Mulberry Lane - Serial killer HH Holmes.

Prologue

         It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Doctor H.H. Holmes and I present my prologue. These are the spoken words from the mind and mouth, of a person whom received a much better end than the end I gave the unlucky ones who knew me as Herman Webster Mudgett. I, H.H. Holmes and in the end, I do not want you to like me, only fear me. In fact, you will more than likely be asking questions my victims, in the flesh, had asked me such as; what do you want and, why are you doing this to me?
         I am born Herman Webster Mudgett, however, I soon undertook another guise and transformed into the person you have only been told rumors of. The author would have you think his research and words have brought you to know what I am actually capable of or have accomplished. Like you, he is sheltered in his surroundings, protected from the unforgiving gaze my eyes, in their physical presence upon the wounded, can produce the weak minded a desire to fulfill my every wish, want, desire and need. It is far beyond what the imagination can come close to comprehend, for the sane revel in their safety and comforts.
         To think I am the creation of a miserable childhood or, a result of my environment would be naive and ignorant on your behalf, I would want to expect more from you since many are exposed to the same childhood I underwent and have become something entirely different. I was not impressed with the killers that came before me; the London papers calling the unsuspecting surgeon “The Ripper”, soon met his end under the steel blade of his own Liston knife, as did the end of his own victims, as well. Such a fool he was to think that the hunter could not become the hunted.
         Killers after me can only dream to pursue and accomplish the extraordinary work I left behind for them, but they will fail. For I, H.H. Holmes, convicted for killing 27 and confessing to the murder of only 9, will always be spoken of in the circles of America’s serial killer experts, as the killer that went above and beyond anyone’s expectations. No one will ever know my secrets or the amount of carnage I have left in my wake, for it is more than anyone could ever suspect one person being capable of producing. Trust me when I say, just look into my eyes, I do not want you to like me, only fear me.

Forever,

Dr. H.H. Holmes

Chapter One

         It was the year of 1876. Herman Webster Mudgett was in the living room of his house, on Mulberry Lane in Gilmanton, New Hampshire, drawing a picture. His mother, Page Mudgett, was in the kitchen making dinner and preparing for her husband, Levi Horton Mudgett, to return from a long day of work. His mother was tall and thin with long brown hair, which hung down to the middle of her back, tightly braided. The summer air was humid, drawing sweat from the pores like an unforgiving parasite, sucking the life from its host.
Herman stopped drawing, looked over on the table and reached for the newspaper. The front cover read; 1876, Alexander Graham Bell granted a patent for his invention called the telephone. This will change the way communication takes place all over the world. He turned to the second page and kept reading; The Settle-Carlisle Railway in England opened to passenger traffic, meanwhile, The Transcontinental Express arrived in San Francisco, California via the First Transcontinental Railroad, taking 83 hours and 39 minutes after having left New York City.
         Other pages read; The United States will be celebrating its centennial and Colorado has been admitted as the 38th U.S. state. In the presidential election of 1876, Rutherford Hayes is declared the winner over Samuel Tilden. Herman always skipped pass most of the current events in which he had no interest. He was extremely interested in travel and imagined himself leaving New Hampshire, the news about the Transcontinental Express sparked great interest to him. Colorado also interested him, with its scenic mountains and colorful landscapes, he planned on traveling to all the places he would read about in, both, his encyclopedias and the papers.
         As Herman read further, through the paper, a smaller headline caught his eye, it read; a failed grave robbery of the Lincoln Tomb took place on the same night as the announcement of the presidential winner, however, police have no leads and no suspects as no-one witnessed the event. Herman turned the page, his imagination running wild about the idea of a grave robber, what an interesting and gruesome thought. He had an extensive collection of encyclopedias to reference the vast information he would discover in the paper, aiding him in obtaining clarification and new ideas. He was deeply intrigued by numerous subjects he was learning in science and biology class. Drawing would have to wait, he jumped to his feet and reached for his encyclopedia, opening it, he turned to the section on grave robbing:
         Grave robbery or tomb raiding is the act of uncovering a tomb or crypt to steal artifacts or personal effects. Someone who engages in this act is a grave robber or tomb raider. A related act is body snatching, exhuming a grave for the purpose of stealing a corpse rather than stealing other objects. It causes great difficulty to the study of archaeology, art history and history. Countless precious grave sites and tombs are robbed before scholars are able to examine them. Looting obliterates the memory of the ancient world and turns its highest artistic creations into decorations on a shelf, separating them from historical context and reducing their meaning.
         Grave robbers are often lower-income individuals who sell their goods on the black market. Though some artifacts may make their way to museums or scholars, most end up in private collections instead. Ancient Egyptian tombs are one of the most common examples of a tomb or crypt robbery. As most of the artifacts in these ancient burial sites have been discovered it is through the conditions of the tombs and presumed articles that are missing, in which historians and archaeologists are able to determine whether the tomb has been robbed. Modern grave robbing in North America also involves abandoned or forgotten private grave sites. These sites are often desecrated by grave robbers in search of old and valuable jewelry. Affected sites are typically in rural, forested areas where once prominent, wealthy landowners and their families have been buried.
         Remote and often undocumented locations of defunct private cemeteries make them particularly susceptible to grave robbery. The practice may be encouraged upon the discovery of a previously unknown family cemetery by a new landowner. Laws which have been enacted in the various regions have been ignored due to extreme poverty and the robbing of graves continues to grow each year. Herman pondered the concept of grave robbery but he was much more interested in the process of body snatching. He put himself in the snatcher’s position and imagined what it would feel like, digging up a grave in the middle of the night. The intense feeling to unearth a body which has been placed in a casket and buried, intended to rest in peace.
         He continued imagining the conditions of the bodies and the various processes of preparing a body for burial. He read further in his encyclopedia and discovered the section on body snatching: Body snatching is the secret exhuming of corpses from graveyards. A common purpose of body snatching is to sell the corpses for dissection or anatomy lectures in medical schools. In the United States body snatchers generally work in small groups which scout and pillaged fresh graves and are ideal since the earth has not yet settled and the digging is easy work.
         The removed earth is often shoveled onto a canvas tarp laid by the grave, so the nearby grounds are undisturbed. Digging commenced at the head of the grave, clear to the coffin. The remaining dirt on the coffin provides a counterweight which snaps the partially covered coffin lid, which is covered in sacking to muffle noise as crowbars or hooks pull the lid free at the head of the coffin. Usually, the body is disrobed and the garments thrown back into the coffin before the earth is put back into place. Body snatchers have been known to hire people to attend funerals as grieving mourners; their purpose, to ascertain any hardships the body snatchers may later encounter during the exhuming of the grave site. Bribed servants sometimes offer body snatchers access to their dead master or mistress lying in state; the removed body is then replaced with weights.
         Herman closed the encyclopedia and was beginning to understand what it was he wanted to pursue in life, which was to attend medical school and become a doctor. He read further in the newspaper discovering another fascinating article; the first cremation in the United States took place in a crematory built by Francis Julius LeMoyne. The article went into specific details of the new process: Cremation is a new advancement for eliminating the increasing lack of space in grave yards. The process allows families to keep the remains of their loved ones in beautifully designed vases within their homes. Cremation also eliminates the spread of disease, which can spread quickly should a virus or plague take place within general populations.
         Cremation is the process of reducing dead bodies to basic chemical compounds in the form of gases and bone fragments. This is accomplished through burning at high temperatures, vaporization and oxidation. Cremation may now serve as a funeral or post funeral rite that is an alternative to the burial of a body in a casket. Cremated remains, which are not a health risk, may be buried in memorial sites or cemeteries, or they may be legally retained by relatives or dispersed in a variety of ways and locations. In many countries, cremation is usually done in a crematory or crematorium, but others may prefer different methods.
         A body, prepared for cremation must be placed in a container, which can be a simple cardboard box or a wooden casket or coffin. Most casket manufacturers will begin providing a line of caskets specially built for cremation. Another option is a cardboard box that fits inside a wooden shell designed to look like a traditional casket. After the funeral service, the interior box will be removed from the shell before cremation, permitting the shell to be reused. Funeral homes may now begin offering rental caskets, which are traditional caskets used only for the duration of the services, after which the body can be transferred to another container for cremation.
         Jewelry is removed before the coffin is sealed and after the cremation process is completed the remains are passed through a magnetic field removing any metal. The ashes are then given to relatives, or loved ones, or scattered in the crematorium grounds where facilities exist. Continuing in thought for a few moments, he was becoming more and more fascinated with the idea of death and the events leading up to someone dying. He closed the newspaper and returned to drawing animals, the human body and various landscapes in his sketchbook. It was a way for him to escape the never-ending bickering between his mother and father.
         The Mudgett’s two-story home was simple, as were many of the other houses in the neighborhood. Their yard was decorated with colorful perennials and green bushes, providing the illusion that everything beautiful on the outside, was actually quite different than what was happening on the inside. Herman’s father was always returning home late, later than usual nowadays, and the problems between his mother and father seemed to be escalating more each day. His father was a slightly overweight man with a receding hairline and an aged, rough looking face.
         Being able to avoid his father’s mysterious anger, directed towards him and his mother, was becoming an unavoidable routine. He remembered a time when his mother and father used to sit in the living room, reading scriptures to one another and praying together, however, that had all changed since Herman’s father had been frequenting the local pub, more often than usual. It seemed the man Herman remembered as a caring father had become a distant memory.
         When his father arrived home from work, he seemed more agitated than usual, walking through the door and up the rickety stairs into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Levi was smoking a cigar, the trail of smoke floating from the front door, up the stairs and into the bedroom. Herman’s father paid no attention to what his son and wife were doing at the time of his arrival, simply walking through the door and proceeding straight to his room, where he was no doubt pouring himself a glass of bourbon. It was the bourbon taking away the man Herman once felt comfortable calling pops or poppa.
         “Herman put your toys away and then join me in the kitchen, please get the table ready for dinner” Page instructing Herman as she walked up the stairs and to the bedroom door where her husband, Levi Mudgett had retreated. Herman put away his drawing paper and pencils and encyclopedias, went into the kitchen and listened to what his mother would say to his father through their bedroom door. His mother was always calling his pencils and drawing paper toys and she must still view him as the little boy playing in his crib. He heard his mother knock on the bedroom door upstairs. Standing just outside the bedroom she hesitated, then softly spoke, “Honey, how was work today?” No response came from the bedroom.
         Herman listened to the silence and knew that his mother was waiting for any reply from her husband before entering the room. She stood at the door as her knees shook and quivered, like standing at the edge of a cliff waiting for someone to push her over. Over the years, she had become terrified of her husband and paused to recall the days when they would take long drives and have afternoon picnics in the park. It seemed that her husband had become detached and distant since Herman’s birth. During the birth, she remembered the look on Levi’s face as he watched her cradle Herman in her arms. The sense of an immediate jealousy became obvious in Levi, a jealousy that never subsided throughout Herman’s life.
         “Dear, do you mind if I come in?” Herman heard the door creak and his father respond as his mother opened the door. “Page, will you please give me a few minutes? I just got home from working all day; do you think I want to hear you drill me about every little goddamn thing?” Herman stood quietly in the kitchen and was expecting the worst. After a few minutes of silence, he heard some rustling, then a few loud footsteps across the wood floor and the crash of glass. There was silence but only for a few moments, broken by a loud crash and finally the bedroom door slamming shut. Next, came the quiet whimpering of his mother from the hallway upstairs. Page cried under her breath to keep any fright or terror from overcoming Herman, she knew that Herman felt the same fear for his father that she felt for her husband.
         Footsteps came from the stairs, which echoed down into the living room of the main level. His mother walked into the kitchen wiping her eyes and sniffling as she began to help Herman set the table. She walked to the stove removing a few of the pans and began to dish the food onto the plates. Herman walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down quietly at the table. His mother knew that there was no need to say it, but she reminded Herman, “Honey, please be good tonight, your father has had a very bad day.” He knew what it meant; his father would be following his routine of coming down from upstairs and into the kitchen, grumbling and complaining about the food his mother had cooked.
         After a few moments, Herman heard the bedroom door open and creaking footsteps on the wood of the staircase. He watched his mother’s body language change and sensed the tenseness of the situation increase as the two waited for Levi Mudgett to enter the kitchen. His father walked into the kitchen, indistinctly grumbling as expected. He had his cigar in his left hand’s fingers and carried a glass in the other, most likely filled with Bourbon. After returning home from work and coming down from the upstairs bedroom, his father was carrying a glass almost the entire night.
         “What are we having tonight dear, more overcooked meat and lumpy potatoes?”
         His mother responded, “Well dear, I do the best that I can, it is just cooking on this stove can be tricky. One can never tell when the gas is going to be working right and if a good amount of gas will be flowing from the units.”
         “I suppose that you will be blaming me for that?” Levi exclaimed, walking over to the table, placing his drink in front of him and moving the knife and fork next to the plate. “Well, I’m waiting.” His father exclaimed, moving the ashtray closer to his plate.
His mother walked over to the table and began to serve Levi some meatloaf and potatoes. She finished scooping the potatoes onto his plate, returning the pot to the stove. She turned and reached for Herman’s plate, Levi grabbed his wife’s arm just before she picked up the plate.
         “So, what did you two do today? Did you talk about me and what a wonderful father I am?” His mother, concerned, stopped and looked at Herman, but Herman knew better than to respond to his father’s question.
         “No honey, Herman went to school and came home, on time as usual; I cleaned the house and washed your clothes.” His father looked at Herman and then back at Page. She began to shake as he continued to tighten his grip on her wrist, “Herman, how was school, did the other high school kids push you around and treat you like the little pussy you are?”
         Herman sat silent in his chair at the dinner table, visions of the bullies from school flashed in his head. If only he had ability to strike fear into someone, or everyone for that matter, he could use that ability to his advantage just as his father was able to do. Herman thought about one of the older boys at school, John Statham, who was always talking the other boys into pushing him around. They would take his books, throw them across the hallway, or take him into the bathroom and force him drink the toilet water, making him look foolish in front of the other kids.
         He responded to his father, “No father, I stayed away from the other kids except for Clara, she is nice to me.” His father released his mother’s arm, suddenly interested in his son’s new girlfriend. “So my son has a girlfriend? You like spending your time with the girls, instead of being a man and rough housing with the others? It appears we have a little merry for a son!”
         His father stood up from the table, walked over to his mother and picked up the pot of potatoes. He held the potatoes in his right hand and the cigar in the other. “Maybe I have to set an example for you about how to treat women?” He took the steaming pot of potatoes and emptied the entire contents over her head, immediately scalding her skin. Herman’s mother screamed in pain as she fell to the floor, reaching for the closest dish towel. His father then slammed the empty pot on the table, walked over to Herman grabbing him by the back of the neck, placing his cigar back into the ashtray.
         “Herman needs more discipline, more pain, to show him how to interact with the other boys at school?” His father took him by the neck and pushed him across the kitchen table. With his other hand, he pulled up Herman’s shirt revealing the skin of his son’s back. “Here boy, let me rough up the skin on that pretty little back of yours!” His father reached for his cigar, took a long drag and lowered it to Herman’s back. Herman felt the heat against his skin as his father pressed the cigar slowly into his back. Herman screamed in pain as the cigar burnt deep into his skin.
         “James 5; verse 20 Herman, “He must know that he who causes a sinner to be converted from the error of his way shall save his soul from death and shall cover a multitude of sins.” Herman now knew that his father was slipping into insanity he had only read about in the books at school. The books spoke of sanitariums and places they put people who lose their minds or commit violent acts against other members of society. He was no naive little ferry boy, but he knew enough to know his father belonged in one of those places.
         “Does that feel good son, are you getting the point, you little ferry?” His father threw him across the room and returned to the table. His mother sat near the stove, sobbing, as Herman lay on the floor near the hallway leading into the living room. His father returned to the table and continued to eat dinner as Herman and his mother lay on the floor of the kitchen. After his father had left the room, Herman and his mother quietly cleaned the mess Levi had made in the kitchen. She cleaned Herman’s back with a wet rag; afterwards putting all the dishes back into the cupboards.
         “Herman you go on up to bed, I’m going to make sure that your father has gone to bed for the night.” Herman walked up to his room, opened the door and while standing in the doorway, listened to his mother crying in the kitchen. He slowly closed the door to his room and walked over to the small window. His unfinished room was in the attic, the walls were exposed red brick. The wood floor boards creaked when he walked across them, so he always walked as slowly and quietly as he possibly could, as to not attract any unwanted attention from his father. The room required candles and a small rusty oil lantern to provide dim light.
         Standing at the window, he looked out onto the quiet, dirt road below. A slight wind was blowing through the trees as a small alley cat wandered down the center of the street sniffing the ground and then walking off into the distance. Herman went over to the end of his bed and sat on the floor. Reaching down to the floorboard he pulled up a panel of wood revealing a secret hiding spot. Inside was a shoebox decorated with drawings of bugs and birds. He lifted the shoebox from the floorboards, placing it on the floor next to his bed. Opening the lid, the box revealed a collection of carefully arranged insects consisting of bees, wasps, butterflies and dragonflies.
         Feeling a pride in his bug collection, Herman would spend the majorities of his weekends running through the fields, climbing trees and looking for better specimens for his collection. Once he found a more colorful, unique bug he would collect it, seal it in a jar and watch it slowly flutter till it was motionless. After that, he would take the specimen and compare its beauty to the other bugs in his collection. His favorite was the colorful wasps and hornets he had found along with the large, yellow bumble bees.
         He ran his fingers across them one by one, replaced the lid on the box returning it to its place in the floorboard. He put the piece of wood back over his secret hiding spot and walked to his bed. He knew that once he got into bed he would hear strange noises coming from his mother and father’s room. It was a continuous noise and repetitive, the bed hitting against the wall. Later, he would hear his mother crying after his father would pass out, he would keep the pillow over his head until he fell asleep.
         The next morning he woke up to find his father had already left for work, his mother was down in the living room arranging some of the decorations on the mantle and dusting the table. She looked over at him revealing a bruise under her eye. Herman never inquired about the bruises she had on her body. Why would he? He knew where they came from and who had done it to her. His father had become a cruel and mean alcoholic, never likely to change since he was as selfish as his father before him.
         Herman was never close with his grandfather or got to know him. The only time he would ever see his grandfather was at holiday family dinners. His grandfather was usually scowling at everyone else in the family, sitting in his chair, drinking bourbon from the glass that was always placed carefully, next to the bottle, on the card table near his chair. It seemed as though Herman’s father was unconsciously following the same path his father led before him. He felt an anger boil deep inside him thinking about his father and his father’s father, making him realize that it was most likely his destiny, as well.
         “Get ready for high school; you have a busy day ahead of you!” His mother called out from downstairs.
         “Alright mom I’m almost ready.” He exclaimed, turning and packing his books into his book bag, placing each book individually in the bag, afterwards, lifting the bag over his shoulder. He walked downstairs and to the front door of their New Hampshire home. His mother was standing near the door; she reached down kissing him on the forehead. “Don’t let the other boys push you around and tease you, if they do you tell your teacher all right?” He nodded his head and walked out the front door, his mother waving as she closed the door behind him. Walking across the front lawn, Herman picked up a stick from the grass. As he walked down Mulberry Lane, other children came down the dirt road. There was a taller boy walking with a group of three other smaller boys, it was the Statham kid.
         The group of boys walked just ahead of him; he walked slower hoping to avoid them at any cost. “Please don not let them turn around,” he whispered under his breath. If he could just make it to the academy he would be in view of the teachers, which usually stood out front, there were always at least two. They would stand watch to make sure the students made it into the school on time. He walked further and saw the Statham boy turn and catch sight of him, poking at the other boys and then pointing back at Herman. The boy walked from the group and in Herman’s direction, the other boys following closely behind.
         “Hey everyone, look a ferry!” The Statham boy exclaimed. The past week the bully pushed him in the bathroom knocking him to the floor and splashing him in the face with water from the sink. The boys approached Herman, pushed him to the ground knocking the bag from his shoulder. The bag hit the ground and his books scattered across the dirt. He reached down and started to pick up the books but, the other kids surrounded him, each of them kicking the books from his reach and pushing him back down to the ground.
         “Cry baby, ferry boy! Ferry boy!” They repeated and called out the name as they continued teasing him. The bully walked forward, kicked him in the face and knocked him back down to the ground, face first. The boys laughed as they turned and quickly ran towards the school. Herman was lying on the ground, crying, as a young girl approached him. She saw what the boys had done, walked up to him and started to pick up his books from the ground.
         “Are you alright?” Clara asked.
         Herman did not respond, only wiped the tears from his eyes. He finished putting the books in his bag and Clara helped him to his feet. Clara was a year older than him and in the twelfth grade. She rubbed him on the back; they turned and walked off towards the school. When they reached the school grounds a teacher approached them. “You two are going to be late for class, the first bell has already rung!” As the teacher got closer, she saw that Herman had a red mark on his face. “What happened to you Herman, who did this to you?”
         “It is nothing; I just tripped and fell on the dirt.” He responded looking down at the ground. The teacher knew the other boys picked on him; she reached down and took his arm, leading him into the school. She took him to the principal’s office and sat him in a chair just outside his door. The teacher knocked on the door and a voice called out from inside, “Come in.” The teacher opened the door. “Sir, I have a young boy here, I think you need to talk to him.”
         “Well, who is it?” He inquired as the teacher reached over and led Herman into the office. Upon seeing the boy, the principal exclaimed, “Why it is Herman Mudgett, my favorite student!” He said that to all the students when he saw them. All the students were his favorites and he did not really care for the principal’s happy go lucky attitude, it seemed insincere. He walked into the principal’s office; the teacher placed her hand on his back and sat him in the chair, facing the principal. He felt a sharp pain shoot up his back from the cigar burn his father gave him the night before.
         The principal looked up at him discovering the red mark on his face. He placed his pen on the desk looking back at Herman with a concerned look on his face. The teacher slowly stepped back, standing just behind him. The principal looked him in the eyes, “Herman, I am concerned. I know that you do well in class and you have never been called to my office for causing problems. What is going on?” Herman looked down at the floor, then over at the wall and replied, “I was walking to school and tripped over a rock on the ground.”
         The principal and the teacher knew that he was lying. “Herman you need to tell me the truth, if you do not let me help you it is going to continue.” The principal stood, walked from behind his desk and crouched down in front of him. He placed his hand on his face examining the red mark, turning his head to the side to get a better look on his face. “This is bad Herman; it does not look like you hit your face on the dirt because there are no scratch marks indicating to me, that, someone did this to you.”
         “I do not want to cause any problems, I tripped on a rock and fell that is all.” The principal stood up and walked back to his desk. He sat in the chair and slid forward; if only he could summon the way his father could manipulate and control conversations and situations. Herman was now determined to learn how to do, what his father seemed to do, with ease.
         “Herman I want you to tell your parents to come see me tomorrow, I want to discuss this with them.” Herman knew that telling his parents about this incident would mean his father was not going to be happy and missing work meant discipline.
         “Alright sir, I will tell them when I get home this afternoon.”
         “You are a smart boy; I just do not want to see you continue to get hurt.” The teacher helped him from the chair and led him out of the office, “Herman I want you to go to class and continue to focus on your studies.” He walked out down the hall and into his classroom. The teacher walked back into the principal’s office closing the door behind her. Herman was sitting at his desk in his science class, looking towards the side of the room as the teacher was sitting at his desk, reading from the textbook. The skeleton hanging from a steel frame had Herman’s full attention; he was unable to think of anything other than the human body, death and decomposition. The teacher stopped the reading, stood from his desk and began passing around small bottles containing frogs. “Now, class, we are going to be learning about the dissection process.” Herman’s attention shifted from the skeleton, to the jars the teacher was distributing to the rest of the class. His anticipation became uncontrollable as the teacher finally placed a small jar on his desk. The liquid in the jar swirled, slightly, causing the frog to sway side to side.
         “The frogs that you see have been preserved in formaldehyde. It is a colorless gas with a characteristic pungent odor. It is an important precursor to many other chemical compounds, especially for polymers. Commercial solutions of formaldehyde in water, commonly called formalin, are used as disinfectants and for preservation of biological specimens. Take a moment to open the jars and smell the liquid but be careful to spill any of it, or get it on your skin or in your eyes.”
         The teacher walked back to the front of the classroom and pulled down a large screen, revealing two drawings of a frog. One was the frog in its regular state and next to it, the frog after it had been dissected. The teacher continued, “It is the ability of formaldehyde to fix the tissue that produces the tell-tale firmness of flesh in an embalmed body. In post mortem examinations a procedure known as the “sink test” involves placing the lungs of an animal in an aqueous solution of formaldehyde; if the lungs float it suggests the animal was probably breathing or able to breath at the time of death. These frogs were obviously breathing at the time of death since they are floating and only killed a few hours ago.”
         Herman opened the jar and smelled the liquid inside; it was a strong smell and overtook him immediately. He looked at the frog and reached into the jar to touch it. “Please Herman, not yet,” the teacher instructing him to wait. The teacher passed out the remaining dissection kits and some printed instructions to the students. The instructions were basic and the teacher walked throughout the classroom, carefully showing each student the dissection process. The printed diagram read as followed: First, make a lateral incision on both lymph nodes of your frog. Lymph nodes are found under the jaw on either side. Now cut through the abdominal muscles and bones. Make a thin vertical cut from throat to the hind legs. The sternum will be freed by cutting the bones connected to the shoulders. If your frog is a female, you will have to remove her black eggs that sit in her abdomen. The heart is pretty central, behind the forelegs. The thin tissue around it is the pericardium.
         The sort of brown-colored, multi-lobed area below the heart is the liver. Between two of the lobes you will find a small, green orb which is the gall bladder. The coilings are its small intestine and found in front of the long, curved white structure of the stomach. The pancreas is easy to spot; it is the white, thin string of tissue between the stomach and the first coil of the small intestine. Next, the fat bodies are the yellow, wormy looking things surrounding the heart, liver and stomach. Fat bodies are important for frogs because they store fat and allow your frog to thrive during its winter hibernation.
         The spleen is similar to the gall bladder, in terms of appearance. It is found below and to the left of the stomach and stores blood cells. Next, if you push the other organs to one side, you will be able to see the reddish kidneys, found on the back wall of your frog. Lastly, the lungs are found in the thorax and are also hidden by other organs. The lungs are found on either side of liver lobes. The lungs are quite small because the frog additionally breathes through another organ, its skin.
         Herman read through the instructions and looked at the instruments intended to be used for the dissection. Slowly, with his fingers, he carefully rubbed them over each instrument, feeling the cold steel of the scalpel and the clamps. The instruments were inside a metal pan doused in a strong smelling alcohol. The kit contained a scalpel, pins, tweezers, scissors, seekers (a sort of pin like probe). “Now students take the frog from the container using the long tweezers and place the frog on the wood, next to your dissection pans.” Herman lifted the frog from its container and placed it on the piece of wood, the rest of the students followed the teacher’s instructions.
         “Following the instructions, take your dissection instruments and begin the dissection. I will walk around and assist you if necessary, just raise your hand.” Herman took his time cutting through the frog and removing the thick layers of skin. He continued to follow the instructions and identify each of the internal organs. The teacher walked up behind Herman and stopped just behind him. Looking over Herman’s shoulder, he observed how slowly he was using the instruments and gently discovering new parts of the frog’s internal organs.
         “Excellent work Herman, continue taking your time and slowly working through the instructions on the paper.” Herman smiled as he continued his dissection, the teacher walking ahead to the next student sitting just in front of Herman. The class finished up the remaining parts of the dissection and cleaned up their areas. Herman walked to the front of the class, removed the pins from the wood and let the frog slide into the trash container.
         “Class that was very good especially you Herman, I think you have a talent for this. You should look into a medical school for after high school. See the school adviser after class.” Herman returned to his desk and finished cleaning the dissection instruments; he wanted to get his hands on one of these kits. “Class dismissed.” The teacher called out, excusing the class for the day.