Stories

In a dark side street, which led from the most populated square in London, to the most deserted, a man walked quietly. Based on his posture, he seemed to think everything was normal; the fact that he was walking towards a godforsaken place, the fact that he was dripping wet, and even the fact that his shirt was stained with blood.

The street was narrow, with many twists and turns everywhere – enough to make any human feel lost. The old buildings on each side of the street were run-down, dirty and clearly abandoned. The windows were covered with planks, completely blocking out the outside world, just like London had blocked out this exact street. There used to be bakeries, apartments, schools and boutiques here; now, all that was left were the filthy rats – or so people thought.

The man had stopped walking. He looked over his shoulder, and caught a glimpse of a girl standing on the far end of the street, around where a group of people where scattered around the only streetlamp in the area. She had long, blond hair, and the man recognized her instantly. He swore silently into the night, damning the God he could not name, and clenched his fists determinately. This girl he had seen before, always following after him – tonight, though, it would end.

The slender, young woman inched closer, intent on finding out the truth, but still horrified by what was standing in front of her eyes. The man with the bloody shirt held her gaze, daring her to come forward. He did not like to be followed, nor did he like to fight meaninglessly, but still, he did not care to hide his true self, even if it might save him a few irritating moments like this. The girl came slowly forward, like she was glued to the ground. As she walked, the man examined her closely. The rain was heavy, but he could still see her clearly: She had long, blond curls that reached her waist, her eyes were of a colour as blue and as deep as the ocean, and her body was both slender and curvy. She wore a strop less dress made of black satin, with a black corset tightened with a deep red silk thread around her waist. It made her look like the daughter of a rich and noble man, a kind of man that would never have allowed his daughter to wander around in these kinds of streets.

“Come closer, little girl.” The man whispered, and beckoned her forward with his pale fingers. The young woman stumbled forward, unable to take her eyes off him. They frantically searched his face, his hat, his elegant, black suit, his pocket watch, his cane, and at last, his unusual eyes. “Y-y-you… Wh-what…” She tried to speak, but couldn’t complete her words. She once again opened her perfectly lined lips, determined to ask her question, but as she began to speak, she stumbled and fell forward with a cry of surprise. In a fraction of a second, the man closed the distance between them, and caught her in his arms. “Shhhhh, you don’t have to say anything, my dear.” He whispered gently into her ear. He turned her to face him, and saw tears streaking down her beautiful face. They were hard to distinguish in the rain, but he could still se them.

The man had intended to kill her all night, but as he held her in his arms, he felt a pang of loneliness creeping into his frozen heart. In all of those years that he had walked the night alone, he had never before felt this kind of pain or despair. It was like something was eating him up from the inside, like he was dying once again. Suddenly he began to understand why Procella had done what he’d done to him, all those decades ago. It was now as clear as crystal.

He still held her in his arms, stroking her blonde hair gently. Every time he touched her, he felt her stiffen for a few seconds, before she relaxed and continued to sob silently. They stood there in the rain for a few minutes, until the girl raised her eyes and met his gaze. Her deep blue eyes were filled with hope, but he could also see a bit of shame in them. She opened her mouth to say something, but the man put his finger on her lips and closed it gently. Then he leaned down and kissed her just as gently on her forehead, before a smile played on his lips. He now knew exactly what to do.

Fresh blood. He could both feel it and smell it. It was everywhere; on his hands, on his lips, on the ground, and of course, in his thirsty mouth. He closed his blood-red eyes, listening to the sound of footsteps from afar. Whoever was approaching, was doing an unwise choice. The rain that was pouring down from the sky was like a thousand waterfalls all at once; wet, intense and very noisy. The sound almost masked the light footsteps, making them sound insignificant and innocent – something he knew they were not.

He gently picked up his top hat from the ground, brushing away the dust and blood with his pale, slender hands. He held it delicately in his hands. That hat was a thing he would not loose, nor would he ever forget it. It had a significant meaning in his life; a meaning that he did not like to bring up. He looked closely at it, remembering all the long nights he had worn this exact hat, recalling all the horrified faces of the many people who had lost their lives partly because of it. He sat there in the pouring rain for a few minutes, remembering everything that had happened in his long life, and everything that he had lost.

After breaking out of his reverie, he rose to his feet, tapped his cane to the ground, and flashed an evil smile. His eyes locked on to the dead man’s empty gaze. With a gracious bowing gesture, he nodded to the man and said in his deep, elegant voice: ”Thank you for your kindness, Mister”.