Work Text:
It was a birthday I couldn’t forget.
Something I should’ve predicted…
My mother said that she should be proud of me, but I knew better. Knew that no one would ever want to see a runt fail to see where their place in the world was.
What could I expect from a dark and grim place that would drain all the enjoyment from things…
I knew I never had much as a kid. I was rather a raggamuffin myself, like many other kiddies in the smoke.
Sure, I wanted more than this pathetic life, but there was no escaping it…
From what I could tell, almost everyone I knew was poor… Their clothes were ragged, dug in the trash, and even stolen from the aristocrats that strolled through the park, but were later found in the alleys, dead and unmoving.
They knew better than to mess with those people… Those that can buy your life with no intention of letting you go unharmed if you ever did try to leave.
A good friend of mine, Gertrude, left town to find a better life and maybe search for a job that was worth her while… She even gave me her scarf in memory of her when she’ll eventually leave, and never to be seen again…
She was a good friend, that woman, but as well as she was, she had to go just like the others…
And farewell to the man that brought me joy when life never dared to shine a light or give way to the dark thundering clouds in the sky…
Oh, farewell to him, missed will he be when I know what they did to him as well for not paying his debts to Henry…
Oh, Henry, that crook… I swear he was born with a silver spoon awaiting him, an attitude he couldn’t shake off even when all is said and done for his gaffer.
One time, I even caught him taunting a friend of mine just the other day with a piece of cake he bought from the sweets shop down the street.
I would stand up to him, but I don’t want my mother to worry her head for my mysterious disappearance like all the other fools that dared to cross paths or even look in their direction…
Oh, sweet mother of mine… I love her to death, but she really isn’t the best to talk about my boy troubles; she’s not that fond of the queers, so I just lie my head low and swear she doesn’t disown me when she finds out.
She keeps asking me whose daughter I fancy, a famous line of hers that makes me want to throw up puke. She doesn’t understand how many women would kill to have me by their side, which would only fill her delusions even further…
Oh, my sweet mother to wish the world off my shoulders, to have myself a good woman to marry, and have bested all the nobles in the land, that woman loves to dream high above the clouds, where even the sun could finally shine its radiant beams for once in her life.
My mother doesn’t understand how impossible that would be, but I still try to find ways on how to keep her mind on goals more attainable for a change.
Earlier this morning, I found my mother out of bed, putting together stottie and jelly for breakfast. Which is so unusual of her, she is usually in bed and complaining as to why I haven’t found a woman to woo. Yet, there she was… Up and about like nothing troubled her, humming that dreadful tune of hers through the kitchen.
She kept pestering me again when I approached her, oh, the things I would tell her about myself if it were legal to chatter about.
Oh, how she rambled nonstop as she moved the jelly along the stottie in a messy manner, cleaning her fingers with her tongue rather than a clean washcloth that sat nearby on the worktop.
“I’ll be off, mum. A friend is waiting on me to join them for tea…” I stumbled to grab my bag from the old, wooden coat rack near the door.
“Don’t you want to stay for stottie and jelly, Charles? It’s your fav.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, mum. You know that we only have stottie and jelly to eat… and yes, I will be leaving, but will be back just in time for supper.”
“Oh, Charles… Gone for that long? Oh, I wonder who you’re really meeting out these days…”
“It’s nobody, mum, just a friend of mine from a while back… You shouldn’t have to worry.”
“Oh, great, now I am… You really know how to make a mother scared out of her mind when her son is out and about with other ladies and gents that I don’t know about.”
“I told you, mum, it’s an old friend of mine that you’ve met before, don’t act so surprised…”
“Oh, but you just have so many friends, Charles… How can you have me trying to remember all these friends’ names of yours?”
“It’s Kenneth for god’s sake, mum! The man you met the other day? When he gave us a welcoming gift for when we moved here just a month ago?”
“You don’t say? Well, sorry on my part. I’m horrible with names and faces, but when I see a good fellow, I’m sure to recognize them…”
“And that good fellow you have yet to meet…”
“Don’t give me that attitude now, young man! At least grab your toast on the way out the door, so I know you’ve ate…”
“Alright, fine…”
I grab two toasts that she prepared for me, the simple orange marmalade from the pantry, nothing special, but nothing I could really have for myself, so I handed it to a hungry fellow on the way to Kenneth’s house…
My mother and I only had stottie and jelly to eat on the daily. Never hurt her to branch out to other foods, yet she’s as stubborn as a mule. Sometimes it’s samey, but other times it’s because I’m not able to eat it due to my condition, which I used to get picked on for when I was a tot.
I don’t know what it was, but when I ingested stottie, I would feel sick to my stomach and then vomit it back out. I felt like I was going to die in most cases, which had me swear off them for good. It was always stottie… Which sucks the fun out of tea parties when I knew that all the pastries weren’t mine to eat.
Of course, most tea parties were reserved for nobles and fair ladies of higher class, but sometimes we could have our fun with tea at the table, but it’d be less exciting than if you were to attend a much bigger and more formal party.
Mornings were usually the busiest of the day, with many people going to and fro to places in such haste that you might get run over by carriages if you don’t mind your step.
Some days, I would hear the latest gossip or the new talk of the town. Something that I eavesdrop on my walks through the streets.
I would find my way around the roads of this twisted place, a path I’ve created so I could go about my day without attracting trouble. I have one to my old friend Gertude’s place, my mother’s, the shop for jelly, and to my new pal Kenneth’s flat.
I finally reached my good friend Kenneth's, taking a couple of knocks on the door.
“Good day.” I gave a nod when he swung the door open.
“Oh, Charles! Good day to you, too, old chap, come in! Happy birthday, by the way.”
He gestured me inside and led me to the table. It wasn’t the finest I’ve ever seen, but it’s certainly better than the last.
“Come sit… Do tell what’s been happenin'round here, I’m feeling nosey parker.”
“Oh, nothing much with the way things are going lately… People missing, robbery is common policy, and no one cares what you do as long as they get to manage you the way they want.”
“You don’t say, innit?”
“Aye.”
“What do you suppose we do about that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? How do you propose that we do nothing while those scoundrels snatch up one of our own every day of our god-forsaken lives, Charles? How can you just stand by and watch them pray that one day things will turn out for the better? Just how?”
“What else do you suppose we do? We have no control over them! They know they rule these streets, we have no way with those folk…”
“But we can do something about it.”
“Oh, don’t be optimistic…”
“It’s true, ain’t it?”
“Just pour the tea, Kenneth…”
He sighed, grabbing the kettle to pour into my provided cup and then into his, the smell of hot tea filled the room beside the lingering thoughts of the violence going on outside.
“So, since you don’t want to talk about the things happenin’… What's going on in yours?”
“Just… the usual, you know how it is.”
“I invite you over for your birthday tea, and this is how you talk when we finally meet?”
“Well, there is nothing on my mind that I’d like to talk with you…”
Silence…
It was cold and drafty from the busted window latch, the sudden awkward tension between us, and some occasional sips echoed throughout the room.
Then… A knock on the door, or rather banging on the door, who was that?
BANG BANG BANG, “Open up!”
Kenneth looks at me with worry in his eyes as he scrambles to put away the tea set and act as if nothing happened. Then, more banging on the door.
BANG BANG BANG, “Oi! Get cracking!”
“Coming!”
He called out, but he knew it was someone no good behind that door.
“Cheers, Charles… Wish and winning.”
“Wait, no!”
With that, he hugged me tight—I think my shoulders were damp from his tears when he hugged me—before pushing me into the closet and closing the door behind me.
The door crashed open, and I could hear the cries and wails of Kenneth, “Please! Please, sir! Please give me more time! I would have your pay next week!”
The low, thundering voice of the man spoke, “Too late, you gormless twat…” I could even hear him grabbing Kenneth by the hair and out the door, along with his screaming fading away.
I slowly opened the door, peeking out before getting out completely, dusting myself from the piled-up dust bunnies in Kenneth’s closet.
The front door was swung open and slightly cracked from being slammed against the wall. The wind blew in as some drops of rain started dripping from the clouds outside.
What a great birthday surprise…
Kenneth was the next friend they’ve dang crossed off their list beside possibly Gertude and that faithful man that I never learned the name of, which I’m pretty sure I’m being targeted by some unknown being that surely wishes to be rid of me.
I grabbed one of Kenneth’s coats and walked out, hopefully he doesn’t mind when he gets back—or when he gets back at all…
I started to head back to Mum’s, hoping I wouldn’t attract trouble on the way.
The cold rain poured on, soaking the street in wet, misty misery; my boots splashed the shallow puddles made from the dents in the road.
He didn’t even say a proper goodbye, just hid me and hoped the man didn’t catch me breathing… What an odd bloke he is. He is soon to be added to my list of potential lost friends, to be missed when the time comes.
“Hey, mum, I’m back…” I called out, hanging my coat up to dry on the rack.
She walks in weakly, her head hanging lower than I’d like for it to be.
“Charlie… I’ve heard the news.”
“Wait, what news, mum?”
“Another disappearance…”
“How do you know?”
“Hildegard saw the whole thing and told me gewis…”
“Hildegard? Who is that again?”
“The old woman down the street with a crooked smile… She had some suspicions of that man, Kenneth, you said?”
“What suspicions? What are you talking about?”
“He’s a lost cause, Charlie… Nothing but a tick feeding off you. You should have picked better friends, or they wouldn’t be disappearing like this…”
“What did you do to them?”
“Do what, darling? I did nothing of the sort!”
“Why is it that everyone I ever knew is gone or disappeared for an unknown reason?”
“How should I know, dear? That all happened on its own, you'd best not worry about it.”
“How should I not worry when my own friends are dead, gone, or missing? How should I stay calm for something like that?! You’re mad!”
“Shhhh, son… It’s for your own good.”
“So you admit it! You are the cause of my friends’ disappearances!”
“Oh, shut it, Charlie… You know better than to mess with the people in power, right?”
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM!?”
“No need to shout in here, I can hear you plenty…”
“What did you do to them, mum… Or should I even call you that? You witch…”
“Don’t be so mean to your own mother, who birthed you. Mother knows best, as I always say…”
“You’re wrong… Getting rid of my friends, isolating me, keeping me all to yourself! Is that really what you think a mother does for their child? For the good of their heart, tell me, will they be as cruel as you?”
“You don’t know how far I’ll go to keep you safe and from harm’s way…”
“Well, this is too far to go back from this…”
“I’m well aware of what I’ve done for you, son.”
She points to my room with stern, furrowed brows before I retreat. What was up with her? She didn’t seem like the kind of person to just deal with people like that… She always seemed so nice and inviting, but I guess I was wrong about a lot of things. What do I do now?
Later, I heard some rummaging in the kitchen; the sound of frantic, clattering utensils and bowls was all that could be heard from throughout the house. It was loud and not faint at all; it felt like I was hearing gunshots shooting every which way.
What was she doing?
Later, I walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she stood there, placing a wick on a small bundt cake. She grabs it into her two hands, placing it on the table.
“There you are, dear; Just in time for your cake…”
“We can’t have cake. Where did you get this?”
“I made it, silly! How else would I get it?”
“Don’t call me that… Don’t try to act so casual now.”
“What’s the matter, dear? I bet you haven’t eaten all day, poor boy must have been so grumpy because you haven’t had anything to eat!”
“Stop trying to hype me up, I’m not a child…”
“You’re never too old to be my dear child of mine.”
“Shut it… I’m not eating this.”
“Why not? I went through all the trouble in making it so, might as well…”
I squint, narrowing in on her with utter vexation. How did she not know I can’t eat pastries for gods sake, she’s known me for damn eighteen years… It’s like she doesn’t even know me, but this woman is dangerous, so I shouldn’t say anything of the sort in case it comes to bite me in the back.
“I’m not hungry… I’ll have it later.”
She didn’t push on, passing the plate of cake over to me.
“I’m not hungry…” I repeated, but I’m pretty sure she’s deaf the poor thing. She just stared at me, her eyes staring me down as if I’ve offended her.
I don’t know what she is thinking about, but I’m certainly not eating that pile of garbage she calls a pastry, and for god's sake, she needs to learn how to actually bake.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. A wicked mother having her way with my friends, so she could celebrate my birthday, was not on my card. She’s partially terrorizing the town just for the sake of me, not growing up, that is. I don’t know what was up in that rottin’ brain of hers, but she needs to stop. Though, how am I gonna stop her?
I told her I was gonna take a walk through the park like always. She let me off the hook and let me out. What a moron this woman is. After everything she’s done, it’s likely she’s taking a stake in the next lad I meet.
I walked out the door, the floors were still freshly rained, and the scent of cool, wet cement and stone filled the air along with the dirt scattered amongst the floor.
As I was about to turn a corner, a stranger bumped into me; he was in a desperate haste to be somewhere.
“Ey, watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry, sir, I’d just be on my way. Be best if I’m not late.”
“What’s your name there, lad?”
“Victor, sir.”
“Victor, you say?”
“Sir, I can’t take much of my time!”
He runs off, not saying another word, leaving me there. Something about that fellow felt familiar. Something about that raven black hair or his light blue eyes struck something. I don’t know what it was, but I’m determined to know.