The Very Devil, Herself! discussion

~ Chapter 1 ~
Darkness was always welcomed in Whitechapel. Nighttime was the busiest time of the day there. The general consensus was that the less you could see of the East End, the better a place it was. There is something about the night. It has a strange breed of activity and energies so unlike anything seen or felt during the day. There is an element to the nighttime energies that seems to simply not be able to survive daylight. Nighttime in Whitechapel was its own special brand of depravity, debauchery, and degradation. This sensation could be felt by every person and living thing in the area. The night, like a ravenous predator, had arrived and devoured all signs of daylight, leaving only the moon in its stead.

This was fine with her. The night belonged to her. She knew the darkness like it was her own beloved tamed pet. She was the true master of this beast and she loved it dearly. Darkness had once again come to London.

It was the same as every night. The pale ethereal moon and the oil lamps were competing to see who could outshine whom. Tonight neither the moon nor the lamplights were winning over their enemy, the darkness. Her long flowing ebony locks billowed in the gentle autumn breeze. The air enveloped her. The smells created a kaleidoscope of complex images.

With each new breeze came another flood of sensations. Images, scents, colors, sounds, and even emotions crashed over her like a wave against the shore. The smells of feces, both human and animal were ever present. As was the smell of death and decay. Every dark and cramped cobblestone alleyway and street in the East End was filled with the same thick smells of open sewage, coal, and the wretched stink blowing constantly off of the Thames.

Dead bodies were a common sight and often seen piled up on the side of the road. Neither the living nor the dead were cared about there. These smells never bothered her. She quickly learned how to separate the common smells of London from everything else.
As she walked along the cobblestone streets, she could make out where the horses had dropped their feces. No one wants shit on their shoes, she thought as she stepped over another steaming pile still warm on the ground and stepped right into a puddle.
“This just isn’t going to be my night!” she exclaimed.

Looking down into the now calm puddle she was captivated by her reflection. She realized after all these decades there was not one change to that flawless smooth skin.

Still the same seductive almond- shaped, captivating jade green and gold sunburst eyes, high cheekbones, small slightly upturned pert nose and beautiful pink full lips. Smiling at her reflection, she saw her teeth were rather unremarkable. Basically straight and relatively clean.
“Ahh Alexandra, always young, always beautiful, and always deadly,” she said to her reflection, repeating the words she used to hear so often. She sighed as she stood up and stretched.


It was time to find food and it needed to be soon. The wind blew once again bringing with it smells of delicious food and porter beer.

“Dinner waits for no one,” she said and started to walk the dimly lit streets of Whitechapel once more.

The Very Devil, Herself!

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