I stand on the cobblestone path, on the streets of London, looking at the bright full moon in the sky, seeing the clouds pass in front slowly. I ignored the smell of smoke and the other foul stenches of this city does take to a liking. I pulled out my fogwatch, I look at the little black hands gleam in the light of the gas post above me. 12:30 am. I smirked at the time and shoved my fogwatch back into my coat pocket. I pulled up my coats collar and walked on with my head held high.
It's disturbing when I see people the way that they look at me, like i'm a freak. They look at everyone like that nowadays, no smiles could be seen anywhere, plan, emotionless wrecks trying to make it through life without dying, all pathetic. I think people are amazing the way they manifest life and death, but what they do it with it makes me despise the lower class of humans in this earth. The one who don't do anything, to make it better.
I finally reach the quiet streets of London with a courtyard full of cafe's and shops that have closed their blinds but the dance studio across it still had it's lights gleaming making the street seem warmer.
I sit on one of the park benches outside of the dance studios dim yellow lights and bring out my notebook that was given to me by the man who looked after me Professor Van Helsing.
In an instant he popped into my mind, I closed the notebook and started to make my way back to my home in a sort of a panicked matter. I ignored the noises of people made near me and everything around me.
I reached home safely, to find, the old man sleeping in my armchair, snoring with one of his journals on his lap. I smiled, I took off my coat, put it on a chair that was tucked into my kitchen table and on the table was a letter with 'Miss. Lenora Hemingway' written on the front. I picked up the envelope and slid my thumbs at the back to open it.
The letter read:
'Dear, Miss. Lenora Hemmingway
I have come to inform you on a serious matter that consults you help.
We know the occupation you engage in which intrigues me and my clients. If you are interested in helping, meet at the address, my friend Miss. Ives will meet you and guide you too the location.
Make sure you're there at eleven, no later.
Your's Sincerely
Sir. Malcolm Murray'
There was a slip of paper, also in the envelope that revealed the address saying on the back 'meet at eleven tomorrow night', the address was in the slums of London, a back alley somewhere Chinatown, off of Northwall Ave.
I looked back at Professor Van Helsing in the chair and smirked. I made my way over to the chairand slept next to the old snoring man.
I woke up to the sound of clanking around in the kitchen, behind me, sounds of cups, liquid been poured and sizzling in a pan. My eyes and body snapped out of it's drowsy state, I opened my mouth to a big yawn and putting my hands in the air stretching all of my muscles. I walked over to the kitchen, to see Professor Van Helsing making breakfast.
"Morning, my child" His sweet voice grumbled "You need to work on that step of yours"
I laughed "Do you like my little nest, I've made?"
"It is sustainable for someone like you, I hope it is temporary" he chuckled
"Yes, of course" I smiled back
"I better get back to my humble abode, nice too see you back in London" He exclaimed
"Thank you Professor" I smirked as he started to put his coat on and adjust himself with his hat and gloves. He lead himself to the door, stopped and turned to me.
"The letter, do it my child" He smiled caringly
"I was thinking of it, but how opportunities like this will appear to someone like me" I added
"Too right, see you later" He waved, he continued to walk and shut the door behind him.
I looked at the table seeing a plate of perfect scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. I saw the letter beside and sat down.
I red the letter over and over again, while I ate my breakfast. My mind was contemplating options to this, my face smiled at the matter. after I had finished my food, I jumped up from my chair and looked at myself in the dirty mirror hanging on the kitchen wall.
I saw before me, my tired eyes, dark blue and pale red around the iris, my pale my curly hair, still holding it's random ringlets, my pale skin and lips reddish from the lipstick I had worn last night.
I took the coat off of my chair and went outside, locking the door behind me. I walked around seeing the girls in the dance studio doing their reutines one after the other. I felt like I was begin stared at, watched. I looked over my shoulder and around me to see no one. I went to leave and went back home and went through the books Van Helsing had left me.
