It was a bitter pill to swallow an’ no mistake; instead of my head hittin’ the pillow I was out of my pit and hitting the street, pullin’ my collar up around my lords an’ peers an’ headin’ for the carriage.

Wasn’t my idea, but the guv had a thirst for claret.  Said it was his last chance to hear the city weep in sweet sorrow, or summink like that.

Still, at least he ‘ad grapes.

I loved grapes, loved rolling ‘em around my mouth before I bit down an’ sucked the soft fruit out of their skins.  Can’t afford ‘em normally.  He’d give ‘em to the whores wouldn’t he?  Entice ‘em into the carriage so’s to take ‘em to an alley somewhere quiet an’ gut them.

He never minded, him.

Never minded me picking up the grapes after, washing ‘em off in the snow.

Waste not want not, eh?


About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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6 Responses to Grapes

  1. AH.. this was stunningly evill… we seem all to go with a ripper mind in this.

  2. bloomnpsycho says:

    I love this. The world as seen through the eyes of the servant, probably someone whom the detectives wouldn’t even notice, let alone question.

  3. I like your insertion of the Cockney twang! So many of us saw Jack the Ripper on this weeks VisDare!! I know with mine I had a lot of fun writing it – sometimes it’s good to visit the Dark Side! 😉

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