Hallowmas. A time of half forgotten dreams and confessions to turn your hair white. What better a time to share some horrifying tales of the neath?
Tell me your short stories of the horrors of Fallen London!
I will share one of mine own, though it is probably poor and was written on the spot. Tell me what you think:
Alfred walked hurriedly though the deserted streets of Watchmaker’s Hill. When the criminal Jack of Smiles left the proclamation on his latest victim that anyone caught on the hill on the night of Hallowmas would be cut up to the point of no return, the people of The Fifth City left the area as quickly as they could. Normally he was seen as nothing more then a annoyance, but noone was risking the final death to see if he meant his word. But Alfred had a package to deliver: His employer was counting on him to bring the goods, and he was being paid well for it.
He kept thinking he saw glimpses of someone following him. Could it be someone else interested in the package, or him? Nonetheless, he thought better then to take the risk. Slipping into a alleyway and using a hidden door he knew of, he took the long but secret routes to his location. Finally, he got to his employer.
…Or what was left of him anyway.
Naught but pieces hacked crudely and with much mess. But that did not concern Alfred now. What he was more worried about was the tall man wielding a wicked looking knife that has suddenly spotted him.
"Well, look who arrived. I was wondering when the hired help would get here." He said in a voice that chilled his bones. "Hand me that package you got there, And I MAY think about sparing you since I’m satisfied for now. Course, that’s no guarantee!"
"OH NOW YOU GONE AND DONE IT MATE! Oh well, have it your way!" said Jack in a voice of blood.
Alfred ran, and kept running. He ran out of Watchmaker’s Hill and, not looking where he was going, right into Bugsby’s marshes.
Only slowing down long after Jack’s cries faded into the distance, and still carrying the package, he finally stopped in a small clearing. He tried his hardest to catch his breath.
"So, you done running from me yet?"
Jacked stabbed Alfred in the lag and he dropped screaming. The package fell to the floor and split it’s contents: Knives. Hundreds and hundreds of sharp, evil looking knives.
"You know, I really must thank you for delivering these to me. It makes my goals a LOT simpler. Now, how best to thank you? I know! I’ll kill you BEFORE I cut you up!"
The last thing Alfred saw was the knife going to his heart.