows the nurse to the critical care ward and is shown to the bed of the dying man. Feverish and moaning, Ó Seachnasaigh, sees Warren standing next to him and croaks, Who are you? My name is Detective Warren and I am with Scotland Yard; I'm here about the assault you were involved in. Ó Seachnasaigh screws up his face, amused at the copper, and replies, Har-har....assault...thar' beggar twer goin' to kill me! Undeterred, Warren continues. I understand that the knife belonged to you and in the struggle, he managed to get it away from you, before you had a chance to stab him. Cough-cough, Ó Seachnasaigh winces. I don' know what'cher talking 'bout. I'm talking about your attempt to stab the drunkard Jackson. Why did you attack him? Wheezing and gasping for breath, Ó Seachnasaigh retorted. I didn' attack anybody! Thar' blaggard drunk came at me, with 'is sticker and I defended meself. How do youz tink I gots cut up man?! I don't deny you were injured Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh, but I have several witnesses that saw you approach Jackson, speak to him, and then a fight broke out. What did you say? What the 'ell youz care? I bet youz don' live rough, wonder'n if you'all eat thar day, or 'ave sick kiddies to care for. Why don' youz go back to thar' Scotland Yard and find thar' Ripper murderer, leave'em me in peace.
Warren could see this man wasn't going to be truthful, even under these extreme circumstances. Taking a different approach, Warren asked about his current health condition. I understand the doctor expected a full recovery and now you're critically ill. When did you begin to feel the way you do now? Heavy sigh. I tink it t'was yestarday morn', why the int'rest? Your brother-in-law came by to see you the day before, do you recall talking with him? Brother-n-law? Ó Seachnasaigh looked puzzled. Yes, Mr. Namron. Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's eyes narrowed and his feverish brow knitted together. Reaching for a glass of water, he replied, I don' have a brother'n law detective, because I don' hav'a sister. 'tis jus'n me an' my younger brother at thar' butcher's yard. Warren suspected as much, but Ó Seachnasaigh seemed more disturbed by the information; the name Namron seemed to stir some fear in his flushed face. I see. Do you know who Mr. Namron is? Drinking the water seemed to have set off a coughing fit for Ó Seachnasaigh and the nurse came over to check on him. I'm sorry inspector, but we need to let the patient rest. Of course, I understand. Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh.
Warren wasn't surprised by any of the dying man's comments or his attitude. After seeing him, Warren was fairly certain he was infected with the same parasite strain he had and curtosy of Norman. He is not a man to cross or disobey with out dire consequences.
Warrn exits the hospital and hails a cab back to Whitechapel station.
Warren could see this man wasn't going to be truthful, even under these extreme circumstances. Taking a different approach, Warren asked about his current health condition. I understand the doctor expected a full recovery and now you're critically ill. When did you begin to feel the way you do now? Heavy sigh. I tink it t'was yestarday morn', why the int'rest? Your brother-in-law came by to see you the day before, do you recall talking with him? Brother-n-law? Ó Seachnasaigh looked puzzled. Yes, Mr. Namron. Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's eyes narrowed and his feverish brow knitted together. Reaching for a glass of water, he replied, I don' have a brother'n law detective, because I don' hav'a sister. 'tis jus'n me an' my younger brother at thar' butcher's yard. Warren suspected as much, but Ó Seachnasaigh seemed more disturbed by the information; the name Namron seemed to stir some fear in his flushed face. I see. Do you know who Mr. Namron is? Drinking the water seemed to have set off a coughing fit for Ó Seachnasaigh and the nurse came over to check on him. I'm sorry inspector, but we need to let the patient rest. Of course, I understand. Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh.
Warren wasn't surprised by any of the dying man's comments or his attitude. After seeing him, Warren was fairly certain he was infected with the same parasite strain he had and curtosy of Norman. He is not a man to cross or disobey with out dire consequences.
Warrn exits the hospital and hails a cab back to Whitechapel station.
20151103
Vampire on the loose
Having successfully convinced her sister to go out, Stella prepares herself for her own escapade. Dawning the black cloak she hid under the bed clothes from Grace, she looks around the room wondering where they would end up next. I hope it's an improvement from this dump. Norman seemed to think that living in the area they hunted in was a great cover and less conspicuous. She had her doubts, but then she, and her, sister didn't fit in anywhere; vampires attract attention no matter how they disguise themselves. The grey pallor of their skin made people think they were sick, making them fearful.
Making sure Grace was not in the alley, Stella began her walk to #13. The rain had stopped, making everything wet, dark, and glistening. Smells of wet dogs and dirty clothes filled her nostrils with a stench that even made her flinch. What a disgusting way to live, like wild animals in dens in winter. How I despise this place called Whitechapel. Cloak flowing, Stella moved purposefully down the cobbled lanes; she would have to wait and watch for Mary Kelly. It might take some time before she could catch her alone; it would be stupid to get careless at the end, with so many successful 'experiments' achieved so far.
The light was changing and darkness began to creep along the streets. Fog and shadows, along with the threat of more heavy rain, became like a shroud. Stella was comforted by this atmosphere, reminding her of the dark forests of home. She would walk, late at night amongst the tall trees and swirling fog, feeling a power stirring within her. Sometimes she would chase small animals, like a predator and devour their flesh and blood. Other times she would hold her prey close and sing to it, petting and stroking the soft fur. No matter what she did, she always felt alive and invigorated after a night spent in the dark woods. Tonight she was on the hunt and the streets of Whitechapel reminded her of that dark forest. Her blood began to pump in a rhythm she could almost dance to. Running her tongue over her fangs, she could almost feel the hot blood from her intended victim oozing down her throat. Stella laughed at the thought and walked on to Dorset Street in Miller's Court. Ah, what fun is in store for Mary and me tonight!
Making sure Grace was not in the alley, Stella began her walk to #13. The rain had stopped, making everything wet, dark, and glistening. Smells of wet dogs and dirty clothes filled her nostrils with a stench that even made her flinch. What a disgusting way to live, like wild animals in dens in winter. How I despise this place called Whitechapel. Cloak flowing, Stella moved purposefully down the cobbled lanes; she would have to wait and watch for Mary Kelly. It might take some time before she could catch her alone; it would be stupid to get careless at the end, with so many successful 'experiments' achieved so far.
The light was changing and darkness began to creep along the streets. Fog and shadows, along with the threat of more heavy rain, became like a shroud. Stella was comforted by this atmosphere, reminding her of the dark forests of home. She would walk, late at night amongst the tall trees and swirling fog, feeling a power stirring within her. Sometimes she would chase small animals, like a predator and devour their flesh and blood. Other times she would hold her prey close and sing to it, petting and stroking the soft fur. No matter what she did, she always felt alive and invigorated after a night spent in the dark woods. Tonight she was on the hunt and the streets of Whitechapel reminded her of that dark forest. Her blood began to pump in a rhythm she could almost dance to. Running her tongue over her fangs, she could almost feel the hot blood from her intended victim oozing down her throat. Stella laughed at the thought and walked on to Dorset Street in Miller's Court. Ah, what fun is in store for Mary and me tonight!
20151020
Gross Judgement Pt 2
The expression on Teddy's face made Grace sick to her stomach. As if she could read his mind, she saw visions of him groping her body, slobbering and sucking on her breasts...oh, what a horrific picture! Stiffening her resolve, she entered the room and replied in a direct tone. Good day to you sir, I understand you have a note from Norman, I would like to have it, if you please. Teddy, excited to conclude the business side of this transaction, moved from behind Grace and controlled his urge to stroke her behind. Well now, how about you sitting yourself down and we have a nice little chat? Grace could see this wasn't going to be simple and may have to resort to drastic measures. I really don't have time, if you would kindly give me what is mine, I'll be going. Oh, now, is that anyway to treat your kind friend? I think not my dear. You had better sit yourself down and listen. Teddy holds out a chair and beckons Grace to sit, leering and tongue licking his chapped lips. Feeling like she could vomit, Grace slowly moves to the chair. Attempting to keep the conversation pleasant and non-threatening, she sits down. Thank you sir. Yes, well...isn't this nice. Teddy, cautious not to spook his lovely guest, returns to the other side of the desk and sits down. His chair is ratcheted up as high as it will go, but he is still lower than the beautiful and delicious blonde woman. Undeterred by this, he pours himself another brandy. Would you care for a snort my dear? No thank you, I don't drink spirits. Ah, too bad. Taking a healthy swig, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I find that some libation helps with a lady's inhibitions; it's easier to discuss deals, if you get my meaning. Grace doesn't comment and that silence seems to encourage him to push the topic further. Your friend made several promises, when we set up the deal, and I need to collect on a couple. A sickening grin spreads across his face and the excitement he was concealing, began to ooze like a festering sore. His mind wandering, from consuming half a bottle of brandy, he had visions of just how he was going to collect his payment from Grace; these thoughts excited him so that his pants became constricted.
Realizing she had to act quickly, Grace got up and moved to behind the desk in a swift, fluid motion. Teddy, thinking Grace understood and was ready to pay up, he relaxed in the chair and started to turn her direction. Grabbing the swivel desk chair, she pushed it forward with a turning thrust; the force trapped him between the edge of the desk and the back of the chair. Seizing a metal letter opener from the desk, Grace presses it to Teddy's neck and getting as close as she dares says, Here's my deal dearest Teddy. I won't stab you in the neck, with this dull blade, if you give me the note I asked for. Should you decide otherwise, I can take the note after you bleed to death...which would take only a few minutes when I sever your carotid artery. Now, wouldn't you prefer to go on enjoying your brandy and find a willing partner for the evening? You...you can't be s-serious?! I can yell for help and then you'd be caught. True, but when I press on your throat here, your vocal cords are temporarily parallelized. Teddy tries to choke out a scream, but only his mouth flaps open and closed. Fearing for his life, he digs out the note and with shaking hands, passes it to Grace. Throwing the letter opener to the far corner of the room, she quickly exits and rushes down the hall. Pushing through the throng of patrons, she sees her objective and heads to the door. Teddy comes to the side of the bar and getting his voice back, yells, Stop her, she is a thief! Pointing at Grace, the crowd turn in her direction and a couple men go after her. Hiking up her skirts, she takes off running as fast as she did down the dirt track around her house. No one could catch up with her then and now wasn't going to be the exception. Dashing through the dark streets of Whitechapel, Grace feels a freedom she almost forgot...I don't have to be afraid!
Realizing she had to act quickly, Grace got up and moved to behind the desk in a swift, fluid motion. Teddy, thinking Grace understood and was ready to pay up, he relaxed in the chair and started to turn her direction. Grabbing the swivel desk chair, she pushed it forward with a turning thrust; the force trapped him between the edge of the desk and the back of the chair. Seizing a metal letter opener from the desk, Grace presses it to Teddy's neck and getting as close as she dares says, Here's my deal dearest Teddy. I won't stab you in the neck, with this dull blade, if you give me the note I asked for. Should you decide otherwise, I can take the note after you bleed to death...which would take only a few minutes when I sever your carotid artery. Now, wouldn't you prefer to go on enjoying your brandy and find a willing partner for the evening? You...you can't be s-serious?! I can yell for help and then you'd be caught. True, but when I press on your throat here, your vocal cords are temporarily parallelized. Teddy tries to choke out a scream, but only his mouth flaps open and closed. Fearing for his life, he digs out the note and with shaking hands, passes it to Grace. Throwing the letter opener to the far corner of the room, she quickly exits and rushes down the hall. Pushing through the throng of patrons, she sees her objective and heads to the door. Teddy comes to the side of the bar and getting his voice back, yells, Stop her, she is a thief! Pointing at Grace, the crowd turn in her direction and a couple men go after her. Hiking up her skirts, she takes off running as fast as she did down the dirt track around her house. No one could catch up with her then and now wasn't going to be the exception. Dashing through the dark streets of Whitechapel, Grace feels a freedom she almost forgot...I don't have to be afraid!
20150923
Gross Judgement Pt 1
Grace sets out in the direction of the pub; observing the strange coloring of the sky, and odd grey crimson dilution, something rather foreboding about it. A mist begins and she curses the fact she couldn't find her cloak; I will be soaked before this night is done.
Making her way through the dirty streets and passing by children with dirt streaked faces, she recalls the pleasant path ways of her home village; the dust of their dirt roads was clean, fresh, and when wet, the earthy smell would hang in the air. Green pastures and forests surrounded the yard around her family home. It was a simple life, but unlike the time they were now in, her people had had a technology revolution. Part of the reason she and Stella were in this particular situation. It had all sounded so exciting and she had longed for adventure. She had met Jack and her life was changing in ways she had only imagined. Stella had found someone too, but Norman had secret plans and his motives were not honorable. Everything went terribly wrong when Stella murdered their incestuous brother and their parents forced them to leave. Maybe it was fear that caused everyone to become irrational... This fear was still following them, haunting Grace like a evil ghost.
Reaching the Britannia, she shakes off old ghosts and her skirts of water and enters. The landlord was an odd man and must have struck a strange bargain with Norman, for he always leered at Grace and said suggestive things whenever she went there. Making sure never to be alone with him, in case he acted upon his lewd remarks, she went to the side of the bar and spoke to the keep. Good day sir, I am expecting a message from my friend, do you have a note for me today, my name is Grace. Aye, I have a message for ye. You need to see thar landlord miss. He be wait'n for ye in his office; he jerks his thumb in direction of room she must go to. Can't you get it for me, I can pay you. Grace pulls out 6 shillings, but the barkeep shakes his head. He could with the money, but he would loose his job. Nope, you best git it your self miss. He walks away and tends the customers.
Grace wasn't prepared for a confrontation, but if she waited any longer, Norman may inflict more 'damage' than the landlord could muster. Reluctantly, she passes through the doorway the barkeep pointed to and continues down the dark, narrow hallway. She passes restrooms and a storeroom, before she gets to the door with a small hand-written sign that said "office." Hesitating, she wraps on the hard wood door and after hearing a clicking sound, the door flies open and she finds herself face to face with the landlord. His puckered face, worn with scares, and dark beady eyes set too close together, made her skin crawl. It was made even worse by his smile; stained and gaps in his teeth made his open mouth look like a rotting picket fence, with an odor to match. He was not as tall as Grace, but his body made up for that; he was stout,tattooed arms boasted his boxing days, and he could still move quickly, when he was inclined to do so, not advantageous for her if she needed to act. She could easily kill him, but that would only complicate an already tenuous situation. Cautiously, she enters the room, hearing the door click shut makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. What a pleasant surprise, my deliciously lovely girl! Rubbing his hands together in glee and anticipation, he giggles slightly. How nice of you to visit your Uncle Teddy; I've missed you my sweet...
Making her way through the dirty streets and passing by children with dirt streaked faces, she recalls the pleasant path ways of her home village; the dust of their dirt roads was clean, fresh, and when wet, the earthy smell would hang in the air. Green pastures and forests surrounded the yard around her family home. It was a simple life, but unlike the time they were now in, her people had had a technology revolution. Part of the reason she and Stella were in this particular situation. It had all sounded so exciting and she had longed for adventure. She had met Jack and her life was changing in ways she had only imagined. Stella had found someone too, but Norman had secret plans and his motives were not honorable. Everything went terribly wrong when Stella murdered their incestuous brother and their parents forced them to leave. Maybe it was fear that caused everyone to become irrational... This fear was still following them, haunting Grace like a evil ghost.
Reaching the Britannia, she shakes off old ghosts and her skirts of water and enters. The landlord was an odd man and must have struck a strange bargain with Norman, for he always leered at Grace and said suggestive things whenever she went there. Making sure never to be alone with him, in case he acted upon his lewd remarks, she went to the side of the bar and spoke to the keep. Good day sir, I am expecting a message from my friend, do you have a note for me today, my name is Grace. Aye, I have a message for ye. You need to see thar landlord miss. He be wait'n for ye in his office; he jerks his thumb in direction of room she must go to. Can't you get it for me, I can pay you. Grace pulls out 6 shillings, but the barkeep shakes his head. He could with the money, but he would loose his job. Nope, you best git it your self miss. He walks away and tends the customers.
Grace wasn't prepared for a confrontation, but if she waited any longer, Norman may inflict more 'damage' than the landlord could muster. Reluctantly, she passes through the doorway the barkeep pointed to and continues down the dark, narrow hallway. She passes restrooms and a storeroom, before she gets to the door with a small hand-written sign that said "office." Hesitating, she wraps on the hard wood door and after hearing a clicking sound, the door flies open and she finds herself face to face with the landlord. His puckered face, worn with scares, and dark beady eyes set too close together, made her skin crawl. It was made even worse by his smile; stained and gaps in his teeth made his open mouth look like a rotting picket fence, with an odor to match. He was not as tall as Grace, but his body made up for that; he was stout,tattooed arms boasted his boxing days, and he could still move quickly, when he was inclined to do so, not advantageous for her if she needed to act. She could easily kill him, but that would only complicate an already tenuous situation. Cautiously, she enters the room, hearing the door click shut makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. What a pleasant surprise, my deliciously lovely girl! Rubbing his hands together in glee and anticipation, he giggles slightly. How nice of you to visit your Uncle Teddy; I've missed you my sweet...
20150921
Unfortunate Woman
The rain subsides for a short while and the grey of the day begins to turn dark, to mark the ending of a long weary, dreary day. Mary Kelly makes her way down Leman Street, trying to make ends meet by eking out a living on the streets. Her old and worn burgundy frock reflects like pools of blood in the puddles on the cobblestone street; wet and glistening. It's a tough life, with a seemly endless exsistance of strife, worry, and fear.
Turning onto Commercial Street, she sees the Britannia Pub and begins to sing, "Only a violet I plucked from my mother's grave when a boy..." Thinking to herself, maybe I'll see my fancy man tonight. The rain begins again, and she dashes into the pub. Lamp lighters make their way to illuminate the streets and curse the retched wet weather, wishing it would end. An end is near, but not the one everyone expects...
Turning onto Commercial Street, she sees the Britannia Pub and begins to sing, "Only a violet I plucked from my mother's grave when a boy..." Thinking to herself, maybe I'll see my fancy man tonight. The rain begins again, and she dashes into the pub. Lamp lighters make their way to illuminate the streets and curse the retched wet weather, wishing it would end. An end is near, but not the one everyone expects...
20150920
Set in Motion
Stella, have you seen my black cape? I can't seem to find where I left it. Grace is busy getting all their clothing and essentials together, as Norman instructed some days ago, for the next time rip. Stella sits back in the rocking chair and stares at the flames licking the small pile of wood, that is nearly turned to ash. Her patience is running out and with her final plans determined, she can barely contain her excitement...one more night and the deed will be done.
Stella, did you hear me? Grace stands next to her mesmerized sister rocking in a trance. Hey! Pay attention, will you? Mm, what? Stella comes out of her brain fog and looks up at her sister, who is annoyed. Looking somewhat confused, Stella asks, were you saying something? Are you OK Stella? Grace bends over and feels her forehead, worried the fever is back. Yes, I am alright, just preoccupied with my thoughts; nothing for you to be concerned about. Are you sure? Maybe you should go back to bed and rest. No, I am fine and I like sitting next to the fire. Well, alright, but let me get some more wood and we can heat up the last of your blood potion; then I think you should go to bed.
As you wish Gracie. Thank you for taking care of me. I sure would love to have some raw meat though...any chance there is some left? Stella knows there isn't any, but she wants her sister to go out. I'm sorry, but we finished it off yesterday. Oh, I see, said Stella in a pouty way.
Grace adds wood to the fire...snap...crackle...sizzle goes the fresh wood. Little puffs of smoke curl up towards the chimney, like tiny dancing ghosts. Stella turns to Grace, When did you last check the 'message center' (Britannia Public House Landlord) for word from Norman? Stoking the fire, Grace responds, It's been several days; I was concerned about you and your health condition. Well, I'm much better now and you know how Norman is. He may have left instructions and if we delay much longer, the consequences could be disastrous. Yes, I see your point. Grace pokes the fire and knits her brow in concern. Norman always gets very agitated just before a rip; no need to take any further chances. Stella can tell she has triggered her sister into action and a small grin tickles the corners of her mouth.
I will wait until you've had your medicine and no ill affects are present. If there is a message and we aren't leaving soon, then I'll see about getting some meat for you.
Thank you dear sister. What would we do without you?
Stella, did you hear me? Grace stands next to her mesmerized sister rocking in a trance. Hey! Pay attention, will you? Mm, what? Stella comes out of her brain fog and looks up at her sister, who is annoyed. Looking somewhat confused, Stella asks, were you saying something? Are you OK Stella? Grace bends over and feels her forehead, worried the fever is back. Yes, I am alright, just preoccupied with my thoughts; nothing for you to be concerned about. Are you sure? Maybe you should go back to bed and rest. No, I am fine and I like sitting next to the fire. Well, alright, but let me get some more wood and we can heat up the last of your blood potion; then I think you should go to bed.
As you wish Gracie. Thank you for taking care of me. I sure would love to have some raw meat though...any chance there is some left? Stella knows there isn't any, but she wants her sister to go out. I'm sorry, but we finished it off yesterday. Oh, I see, said Stella in a pouty way.
Grace adds wood to the fire...snap...crackle...sizzle goes the fresh wood. Little puffs of smoke curl up towards the chimney, like tiny dancing ghosts. Stella turns to Grace, When did you last check the 'message center' (Britannia Public House Landlord) for word from Norman? Stoking the fire, Grace responds, It's been several days; I was concerned about you and your health condition. Well, I'm much better now and you know how Norman is. He may have left instructions and if we delay much longer, the consequences could be disastrous. Yes, I see your point. Grace pokes the fire and knits her brow in concern. Norman always gets very agitated just before a rip; no need to take any further chances. Stella can tell she has triggered her sister into action and a small grin tickles the corners of her mouth.
I will wait until you've had your medicine and no ill affects are present. If there is a message and we aren't leaving soon, then I'll see about getting some meat for you.
Thank you dear sister. What would we do without you?
20150919
Another Hospital Visit
Hello again Inspector! Nurse Havershome grins widely as she greets the handsome policeman. It's a pleasure to see you so soon. What brings you here this time? Warren's smile is feeble compared to the young woman's, who is eager to make a better acquaintance. I'm sorry to say, its not under better circumstances this visit. I would like to speak to Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's physician, it's rather urgent. Of course, right away sir. Still grinning, she gives a half curtsy and dashes off. If the situation were not in dire straights, he might be more amused at the attentions of the attractive nurse.
Presently, Nurse Havershome reappears with a doctor trailing her. A man in his mid-fifties, with thick spectacles and wiry hair that looks like electricity styled it. Dr. Duchamp, this is Inspector Warren from Scotland Yard; he is here about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. Thank you nurse. Warren smiles and tips his hat. Nurse Havershome day dreams as she watches the two return down the hall.
Please have a seat, Inspector...Warren, Sir. Yes. Well, I spoke to your superior earlier and it was most distressing, most distressing indeed. Dr. Duchamp's eyes bulged behind the thick lenses, like a dead fishes, and shook his head just enough to animate his eccentric hair. With all the recent stress, Warren found it hard not to laugh and he could use a side ache right about now. I'm sorry I was unavailable Doctor, but I was working on the case involving your patient Ó Seachnasaigh. Superintendent Sugden is anxious to close this case and there are 'connections' to a more serious crime we are deeply concerned with. I understand you have a job to do, Inspector, but I am only concerned with my patients and this hospital. I do not appreciate a yelling man, even from Scotland Yard, demanding the impossible. As I tried to explain to him, we do not know why Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's health has rapidly declined and are still unable to determine a course of action. All the tests are negative and the symptoms are not responding to any treatments we have attempted so far. If it continues this way, the patient will die.
Warren moves his hand across his abdomen, recalling his own recent experience with the parasite and wonders, if indeed, this occurrence is the same. If so, the Dr. has diagnosed the right outcome and it may be sooner than he realizes. Feeling no empathy for the dying man, who has tried to murder his friend, Warren asks to see the man. It's vitally important I question him and find out what happened; it may assist in saving his life. Dr. Duchamp looked dubious, but agreed to a short visit. I will have one of the nurses escort you to the critical ward. You will have 15 minutes and no more. Thank you Doctor, I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this important matter. It could save the life of another. Dr. Duchamp's bushy brows went up, but he made no remark. Calling the nurse's station, he explained what was to be done. If you'll wait outside, the nurse will be with you directly. Warren stands up and thanks the doctor again. If I discover anything significant, I'll stop by your office on my way out. With that, Warren closes the door and waits in the hall. I hope I do find something out...there is a connection here, somewhere, to the Ripper murderer.
Presently, Nurse Havershome reappears with a doctor trailing her. A man in his mid-fifties, with thick spectacles and wiry hair that looks like electricity styled it. Dr. Duchamp, this is Inspector Warren from Scotland Yard; he is here about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. Thank you nurse. Warren smiles and tips his hat. Nurse Havershome day dreams as she watches the two return down the hall.
Please have a seat, Inspector...Warren, Sir. Yes. Well, I spoke to your superior earlier and it was most distressing, most distressing indeed. Dr. Duchamp's eyes bulged behind the thick lenses, like a dead fishes, and shook his head just enough to animate his eccentric hair. With all the recent stress, Warren found it hard not to laugh and he could use a side ache right about now. I'm sorry I was unavailable Doctor, but I was working on the case involving your patient Ó Seachnasaigh. Superintendent Sugden is anxious to close this case and there are 'connections' to a more serious crime we are deeply concerned with. I understand you have a job to do, Inspector, but I am only concerned with my patients and this hospital. I do not appreciate a yelling man, even from Scotland Yard, demanding the impossible. As I tried to explain to him, we do not know why Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's health has rapidly declined and are still unable to determine a course of action. All the tests are negative and the symptoms are not responding to any treatments we have attempted so far. If it continues this way, the patient will die.
Warren moves his hand across his abdomen, recalling his own recent experience with the parasite and wonders, if indeed, this occurrence is the same. If so, the Dr. has diagnosed the right outcome and it may be sooner than he realizes. Feeling no empathy for the dying man, who has tried to murder his friend, Warren asks to see the man. It's vitally important I question him and find out what happened; it may assist in saving his life. Dr. Duchamp looked dubious, but agreed to a short visit. I will have one of the nurses escort you to the critical ward. You will have 15 minutes and no more. Thank you Doctor, I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this important matter. It could save the life of another. Dr. Duchamp's bushy brows went up, but he made no remark. Calling the nurse's station, he explained what was to be done. If you'll wait outside, the nurse will be with you directly. Warren stands up and thanks the doctor again. If I discover anything significant, I'll stop by your office on my way out. With that, Warren closes the door and waits in the hall. I hope I do find something out...there is a connection here, somewhere, to the Ripper murderer.
20150918
Constabulary Consequences
Inspector Warren!! Young Constable Crane moves swiftly towards the Inspector, out of breath and cheeks flushed. Oh, sir, I'm glad I found you. Gasping for air and hands clasped at his rib-cage. I ran...all the...way here to fetch...you, sir. Warren looks back at Jack in alarm. Jack moves to the cell door for a better view. Crane, having caught his breath and eager to convey his important message, steps closer to Warren and in a hushed tone says, Ah, sir, what I have to tell you is confidential. He glances to Jack and back to Warren, it has to do with the prisoner. Eyes narrowed and lips pursed, Warren motions for them to leave.
Outside the cell block, Crane explains the Superintendent wants to see him immediately. Why didn't you just call me? Well, I did sir, but there was some confusion and well, I just decided to come here. Why didn't you take a cab? Ah, yes. Well, sir, I didn't have any money, sir and all the police buggy's were engaged. For future reference, Constable, the station can pay for cab fare when you're on official orders from Sugden. Now, please tell me what this is all about. Ah, shouldn't we be getting back to the Yard sir? The Superintendent was rather 'anxious' to speak with you in person. Yes, I am sure he would, but I have urgent matters to attend to first. Now, tell me what you know! Warren's voice raises higher and is dangerously close to loosing all patience with this young, green, officer.
Fearing further consequences, the young Constable explains the sudden turn of events. The London Hospital called, looking for you, and since you were out they asked to speak to your superior; I passed the call onto Superintendent Sugden and they informed him Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh had become deathly ill and they could not find a cause for it. They fear he will not live much longer and if we want his side of the story, we had better do it soon.
I am not going to ask how you got all those details. Warren gives Crane a disapproving look, but secretly is happy to know this without having to see Sugden. As it happens, that is where I was heading when you showed up Constable. That's not all sir. Crane, bursting to tell all he knows, continues. The hospital tried to contact the next of kin, but are having a hard time tracking down the brother-n-law, Mr. Namron. I told the Superintendent you got a package from this man and maybe you know him or where he can be found in Whitechapel; I remembered that was on the address. The Superintendent got really angry when he heard about the package.
Warren's head had a sledge hammer beating inside it and a chorus chanting, die, die, die! Bloody hell! Sir?! This has turned into one fucking mess. Sir. Warren balls his fists and clenches; the urge to pummel this fellow officer sours his mouth. Constable Crane, sensing that he may have been too enthusiastic in his effort to assist the detective, waits for a tongue lashing or worse.
Letting out a deep breath, Warren doesn't have time to teach Crane a lesson. OK, here is what we're going to do. Warren decides to put this over eager Constable to work, so he can get on with this investigation. Take this notebook and type up the statement I just took from the prisoner; make sure you check it thoroughly and it needs to be in triplicate. Call Superintendent Sugden and tell him you just missed me, but were told I was going to The London Hospital to get Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's statement, having successfully gotten one from Jackson. Stay here until I return and speak to no one else. Do you understand? Yes, sir, but won't the Superintendent want me to go to the hospital to fetch you? No, because you'll have called there and left me a message. Oh, right! Yes, I'll call. Get started Crane; I want that typed statement ready on my return. Certainly sir! The Constable beams and starts on his tasks. I'll prove how good I am; the signed document will be waiting on the Inspector's desk!
Outside the cell block, Crane explains the Superintendent wants to see him immediately. Why didn't you just call me? Well, I did sir, but there was some confusion and well, I just decided to come here. Why didn't you take a cab? Ah, yes. Well, sir, I didn't have any money, sir and all the police buggy's were engaged. For future reference, Constable, the station can pay for cab fare when you're on official orders from Sugden. Now, please tell me what this is all about. Ah, shouldn't we be getting back to the Yard sir? The Superintendent was rather 'anxious' to speak with you in person. Yes, I am sure he would, but I have urgent matters to attend to first. Now, tell me what you know! Warren's voice raises higher and is dangerously close to loosing all patience with this young, green, officer.
Fearing further consequences, the young Constable explains the sudden turn of events. The London Hospital called, looking for you, and since you were out they asked to speak to your superior; I passed the call onto Superintendent Sugden and they informed him Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh had become deathly ill and they could not find a cause for it. They fear he will not live much longer and if we want his side of the story, we had better do it soon.
I am not going to ask how you got all those details. Warren gives Crane a disapproving look, but secretly is happy to know this without having to see Sugden. As it happens, that is where I was heading when you showed up Constable. That's not all sir. Crane, bursting to tell all he knows, continues. The hospital tried to contact the next of kin, but are having a hard time tracking down the brother-n-law, Mr. Namron. I told the Superintendent you got a package from this man and maybe you know him or where he can be found in Whitechapel; I remembered that was on the address. The Superintendent got really angry when he heard about the package.
Warren's head had a sledge hammer beating inside it and a chorus chanting, die, die, die! Bloody hell! Sir?! This has turned into one fucking mess. Sir. Warren balls his fists and clenches; the urge to pummel this fellow officer sours his mouth. Constable Crane, sensing that he may have been too enthusiastic in his effort to assist the detective, waits for a tongue lashing or worse.
Letting out a deep breath, Warren doesn't have time to teach Crane a lesson. OK, here is what we're going to do. Warren decides to put this over eager Constable to work, so he can get on with this investigation. Take this notebook and type up the statement I just took from the prisoner; make sure you check it thoroughly and it needs to be in triplicate. Call Superintendent Sugden and tell him you just missed me, but were told I was going to The London Hospital to get Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh's statement, having successfully gotten one from Jackson. Stay here until I return and speak to no one else. Do you understand? Yes, sir, but won't the Superintendent want me to go to the hospital to fetch you? No, because you'll have called there and left me a message. Oh, right! Yes, I'll call. Get started Crane; I want that typed statement ready on my return. Certainly sir! The Constable beams and starts on his tasks. I'll prove how good I am; the signed document will be waiting on the Inspector's desk!
20150917
Grave Thoughts
Still grasping Warren's arm, Jack squeezes it and nods yes, smiling. Warren walks stiffly through the cell door, feeling like his whole life imploded in just a few hours. Jack, wishing to convey important information, but limited in how he does it asks, When will my statement be ready to sign Inspector? Warren shuts and locks the cell. Clearing his throat, he responds. I'll type it up now; probably a couple of hours. Why? I would like to sign it in your presence, if that is permitted. Yes, I am lead on this case, so I can grant you your request. Thank you Inspector. One more thing, Jack's face turns grave, his voice serious and foreboding, I am extremely concerned about Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh. I did not wish him harm, but I fear others may feel differently. Warren sees Jack holding up the notes and realizes the gesture is referring to Norman. Details begin to fall into place and paint a gruesome picture. Oh god! The hospital visit and the syringe...Norman has done something to jeopardize Jack's life. That crazy, sadistic bastard!
20150916
Interrogation Pt. 2
Winding up the questioning, Warren finishes up with, Do you have anything else to add to your statement? No, sir. Warren completes his notes and adds the time. You'll need to sign a formal, typed version, which will be presented to the judge at your trial.
Putting his notebook away, Warren stands quietly for a moment, looking down at his shoes. Torn about his next step, he slowly moves closer to Jack and pulls out the note. Still, without making eye contact, he holds out the paper to Jack. Confused by Warren's attitude, Jack takes the note expecting an explanation from his friend. As soon as he opens it, he realizes its from Norman! Jack looks up at Warren and sees a sadness that rips at his heart. Completely bewildered now, Jack reads the note. Warren turns his back on Jack, as if giving him privacy, but in truth, he can't face what he believes the note explains.
Standing near the cell door, he pulls out the small metal device, concealed in his coat; staring down at this foreign object, sitting harmlessly in the palm of his hand,he has the urge the throw it to the floor and crush it, under his boots. A barely audible gasp escapes Jack's lips and he swiftly gets up, moving to Warren's side. Gently touching his arm, he holds out his other hand as a signal for Warren to give him the time displacement device. Warren transfers the object to Jack and turning his head, looks him straight in the eye...in a low voice...I would have done anything to help you.
Putting his notebook away, Warren stands quietly for a moment, looking down at his shoes. Torn about his next step, he slowly moves closer to Jack and pulls out the note. Still, without making eye contact, he holds out the paper to Jack. Confused by Warren's attitude, Jack takes the note expecting an explanation from his friend. As soon as he opens it, he realizes its from Norman! Jack looks up at Warren and sees a sadness that rips at his heart. Completely bewildered now, Jack reads the note. Warren turns his back on Jack, as if giving him privacy, but in truth, he can't face what he believes the note explains.
Standing near the cell door, he pulls out the small metal device, concealed in his coat; staring down at this foreign object, sitting harmlessly in the palm of his hand,he has the urge the throw it to the floor and crush it, under his boots. A barely audible gasp escapes Jack's lips and he swiftly gets up, moving to Warren's side. Gently touching his arm, he holds out his other hand as a signal for Warren to give him the time displacement device. Warren transfers the object to Jack and turning his head, looks him straight in the eye...in a low voice...I would have done anything to help you.
20150915
Interrogation Pt. 1
Laying on the cot, Jack looks up at the ceiling of his prison. The wooden beams of rough Sessile Oak, stained with nitro cellulose lacquer, made him wonder how quickly it would burn. The idea of being trapped and the cell walls burning, with flames so intense to melt flesh, made him sweat. I've got to escape and I'll do anything I need to. With those thoughts swirling in his brain, he sensed someone watching him. Expecting the Constable, he prepared himself for more insults and possible assault. Why this man found it necessary to abuse him and seemed to find a sadistic joy in the power he had over prisoners, Jack could not understand. Having eyes that did not match, and one being yellow, had always been a source of great pain and suffering. Devil! That's what they called him, as a child, and he would often be spit upon, even by women. Fear is a dangerous emotion and pushed far enough, will trigger acts of violence by many. Jack had fashioned an eye patch form a piece of cloth, but still the Constable taunted him every chance he got.
Reluctantly, Jack turned his head to see the face of his jailer only to find Warren standing there. Thinking he was dreaming, he blinked and sat up. As he did so, the lock clanked and in walked his friend. Nearly overcome by a flood of emotions, Jack stands up abruptly, causing his head to pound. Teetering slightly, he puts his arm out and studies himself with the hard wall of his cell. Not sure if the giddiness is from his head injury or at seeing his friend, possibly both, asks, excuse me inspector, but I seem to be lite headed, may I sit back down?
Warren, seeing the state of his friend and recovering from the anger at the Constable, forces himself to stand still. Wishing nothing more but to help and comfort his friend, speaks in a disassociated tone, causing himself to wince at the sound of his own voice. Yes, but word is that you're expected to recover fully and so there will be no special treatment. Yes, sir, I understand and will cooperate. Jack smiles, which makes Warren feel even worse. Beginning the interrogation, Warren takes out his notebook and pen. You have not given a clear account of the incident in Petticoat Market and why you attempted to kill a man. Fortunately for you and Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh, he will also have a full recovery, making it an assault charge. If you had succeeded in killing him...well, you would be headed for the gallows. Perspiration begins to form on Warren's brow; he never noticed how stuffy the cells were before now.
Fully aware that Warren has to be convincing, the duty Constable can hear most of what is being said, unless whispered, not to mention having a great deal at stake in this situation, Jack explains the circumstances surrounding the incident and what he remembered about the attack. Warren writes down the details and asks a few clarifying questions. Jack begins to have an odd feeling as he watches Warren. His behavior is detached and unfeeling, yet the expression in his eyes betrays pain. Is he afraid for some reason? Has something happened with Grace and Stella? Jack found the note, in his clothes, so maybe Warren confronted them without him...would he have risked that? Something is very wrong...
Reluctantly, Jack turned his head to see the face of his jailer only to find Warren standing there. Thinking he was dreaming, he blinked and sat up. As he did so, the lock clanked and in walked his friend. Nearly overcome by a flood of emotions, Jack stands up abruptly, causing his head to pound. Teetering slightly, he puts his arm out and studies himself with the hard wall of his cell. Not sure if the giddiness is from his head injury or at seeing his friend, possibly both, asks, excuse me inspector, but I seem to be lite headed, may I sit back down?
Warren, seeing the state of his friend and recovering from the anger at the Constable, forces himself to stand still. Wishing nothing more but to help and comfort his friend, speaks in a disassociated tone, causing himself to wince at the sound of his own voice. Yes, but word is that you're expected to recover fully and so there will be no special treatment. Yes, sir, I understand and will cooperate. Jack smiles, which makes Warren feel even worse. Beginning the interrogation, Warren takes out his notebook and pen. You have not given a clear account of the incident in Petticoat Market and why you attempted to kill a man. Fortunately for you and Mr. Ó Seachnasaigh, he will also have a full recovery, making it an assault charge. If you had succeeded in killing him...well, you would be headed for the gallows. Perspiration begins to form on Warren's brow; he never noticed how stuffy the cells were before now.
Fully aware that Warren has to be convincing, the duty Constable can hear most of what is being said, unless whispered, not to mention having a great deal at stake in this situation, Jack explains the circumstances surrounding the incident and what he remembered about the attack. Warren writes down the details and asks a few clarifying questions. Jack begins to have an odd feeling as he watches Warren. His behavior is detached and unfeeling, yet the expression in his eyes betrays pain. Is he afraid for some reason? Has something happened with Grace and Stella? Jack found the note, in his clothes, so maybe Warren confronted them without him...would he have risked that? Something is very wrong...
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