Thunder clapped in the distance and lightning followed quickly. It lit the dark streets of London and the dark parlour that was on Fleet Street. Wind blew viciously and rain whipped around in all directions wetting everything it touched. There was no moon tonight since the clouds had covered it and the stars were gone as well.

Inside the parlour sat a man in the barber's chair. He had on his regular judge's clothes and his hair was brushed back as usual, his eyes were closed and he didn't seem to have a problem with the wind whistling into the room or the rain pounding on the windows. His pale face was leaning back against the head rest and a thin line was a cross his neck. Dead.

Downstairs in the bake house a woman was set for work, the butcher block was freshly cleaned and the oven was al heated up. Ready-to-go firewood was placed in the corner and pie pans were stacked one on top of the other on the top shelf. The woman quickly placed more wood in the fire and then walked over to the large chute and waited patiently.

Upstairs In the barber's room another man walked up to the man in the judge's clothes. This man had on dark pants, a beige vest and a white striped shirt underneath. He had a chased silver razor in his pale hand and the other hand was outstretched as he grabbed the lever on the chair. He took in a breath and then pushed down and watched the body tumble out of sight.

Downstairs in the bake house tumbles echoed in the chute and the woman backed up as the body came rushing through and then landed with a big thud! She didn't scream in terror nor run upstairs to warn the barber, she merely dragged the man's body, by the wrists, over to the butcher's block. The woman took a butcher's knife and started to cut.

Upstairs the man sank to the floor in exhaustion, he had waited for this moment for 15 years and he had finally gotten it. He looked at his razor to see it crusted with blood, he gripped the razor even more tightly until his knuckles turned white. He looked out the window to see the rain bounce harmlessly off the window and the clouds getting darker. He raised the razor and examined it as the lightning flashed. Friends.

Downstairs in the bake house a boy no older than 13 watched carefully as the woman grabbed up an amputated leg and shoving it in the meat grinder. His brown eyes watched as she turned the handle and cleanly shaven meat came out the other end. The boy held in the acidly puke that crawled up his throat and swallowed it down. He was in between the oven and the chute, he could hear what was happening upstairs and downstairs. Footsteps echoed from upstairs and the door slammed shut. The boy looked ahead to see the woman place another part of the judge in the grinder and turn. While at the same time, humming to herself.

Upstairs in the barber's room, a girl around 18 carefully and quietly stepped out of the chest that was pushed into the corner. She had a sailor's coat on and black pants, a black toque to cover her long blonde hair. She looked around the room and carefully walked over to the chair until she heard the door fly open. She looked to see the barber standing there, his hands balled in fists at the sight of the intruder.

Downstairs the woman continued to grind meat, taking no acknowledgment that the boy was watching her.

Nothing's going to harm you, not while I'm around

The boy wanted to go to the woman and hug her but he was scared of the man who cared for her as well. He was scared that the barber would kill him and keep the woman for himself.

Upstairs the girl dodged the barber's attempt to grab her and watched as she raced out the door and downstairs. The barber layed on the ground gathering his breath, he thought that the girl looked familiar in so many ways. But he couldn't let her go, not after what she had seen. HE picked up his razor and walked downstairs to the back house.

Downstairs in the bake house, the boy's heart stopped as he saw the barber come down. He looked at the old beggar woman's body on the ground and staggered back, an expression of horror and pure agony was plastered on his face. The boy could see the woman try to calm the man down by talking quickly, he watched as the man got up and danced with her. He twirled her a couple of times before shoving her into the open oven. The boy's mind screamed, loudly. He only watched helplessly as the oven's flames engulfed the poor woman's body and the barber slamming the door shut. Anger took over the boy's shock and the boy soon found himself behind the barber with razor in his hand.

For mum.