Dark London

Dark London


The darkest of nights in London were the nights I spent at home, faced with the pain of my family. These were the times my kind didn’t dare wander the abandoned streets, too afraid of the lethal monsters that lurked in the dark. I pulled my old jacket closer around me, in some vague attempt to conceal my age and keep out the freezing cold that continued to bite viciously at my bare fingertips. Quickly I turned the corner, only for the light of the weak flickering street lamp to reveal the ghastly figure of a monster, a man, his face twisted in anger, thirst and lust.

My whole body froze, locking in position; it wasn’t long before my heart rate increased and my breathing became laboured, the space in front of me misting up.

Why me, why tonight...

Swiftly, I drove my hands into the holey pockets of my jacket. I ducked my head and let my grimy long brown hair fall, concealing my face. Before I knew it the street was blurring behind me, leaving the monster alone and smiling.

“Soon, my darling,” he crooned.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I stumbled forwards, the chilling sound of his laughter trailing behind me. Not long now, I’ll soon be home.

The smell was the first thing that hit me, the familiar yet disgusting reek of decay that I had come so accustomed to over the years. It was a smell only found in the farthest most back streets of London, the place I called home. Each step brought me closer to the rusted tin door, closer to the pain and reality of my starving family. It was one of the many reasons I spent my days wandering the busy streets, losing myself in the people bustling past.

Unwillingly I pulled my hand out of my jacket, cringing at the rasping noise the door made and swearing unintelligibly at the lifeless object. Inside, my two brothers lay curled up on the ground, their breathing uneven. The cold was getting to them; with a sigh I removed my jacket and draped it carefully over the two shivering bodies. Taking little notice of my mother’s absence, I felt my way towards my small corner of the room with no intentions of sleeping.
Leaning my head against the stone wall behind me, I closed my eyes. My thoughts drifted as I attempted to ignore the stabbing hunger pains that continued to writhe through my body. Yet another reminder that I was alone in this world, no god, no faith: I had lost that a long time ago.
It wasn’t long before my eyes grew heavy, and the dreams came.
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

I woke with a start, tears glistening on my dirt-smudged cheeks. That was the third time I had had that dream this week, the same story of my life, my past and my future. Sobbing, I lifted my head, only to be greeted by two cold hands.

With a scream I struck out, my foot colliding with what felt like ribs. The fear that overwhelmed me was indescribable, only to be taken over by survival instincts that were so essential to the life I had been brought into.

Images of the monster I had seen earlier flashed into my mind, twisting my insides and making me feel sick. Blindly, I started swinging punches, grunting as every now and then my clenched fists hit soft skin. I am stronger, I am stronger, I am stronger.

Twisting around I went to kick the monster once again, only to be greeted by a hard fist to the face. It took merely seconds for the warm flow of blood to fill my mouth, leaving behind a sickening bitter rusted taste. I could feel the heated anger pulsing through my veins, gradually overwhelming me.

“Stop, please, just stop,” slurred the voice from the shadows.

Gasping for air, I looked up.

“Mother?”

Shaken, I peered forwards confirming the frail body of my mother. Thanks for the warning mother, nice to know you’re so caring. I turned away sharply; I hadn’t had much to do with her lately, and I wasn’t about to start now. Grunting incoherently I stormed back towards my corner.

“Wait, sweetheart!”

Did I just hear her right.... since when did she call me sweet heart? Unwillingly I turned to face her, my eyes burning into hers.
“I...ummm...I brought you something, to say thank you for looking after the boys all these years.” The words gushed out of her mouth, like water cascading over a cliff. Something was not right.

In her arms lay a bright red dress, sleek and sexy, a luxury a family like ours could not afford. Thieving again, I see, mother. Rolling my eyes I stepped forwards, reaching for the dress to inspect it further.

It reached just above my knees and was meant to show off cleavage, something I had no purpose for.

“Well, try it on!”

Bite me.

Angrily, I ripped off my torn clothes, throwing them into a chaotic heap on the floor, before slipping the dress over my head.

“There...happy now?”

“Partially,” she smiled “Now for the surprise.”

Grabbing my hand, she dragged me outside, my body shook as the freezing cold engulfed me. Nice one mother. Each step brought us closer to the end of the street and further away from the decaying smell of home.

Minutes later we reached the turning point of our street. And there, waiting, luminous in the dim light of a street lamp was a fairly large white van, its windows heavily tinted. I felt my mouth gape open with horror, shock and several other emotions that hadn’t quite registered yet. She watched my reaction for a minute, before smiling and nodding towards the van.

Cautiously, I opened the door, inspecting every corner before stepping up and fastening my seat belt. This is either some sick joke, or mother dearest is actually trying to do something nice for a change. My thoughts drifted as I stared out the window, attempting to make some sense of my messed up mothers mind. The door opened, but I ignored it, she could talk first. With a click the engine started and the doors locked. As the car rolled forwards I stared back towards home, only to meet the eyes of my eager, smiling mother, cash in hand.

With a choked cry I turned to face the driver, only to come face to face with the monster.
His mouth twisted up in a sickening smile.

“I told you so,” he whispered, before placing his hand on my thigh.