HI EVERYBODY! I have never ever written anything in this time era or anything before so any constructive critisism would be appriciated just dont be too mean. Its my first Sweeney too, so... you know.
I dont own anything! Not Sweeney not Mrs Lovett and that stranger you see I actually own him.
So yes. If anyone has any tips for writing Mrs Lovett's and Sweeney's accent that would be apprieciated also. so yes help if you think I need it.
Everyday was the same routine, get up at five, make pies, wait for the customers that never came. Everyday she would wait for the friendly tinkling of the bell, signalling a costumer, but it never chimed.
She looked out the window, watching the children play by the street and her heart ached. She had always wanted a child, but Albert despised them. But now she didn't need to worry about what he wanted. He was gone, thank the lord. All she needed now was someone to father the child. And the someone she had in mind was in Australia, a life-time sentence.
She sighed and sat down, still watching the children, she rested her head in her hands. She was thinking of getting a cat door, then maybe she wouldn't be so lonely, cats could come in, she could feed them, and she would have, at least, some form, of a companion. Now that she was thinking about it, a whole re-decoration wouldn't be too bad. Something to make the place look more inviting. If only she had the money.
All of a sudden a high pitched chime shattered the silence of the shop and a tall light haired man stepped in. Before he could leave she stood up and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"'Ello" She said in her most cheery voice. "I 'aven't seen you around 'ere before."
"I am new to the area, I'm only here for a bit." He said in an impeccable english accent.
"Well, welcome to "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies." Wot can I do ya' for?"
He looked around taking in the less than spotless appearance of the shop. "Umm… nothing thank you ma'am, I was just looking for directions, what way are the docks?"
"Ya' sure I can't get get you nothin'? A little bit of ale? Gin? A pie even?"
"No thank you ma'am, the directions will be just fine." He replied, just wanting to get out of the dingy store.
"Oh, all right then. When you leave the shop, turn left and keep going, you'll get there eventually." Mrs. Lovett said looking slightly deflated.
The bell rang one last time and her almost costumer was gone.
"Oh, poop." She muttered to no one in particular.
Although it was early, she trudged upstairs to get ready for bed. She wasn't going to get anymore visitors, costumers or anyone else today.
She put on her nightgown and poured herself a gin. Sometimes she wished she hadn't gotten rid of her Albert. She was awfully lonely.
4 gins and 3 ales later, she had forgotten her problems and fallen asleep. Who knows maybe she'll have some luck tomorrow.
Morning came all too quickly for her liking, and she had a dreadful headache. A few more hours of sleep couldn't hurt, it's not like anyone eats at the shop anyway. A little delay in opening wasn't going to bother anyone.
She woke again seven hours later, midday sun was streaming through her open window and her head was only a little fuzzy. She got up slowly, and began to dress. She put on one of her many black, low-necked dresses and quickly tied up her hair, today she was in no mood to dress to impress.
She made her way slowly down the stairs, wiping dust off the banister as she went and straightening the occasional picture.
She made her way into the kitchen and began making the dough. Even though she had had a rather early night and she had slept in, all she wanted to do was sleep. She put the nearly kneaded dough into a pot, to protect it from the bugs and rats that seemed to linger around her kitchen.
She leaned over the bench and put her head on her hands, giving in to her fantasies, images of her and Benjamin, living by the sea, holding tea parties, getting married, having children… She had the same fantasies every time, but she never grew tired of them.
She didn't know how long she had been there, leaning over that bench, dreaming of his face, his touch, but all too soon she was pulled from her dreams by the sound she had been waiting to hear for so long. The bell.
"A costumer!" She was startled, two people in two days, that must be her record.
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" She yelled, the sound of her voice startling him. "What's your rush?! You gave me a fright you did! Thought you must've been a ghost. Why don't you sit? Sit down! Sit!" She pushed him into the chair with a strength she didn't know she had.
"What I mean is, well… I haven't seen a costumer for weeks!" She continued, not giving him a chance to leave, speak or do much else. "Did ya' come 'ere for a pie sir?" She asked, hopeful. "Do forgive me if me 'ead's a little… vague." She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Ugh! What is that?" A bug made its way along the wooden bench and she swatted at it with her rolling pin. "But you'd think I 'ad the plague, or something, from the way that people keep avoiding. No… you… don't." She hit at the bug again, successfully this time. "'eaven know I try! But no one comes in even to inhale! Oh, sorry, would you like a drop of ale?" She poured him a generous amount of the liquid. "Mind you… I can hardly blame them, these are probably the worst pies in London. I know why nobody eats them, I should know, I make them. Best I can. But does that make 'em good? No. Even calling 'em the worst pies in London is polite. If you doubt it, take a bite."
"Ugh!" He grimaced and spat out the pie.
"Isn't that just disgusting?" She asked a hint of a smile playing on her face. "Well at least I ain't as bad as Mrs. Mooney. Ya' see, Mrs. Mooney owns a pie shop. She does 'er business, but I noticed something… weird. Lately all her neighbors cat have…. Well… disappeared. 'have to 'and it to 'er, what I calls… enterprise. Poppin kitties into pies. But I wouldn't do it in my shop. Just the thought, its enough to make you sick. And those pussy cats are quick. No denying times is 'ard sir. Even 'arder then the worst pies in London. It's only lard and nothing more. Isn't that just revolting? Its greasey and gritty. And… looks like it molting. And tastes like… well… pity. I'm a woman alone. With limited funds. Oh, and the worst pies in London."
"Well… if times are so 'ard, why don't you rent the room up there. That should bring in something."
If only he knew what went on up there. If only she could tell the truth.
"Up there?" She motioned up the stairs and he nodded. "Huh. No one'll go near that place. Everyone thinks its haunted."
"Haunted?"
"Yeah. Something happened up there. Years ago. Something not very nice."
Tell me what you think! I got bored and wanted to write Sweeney Todd fanfic coz I just saw the movie. and yeah... do you like the way I wrote the song? Tell me if you want me too continue.