The Runaway and the Timehopper

Chapter 2

The sunrise was ripe with the taste of smog and the smell of coal. Grey clouds gathered above, indicating incoming rain and dressing London in gloom. Some streaks of sunlight managed to pierce through the blanket, but were dissipated by a new mist, a fog that only recently invaded the city, stalking the denizens like mindless zombies.

The sweeps were on their way to their shelter after a long, laborious morning of work. They were sweaty beyond belief, their bodies decorated in dust and grime, their muscles aching for a seat. They couldn't wait for school to start—their one break from climbing chimneys for the master.

"Line up! Line up!"

All the children did as they were told as soon as they returned home. They had barely reached the field when they were yelled at for being too slow in the newly setting fog. Their reasoning was that it was difficult to see through the haze, the white wall muffling their movements after appearing so inexplicably quickly.

But to be fair, they could've walked faster.

"Now then." The master sweep cleared his throat, his suited figure adjusting his top hat as he swung his cane in one hand. "Today has been a great day for sales. Greater than usual anyway."

The children all cheered momentarily before being silenced by the harsh clang of the cane on metal, causing crows to scatter in a tsunami of fright, with a new wave of crows seamlessly crashing in to replace them every few seconds.

"Silence! As I was saying, your subpar services have been... slightly more successful than usual." He snatched the large bag of soot from the girl he instructed to carry it, the girl barely avoiding collapse the moment the weight was taken from her. "This bag here is the fruit of my labour, and it has led to a vast improvement in profit."

"Ours..." the girl panted. "It... was us who—"

"What was that, Emily?"

Realising what she said, Emily went into a panic. "N-nothing, sir. I-I just thought that—"

"You could question my authority?"

"N-n-no, of course not, sir!" The rest of the children started mumbling, discussing possible consequences. "What I meant to say was—"

Her head was smacked to the floor quite forcefully, right on the nose. You could hear it crack as she ate the gravel on the ground, hushing the audience.

"I don't pay you to have opinions, foolish child!" he boomed, resting his stick atop the prone girl's head and leaning against it gently.

"You..." she began, winded.

The master smacked her again. "What was that?"

"You... don't pay..."

The girl tried for a quick breath but was stabbed in the back by the blunt cane. She was then battered and clubbed for who knows how long, Emily crying in agony as the master sweep belittled her, screaming in primitive fury as he continued to tear her body apart everywhere he could. It didn't take much effort to hear her bones audibly shattering, velvet gathering around her dying corpse to the spear that was covered in much more red than just hers.

"Who do you think you are, little devil?" he concluded with, once again leaning on Emily's head with his cane. "Some cherry-muffined quim?"

Emily tried to shake her head, out of breath and streaming tears from her eyes.

She tried to struggle away from the grasp of her aggressor.

But her body was fractured. Her spine was likely broken at this point.