1892, Unknown location, London.
With his back pressed against the padded wall, Arthur let out a laboured sigh. His skin was slick with sweat. One freckled arm was slung across his raised knee. Arthur inspected the crook of his elbow. Purple pinpricks littered his ashen skin where the silver needles had burned him. Hell, he thought, it’s getting worse.
The nausea had worn off, but he still felt oddly unsettled. His bones ached and his flesh felt too constricting. At least his heart no longer felt like it was galloping a thousand miles a minute. Arthur shook his head, one hand pressed tightly against his closed eyes. There had to be a cure to this sickness. The thought of spending the rest of his life in a cage was almost too much to bear.
A bitter laugh escaped his chapped lips. He could always live in the forest, chasing rabbits and sheep with his own kind. But not yet. He had a promise to keep with the city of London. Monster or not. While he was still able, he would do his damnedest to keep the people safe. After all, it was what he was hired to do. When he could no longer control himself, that’s when he would let the madness take him.
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Myth
Historical FictionIn the unused railways beneath the streets of London lives a peculiar sort of folk; the outcast; the overlooked. Valerie Glass wasn't always a Sewer Rat. She remembers the days of splendour, dinner parties and extravagant gifts. She was to be a Lad...
