Untitled JTR Story

The heat and moisture of the day lent to a dense ground fog that creeped eerily down the streets in and around the Whitechapel area. The cold of the night was coming on and Polly knew she would rather be in a warm bed than out in dark. She walked carefully down the cobbled streets so as not to fall while in her inebriated state. The world wobbled before her as she stared at the gaslight flickering and fighting against the blackness. Polly wanted to sleep so badly but she was painfully aware of the emptiness of her coin purse after a long night of celebrating her birthday at the pub. She had been celebrating for the last 6 days and by now every John in London knew her special day had come and went. No more free drinks for Polly.

“Four score in dis bloody burg ‘n nu’ing to show fer it.” she mumbled to herself. “Tell me ahm too aled up ‘n need to ‘ead ‘ome…” she trailed off.

A cool wind blew down an alley way and through Polly’s knickers as she passed by. This seemed to stir something in her and she quickened her pace. Lacking the required money to pay for her room, she knew what she had to do before getting to rest for the night. Around the bend was Buck’s Row and with a little luck she might find someone in need of her services tonight. When she rounded the corner on to the row she almost exclaimed in glee. There were two carters smoking and carrying on about something too quietly to hear.

“Go on ‘ome to yer fat sow wives, ya wankers.” she whispered to herself knowing the carters weren’t looking to buy what she was selling. She was eying the gentlemen in the fancy top hat casually strolling along with his cane in hand. “’Ere comes my toff!”

“Ev’ning govnah,” she said in the most sultry voice she could muster, “fancy sum comp’ny?”

“I should think not, madame.” came his disdainful reply.

“Oo you callin’ madame?” Polly spouted immediately. “Ahm twenty and nine years o’ age today, as a ma’er o’ fact! ‘Ow’s about you buy a lady a drink?” she cooed and wrapped her arm underneath his.

“If you are of the age you say then I am the King of England. Good eve to you madame!” the gentlemen said as he tore his arm away from hers. “I said good eve!”

“Off wit ya then! I wouldn’t roger you if yer was the last man in London town!” she called after him as he walked briskly off down the row.

Sadness replaced the anger in her face showing her true age in the deep lines around her eyes and narrow mouth. She barely felt the weight of her all too light coin purse as she swayed down the row towards the boarding house. It’s emptiness a constant reminder of regret and poor decisions on her part. The row was bare now. Even the carters had moved along after having a chuckle at poor Polly’s expense. The fog was settling down thicker than ever as if to go to sleep in the dark crevices and alleys of the row.

Polly came to the front stoop of the boarding house and raised the brass knocker on the heavy door. She held it in air a moment and thought. The old hag that ran the place was adamant about receiving payment for the night up front. She would never let her in. Damn her! Polly was so very tired and could only think of how warm and inviting a bed would be. She slowly put the knocker down and shuffled around to the back of the building.

The room Polly normally occupied was on the first floor. She shared the room with a woman named Nelly who had paid in advance for the rest of the week. Nelly was younger by only a few years but had the face of a child. This had come in very handy in their line of work and made Polly extremely jealous of her roommate. She had paid for her room with a bob like it was nothing for God’s sake!

“Cheeky tart!” Polly thought. “Less she oughtta do is open a window fer ol’ Polly.”

Polly picked up a pebble off of the cobbles and chucked it at the window of her room. Bang! She threw it a little too hard and the window had cracked. The window threw open and Nelly’s baby face appeared out of the darkness.

“Polly! Are ye daft!” Nelly hissed.

“Come ’round and unbolt the back door!”

It was too late, because the door was already swinging open with a short creak and a loud smack. In the doorway stood the old hag that ran the boarding house. In reality she wasn’t an old hag at all. She was only two years older than Polly herself but Polly would rather refer to her as an old hag to reinforce her illusions. The “hag” had faired a little better in life than Polly and obviously been better fed. She was a large woman and a force to be reckoned with.

“Yer goin’ ta pay fer that window, Polly Nichols!” she bellowed. “And don’t think yer beddin’ down ‘ere for the night without handing over four pees fer the room.”

“Cannae we settle up in the morn’ mum?” Polly pleaded. “Ahm winded from me birfday pahty.”

“Har! I reckon not! Now sod off before I call a constable to round yer up.”

Polly managed a dirty look at her nemesis before sulking off back up the alley towards the main street. More than a little tired and sore from walking all that way, soberness finally started to creep in. Steeling her resolve she marched past the front door with her head held high.

“Polly!” Nelly called out after her. “Wha’ now?”

“Ah bought a new bonnet for me birfday n’ Ahm gonna put it to good use!” Polly cried over her shoulder as she stormed away.

She headed back the way she came towards Buck’s Row in search of lonely men in which to entice money out of. When she reached the row it seemed darker than usual. Perhaps one of the gaslights had lost it’s fight against the dark and gone out. It certainly was not dark enough not to notice the lone gentlemen in the long black cloak standing in the middle of the path. He was standing completely still and he seemed to be staring at her although Polly couldn’t see his eyes. The wind wasn’t blowing but the fog was swirly at the man’s feet. Something felt odd but Polly dismissed it.

“Jus’ tired, tis all.” she thought. “Let’s get this over.”

She sauntered towards the man through the fog throwing out her hips with each cross step in a way only a woman can. The dark figure didn’t move.

“Ev’ning guvnah.” she said to the figure.

He spoke not a word, his lips did not move, but Polly could hear “Come to me.” in her head. Something was not right. Fear began to wiggle it’s way into Polly’s mind. She had been in bad situations before. It comes with the job. She had been working the streets long enough to know when it was time to leave. Only she couldn’t. Her mind screamed out to run, but her legs kept carrying her forward towards the dark figure. The closer she came to the man the weaker she felt, until finally she didn’t want to run anymore.

She took the final steps between her and the shadow that he was. He loomed over her like a giant tower casting blackness down upon her. Then she saw his eyes for the first time. Those horrific red orbs burning like coals in their sockets. A wicked grin appeared on the man-beast’s face displaying unholy razor sharp incisors. Polly felt her body go limp and fall into his unnaturally powerful embrace. Polly’s grip on consciousness loosened. She felt his icy cold touch on her face as he turned her head to the side exposing the nape of her neck and spoke for the first time aloud.

“Sleep, my prey.”

And she did.