The cobblestones of Fleet Street usually are silent as the grave, with only the sounds of scuttling rats and the occasional beggar that passed by once a day
The cobblestones of Fleet Street usually are silent as the grave, with only the sounds of scuttling rats and the occasional beggar that passed by once a day. Normally, the air is thin with the cold, yet damp with the hovering rain. To the usual observer, today seemed to be a day in which good had a victory over evil. Today, the clouds have thinned, leaving a dull cast of a pale sun through the overhead fog. The air was warm to the touch, and dry to the hands; a day where the strange and lonely peeked their heads out to observe the brief departure of the malicious spirits that encased the street. Their presence seemed to be lifted by a pair of young, fledgling Englishmen. The veteran residence would look upon them as foolish, stupid children for sauntering in their clean, nice clothing, where such outlooks would make them easy prey for the muggers and thieves. But they seemed to pay no attention to the grime-covered walls or the dirty puddles that lined the street in tiny potholes. Their attitude seemed to reflect the sky; they had a ray of sunshine about them, but knew that this neighborhood was neither safe nor clean. There was nothing overt about their uneasiness, but you could sense that they were watching their backs while wearing masks of confidence.brbr
One of this foolish two was Jack Driskall. He was dragging a large trunk that looked well-loved, but not completely ruined. He wore an old brown suit with a freshly-cleaned white shirt that gave the impression of the middle-class. Neat, shiny chestnut waves skimmed his head, while his deep brown eyes had a look of simplicity and curiosity. The little, light woman standing next to him was also lugging a similar, beaten-down trunk. She wore a long dress which danced between the colors of green and blue, making her glowing skin pop out next to Jacks, which was as pale as the glimmering sun above them. A messy array of sleek, auburn hair slimmed across her neck and down her back, pulled off of her face with a small, nave ribbon. The whole picture gave her the impression of a fluttering hummingbird. Her name was Mattie Crawford, and she was to be Mrs. Driskall the very next day.brBr
The echoes of their hard, leather shoes reverberated against the deserted street, as they went searching for their new house. Mr. Driskall was given permission to buy a house for him and his fianc from his father, who gave them only the simplest request: buy the cheapest house in England that you could find. With a smile on his face and song in his heart, he set off to find an affordable home for him and Mattie. For many moons he searched for a descent house for them, but was unsuccessful. Unfortunately, with the arrival of all the new immigrants that came pouring into London in the last fifty years, housing prices shot up, as the richer grew richer, and the poorer grew poorer. Mr. Driskall and his family was one of the few surviving middle-class families left in all of England, and times were beginning to become hard. For a hard hit man such as Mr. Driskall, the only affordable residence was on a street called Fleet Street, which was just past the River Thames. Mr. Driskall knew of the many rumors that enveloped this supposedly cursed stretch of stone and brick, but as times are desperate, desperate measures were called for.brbr
A jubilant Mr. Driskall and a collected Ms. Crawford were slowly beginning to descend upon their destination of this God forsaken vicinity in the speck upon the turmoiled city of Darkness. Their slight air of confidence seemed to be a bright beacon against this solemn and morbid city, where parsimony was moral and greed was the currency. Ms. Driskall shifted uneasily as they saw the building. The corner of Fleet Street and Templar Avenue seemed duller than the mud that caked the road. Its presence seemed misplaced, yet befitting to its surroundings, which were equally as depressing and ghastly. Never before had Ms. Crawford come across a fort of wood and nails such as the old pie and barber shop, such a pile of wreckage as one couldnt describe without laying their disbelieving eyes upon his horrific planks.brbr
"Jack, are you sure that this is the right place, or perhaps its further down north", she stated, praying to God that this was not to be their new place of occupation. Unfortunately, she could see no other building with a "For Sale" sign as far as her eyes permitted her. The faded sign that stood nailed in front of the house was as graphitized almost as much as the establishment, with curses written by God-fearing passerby.
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"Unfortunately, love, this is it", said Mr. Driskall, his fake confidence fading from his face, showing disappointment.brbr
"I dont know why you made me wear my nicest day dress. We could be mugged for wearing such nice things", she said, peeking over her shoulder, searching cautiously for any strange characters.brbr
"Because, darling, these garments will intimidate muggers, make them think we are people of power who can do away with them", he said with a faint smile. Mattie almost laughed. The trait she hated most about her fianc was his tendency to be incredibly nave, always thinking that he to be clever, when really; he had foolishness flowing from his lips like water dripping from a faucet. "Besides, you know that we are paying for it with our own savings, which are very minimal. But with my occupation, well live a prosperous life together! This place has wonderful space, and from what Ive heard, one of the largest basements in all of London! Wont it be marvelous, darling? Just you and be, by the Thames in this cozy flat? Oh, what wonderful memories well create my love", and with that, he gave her a kiss, which she acquiesced to.brbr
Mattie Crawford was a fiercely independent woman. She resented the idea of being married off to this imprudent man, with only a diploma in his hand, instead of choosing a man who was equally as independent as she. Instead, she ended up with a man who needed a woman just to be happy, to create happy memories with.brbr
"Of course, my love. Of course." With that, she didnt speak another word until they reached the front door. The door handle was of ordinary bronze, without any engravings or sketches etched onto it, marking this place of ordinary or lower income. Turing the handle, Jack pushed aside the creaking door, with a sound so loud and hoarse that it seemed to almost sound like dry gargling. The inside of the room looked like an old restaurant, one that had eventually fallen into disrepair. An inch of dust blanketed the countertops, as well as numerous cobwebs that dusted every corner in sight. The old oven behind the kitchen was rusting, but still looked usable. What was immediately noticeable was that the inside of the room was far colder that the comfort of the outside London air. There seemed to be an absent sentiment that puffed through the room, coming in sweeps through their breaths. At the same time, however, Mattie couldnt overcome the sensation of being watched, as though the ceiling seemed to want to greet them. Mattie immediately disliked the place.brbr
"Well, it could use some repair, but I think itll turn out nice, dont you think?" said Jack in a frisk manner. He knew he was losing Matties confidence in the place, but he still attempted to please her with his choice of lodging, since that was his one wish that day: to be the best man for her that he could be, with the best house, finest clothing, and the most confidence. Even though is facade was noticed by Mattie, he still forced himself to believe that she didnt notice anything.brbr
"Now, lets see our rooms", he said quickly, almost compelling her to have as much false hope for their new home as he did. They walked towards the back rooms, where they saw what looked like a living room and bedroom molded into one. There was an old fireplace, a shambled piano, several photos, a moth-eaten couch, and a large bed with a faded quilt placed on top of it. Cheesy pink wallpaper enveloped the already over-stuffed room, filled with nick-knacks and old photographs. Mattie sighed; she knew that this wasnt going to be fun. brbr
"Oh, my love, come here! We have finally settled down, and tomorrow, we'll be married." He leaned in for another kiss to her, but just before, to her pleasure, there was a rapture at the door. brbr
"Oh, hold on dear", she said, putting her finger on his closing lips. "I'll get that." Whoever was knocking was obviously in a very demanding mood, because the knocks were polyrhythmic, sporadic, and with fierce intensity. iMy, who could that possibly be?/i she wondered to herself as she glided with purpose towards the shops door. She opened the door, which once again creaked with the sounds of hyenas, which revealed a man standing at the door. He was the most curious looking man she had ever seen. A thin, buzzed set of hair on his head was as brown as his clothing, which at one point must have had some color. Mattie couldn't decide how old this man was; he could be thirty or sixty, as if he aged farther than the years have inflicted on his body. He was bent over from years of labor, and his hands made sudden, violent twitches.brbr
"'scuse me miss?" he said politely.
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"Yes, how may I 'elp you?"
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"Do you know what 'dis place is, mum?"brbr
"Yes, its an old pie shot, and now it is myi home/i", she said unenthusiastically, accentuating the last word loudly enough so that her husband would be able to hear her.brbr
"I'd be best that you leave mum. 'Tis haunted by demons, demons," he repeated with a twitch.
"So many signs of such curses! They certainly irritate me, but perhaps I could use an excuse to leave this place. Please, come in sir." She allowed the man to half walk, half limp inside and sit in the dusty booth in the corner of the room. She heard the footsteps of her fiance enter from the bedroom.brbr
"Who is this man, honey?" he asked with curiosity on his mind. At the sound of the word honey, she felt a pang in her chest.brbr
"This is, um-sorry, what is your name?" The man reached out his hand slowly and with great difficulty as it twitched along the way to meek Jacks hand.brbr
"Tobias. Tobias Ragg, sir."
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"Well, Mr. Ragg, what brings you to our new home?" Jack was feeling uncomfortable with a stranger in his home, but Mattie appeared at ease with this man, so he sucked up his courage to appear at ease as well.brbr
"'Dis place 's haunted, good fellow," replied Tobias with a gasp. He seemed frightened just to be in the room, as if a man with a knife was hiding somewhere concealed.brbr
"Haunted? Ridiculous, there is no such foolish thing as ghosts, Mr. Ragg."brbr
"Ah, but there is! See, many years ago, 'ow long...forty years, wow. 'nyway, 'tis haunted by the Devil 'nd his Wife. Beware of it. You see, years ago, sumthin' happened here, sunthin' not very nice, sumthin' cruel and evil." By now, Mattie was full of curiosity by the story of this strange old man.brbr
"What happened ere, Mr. Ragg?"brbr Tobias seemed to collect himself as he prepared to tell the tale. He looked into the eyes of Mattie and Jack, seeming to compel the two to attend the story.brbr
"There was a barber and his wife. Foolish man, beautiful woman, 'wit 'ellow hair. They ad a daughter, Johanna. Pretty little thing, she was. There was a man, a judge, who stole the wife 'n daughter away, and transported the barber for life. He came back wit a vengeance, teamin up wit' a Mrs. Lovette to seek revenge. Sweeney Todd 'twas his name. Demon, he was. Killed his customers, 'e did, 'n sent 'em to Mrs. Lovette as meat for 'er meat pies." brbr
"'ow awful!" Mattie gasped at the horror of such human cruelty and antihumanity. brbr
"'eve been long dead, but you still feel 'em all over Fleet Street. I beg you, dont let 'em torment you like they did me. Leave this cursed place for time to take, don' waken their ghosts again, else they'll never leave you. They'll posses you they will!" Mr. Raggs speech grew more intense as he began to shake uncontrollably, as if he was on the verge of slipping into madness. "Monster, demon, witch, witch!" He yelled. Jack began to lead Tobias out of the door, almost dragging him from his seat, and yelling at him to calm down along the way.brbr
"Out, I say, n dont come back you old beggar!" With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving the echo to sound throughout the house with surprising efficiency. brbr
"Foolishness, foolishness," he muttered to himself.