The tale of Izzy Thomsen
As the lone ginger Izzy Thomsen wandered down the musty cobbles of London, the different smells and sounds occurring confusing her and almost bringing on a panic attack as she searched for a place to stay for the night. She was wise enough to know that London was a dangerous place at night, when the wrong sort of crowd comes out. As she approached Fleet Street one building caught her eye, a large building with two levels; the bottom a pie shop and the top a barber shop. The fresh essence caught her by her nose and dragged her in, begging to be eaten. She was greeted by a small boy who seemed to be called, Toby. She didn't care he wasn't important. He didn't have the pie...
She dumped her bags by a seat it the sweatshop that was the dining tables. 50 or more middle class men all handing over their money as fast as they could for the tender meat pies, as they feasted Izzy chose what she would have. She had never heard of some of the things so she just asked for the normal, luckily for her the waitress knew what she meant and hurried off to collect some pies from behind. The mix of anxiety and hunger nearly made her pass out, or was that the intensity of the heat. She went nearly as red as her hair.
Her daydream was cut short as a plate was plonked in front of her, as she stared at in curiosity she handed over her money, no idea of what the price was. She picked it up, breathing in its beauty. She loved food. The first bite was heaven, 6 different flavours having a battle in her mouth for dominance, each taste complementing the next. She definitely will return again she decided.
As she left, she nodded to the boy again; the food really had put her in a good mood. She saw the steps to her right and curiosity got the better of her. One painful step at a time she ascended the monstrous height, Izzy hated steps. This place wasn't quite as friendly as downstairs; she could barely see through the window, it was so dirty. She wiped her finger on it and it created a peeking hole for her to investigate inside. She crouched and pressed her nose up against the glass. Just as she considered leaving another face flashed into view. This one was pale, purple circles around his eyes and blood dripping slowly from his chin. Fear kept her glued to the spot. He was shouting but she couldn't make out the words, as she could think about was that face, that horrible face full of all the rage and hatred towards her. What had she done?
The next thing she knew was that she was being lifted, lifted with ease. Surprising after the amount of pie she had just eaten. She was then flung like a meaningless ragdoll into the chair, comfy and luxurious as it was she felt like crying because of this man. He pulled out a razor. It was sharpened to slice through skin with a simple flick of the wrist. She did start crying now. Her pleas came thick and fast now, but meant nothing to this man. It came down at an astonishing speed. The pain burning her throat, her blood awkwardly spraying down her clothes and this man, her blood was hot making her shudder and cry out. But because her vocal chords were ruined, it sounded like the moan of a man drowning as she gargled.
Then it was all over as she barely remembered falling backwards and she hit he stone floor at such speed, she didn't even feel the impact.
She never even got that second pie.