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Description

Mid noon. A time for tea and leisure among the civilities of the upper Eastern streets and close knit shops that still held the musk of rain from morning. Tea time only served to remind one such doctor that luxuries and comfort lay beyond his reach at St. Oggenshill for the Terminally Ill. He resided in the ward where death was dealt to him daily. Bodies, so many of them would come through, covered in the rot and filth of the world. He would cleanse them of such dirt, but the decay would have already set in. He could not ever release the souls from the evils of London. Seldom anything ever could.

"...Female. Not a day over twenty yet. With child. Strangled. Shows signs of struggle from her torn, scattered appearance. Windpipe caved. Unborn's life is forfeit." Doctor Jack Harrows assessed his latest case with blank eyes. They were a shade of forget me nots, a most pretty shade were he to allow life to reenter their depths. He kept his shoulder length fair blonde hair tied back, if only to save himself the trouble of having to rewash it later along with his standard medical wardrobe. His work was quite messy and layers were only added, nothing spared as the hours would tick relentlessly on.

These hours were only broken by visitors, nurses filing reports, practitioners curious about his tasks or the few brave wills who brought him corpses. Few ever spoke aloud to him, though speech wasn't what he preferred. Small talk would only release the stories of his work, his place in the morgue, a taboo he was certain. He already held his peace whenever he ventured out into broad daylight, sanctuary days as they were. He was not about to disrupt the stability of it all.

Disruption, yes..if only. It would be easy. He could bring the set of tools of his practice with him home..The heavy doors sliding open broke his train of thought as a startling voice called out to him.

"Dr. Harrows! Good, you are not hands deep in...extremities this time. Might I have a word?" The voice, belonging to a small man with small, dexterous hands, a beady black gaze and an alarmingly shaven head that showed clear signs of age with lined veins and scattered liver spots strode over in a crisp, direct near march.

Almost a resigned sigh left Dr. Harrows as he cleaned his thin, bony hands, then pasted on a thin smile for his fellow, senior Practitioner. "Dr. Finkel. To what do I owe..this pleasure?" He had paused on the last part, if only to fumble for any word that could remotely brighten the atmosphere.

"Come now, me boy. You know why I am here." Dr. Finkel took on a near grandfatherly appearance as he smiled and laid a steady hand upon Harrows shoulder. The gesture, though disturbing to outsiders seemed to at least pull out a small weary smile from the tired young doctor.

" To where do you plan on taking me today?" Harrows could only ask, despite how it seemed his mood had been lifted a small amount.

"To tea. Come, I have a fresh Earl brew in my workshop." The elder man led out through the southern gate, tossing a ragged scarf on while he jerked out a knotted cane from a cranny near the threshold.

"Children tend to mistake it for a croquet mallet. Pigeon toed ruffians...the lot of em know nothing of age or respect." Dr. Finkel seemed to nearly morph along with his sudden crotchety tone as he muttered a string of jumbled words that Harrows chose to wisely ignore.

"Youth is for the young you know. They have yet to know the world they live in." He did choose to comment after minutes of muttering did carry on.

"BAH! They already live in this world. They should be learning more about what to do with themselves in it! Not skip about with reckless abandon, touching things that don't belong to them."

"It's the innocence of children. They only want to play, explore the joys in life-"

"Tomfoolery! It's nonsense is what it is! You were a smart boy. Yes I recall your days at the Hillens School of Medical practice. You were no older then your fifteenth year when you waltzed on into my life."

"Calius....You know full well what you had done. I have countless gratitude for your kindness. I cannot thank you enough for-"

"Let it be said I am not unkind me boy. Your aptitude for science is stronger then I could ever account for. I only hope to do well by you." Dr. Finkel cracked a dry smile, showing his scarred mouth and crooked teeth. He wasn't in the best of health for a man of his caliber but he got on well enough. He knocked his cane against the railing a few times, checking it seemed for something amiss that only he could determine. It was a usual sight that Dr. Harrows was accustomed to, so he waited for the good doctor to finish his scrutinizing.

Shaking his head and waving his hand, Dr. Finkel moved onward up the uneven stairwell into his small lit residence. The doorway was opened once the doctor tapped his cane shakily against the knocker, fitting it into a sort of puzzle lock mechanism that he twisted twice, releasing a loudly creaking, rusty lock of sorts. The door creaked open at a snails pace, causing the elder man to elbow past it impatiently, motioning for Dr. Harrows to follow.

The interior was heavily inlaid with a musky odor tinged with odd fragrance that arrayed from sweet, robust, jarring and nauseating. No doubt these were from the cluster of Dr. Finkel's spontaneously assembled experiments that he did on a daily basis and in order of what peaked his interest at the time. They only held dates as far as documentation went as Dr. Harrows lightly browsed the contents that took up most of the far wall in the Drawing room. The tea room had bubbling pots of all sizes, most holding things he stayed as far away as he could get from.

Aside from the oddball artworks and devices that were hooked up and steaming like a small train engine, the estate had a rather usual appearance for a London town residence. The layout was expected and the tea was brewed haphazardly, but served warm and comforting. Yes, this place was home to him, Dr. Harrows felt. Though he did not live there and had only a smaller shabbier place to rest his head. He belonged in this place, he had always felt that opening warm welcome from the good Dr. Finkel.

"Now me boy, you are troubled. Tell me what about." Getting to the point was a notorious skill Dr. Finkel possessed, among many other talents, or oddball tendencies as were whispered in public behind his back that Harrows often caught from company he had been in.

" There is little I can ever hide from you Calius. I....have given thought to my practice. Much of it. You know...I do not think I can withstand what I do much longer. It's been years. Years since I have taken walks out in the fresh afternoons of the English countryside. Lake Gloria...I miss it."

The elder doctor was quiet as he took a slow drag of tea, then set the cup down. "...Jack....I've told you all this before. You are still young. Leave. Leave while you can still reach happiness."

"Calius, I...I cannot. London...the city needs me. Even Aldo-"

"Jack...Do not toss what little you have left of life away for that man! Countless days, I waited for you to tell me you are fed up. That you want nothing more to do with death and god knows how many before you have suffered then fell to their work. You have much more then they ever will me boy. You still have life. Your eyes yearn to set it free." Dr. Finkel had taken Dr. Harrows by the arm, griping him tightly, his eyes much like a steady burning black flame seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

A chain seemed to break. Something bound within his heart let loose as Dr. Jack Harrows stood, setting his tea carefully aside. "....What I carry out next....what my task will bring me...You know I cannot turn back once it is done."

"Then let it be done Jack. It is time you spare yourself heartache. Leave this dreary hellhole. This rot should not eat away at you any further. The countryside will keep you safe. Start a new life there." Dr. Finkel encouraged him in a quiet voice, again showing his care for the younger practitioner.

With a solid nod, Jack thanked the doctor for tea, then with purposeful strides, left for a home he would empty. Had it been a stroke of crackling insanity, or a powerful urge to destroy the darkness he let his life fall into, Jack found himself soon setting his old home ablaze after pulling out all the belongings he cherished from within. He left the dancing madness of flickering orange, yellow and red behind, his thoughts filled with a euphoric glee. He was free again.

Description

Mid noon. A time for tea and leisure among the civilities of the upper Eastern streets and close knit shops that still held the musk of rain from morning. Tea time only served to remind one such doctor that luxuries and comfort lay beyond his reach at St. Oggenshill for the Terminally Ill. He resided in the ward where death was dealt to him daily. Bodies, so many of them would come through, covered in the rot and filth of the world. He would cleanse them of such dirt, but the decay would have already set in. He could not ever release the souls from the evils of London. Seldom anything ever could.

"...Female. Not a day over twenty yet. With child. Strangled. Shows signs of struggle from her torn, scattered appearance. Windpipe caved. Unborn's life is forfeit." Doctor Jack Harrows assessed his latest case with blank eyes. They were a shade of forget me nots, a most pretty shade were he to allow life to reenter their depths. He kept his shoulder length fair blonde hair tied back, if only to save himself the trouble of having to rewash it later along with his standard medical wardrobe. His work was quite messy and layers were only added, nothing spared as the hours would tick relentlessly on.

These hours were only broken by visitors, nurses filing reports, practitioners curious about his tasks or the few brave wills who brought him corpses. Few ever spoke aloud to him, though speech wasn't what he preferred. Small talk would only release the stories of his work, his place in the morgue, a taboo he was certain. He already held his peace whenever he ventured out into broad daylight, sanctuary days as they were. He was not about to disrupt the stability of it all.

Disruption, yes..if only. It would be easy. He could bring the set of tools of his practice with him home..The heavy doors sliding open broke his train of thought as a startling voice called out to him.

"Dr. Harrows! Good, you are not hands deep in...extremities this time. Might I have a word?" The voice, belonging to a small man with small, dexterous hands, a beady black gaze and an alarmingly shaven head that showed clear signs of age with lined veins and scattered liver spots strode over in a crisp, direct near march.

Almost a resigned sigh left Dr. Harrows as he cleaned his thin, bony hands, then pasted on a thin smile for his fellow, senior Practitioner. "Dr. Finkel. To what do I owe..this pleasure?" He had paused on the last part, if only to fumble for any word that could remotely brighten the atmosphere.

"Come now, me boy. You know why I am here." Dr. Finkel took on a near grandfatherly appearance as he smiled and laid a steady hand upon Harrows shoulder. The gesture, though disturbing to outsiders seemed to at least pull out a small weary smile from the tired young doctor.

" To where do you plan on taking me today?" Harrows could only ask, despite how it seemed his mood had been lifted a small amount.

"To tea. Come, I have a fresh Earl brew in my workshop." The elder man led out through the southern gate, tossing a ragged scarf on while he jerked out a knotted cane from a cranny near the threshold.

"Children tend to mistake it for a croquet mallet. Pigeon toed ruffians...the lot of em know nothing of age or respect." Dr. Finkel seemed to nearly morph along with his sudden crotchety tone as he muttered a string of jumbled words that Harrows chose to wisely ignore.

"Youth is for the young you know. They have yet to know the world they live in." He did choose to comment after minutes of muttering did carry on.

"BAH! They already live in this world. They should be learning more about what to do with themselves in it! Not skip about with reckless abandon, touching things that don't belong to them."

"It's the innocence of children. They only want to play, explore the joys in life-"

"Tomfoolery! It's nonsense is what it is! You were a smart boy. Yes I recall your days at the Hillens School of Medical practice. You were no older then your fifteenth year when you waltzed on into my life."

"Calius....You know full well what you had done. I have countless gratitude for your kindness. I cannot thank you enough for-"

"Let it be said I am not unkind me boy. Your aptitude for science is stronger then I could ever account for. I only hope to do well by you." Dr. Finkel cracked a dry smile, showing his scarred mouth and crooked teeth. He wasn't in the best of health for a man of his caliber but he got on well enough. He knocked his cane against the railing a few times, checking it seemed for something amiss that only he could determine. It was a usual sight that Dr. Harrows was accustomed to, so he waited for the good doctor to finish his scrutinizing.

Shaking his head and waving his hand, Dr. Finkel moved onward up the uneven stairwell into his small lit residence. The doorway was opened once the doctor tapped his cane shakily against the knocker, fitting it into a sort of puzzle lock mechanism that he twisted twice, releasing a loudly creaking, rusty lock of sorts. The door creaked open at a snails pace, causing the elder man to elbow past it impatiently, motioning for Dr. Harrows to follow.

The interior was heavily inlaid with a musky odor tinged with odd fragrance that arrayed from sweet, robust, jarring and nauseating. No doubt these were from the cluster of Dr. Finkel's spontaneously assembled experiments that he did on a daily basis and in order of what peaked his interest at the time. They only held dates as far as documentation went as Dr. Harrows lightly browsed the contents that took up most of the far wall in the Drawing room. The tea room had bubbling pots of all sizes, most holding things he stayed as far away as he could get from.

Aside from the oddball artworks and devices that were hooked up and steaming like a small train engine, the estate had a rather usual appearance for a London town residence. The layout was expected and the tea was brewed haphazardly, but served warm and comforting. Yes, this place was home to him, Dr. Harrows felt. Though he did not live there and had only a smaller shabbier place to rest his head. He belonged in this place, he had always felt that opening warm welcome from the good Dr. Finkel.

"Now me boy, you are troubled. Tell me what about." Getting to the point was a notorious skill Dr. Finkel possessed, among many other talents, or oddball tendencies as were whispered in public behind his back that Harrows often caught from company he had been in.

" There is little I can ever hide from you Calius. I....have given thought to my practice. Much of it. You know...I do not think I can withstand what I do much longer. It's been years. Years since I have taken walks out in the fresh afternoons of the English countryside. Lake Gloria...I miss it."

The elder doctor was quiet as he took a slow drag of tea, then set the cup down. "...Jack....I've told you all this before. You are still young. Leave. Leave while you can still reach happiness."

"Calius, I...I cannot. London...the city needs me. Even Aldo-"

"Jack...Do not toss what little you have left of life away for that man! Countless days, I waited for you to tell me you are fed up. That you want nothing more to do with death and god knows how many before you have suffered then fell to their work. You have much more then they ever will me boy. You still have life. Your eyes yearn to set it free." Dr. Finkel had taken Dr. Harrows by the arm, griping him tightly, his eyes much like a steady burning black flame seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

A chain seemed to break. Something bound within his heart let loose as Dr. Jack Harrows stood, setting his tea carefully aside. "....What I carry out next....what my task will bring me...You know I cannot turn back once it is done."

"Then let it be done Jack. It is time you spare yourself heartache. Leave this dreary hellhole. This rot should not eat away at you any further. The countryside will keep you safe. Start a new life there." Dr. Finkel encouraged him in a quiet voice, again showing his care for the younger practitioner.

With a solid nod, Jack thanked the doctor for tea, then with purposeful strides, left for a home he would empty. Had it been a stroke of crackling insanity, or a powerful urge to destroy the darkness he let his life fall into, Jack found himself soon setting his old home ablaze after pulling out all the belongings he cherished from within. He left the dancing madness of flickering orange, yellow and red behind, his thoughts filled with a euphoric glee. He was free again.