Dr. Jeykell made his early morning rounds visiting patients and checking with his staff on the progress of several 'severe' cases.
One man, in particular, was admitted for severe depression and bouts of unprovoked violence. He was sedated, heavily, most of the time, but the doctor wanted to discover what triggered the unpredictable emotional outbursts.
"How are we feeling today Mr. Henshaw?"
The man lifted his head like it was a forty pound weight on a thin reed. His speech slow and deliberate.
"Not...to...well...Dr....Jey..kell." He said with a sad voice.
Taking the man's pulse, the doctor nods.
"Would you enjoy being outside, maybe sit, in the garden with a nurse?"
Dr. Jeykell was thinking of Grace and the calming affect she seemed to have with a few of the challenging, long-term residents.
As if on cue, Grace enters the room, all in crisp white linen, her hair tied up in a braided bun at the nap of her neck. Quietly, she came to the man's side; placing a hand on the slumped shoulder.
Her voice low and soothing, "Good morning Mr. Henshaw, my name is Grace. Would you enjoy sitting with me, out in the garden for a little bit?"
The doctor smiled at Grace; he enjoys her company and wished she'd stay on at St. Luke's.
"Hello...Grace...I...would...like...that."
Henshaw tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn't seem to work right, probably the drugs, so he looked angry and not pleased like he felt.
Two male orderlys helped the man in to a wooden wheel chair that had a tall cane support and large wheels at the back. Placing a wool blanket over his knees, Grace wheels him down the long white hall towards the french doors leading outside.
Giving instructions to one of the orderlys, Dr. Jeykell continues with his rounds.
Burt follows after Grace to make sure Mr. Henshaw doesn't hurt her or anyone else. He too likes Grace, but she hardly engages with any of the staff, only the patients get her full attention.
For nearly half an hour all is well in the colorful garden for the trio, but when Burt decides to get closer and engage Grace in conversation, Mr. Henshaw starts to get agitated.
"I was wonder'n Miss Grace, if you would like to..."
Burt didn't get to finish as Henshaw suddenly jumped up, attempting to lunge towards Burt. Grace sensed the issue and was prepared; having stepped between the two men, she focused on Henshaw; her eyes changing color as she spoke.
"Be easy, no one is threatening you." Her hands out and open, standing her ground, "Don't interfere, orderly."
Shocked, Burt stopped a moment, behind her; unsure if he should ignore her demand.
Henshaw wild-eyed and drooling, was clenching his fists; gibberish was all he could manage.
"Back away orderly, now." Her voice commanding as he stepped closer to the menacing patient.
Burt, afraid he'd get fired, stepped around Grace, attempting to subdue the out-of-control patient.
Instinct kicking in, Henshaw clawed at the large man, nails going for the soft facial tissue. Burt yelped as his cheek bled and he wrestled the smaller man to the ground in a choke hold.
Grace was furious, but it was too late to stop the violence. Two more orderlys came from inside the institution, followed by Dr. Jeykell.
Henshaw subdued and sedated, he's pushed back to his room and a straight jacket applied. Burt and Grace stand in the doctor's office waiting for their opportunity to speak.
Norman saunters in and sits in one of the tufted guest chairs, he's bored, antsy to get into the secret lab he has yet to discover.
"What exactly happened to set off Mr. Henshaw nurse."
Without any sympathy for the injured orderly, Grace flatly explained. "Everything was fine until this orderly decided to chat me up. Mr. Henshaw felt threatened and got up. All would have been fine, if my instructions had been complied with."
Burt disagreed and didn't wait to be called on. "She had no business gett'n between us, it just made the patient attack me." He exclaimed.
Dr. Jeykell was annoyed by his employee's impertinence and showed his displeasure.
"My instructions were clear and the nurse was in charge, next time you fail to do as told...I will not tolerate disobedience." With a wave of his hand he dismissed them.
Grace followed Burt out and went the other direction, to avoid any further conflict.
With hands folded in front of his mouth, Norman smirks; he was sorry he missed the scuffle in the garden.
"Seems our Grace has stirred up that young man... he'd better watch out, she's not your ordinary female."
With eyes narrowed, Dr. Jeykell looks at the amused man sitting across from him.
"You strike me as not being the typical, ordinary man... Dr. Namron. You may be of interest after all."
20161110
20161102
Wash and Brush Up
Mr. Croup had prepared tea and a full English breakfast of bacon, sausage, poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, and toast for his guests.
Warren was exactly on time; 7 a.m., on the dot, smartly dressed in one of the two suits he had packed. The maid, which was Croup's niece, Adaline, had brought up some hot basin water at 6:30. Warren was happy to shave, feeling like a respectable man again.
Jack was still asleep, he'd been up most of the night looking at maps. His eating habits were odd anyway.
"Will your companion be joining you?" Mr. Croup looked unconcerned, just curious about the strange stranger.
"I have my doubts. He's a man that follows a calling most can't hear." Warren sipped his tea, smiling.
Adaline served the breakfast,she did all the odd jobs, lingering for a moment as she gazed at the dashing young man.
"Would you be need'n any'ting else... sir?" She said with sugar in her voice.
Jack suddenly appeared behind her, giving her a start, when his deep voice rumbles the cozy space.
"Oh, he does, but you see before you a gentleman." Jack smirks at his friend, sitting down across from Warren grabbing a piece of toast.
The small fire crackles and sizzles as the girl's eyes go wide. She'd never heard such talk from gentlemen; that kind of frank talk was expected at the docks or certain parts of London and with a different class of men.
Jack was so different from Warren; dark hair, pale skin, and a few errant freckles. He hadn't made an effort in his dress; in fact, he looked as though he'd crawled out of bed and walked downstairs.
"Sir." She pursed those plump lips and left the room to get his plate.
"Honestly, my dear Jack, you do make an entrance to unsettle the orderly world." Warren spread jelly on the last piece of toast.
Scoffing as he poured a cuppa, Jack raised a brow at his logical friend.
"The world is hardly 'orderly'. Chaos reigns and I need to whip it."
Adaline walked in and her eyes went wide again as she caught the end of Jack's comment.
"Do you gents require... would you care for..." She stammered and both men looked at her, causing her cherub cheeks to flush.
"More toast and tea, please Adaline." Warren said warmly; he'd heard her Uncle call her by name.
She dashed back to the small kitchen, her heart in a flutter.
Mr.Croup looked at his niece. "What's go you in a tizzy?"
Wiping her hands, Adaline prepares toast and tea. "Not'ting Uncle." Straightening her dress, she watched the toast as it turned golden over the open fire. Trying to seem uninterested, she avoided looking at her Uncle as she stacked the toast in a small white cotton towel, keeping them warm.
"How... how long them two stay'n?"
The kettle whistled.
"Ah, said a fort-night, maybe longer. Why?" Croup was drying glasses and smiled at the young girl.
Grabbing the tray, exiting the small, tidy kitchen she nonchalantly
replied, "Oh... just wanted to know, so as I can do it up proper for 'em."
Shaking his head, Croup followed with a large crate of clean bar glasses. "Mind your manners girl."
Jack and Warren were deep in conversation when the young, eager to please, woman set down the refresh of tea and toast, in fact, they ignored her; making her depart with an upturned nose.
"What is our agenda?" Warren knew Jack always had some kind of plan brewing. "You must have slept for 5-minutes, at least you look it." He was concerned about Jack's habits.
"I didn't let you come along, so you could lecture me." Jack's tone was a bit terse.
"Someone needs to be watchful, you seem oblivious."
Leaning back, Jack rubs his chin, he hadn't shaved yet. Amused by the concern, he humors the fair-haired man seated across from him.
"Mark my words, you'll see why I am 'oblivious'... everyday challenges will become inconsequential."
Warren smiled wide, "We'll see, we'll...see."
Warren was exactly on time; 7 a.m., on the dot, smartly dressed in one of the two suits he had packed. The maid, which was Croup's niece, Adaline, had brought up some hot basin water at 6:30. Warren was happy to shave, feeling like a respectable man again.
Jack was still asleep, he'd been up most of the night looking at maps. His eating habits were odd anyway.
"Will your companion be joining you?" Mr. Croup looked unconcerned, just curious about the strange stranger.
"I have my doubts. He's a man that follows a calling most can't hear." Warren sipped his tea, smiling.
Adaline served the breakfast,she did all the odd jobs, lingering for a moment as she gazed at the dashing young man.
"Would you be need'n any'ting else... sir?" She said with sugar in her voice.
Jack suddenly appeared behind her, giving her a start, when his deep voice rumbles the cozy space.
"Oh, he does, but you see before you a gentleman." Jack smirks at his friend, sitting down across from Warren grabbing a piece of toast.
The small fire crackles and sizzles as the girl's eyes go wide. She'd never heard such talk from gentlemen; that kind of frank talk was expected at the docks or certain parts of London and with a different class of men.
Jack was so different from Warren; dark hair, pale skin, and a few errant freckles. He hadn't made an effort in his dress; in fact, he looked as though he'd crawled out of bed and walked downstairs.
"Sir." She pursed those plump lips and left the room to get his plate.
"Honestly, my dear Jack, you do make an entrance to unsettle the orderly world." Warren spread jelly on the last piece of toast.
Scoffing as he poured a cuppa, Jack raised a brow at his logical friend.
"The world is hardly 'orderly'. Chaos reigns and I need to whip it."
Adaline walked in and her eyes went wide again as she caught the end of Jack's comment.
"Do you gents require... would you care for..." She stammered and both men looked at her, causing her cherub cheeks to flush.
"More toast and tea, please Adaline." Warren said warmly; he'd heard her Uncle call her by name.
She dashed back to the small kitchen, her heart in a flutter.
Mr.Croup looked at his niece. "What's go you in a tizzy?"
Wiping her hands, Adaline prepares toast and tea. "Not'ting Uncle." Straightening her dress, she watched the toast as it turned golden over the open fire. Trying to seem uninterested, she avoided looking at her Uncle as she stacked the toast in a small white cotton towel, keeping them warm.
"How... how long them two stay'n?"
The kettle whistled.
"Ah, said a fort-night, maybe longer. Why?" Croup was drying glasses and smiled at the young girl.
Grabbing the tray, exiting the small, tidy kitchen she nonchalantly
replied, "Oh... just wanted to know, so as I can do it up proper for 'em."
Shaking his head, Croup followed with a large crate of clean bar glasses. "Mind your manners girl."
Jack and Warren were deep in conversation when the young, eager to please, woman set down the refresh of tea and toast, in fact, they ignored her; making her depart with an upturned nose.
"What is our agenda?" Warren knew Jack always had some kind of plan brewing. "You must have slept for 5-minutes, at least you look it." He was concerned about Jack's habits.
"I didn't let you come along, so you could lecture me." Jack's tone was a bit terse.
"Someone needs to be watchful, you seem oblivious."
Leaning back, Jack rubs his chin, he hadn't shaved yet. Amused by the concern, he humors the fair-haired man seated across from him.
"Mark my words, you'll see why I am 'oblivious'... everyday challenges will become inconsequential."
Warren smiled wide, "We'll see, we'll...see."
20160929
Mind in a Whirl
Warren lay prostrate on the small bed, the soft down compressed from his weight made the mattress ooze up around him like a cocoon. He couldn't sleep, his mind whirling from the rip, landing in the sewer pipe, the Turkish Bath experience, then trudging through the filth of the streets to their present location; it hasn't been 24-hours yet since they left 1888. (There is a week lag time between the primary rip and the rip tail they were part of this jump.)
The only proof they had indeed leaped back in time was the newspapers he read, while sitting downstairs in the pub. The Evening News, dated November 1883, the pale blue paper was crisp from just being delivered an hour prior to their arrival.
It was still hard to fathom, things weren't that different and he, himself, didn't feel younger, but Jack said that wouldn't be so.
The traveler didn't age rapidly just because they moved forward in time and the same in reverse.
In a way, it was as if time stood still or slowed to the point that they moved in between the seconds of time and everything around them changed at hyper-speed.
He didn't understand that word 'hyper', but so many terms were strange, unfamiliar, not to mention perplexing.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, the dim glow from the street lamp below their window cast a faint light. The low snore in the bed a few feet away was somehow comforting; his companion is odd, but Warren imagined the 'mission or quest' this man has been on has skewed his outlook. In the short time he's been associated with Jack, his own perspectives and views of the world have been turned upside down.
With no idea of what the future holds, Warren anticipates an exciting journey of discoveries. He has grossly underestimated that conclusion.
The only proof they had indeed leaped back in time was the newspapers he read, while sitting downstairs in the pub. The Evening News, dated November 1883, the pale blue paper was crisp from just being delivered an hour prior to their arrival.
It was still hard to fathom, things weren't that different and he, himself, didn't feel younger, but Jack said that wouldn't be so.
The traveler didn't age rapidly just because they moved forward in time and the same in reverse.
In a way, it was as if time stood still or slowed to the point that they moved in between the seconds of time and everything around them changed at hyper-speed.
He didn't understand that word 'hyper', but so many terms were strange, unfamiliar, not to mention perplexing.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, the dim glow from the street lamp below their window cast a faint light. The low snore in the bed a few feet away was somehow comforting; his companion is odd, but Warren imagined the 'mission or quest' this man has been on has skewed his outlook. In the short time he's been associated with Jack, his own perspectives and views of the world have been turned upside down.
With no idea of what the future holds, Warren anticipates an exciting journey of discoveries. He has grossly underestimated that conclusion.
20160915
Man vs. Beast
Dr. Jeykell sat quietly, reading his notes on the last experiment. The test subject, a rhesus macaque monkey, had exhibited very little change, if any. Expecting a dramatic outcome, the Doctor was frustrated by his recent efforts to release the base animal urges of the monkey.
Charles Darwin and the British Parliament would've been horrified by the Doctor's blatant disregard of the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1876.
Pulling the creature from it's confinement, Dr. Jeykell injected another dose of his mixture; the milky liquid disappeared from the syringe into the tiny pulsing vein, causing him to struggle and whine.
After rubbing the injection spot and stroking the coarse hair of subject A, back into the cage it went, receiving a piece of cut up fruit as a reward. The monkey's small leather like hand reached out for more of the sweet, juicy treat; the metal grating prevented it from getting more than a few inches though.
The Doctor's voice was low and soothing, "Now little one, let's see how you do with this new mixture."
Man and beast stared at each other. The monkey making little sounds similar to whimpers with each attempt to coerce more food from his captor; large, round, and soulful eyes stared up at the thick spectacles, which made the Doctor's eyes seem giant and menacing.
After two hours, the Doctor, seeing no reaction or any notable changes, slumped on his lab stool. Leaning over, resting his elbows on his worn experiment table, Dr. Jeykell shoved tired hands into his premature graying shock of hair. A man of forty-six, he had a history of bad health, with his heart troubling him of late.
"This has got to work. I must find the answer... the key is here, somewhere."
Turning the lights out as he exits his lab, Dr. Jeykell headed to his private rooms, after carefully locking the heavy wooden door.
Shortly after his departure, a hissing growl came from the cage, the small leather-like hands had grown long nails, rattling and shaking the metal structure with fierce anger...
Charles Darwin and the British Parliament would've been horrified by the Doctor's blatant disregard of the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1876.
Pulling the creature from it's confinement, Dr. Jeykell injected another dose of his mixture; the milky liquid disappeared from the syringe into the tiny pulsing vein, causing him to struggle and whine.
After rubbing the injection spot and stroking the coarse hair of subject A, back into the cage it went, receiving a piece of cut up fruit as a reward. The monkey's small leather like hand reached out for more of the sweet, juicy treat; the metal grating prevented it from getting more than a few inches though.
The Doctor's voice was low and soothing, "Now little one, let's see how you do with this new mixture."
Man and beast stared at each other. The monkey making little sounds similar to whimpers with each attempt to coerce more food from his captor; large, round, and soulful eyes stared up at the thick spectacles, which made the Doctor's eyes seem giant and menacing.
After two hours, the Doctor, seeing no reaction or any notable changes, slumped on his lab stool. Leaning over, resting his elbows on his worn experiment table, Dr. Jeykell shoved tired hands into his premature graying shock of hair. A man of forty-six, he had a history of bad health, with his heart troubling him of late.
"This has got to work. I must find the answer... the key is here, somewhere."
Turning the lights out as he exits his lab, Dr. Jeykell headed to his private rooms, after carefully locking the heavy wooden door.
Shortly after his departure, a hissing growl came from the cage, the small leather-like hands had grown long nails, rattling and shaking the metal structure with fierce anger...
20160908
Golden Waves
Sitting in her small room, staff quarters in the women's ward, Grace brushes her long golden hair; waves are pulled straight and then spring back from being in a tight braid all day.
Letting her mind wander, she recalls sitting in front of an open fire at her parents house, warm and comforting, but always a fear that they would be hunted.
Vampires were not a strange occurrence, but they were feared and many villagers didn't trust them. Once the taste of flesh was made, a vampire could lapse into uncontrollable blood lust if other measures were not taken.
Grace had never given into the impulses, unlike her sister Stella; in that case it was self-defense, from years of enduring the lust of their older brother. Grace didn't fault her sibling for her actions, but it changed their lives forever.
The villagers would have tried to kill Grace, but the greater danger was their own parents, so they fled, and eventually befriended Jack and Norman... a blessing and a curse.
Letting her mind wander, she recalls sitting in front of an open fire at her parents house, warm and comforting, but always a fear that they would be hunted.
Vampires were not a strange occurrence, but they were feared and many villagers didn't trust them. Once the taste of flesh was made, a vampire could lapse into uncontrollable blood lust if other measures were not taken.
Grace had never given into the impulses, unlike her sister Stella; in that case it was self-defense, from years of enduring the lust of their older brother. Grace didn't fault her sibling for her actions, but it changed their lives forever.
The villagers would have tried to kill Grace, but the greater danger was their own parents, so they fled, and eventually befriended Jack and Norman... a blessing and a curse.
20160901
London vs. Melbourne
The Holloway Castle Inn had a small pub on the ground floor with rooms on the next two levels. An older establishment, the wooden bar surround was festooned with framed photos and other memorabilia. The owner stood in the middle of the enclosure, almost like a cage of wood, glasses, bottles, and a few rum kegs; a tattered cricket banner, from 1882, hung not so proudly behind the register. A bitter game against the Australians and London loosing again, on their own turf, soured the locals and the games hence forth between the two countries would be called 'The Ashes.'
Laughing in a hearty, jovial manner, Mr. Croup eyed the two new comers, waving them over. He really hoped they weren't Ozzies.
"Welcome gents, what can I get you? See you have luggage, need a room?" The man's reddish, round face was like a beach ball piled on top of an even bigger ball that formed his body; a shock of dark hair greased back didn't help.
Warren smiled as he leaned on the counter, "A room and a pint sounds great."
"How long do ya' plan to stay?" Mr. Croup relieved to hear a familiar accent, grinned wide.
Turning to look at his seemingly distracted companion, Warren wonders himself.
Jack gives the appearance of an absent-minded and aloof character, but he was scanning the room.
"A fort-night, possibly longer... can you accommodate us?" Jack looked sideways at Mr. Croup; the great rotund figure made him slightly ill.
"Certainly, certainly... you're notta' Londoner." Mr. Croup looks at Jack's back and then smiles at Warren; he's not sure this man isn't running from the law.
"No, he isn't... a recent transplant; I'm from the country myself. We have business here, so... the room?"
Stepping out from behind the bar corral, Mr. Croup puffs as he leads them up the narrow stairs. It's a miracle he fits.
The room is small with two single beds and a wash basin, a view on to the street below adds the only ambiance.
"Perfect. Have you had any other guests take rooms here in the last few days?" Jack doubts Norman is here, but.
"No, last came in about a week ago, he left yesterday; you expecting someone?"
Mr. Croup handed Warren the key and looked dubious at Jack.
"We're meeting some friends, colleagues, but they may not have made it here yet."
"Well, 'appy to have 'em; that'll be 10 and 6. Meals are served at 7 for guests."
Warren hands the money to Mr. Croup, who departs, waddling through the door as a 'thank you' is murmured.
Letting his bags drop, Jack pulls back the curtains and gazes out the window. A thick fog of black pollution, created by soot and ashes, makes the night seem like an abyss. Street lights glow faintly in the haze, but the prison is lit up like a factory.
"What now?" Warren takes off his coat, brushing some of the soot ash that hand collected on the shoulders.
"We have that pint, my friend, and listen to the gossip."
Jack grins as he flings his coat across a small wooden chair; a small cloud of dust poufs up from the floor. The filth of Victorian London is everywhere.
"Use that clever, inquiring detective's mind to root out any details of unusual happenings in the last week or so, in this or the nearby areas."
"Well, that Sir, I can do!" Warren laughs as they head downstairs for that pint.
Laughing in a hearty, jovial manner, Mr. Croup eyed the two new comers, waving them over. He really hoped they weren't Ozzies.
"Welcome gents, what can I get you? See you have luggage, need a room?" The man's reddish, round face was like a beach ball piled on top of an even bigger ball that formed his body; a shock of dark hair greased back didn't help.
Warren smiled as he leaned on the counter, "A room and a pint sounds great."
"How long do ya' plan to stay?" Mr. Croup relieved to hear a familiar accent, grinned wide.
Turning to look at his seemingly distracted companion, Warren wonders himself.
Jack gives the appearance of an absent-minded and aloof character, but he was scanning the room.
"A fort-night, possibly longer... can you accommodate us?" Jack looked sideways at Mr. Croup; the great rotund figure made him slightly ill.
"Certainly, certainly... you're notta' Londoner." Mr. Croup looks at Jack's back and then smiles at Warren; he's not sure this man isn't running from the law.
"No, he isn't... a recent transplant; I'm from the country myself. We have business here, so... the room?"
Stepping out from behind the bar corral, Mr. Croup puffs as he leads them up the narrow stairs. It's a miracle he fits.
The room is small with two single beds and a wash basin, a view on to the street below adds the only ambiance.
"Perfect. Have you had any other guests take rooms here in the last few days?" Jack doubts Norman is here, but.
"No, last came in about a week ago, he left yesterday; you expecting someone?"
Mr. Croup handed Warren the key and looked dubious at Jack.
"We're meeting some friends, colleagues, but they may not have made it here yet."
"Well, 'appy to have 'em; that'll be 10 and 6. Meals are served at 7 for guests."
Warren hands the money to Mr. Croup, who departs, waddling through the door as a 'thank you' is murmured.
Letting his bags drop, Jack pulls back the curtains and gazes out the window. A thick fog of black pollution, created by soot and ashes, makes the night seem like an abyss. Street lights glow faintly in the haze, but the prison is lit up like a factory.
"What now?" Warren takes off his coat, brushing some of the soot ash that hand collected on the shoulders.
"We have that pint, my friend, and listen to the gossip."
Jack grins as he flings his coat across a small wooden chair; a small cloud of dust poufs up from the floor. The filth of Victorian London is everywhere.
"Use that clever, inquiring detective's mind to root out any details of unusual happenings in the last week or so, in this or the nearby areas."
"Well, that Sir, I can do!" Warren laughs as they head downstairs for that pint.
 |
| Public Domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2480305 |
20160804
Horay for Holloway?
Holloway Castle Inn stood across the wide street of Camden Road from the City Prison. Park Road formed a y intersection at the front gates of Holloway Prison (aka City Prison); built between 1853-5, this panopticon principle structure can hold 436 criminals in six wings. Four are appropriated for men, one for juveniles, and the other for women. This castellated building, designed by the city architect, Mr. Bunning, has ventilated cells that can be warmed by steam in the winter. The entire complex sits on ten acres and is surrounded by a brick and iron fence.
Jack stood and stared at the massive and formidable structure. Getting in there, not as a prisoner, would be a challenge. Yet he had no idea if Norman was going to infiltrate this place. He was frustrated and it showed.
Warren watched and waited; if it were still 1888, he could have gotten them into Holloway, but now, it would be tricky and dangerous. He figured there had to be ramifications to time ripping.
"We should be getting on, my friend. Our accommodations are not set and we need to find lodgings."
Jack looked at Warren and nodded.
Crossing the y of streets, they see the sign for the Inn. Dodging horse carts and piles of garbage, they dust themselves off before entering the three-story stucco and wood building.
Jack stood and stared at the massive and formidable structure. Getting in there, not as a prisoner, would be a challenge. Yet he had no idea if Norman was going to infiltrate this place. He was frustrated and it showed.
Warren watched and waited; if it were still 1888, he could have gotten them into Holloway, but now, it would be tricky and dangerous. He figured there had to be ramifications to time ripping.
"We should be getting on, my friend. Our accommodations are not set and we need to find lodgings."
Jack looked at Warren and nodded.
Crossing the y of streets, they see the sign for the Inn. Dodging horse carts and piles of garbage, they dust themselves off before entering the three-story stucco and wood building.
20160729
Horse Manure
The pub's bartender suggested the two travelers try to get rooms at the Holloway Castle Inn, on Camden Road; it was a block over from ST. Luke's Church.
With a tip of their hats, the two men departed with bags in hand. Money was tight, so they walked. The streets were busy and sidewalks crowded. Several times they had to maneuver around horse drawn traffic jams; yelling drivers, fists waving and pointing fingers to blame the other person. Like some kind of strange sideshow, but just part of London daily life; huge piles of stinking manure festering in the last heat of the day adds a bizarre whimsy to the scene.
Making their way up Camden Road, Jack observed all the businesses; there had to be a connection to this area or why would Norman come here? A clue was to be found, but it needed rooting out. They needed to start were they arrived and search.
Warren was amazed at how the few years in the past they had just traveled, showed the precursors to the filthy city he now knew or thought he had. Already the population explosion was taking it's toll and he was beginning to understand why some of the problems in his time were there.
"Hindsight... in reverse."
Jack turned to look at his companion.
"I know this is strange, but at some point, it may become less shocking."
Shifting his one grip to his other hand, Warren dodges a band of running children.
"Ah, my friend, you are the seasoned 'explorer.' I go back a few years, ones I recently lived through, and its like a strange new world."
Warren smiled, he was excited about this prospect of exploring time. His guide, however, had lost his romantic outlook a long time ago.
With a tip of their hats, the two men departed with bags in hand. Money was tight, so they walked. The streets were busy and sidewalks crowded. Several times they had to maneuver around horse drawn traffic jams; yelling drivers, fists waving and pointing fingers to blame the other person. Like some kind of strange sideshow, but just part of London daily life; huge piles of stinking manure festering in the last heat of the day adds a bizarre whimsy to the scene.
Making their way up Camden Road, Jack observed all the businesses; there had to be a connection to this area or why would Norman come here? A clue was to be found, but it needed rooting out. They needed to start were they arrived and search.
Warren was amazed at how the few years in the past they had just traveled, showed the precursors to the filthy city he now knew or thought he had. Already the population explosion was taking it's toll and he was beginning to understand why some of the problems in his time were there.
"Hindsight... in reverse."
Jack turned to look at his companion.
"I know this is strange, but at some point, it may become less shocking."
Shifting his one grip to his other hand, Warren dodges a band of running children.
"Ah, my friend, you are the seasoned 'explorer.' I go back a few years, ones I recently lived through, and its like a strange new world."
Warren smiled, he was excited about this prospect of exploring time. His guide, however, had lost his romantic outlook a long time ago.
20160605
Kindness before Chaos
The day was overcast and somewhat humid. Fans were blowing the warm air around the rooms and halls of the auditorium; the few dispersed curtains bellowed slightly.
Grace had wheeled her sister out into the small garden, under a large tree. The shade made it more inviting than any area inside.
Brushing the tangles out of Stella's long hair, Grace gently hummed a tune from their early childhood. It seemed to sooth and comfort them both. With the straight jacket off, a simple wrist attachment had replaced it, Stella's mood improved.
Dr. Jeykell came over and sat with them. Smiling, he spoke in a slow, quiet, non-threatening voice. "And how are we feeling today Stella?" He got no response; last time she screamed at him.
"You look very nice today and I'm happy to see your enjoying our lovely garden." He looked at Grace; she looked better as well. Starring a little too long, her eyes met his.
"Thank you for taking off the jacket; it seemed to agitate her mood." Grace gave a slight slight smile, but it was fleeting.
He adjusted his spectacles, clearing his throat, in a proper, courteous manner, stood up. "I explained to Dr. Namron that her behavior didn't warrant such precautions." He had no idea she had brutally slaughtered a woman not long ago. Only Stella actually knew that, but her mind was crippled as a result.
"With a proper diet, exercise, and water therapy, she has every chance of recovery.
Your expert care and monitoring will further that end." He gave a slight bow and went to check on the patients doing calisthenics just beyond the fence.
"What you need, dear sister, is to get away from lunatic time rippers... I wish Jack had come with us." Letting out a sigh, Grace went back to brushing the long dirty blonde mane of the broken woman sitting in front of her.
Wadding up her gown in tight fists, Stella smiled. In a very low whisper, "Jack is coming..."
Grace had wheeled her sister out into the small garden, under a large tree. The shade made it more inviting than any area inside.
Brushing the tangles out of Stella's long hair, Grace gently hummed a tune from their early childhood. It seemed to sooth and comfort them both. With the straight jacket off, a simple wrist attachment had replaced it, Stella's mood improved.
Dr. Jeykell came over and sat with them. Smiling, he spoke in a slow, quiet, non-threatening voice. "And how are we feeling today Stella?" He got no response; last time she screamed at him.
"You look very nice today and I'm happy to see your enjoying our lovely garden." He looked at Grace; she looked better as well. Starring a little too long, her eyes met his.
"Thank you for taking off the jacket; it seemed to agitate her mood." Grace gave a slight slight smile, but it was fleeting.
He adjusted his spectacles, clearing his throat, in a proper, courteous manner, stood up. "I explained to Dr. Namron that her behavior didn't warrant such precautions." He had no idea she had brutally slaughtered a woman not long ago. Only Stella actually knew that, but her mind was crippled as a result.
"With a proper diet, exercise, and water therapy, she has every chance of recovery.
Your expert care and monitoring will further that end." He gave a slight bow and went to check on the patients doing calisthenics just beyond the fence.
"What you need, dear sister, is to get away from lunatic time rippers... I wish Jack had come with us." Letting out a sigh, Grace went back to brushing the long dirty blonde mane of the broken woman sitting in front of her.
Wadding up her gown in tight fists, Stella smiled. In a very low whisper, "Jack is coming..."
20160531
Warm Ale and Women
Having a late supper, in a public house around the corner from the baths, the two young men chatted about bath houses and their origins in Turkey.
"I must say, that was indeed an exhilarating experience; I never imagined a hot pool or at such a size." Warren finished his cottage pie, washing it down with the last of his warm ale. "Do they have those...where you come from?" He wasn't sure if he should ask Jack personal questions, but he was terribly curious.
"There are natural hot springs, in some areas; it's all outside and anyone can use it." Jack looked at his companion, who had a shocked expression. Smiling, but refraining from his urge to chuckle, he finished his ale. "Our society has progressed, as will yours, to points which are vastly different in views and moral judgements." He got up and ordered another round.
The bar maid took their dishes, smiling at Warren. "Any 'ting else, you be want'in?" She said with a knowing look. An attractive brunette with a pert smile.
"No, that was indeed a fine meal; thank you kindly." Warren smiled at the buxom girl.
She bristled when Jack returned to the small table, tucked back in an alcove. She didn't like the eye patch, it made him appear sinister somehow.
He ignored her reaction, it was all too common an occurrence. Watching her swish away, back to the kitchen, Jack let out a sigh. "Will you take her up on the offer?" He was aware that his new friend may have need of companionship and this might be the only opportunity for awhile.
"I beg your pardon?" Warren was a little embarrassed.
In a lower voice, Jack leaned across the table, "You should consider availing yourself of her 'personal' services...you look like you could use some further mind-body therapy."
Warren's face went slightly pink. He had gotten a bit excited during the massage; he'd never had anyone touch him all over like that. Coughing, he chugs part of his fresh ale. "I'm fine and your concern is appreciated...I'd prefer we changed the course of conversation." Warren wouldn't make eye contact with Jack.
"No worries old man...another opportunity may arise. We have a lot of back breaking work to do, so drink up." Jack was grinning; he just couldn't resist teasing his shy friend.
"I must say, that was indeed an exhilarating experience; I never imagined a hot pool or at such a size." Warren finished his cottage pie, washing it down with the last of his warm ale. "Do they have those...where you come from?" He wasn't sure if he should ask Jack personal questions, but he was terribly curious.
"There are natural hot springs, in some areas; it's all outside and anyone can use it." Jack looked at his companion, who had a shocked expression. Smiling, but refraining from his urge to chuckle, he finished his ale. "Our society has progressed, as will yours, to points which are vastly different in views and moral judgements." He got up and ordered another round.
The bar maid took their dishes, smiling at Warren. "Any 'ting else, you be want'in?" She said with a knowing look. An attractive brunette with a pert smile.
"No, that was indeed a fine meal; thank you kindly." Warren smiled at the buxom girl.
She bristled when Jack returned to the small table, tucked back in an alcove. She didn't like the eye patch, it made him appear sinister somehow.
He ignored her reaction, it was all too common an occurrence. Watching her swish away, back to the kitchen, Jack let out a sigh. "Will you take her up on the offer?" He was aware that his new friend may have need of companionship and this might be the only opportunity for awhile.
"I beg your pardon?" Warren was a little embarrassed.
In a lower voice, Jack leaned across the table, "You should consider availing yourself of her 'personal' services...you look like you could use some further mind-body therapy."
Warren's face went slightly pink. He had gotten a bit excited during the massage; he'd never had anyone touch him all over like that. Coughing, he chugs part of his fresh ale. "I'm fine and your concern is appreciated...I'd prefer we changed the course of conversation." Warren wouldn't make eye contact with Jack.
"No worries old man...another opportunity may arise. We have a lot of back breaking work to do, so drink up." Jack was grinning; he just couldn't resist teasing his shy friend.
20160530
Second Thoughts?
Jack and Warren decide to get a massage since they both have had a rough few weeks and the last encounter, with Norman, was physically damaging.
By the time they left the masseur tables, more patrons had arrived and the pool was now full of swimmers; sitting for a while, the pair watched the frolicking, carefree men,discussing the next steps of their current adventure.
"There is a hotel not far, which should make a good base of operations, at least until we can pick up a trace of their entry point into this time line." Jack was so used to this routine, he forgot Warren had no idea what was going on.
"I don't wish to appear dense, but I find this all rather perplexing." Warren smiled and wondered just how much Jack was going to explain, if any.
"Right. This isn't private enough; let's get dressed and have a meal." Jack looked at his companion. 'I should have left him in 1880.'
By the time they left the masseur tables, more patrons had arrived and the pool was now full of swimmers; sitting for a while, the pair watched the frolicking, carefree men,discussing the next steps of their current adventure.
"There is a hotel not far, which should make a good base of operations, at least until we can pick up a trace of their entry point into this time line." Jack was so used to this routine, he forgot Warren had no idea what was going on.
"I don't wish to appear dense, but I find this all rather perplexing." Warren smiled and wondered just how much Jack was going to explain, if any.
"Right. This isn't private enough; let's get dressed and have a meal." Jack looked at his companion. 'I should have left him in 1880.'
Careful Consideration
Dr. Jeykell looked at Norman in surprise. "It seems you have me at a disadvantage once again sir." Regaining his expression of a kindly and sympathetic man, he sips his coffee.
"Why do you believe I am experimenting with minds or the soul for that matter?" We have proven treatments to help those in our care and the ones, which, are not responding to treatments, are looked after." His eyes narrowed as he watched his two companions.
Norman realized this was not going to be as 'simple' as he had presumed and attempted to back track.
"I beg your pardon Doctor. From what I have read and information gathered, in my research, your methods with the patients here border on the revolutionary.
I am extremely fascinated by your endeavors and simply wish to participate, should you be so inclined and if you were to find an assistant useful." Norman smiled and carefully leaned back in his chair, trying to create an openness to his demeanor.
Grace took advantage of the silent moment and addressed Dr. Jeykell. "We're here to help the woman we brought with us. She needs compassion and understanding." Her eyes moved to Norman for a moment and then back to the captivated Doctor. "I too, believe you have the skills and expertise to release her form the torment now possessing her." She meant what she said and her voice had a pleading quality.
Dr. Jeykell was taken by this woman and decided to consider both their statements. He couldn't risk bringing them into his secret experiments, unless he had further knowledge about them. Time would tell, if they could be trusted.
"Why do you believe I am experimenting with minds or the soul for that matter?" We have proven treatments to help those in our care and the ones, which, are not responding to treatments, are looked after." His eyes narrowed as he watched his two companions.
Norman realized this was not going to be as 'simple' as he had presumed and attempted to back track.
"I beg your pardon Doctor. From what I have read and information gathered, in my research, your methods with the patients here border on the revolutionary.
I am extremely fascinated by your endeavors and simply wish to participate, should you be so inclined and if you were to find an assistant useful." Norman smiled and carefully leaned back in his chair, trying to create an openness to his demeanor.
Grace took advantage of the silent moment and addressed Dr. Jeykell. "We're here to help the woman we brought with us. She needs compassion and understanding." Her eyes moved to Norman for a moment and then back to the captivated Doctor. "I too, believe you have the skills and expertise to release her form the torment now possessing her." She meant what she said and her voice had a pleading quality.
Dr. Jeykell was taken by this woman and decided to consider both their statements. He couldn't risk bringing them into his secret experiments, unless he had further knowledge about them. Time would tell, if they could be trusted.
20160317
Meeting Dr. Jeykell
Norman stares out the window, watching the less dangerous 'inmates' exercise in the two gardens; one for men, the other for women. He is amused by the primitive psychiatric practices, but the man he is waiting to see is anything but primitive...revolutionary would be a more apt description.
Rubbing his arm, he felt the stitches and grimaced. 'How could Jack do something like that?' Norman is incredulous and perturbed by the whole incident. 'That Detective is more trouble than he is worth.'
Grace comes into the room in a crisp white linen nurse's
uniform; her hair combed out and pulled back into a long blonde braid. She stands stone faced as she stares at the back of the man she hates with a passion. 'How could he put her sister into a straight jacket, it's unbelievable and a travesty; she is like this because of him.'
Norman knows Grace is in the room, but he ignores her. 'Her feelings, on the current matter, are inconsequential and I can't be bothered with her trivial concerns.'
The door opens again and the occupant of the room enters. A man of middle age, but has gone grey early, in patches, making him look distinguished. Dr. Jeykell is surprised to see two strangers in his office. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage sir." The Dr. takes off his spectacles, rubbing his eyes; he's been up all night and rather tired from more failed experiments. Cleaning his spectacles, on the edge of his white lab coat, he eyes Grace. 'I don't recognize this beauty.'
Norman turns and grins wide. "I'm afraid we've dropped in unannounced Doctor, and I beg your pardon and indulgence for the intrusion." Advancing towards the esteemed Doctor, Norman extends his hand in greeting and introduces himself. "I am Dr. Namron and she is my assistant; we had an emergency case and while traveling, our patient had a serious episode, causing me to stop at St. Luke's for assistance."
Having replaced his spectacles, he shakes Norman's hand and nods at Grace. "Well, I'm glad our facilities were of service; you must have arrived very late indeed."
Norman smiles and takes a seat in a wing back chair covered in tufted leather, opposite the large, ornately carved wood desk. The Doctor sits as well, leaning back in his desk chair. Grace moves into the center of the room and stands next to Norman's chair. She knows to stay silent, unless addressed directly.
"Yes, but we were expertly assisted and the accommodation are quite satisfactory." Norman is very congenial and disarming with Dr. Jeykell. Grace is invited to sit and she chooses a chair by the tall windows. Talk continues between the two men until they are interrupted by the announcement of lunch service.
Norman and Dr. Jeykell walk side-by-side, down the bright hallway with Grace a few steps behind. Most of the walls have windows, making it appear friendly, especially on sunny days. The patients would strongly disagree and some yelling can be heard, further down the hall.
They turn off, before coming to the women's ward and enter a large cafeteria; lunch can be sniffed on the air and the trio form a line to choose their meal. Grace prefers the salad options, but the men go for meat and potatoes. Choosing a small table, by a pair of french doors, Grace sits down and pours out the glasses of water. Waiting for the men, she gazes outside and wonders what Norman is up to. She doesn't not have to wait long to find out.
As the three consume their meager meals,the hospital has a limited budget, Norman explains his interest in Dr. Jeykell's experiments with the human mind vs. the soul. "I would like to assist you...I truly believe, if we work together, a definite result can be achieved."
Grace looks at Norman and hopes his is not planning on doing any crazy experiments on her sister; that she will not tolerate.
Rubbing his arm, he felt the stitches and grimaced. 'How could Jack do something like that?' Norman is incredulous and perturbed by the whole incident. 'That Detective is more trouble than he is worth.'
Grace comes into the room in a crisp white linen nurse's
uniform; her hair combed out and pulled back into a long blonde braid. She stands stone faced as she stares at the back of the man she hates with a passion. 'How could he put her sister into a straight jacket, it's unbelievable and a travesty; she is like this because of him.'
Norman knows Grace is in the room, but he ignores her. 'Her feelings, on the current matter, are inconsequential and I can't be bothered with her trivial concerns.'
The door opens again and the occupant of the room enters. A man of middle age, but has gone grey early, in patches, making him look distinguished. Dr. Jeykell is surprised to see two strangers in his office. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage sir." The Dr. takes off his spectacles, rubbing his eyes; he's been up all night and rather tired from more failed experiments. Cleaning his spectacles, on the edge of his white lab coat, he eyes Grace. 'I don't recognize this beauty.'
Norman turns and grins wide. "I'm afraid we've dropped in unannounced Doctor, and I beg your pardon and indulgence for the intrusion." Advancing towards the esteemed Doctor, Norman extends his hand in greeting and introduces himself. "I am Dr. Namron and she is my assistant; we had an emergency case and while traveling, our patient had a serious episode, causing me to stop at St. Luke's for assistance."
Having replaced his spectacles, he shakes Norman's hand and nods at Grace. "Well, I'm glad our facilities were of service; you must have arrived very late indeed."
Norman smiles and takes a seat in a wing back chair covered in tufted leather, opposite the large, ornately carved wood desk. The Doctor sits as well, leaning back in his desk chair. Grace moves into the center of the room and stands next to Norman's chair. She knows to stay silent, unless addressed directly.
"Yes, but we were expertly assisted and the accommodation are quite satisfactory." Norman is very congenial and disarming with Dr. Jeykell. Grace is invited to sit and she chooses a chair by the tall windows. Talk continues between the two men until they are interrupted by the announcement of lunch service.
Norman and Dr. Jeykell walk side-by-side, down the bright hallway with Grace a few steps behind. Most of the walls have windows, making it appear friendly, especially on sunny days. The patients would strongly disagree and some yelling can be heard, further down the hall.
They turn off, before coming to the women's ward and enter a large cafeteria; lunch can be sniffed on the air and the trio form a line to choose their meal. Grace prefers the salad options, but the men go for meat and potatoes. Choosing a small table, by a pair of french doors, Grace sits down and pours out the glasses of water. Waiting for the men, she gazes outside and wonders what Norman is up to. She doesn't not have to wait long to find out.
As the three consume their meager meals,the hospital has a limited budget, Norman explains his interest in Dr. Jeykell's experiments with the human mind vs. the soul. "I would like to assist you...I truly believe, if we work together, a definite result can be achieved."
Grace looks at Norman and hopes his is not planning on doing any crazy experiments on her sister; that she will not tolerate.
20160216
Torment of the Soul
Pale, hollow eyes stare at the ceiling....watching, waiting...'he will save me, he will save me.' The straps are tight, gripping skin, flesh, bone...'my soul is trapped, he will save me.' Jerking makes the bed springs creak...creak, creak...'why won't he come, why won't he save me...now...' Fear starts it's lethal grip, like a creeping marauder, seeking out the prized treasure hidden within. The panic is overwhelming, building like a volcano, higher and higher it bubbles and boils....closer and closer to the edge...reaching the throat, it escapes into a blood curdling scream..."JACK!!" Stella closes her eyes and collapses.
20160202
Temporary Reprieve
Warren pulls himself out of the chair, reluctantly as it is very soothing and he is tired. Stripping off his clothes, he decides to ring for the attendant. Wrapping a towel around his lean, muscular body, which aches from the last 48 hrs adventures, he manages a smile when a voice calls out, "You rang sir?" The attendant waits for the request. "Oh, yes, thank you...would it be possible to get our clothes cleaned or at least brushed and pressed?" Warren wasn't used to being waited on and he wasn't sure what he could ask for.
"Certainly sir, we can arrange that service for you." Walking to the closets, he takes the items and folds them over his arm. "When do you require them?"
Warren wasn't sure what the plans were and right now, he didn't want to leave anytime soon. "We only just arrived, so it will be several hours before we are ready to leave."
The attendant does as slight bow, "Understood sir, they will be ready when you require them." As he heads for the exit, Warren follows, "Would you like anything else sir?"
A sudden thirst gripped Warren and he wanted something refreshing, which he asked for. Smiling, the attendant responds, "I believe we have something you will enjoy, shall I bring it to you, by the pool then?"
"Yes, and maybe, my companion would appreciate one too." Warren smiles. "As you wish sir." The attendant moves off, down past the long pool.
Standing near the edge of the steaming hot water, calling to him, Warren looks for Jack. There aren't many guests about just yet and just a few swimming in the expansive azure liquid. He saw a familiar dark haired man, who was now swimming towards him. Watching Jack breaking the surface of the water, dipping hands and arms, pulling him along with ease, makes he wonder how this man got to where he is now.
Jack dives down and rises up in the water, hair slicked back, water dripping from his face. Smiling, his two different colored eyes completely visible now, laughs, "Are you going to stand there all day or do I have to get out and push you in?"
Warren finds himself laughing hard, something he hadn't done in months. "With a threat like that, I better not tarry." Tossing the towel away, he jumps into the pool with a splash. They continue to laugh and splash each other. The attendant brings the fruity drinks and sets them on a small table near two chairs. Walking to the side of the pool, he waits until they see him. With his slight bow and a wave of his hand, he gestures to the waiting drinks. They wave and make their way to the edge.
"In your own time sirs and your clothes are being cleaned and pressed for you, as we speak. Can I be of any other service to you?" The attendant's face is expressionless, but he hopes the splashing will conclude soon or he will have to comment, on behalf of the other guests.
Jack responds, "No thank you, we appreciate your expert attendance." As the attendant walks off, Jack pulls himself out of the pool and retrieves the tall glasses, handing Warren one. Quietly sliding back down into the water, they sip the refreshing mixture of juices in silence. Some peace at last, even if it will be fleeting.
"Certainly sir, we can arrange that service for you." Walking to the closets, he takes the items and folds them over his arm. "When do you require them?"
Warren wasn't sure what the plans were and right now, he didn't want to leave anytime soon. "We only just arrived, so it will be several hours before we are ready to leave."
The attendant does as slight bow, "Understood sir, they will be ready when you require them." As he heads for the exit, Warren follows, "Would you like anything else sir?"
A sudden thirst gripped Warren and he wanted something refreshing, which he asked for. Smiling, the attendant responds, "I believe we have something you will enjoy, shall I bring it to you, by the pool then?"
"Yes, and maybe, my companion would appreciate one too." Warren smiles. "As you wish sir." The attendant moves off, down past the long pool.
Standing near the edge of the steaming hot water, calling to him, Warren looks for Jack. There aren't many guests about just yet and just a few swimming in the expansive azure liquid. He saw a familiar dark haired man, who was now swimming towards him. Watching Jack breaking the surface of the water, dipping hands and arms, pulling him along with ease, makes he wonder how this man got to where he is now.
Jack dives down and rises up in the water, hair slicked back, water dripping from his face. Smiling, his two different colored eyes completely visible now, laughs, "Are you going to stand there all day or do I have to get out and push you in?"
Warren finds himself laughing hard, something he hadn't done in months. "With a threat like that, I better not tarry." Tossing the towel away, he jumps into the pool with a splash. They continue to laugh and splash each other. The attendant brings the fruity drinks and sets them on a small table near two chairs. Walking to the side of the pool, he waits until they see him. With his slight bow and a wave of his hand, he gestures to the waiting drinks. They wave and make their way to the edge.
"In your own time sirs and your clothes are being cleaned and pressed for you, as we speak. Can I be of any other service to you?" The attendant's face is expressionless, but he hopes the splashing will conclude soon or he will have to comment, on behalf of the other guests.
Jack responds, "No thank you, we appreciate your expert attendance." As the attendant walks off, Jack pulls himself out of the pool and retrieves the tall glasses, handing Warren one. Quietly sliding back down into the water, they sip the refreshing mixture of juices in silence. Some peace at last, even if it will be fleeting.
20160112
Camden Turkish Baths
Having removed my gear and mask, stowing them in one bag before crossing the threshold, I put my eye patch back on; we didn't want to draw attention in a place such as this. I had checked Warren out and besides being green around the gills, he didn't have anything out to cause questions to be raised at admittance.
I explained, as best I could with a voice like grating gravel, that we had a long train trip and the steamer had undesirable accommodations; hence, losing my voice and my associate feeling poorly, and la-de-da.
I completely understand sir, travel these days can border on the diabolical. We, here at the baths, want to revive you and make your visit a memorable one. With a smile and a wave of his hand, we followed him through the sitting rooms to a space that I, or even Warren, hadn't expected. Great carved beams of wood, reaching up and creating trusses, holding up a glass sky that seemed to go on forever. Below was a pool of azure liquid, steam curling and swirling just above the wet surface, the length of two rugby fields (200 meters.) To the sides were small Meshlakh (cooling rooms) with white drapes flowing and giving privacy, if one wanted a massage. Potted palms dotted the expansive room, giving it a slight tropical atmosphere. The air was hot, dry, and I could feel the tension begin to ebb.
The attendant snapped his fingers and another man appeared, bowed, and asked us to follow him. I glanced back at Warren and he was looking rather dazed by the surroundings. Realizing my gaze was upon him, he came to stand next to me. In a hushed voice, he said, I don't know quite what to make of this Jack, but I really want a hot bath after that bloody sewer walk. Smiling, I nodded, and we caught up with the patiently waiting attendant.
Showing us to a small room, which had some chairs, a lounger, and low side tables, he pointed out the closets and towels. In your own time gentlemen, he said in a slight french accent, and when you require anything, just wave in the great room, or press this bell; he pointed to a wall device which protruded out from the wall with a small black dot in the center. Controlling my urge to push it, I kindly said, Thank you, we will.
A frivolous mood was beginning to fill my dried out soul. Turning, I found exhausted former Detective Warren slumped in a chair of plush cushions. I put our bags in the closet and grabed a couple of towels. Squatting down, next to Warren's fluffy supporter of tired bones, I place a towel on his lap. In a jovial, yet gravel sounding voice, 'come on old chum, you wanted a bath...I guarantee you'll feel 'revived', ha-ha.' Oh, yes...very funny Jack; your brains don't feel like scrambled eggs cooked with firecrackers.
Having stripped off all my my clothes and towel wrapped around my too skinny waist, I walk out the door, calling back...'last one is a rotten egg!'
20160109
Cargill's Haberdashery
Why do I bet that Norman didn't end up in a shite hole and have to deal with rats as long as a man's arm. I really hate rats...at least this isn't the era of the black plague. Using a handy feature, I built into the wrist device, the rats scamper off...it's the little things that make this whole ripping party bearable.
Pushing the manhole cover over, I call out to Warren to hand up the bags; one by one, I toss them to the black road surface and pull myself out, followed by Warren. Out of that hell hole, Warren seems more relaxed, but his disorientation sickness will have other side affects.
The area we seem to be in, is not an optimal place to stay long. According to my scanning sensors, and the map to correspond, roughly, we've come up near the City Prison on Park and Camden Roads, with St. Luke's Church directly across it. Odd; is it just a coincidence that the prison and church are together? Norman shouldn't be interested in either of these types of establishments. The whip end of the rip usually corresponds with the core rip location in some way, which is never clear, until the core location is worked out. Some triangulation will need to be calculated, but not now.
First order is new clothes and rest. Several blocks, south of our present location, should be a man's dress shop called Cargill's Haberdashery. I hope that data is correct since I don't know what year it is and businesses can change; there was a limit to the information we downloaded before our first rip...that was a happier time for all.
Motioning Warren to follow, we make our way down back streets and quiet alleys, before finding the shop. Standing at the entrance, Warren looks at me with a perplexed, mixed with concern expression hanging on his pale face. Afraid he will break the long silence we have shared since arriving, I shake my head sideways and lift a finger to my lips; pointing to the time distortion device, he nods an understanding response to my plan. Pressing the trigger, everything stops and a dense silence surrounds us; I jimmy open the door and we let our bags drop to the carpeted floor. Quickly stripping off our shoes, socks, and trousers, we locate each of these replacement items and finish up by leaving some cash with our putrid clothing remains. The shop keeper will have a fine time dealing with that mystery.
Exiting, I pull Warren along to get us as far away as possible. He can't take any more of this today and vomits in confirmation of my deep concern. Human beings may not be well suited for time travel. Muttering, Sorry, Warren pulls himself together again and we press on. As we continue walking South West on Camden Road, I note a place we can get cleaned up and rest for the day. Not much farther, I croak, we will recover at the Camden Turkish Baths on Kentish Road.
As the sky becomes lighter, we hear a train whistle; we are close now.
Pushing the manhole cover over, I call out to Warren to hand up the bags; one by one, I toss them to the black road surface and pull myself out, followed by Warren. Out of that hell hole, Warren seems more relaxed, but his disorientation sickness will have other side affects.
The area we seem to be in, is not an optimal place to stay long. According to my scanning sensors, and the map to correspond, roughly, we've come up near the City Prison on Park and Camden Roads, with St. Luke's Church directly across it. Odd; is it just a coincidence that the prison and church are together? Norman shouldn't be interested in either of these types of establishments. The whip end of the rip usually corresponds with the core rip location in some way, which is never clear, until the core location is worked out. Some triangulation will need to be calculated, but not now.
First order is new clothes and rest. Several blocks, south of our present location, should be a man's dress shop called Cargill's Haberdashery. I hope that data is correct since I don't know what year it is and businesses can change; there was a limit to the information we downloaded before our first rip...that was a happier time for all.
Motioning Warren to follow, we make our way down back streets and quiet alleys, before finding the shop. Standing at the entrance, Warren looks at me with a perplexed, mixed with concern expression hanging on his pale face. Afraid he will break the long silence we have shared since arriving, I shake my head sideways and lift a finger to my lips; pointing to the time distortion device, he nods an understanding response to my plan. Pressing the trigger, everything stops and a dense silence surrounds us; I jimmy open the door and we let our bags drop to the carpeted floor. Quickly stripping off our shoes, socks, and trousers, we locate each of these replacement items and finish up by leaving some cash with our putrid clothing remains. The shop keeper will have a fine time dealing with that mystery.
Exiting, I pull Warren along to get us as far away as possible. He can't take any more of this today and vomits in confirmation of my deep concern. Human beings may not be well suited for time travel. Muttering, Sorry, Warren pulls himself together again and we press on. As we continue walking South West on Camden Road, I note a place we can get cleaned up and rest for the day. Not much farther, I croak, we will recover at the Camden Turkish Baths on Kentish Road.
As the sky becomes lighter, we hear a train whistle; we are close now.
20160106
St. Luke's for Lunatics
St. Luke's stands like a citadel facing me in the night; lamp flames flicker as though they were burning demons eyes, daring the brave knight to enter...
Good evening, I am Dr. Namron and I have brought a patient of mine, as well as my nurse, to see Dr. Jekeyll. I can see charm and directness is needed in this situation and pour it on to make the right impression. Please pardon our appearance, but my patient had a severe episode and attacked me. It was all we could do to get her under control, the cab drove off in fear, and I was cut in the process of subduing her; a rather unpleasant ordeal, I must say, and I require medical attention.
The night attendant looked skeptical, but buzzed us through to the waiting room. You'll need to wait here doctor. Yes, of course, I replied, smiling slightly to show my appreciation for his courtesy. But, I said with a hitch, could I trouble you for a straight jacket, we don't want to risk another 'incident.' I give that knowing look as I wave my bloody shirt sleeve to impress upon the dolt. His eyes widen at the scarlet stain and quickly departs the room. Within minutes, two men come in with the jacket, wheelchair, and a syringe. Oh, good gentlemen, just what is needed. These folks understand all too well and it will be a pleasure involving myself in the operations of this fine establishment.
Turning, I move toward Grace and Stella; nurse, I say to Grace, and giving her my sternest look, to impress upon her the part she is to play, please hold out the patient's arm. Grace looks at me with cold eyes and complies; the two attendants administer the medication and strap on the jacket, making it secure. Without a sound, Stella sits down in the wheelchair, head hung down and hair wildly flowing about her face and shoulders. I find that momentarily appealing somehow.
My amusing thoughts are broken by Grace. I will take Stella, the patient, to her room; show me the way. Her commanding voice alerted the attendants and they look to me for comment. I nod my approval. As the party of four begin to leave the waiting room, I say, in my most gracious manner, ah, could you also take our bags, as we will need accommodations as well. Yes, sir. I need my arm attended to also. The attendant replies dryly, If you'll follow me, the night duty doctor can see to it, sir. Ah, good, good, thank you kindly.
I watch Grace disappear, down the hall, with Stella. This was easier than I thought...how utterly gratifying! This is too much fun!!
Good evening, I am Dr. Namron and I have brought a patient of mine, as well as my nurse, to see Dr. Jekeyll. I can see charm and directness is needed in this situation and pour it on to make the right impression. Please pardon our appearance, but my patient had a severe episode and attacked me. It was all we could do to get her under control, the cab drove off in fear, and I was cut in the process of subduing her; a rather unpleasant ordeal, I must say, and I require medical attention.
The night attendant looked skeptical, but buzzed us through to the waiting room. You'll need to wait here doctor. Yes, of course, I replied, smiling slightly to show my appreciation for his courtesy. But, I said with a hitch, could I trouble you for a straight jacket, we don't want to risk another 'incident.' I give that knowing look as I wave my bloody shirt sleeve to impress upon the dolt. His eyes widen at the scarlet stain and quickly departs the room. Within minutes, two men come in with the jacket, wheelchair, and a syringe. Oh, good gentlemen, just what is needed. These folks understand all too well and it will be a pleasure involving myself in the operations of this fine establishment.
Turning, I move toward Grace and Stella; nurse, I say to Grace, and giving her my sternest look, to impress upon her the part she is to play, please hold out the patient's arm. Grace looks at me with cold eyes and complies; the two attendants administer the medication and strap on the jacket, making it secure. Without a sound, Stella sits down in the wheelchair, head hung down and hair wildly flowing about her face and shoulders. I find that momentarily appealing somehow.
My amusing thoughts are broken by Grace. I will take Stella, the patient, to her room; show me the way. Her commanding voice alerted the attendants and they look to me for comment. I nod my approval. As the party of four begin to leave the waiting room, I say, in my most gracious manner, ah, could you also take our bags, as we will need accommodations as well. Yes, sir. I need my arm attended to also. The attendant replies dryly, If you'll follow me, the night duty doctor can see to it, sir. Ah, good, good, thank you kindly.
I watch Grace disappear, down the hall, with Stella. This was easier than I thought...how utterly gratifying! This is too much fun!!
20160105
Another fine mess...
This is a fine mess and now, I've got someone else to protect. Why the hell did I let Warren come? He didn't need to leave...he wanted to leave. He will regret that choice, sooner or later; we all have.
Wearing my helmet, I don't need the flashlight, so I stop and hand it to Warren. With the infrared vision, he looks like a scared animal, except his eyes don't really reflect and they look lifeless, hollow, and flat. The fear is written on his face...I need to get him topside.
Proceeding down the tunnel, we come to a split; according to my arm band sensors, we need to follow the right tunnel another 500 yards, which will lead us to a ladder. As we slog along the dark and dank slim covered brick passage, I feel the damp creeping up my pant legs. We are going to stink and our clothes will have to be thrown away; there will be no way to explain our appearance or putrid fragrance. Warren follows along, silently, uncomplaining; he doesn't belong in this mess...what have I done to him?
I need to focus! Redirecting my thoughts, I recheck my sensors. If my time piece is correct, then it is about 2 a.m. If we have any luck with us, then we will come up near a clothing shop or stores.
Stopping below the ladder, I hand Warren my bags and instruct him to wait; I need to check the situation on the surface. I feel the ache in my ribs climbing up the rusting rungs, God, I feel like hell. The manhole cover pushes up easily and I tilt it enough to peek out. Sensors indicate no movement by any lifeforms...no, wait...rats.
Wearing my helmet, I don't need the flashlight, so I stop and hand it to Warren. With the infrared vision, he looks like a scared animal, except his eyes don't really reflect and they look lifeless, hollow, and flat. The fear is written on his face...I need to get him topside.
Proceeding down the tunnel, we come to a split; according to my arm band sensors, we need to follow the right tunnel another 500 yards, which will lead us to a ladder. As we slog along the dark and dank slim covered brick passage, I feel the damp creeping up my pant legs. We are going to stink and our clothes will have to be thrown away; there will be no way to explain our appearance or putrid fragrance. Warren follows along, silently, uncomplaining; he doesn't belong in this mess...what have I done to him?
I need to focus! Redirecting my thoughts, I recheck my sensors. If my time piece is correct, then it is about 2 a.m. If we have any luck with us, then we will come up near a clothing shop or stores.
Stopping below the ladder, I hand Warren my bags and instruct him to wait; I need to check the situation on the surface. I feel the ache in my ribs climbing up the rusting rungs, God, I feel like hell. The manhole cover pushes up easily and I tilt it enough to peek out. Sensors indicate no movement by any lifeforms...no, wait...rats.
20160104
Warren's first time
Delirium. I can't explain it any other way. We are walking in what appears to be a corridor, but the 'walls' are transparent, with tiny lights glinting. They are speeding up now, but I don't feel like I am walking any faster. Jack is becoming a blur in front of me and as I reach out for him, my hand doesn't seem my own. I can't sense anything; no hearing, feeling, or smells. This strange vacuum seems to be getting smaller now and a darkness swallows Jack. Unable to react, I feel a force sucking me forward and suddenly I am standing in total darkness. My stomach feels like it's inside out and the stench that rushes my nostrils, causes me to vomit.
Oh god! What the hell is going on?! Panic sets in and an uncontrollable fear causes me to cry out for Jack. A blinding light shines in my eyes and I step back for fear of attack. I hear sloshing in what I believe must be water and realize I am standing in something very wet, cold, and it's up to my calves; another wave of nausea envelopes me and I turn to the side, only to face a brick wall. Closing my eyes from the glare and praying I won't be attacked or murdered, I lean my forehead to the wall and discover it is curved.
The sloshing is closer to me now and my disorientation is shaking me, but I grip the handle of my bag tight and prepare to defend myself. The light is lowered and a somewhat familiar voice penetrates my muddled brain.
I am sorry for the rough trip and this location was not expected. My eyes fly open and I turn to see my friend. Jack's voice is still very hoarse; I want to reach out and hug him, but I don't. It's a relief just seeing his face. Jack's hoarse whisper explains, The nausea will pass soon, but the smell won't; we have to get out of here.
I agreed wholeheartedly and regained as much of my composure as I could muster. Realizing there was no immediate threat and allowing my eyes to adjust, the lantern's light cast an eerie glow to the brick sphere surrounding us. For all that's holy...we are in a sewer system!
Oh god! What the hell is going on?! Panic sets in and an uncontrollable fear causes me to cry out for Jack. A blinding light shines in my eyes and I step back for fear of attack. I hear sloshing in what I believe must be water and realize I am standing in something very wet, cold, and it's up to my calves; another wave of nausea envelopes me and I turn to the side, only to face a brick wall. Closing my eyes from the glare and praying I won't be attacked or murdered, I lean my forehead to the wall and discover it is curved.
The sloshing is closer to me now and my disorientation is shaking me, but I grip the handle of my bag tight and prepare to defend myself. The light is lowered and a somewhat familiar voice penetrates my muddled brain.
I am sorry for the rough trip and this location was not expected. My eyes fly open and I turn to see my friend. Jack's voice is still very hoarse; I want to reach out and hug him, but I don't. It's a relief just seeing his face. Jack's hoarse whisper explains, The nausea will pass soon, but the smell won't; we have to get out of here.
I agreed wholeheartedly and regained as much of my composure as I could muster. Realizing there was no immediate threat and allowing my eyes to adjust, the lantern's light cast an eerie glow to the brick sphere surrounding us. For all that's holy...we are in a sewer system!
20160103
Robinson Crusoe...I think not
The air is cool and crisp, ground damp from a recent rainfall. The night glows with prisms as the portal opens and out emerges three figures, a little worse for wear. Stella clings to her sister Grace who holds two bags in either hand, who is clinging to what sanity she has left. Ahead of them is Norman, still cursing to himself like the madman he is.
Bastard, bastard,...f'ing b-a-s-t-a-r-d! How could he do that to me...me?! Throwing down my bag, I grasp my arm, wincing at the pain. I need to get my wound attended to, will need stitches...damn it! Turning, I glare at the two women. The portal dissipates behind them like scattering fireflies casting an eerie glow to the monuments in the cemetery. Any other time I would have been amused at the sight, like ghosts walking from their graves, we would scare any passersby to their own grave, no doubt. At least we arrived where I expected; Bunhill Field Burial Ground, just two blocks from St. Luke's Hospital for Lunatics, on Old Street, City Road, London.
Stella won't look at me and falls to a heap next to her sister's feet, facing me in defiance, Grace lets the bags drop. I can see she has something to express, so I prompt her to speak. What choice words do you have for me this time Grace?
Setting her jaw, Grace bores her glowing vampire eyes into my mortal ones. Jack is not to blame. Unsurprised by her statement, but curious about the explanation, I wait for her to continue without comment. Taking a step closer to me, she clenches her fists as her arms dangle at her sides. Jack followed your instructions, I ran into him when I heard Stella scream and he was alone. For fear of discovery and my safety, he made me return to the rooms and we stayed there until Stella came in.
This time I walked closer to her. I needed to see her eyes better and the darkness enveloped her at this angle of the graveyard making that impossible. Walking, so as to cause her to turn into the moon's light, I could see her eyes, like a wild cats, glowing, reflecting the light. How strange vampires are. My silence seemed to confuse her and was unnerving Stella, as she started to whimper. Grace continued her story. Jack couldn't understand why you gave him the time and place to rip; I had no explanation for him since you did not leave that in your instructions to us. Grace squats down and hugs her sister, now rocking back and forth.
Looking around, I orientate my self and see the gate in the distance. A few lights illuminate the street and our path, which will lead us to St. Luke's. Completely calm and composed now, I retrieve my bag, from the pile, and command the women to follow. Grace speaks one more time. I am sure that other man came on his own...he was in the alley before, watching me...probably hunting for you. I could feel a vicious smile spread across my face...how I enjoy a good hunt! As we all begin our departure from the graveyard, my eye is caught by a headstone in the glow of moonlight, now very bright, the occupant is the famous writer Daniel Defoe. Now that does amuse me and with that, I swing my bag in glee of anticipation for this most excellent adventure ahead.
Bastard, bastard,...f'ing b-a-s-t-a-r-d! How could he do that to me...me?! Throwing down my bag, I grasp my arm, wincing at the pain. I need to get my wound attended to, will need stitches...damn it! Turning, I glare at the two women. The portal dissipates behind them like scattering fireflies casting an eerie glow to the monuments in the cemetery. Any other time I would have been amused at the sight, like ghosts walking from their graves, we would scare any passersby to their own grave, no doubt. At least we arrived where I expected; Bunhill Field Burial Ground, just two blocks from St. Luke's Hospital for Lunatics, on Old Street, City Road, London.
Stella won't look at me and falls to a heap next to her sister's feet, facing me in defiance, Grace lets the bags drop. I can see she has something to express, so I prompt her to speak. What choice words do you have for me this time Grace?
Setting her jaw, Grace bores her glowing vampire eyes into my mortal ones. Jack is not to blame. Unsurprised by her statement, but curious about the explanation, I wait for her to continue without comment. Taking a step closer to me, she clenches her fists as her arms dangle at her sides. Jack followed your instructions, I ran into him when I heard Stella scream and he was alone. For fear of discovery and my safety, he made me return to the rooms and we stayed there until Stella came in.
This time I walked closer to her. I needed to see her eyes better and the darkness enveloped her at this angle of the graveyard making that impossible. Walking, so as to cause her to turn into the moon's light, I could see her eyes, like a wild cats, glowing, reflecting the light. How strange vampires are. My silence seemed to confuse her and was unnerving Stella, as she started to whimper. Grace continued her story. Jack couldn't understand why you gave him the time and place to rip; I had no explanation for him since you did not leave that in your instructions to us. Grace squats down and hugs her sister, now rocking back and forth.
Looking around, I orientate my self and see the gate in the distance. A few lights illuminate the street and our path, which will lead us to St. Luke's. Completely calm and composed now, I retrieve my bag, from the pile, and command the women to follow. Grace speaks one more time. I am sure that other man came on his own...he was in the alley before, watching me...probably hunting for you. I could feel a vicious smile spread across my face...how I enjoy a good hunt! As we all begin our departure from the graveyard, my eye is caught by a headstone in the glow of moonlight, now very bright, the occupant is the famous writer Daniel Defoe. Now that does amuse me and with that, I swing my bag in glee of anticipation for this most excellent adventure ahead.
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