It was mid-autumn of October 1888. During a late afternoon, stroll in the Whitechapel District. I came upon an area that is commonly described as being one massive shantytown by a corrupt and illicit populace who is better recognized as monsters. As I made my way further down into the district, I noticed that the streets were filled with garbage as well as human wastes laying upon every inch of cobbled stone in the Whitechapel District. The potent smell would make one queasy to their stomach; a handkerchief is needed if passing by a district like this. As the sky drew darker, people started emerging from nearby buildings.

By this time, the streets were crawling with half-witted drunken blokes; who were trying to get with women of the night, but who were not at all interested in giving them any service. By the time, I was half way into the district it began to rain. Without hesitation, I made my way over to the Ten Bells Pub, as I entered; it was noisy with the chatter from prostitutes and common folk trying to keep dry from the rain. As I took my seat nearest to the door, a dainty looking prostitute with long red ragged hair walk up to my table and spoke.   

“Well, hello there handsome. What is a man of your importance doing in a place this?”

“I am here because of the rain.”

"Would you fancy me to show you a good time?”

“No thank you, but thanks for the offer. But I would fancy a drink though.”

"Sorry love, but I have a customer waiting for me."

After leaving the crowded pub, I came across an old building, stared at it for several moments. Something about that building was vaguely familiar; I could not put my finger on it.  An hour had gone by; I had found myself in front of my house covered in mud. Mud that I somehow got on my close. Confused as I were, I stumbled my way to the front door of the house let myself in and headed up stairs to bed forgetting all that happened.

Early next morning, I woke up feeling as if there was something that I had forgotten or simply never took to recall. Therefore, as the morning progressed, I decided take a morning stroll to the Botanical Garden, which was located two blocks from my house. The fresh air always did me wonders heading off for a long day’s work at the office. After completing a walk around of the Garden’s it was off to work. I had completely forgotten to mention that I worked as a private investigator for a high-end company of West end Whitechapel district.

As I made my way into the office, I was immediately bombarded with a new homicide case, which was handed to me by Chief Investigator Frederick Jennings; who was certain I was the right man for the job. When I finally reached my desk, it took me a moment to recollect my thoughts before reading over the homicide case. As I began reading over the case; I reached into my desk took out several pieces of paper along with a quill and ink to take down important key points from the case. Minutes had passed I picked up my notes read them over, that is when I realized that a serial murder was on the loose. Without hesitation I picked up a piece of parchment ad begun writing an inquiry letter to Scotland Yard explaining why Jennings and Son's Investigation Amenities has not been told about the serial murder who was loose English soil and who was looking to desecrate its citizens.

Also, requesting that something be done about the so-called problem that Scotland Yard cannot do themselves. Obviously why else would they be sending me a homicide case? The only apparent reason is they need my help to find whoever was responsible for murdering Cornelius McDaniel. Cornelius McDaniel was a well-respected man with gentle heart; who was adored by everyone in his neighborhood. One beautiful day while making my rounds of Old Compton Street that is when I came upon the old McDaniel residence. As I moved towards the charming house to discover Mrs. Eleanor McDaniel sitting upon the fragmented marble stairway with tears, gently sloping down her porcelain doll-like face. As soon as I approached, Mrs. McDaniel without hesitation had erected herself up from the marble stairs and began to speak.

“Why did this have to happen to Cornelius my dear husband, he was such a clean strong-minded man. He did no harm to anyone he was like by the whole neighborhood.”

Soon after speaking with Mrs. McDaniel, she politely said her goodbyes, retreated into the old house. Minutes had passed before realizing that after the death of Cornelius McDaniel there was nothing that family could have done to prevent it from happening. The only option was to take avenge their loved one by taking immediate action on the individual responsible. After reminiscing for minutes on end knowing that, the McDaniel family would, take immediate action to avenge the one they have truly lost. Soundless while I was lost in thought at my study, there came a hastening knock at my chamber door. For a moment, I was guessing whom it might me this hour of the night that is when my head servant spoke.

“Master Chamberlain you have a letter of urgency that has arrived for you earlier today. What would you like me to do? Should I bring it up for you or leave it upon the mantle place until you are ready to collect it?


Undoubtedly, I was not in my right mind to answer, so my head servant quickly went back down the side stairs and I left alone in complete silence once again. Later that evening as I am lying upon my chaise longue smoking hashish to calm my nerves and make me feel in control of my body that is when my mind. That is when my mind went completely blurry; minutes later hallucinations started exploding in my mind. They were detailed hallucinations of Cornelius McDaniel death. The murder took place in the old McDaniel residence. In a room similar to my own, but there was something different about the room it had been altered to look as if nothing had occurred in the room between Cornelius McDaniel and the criminal.

Perceptibly, something about the case file which did not add up. It was quarter past eleven when there was a swift knock coming from the side window of my study. For several minutes, the knocking stopped and continued for minutes on end. Until finally the knocking stopped altogether. I was quite skeptical to who it might be at this godforsaken hour. So, without hesitation I creeped to the bay window to see who it could be. There standing down upon the dismal street stood man of low stature with a piece of mark parchment clutched in hand. The minute the man spotted me standing nearest to the bay window, he gave me a gentle wave, than indicated that I should open the window so that we can discuss important matters, which needed to be taken into account.

 I rejected the marked parcel and told the gentleman it needed to be sent to Jennings and Sons Investigation Amenities due to high levels of urgent matters that must be well documented as well as accounted so that it shall be recorded until further use. Meanwhile, as I stood at the open window of my study that is when it began to rain. The cold air upon my naked flesh of my face, which felt comforting and tranquil; placing under a spellbinding enchanted allure. While under this enchanted allure the feeling of having no control takes over my mortal body making me feel as if I am floating above the clouds and the sensation as if I am the divine god Jesus Christ of heaven and hell.

As I the hour skulked by sluggishly, I began to reminisce about the homicide case, which intrigues me to know more about all that occurred the night before the murder took place. Moreover, if there is any possible witnesses that might have seen anything suspicious in and around the surrounding area of the old McDaniel's residence. That is when it became clear that whoever killed Mr. McDaniel was somebody that was very close to the family, perhaps a family member or even a family friend. Would not know without any possible eyewitnesses to testify what they had seen the night before Cornelius McDaniel departed from this earth on the morning of July 25 1888.

Scrambling through the case file to see whether there was a news clipping detailing important facts about the case and those involved. The deeper I read into the case the more important facts started and the more I understood what I was dealing with. It seems merely impossible understand the aspect of life through an hourglass. Could it be the same when solving a murder? To fully understand the killer it would be like walking in their shoes and knowing what they think and feel.

Weeks have turned into months that is when I began receiving letters from the McDaniel family saying that they want to avenge the loss of their beloved Cornelius McDaniel Senior, who was also a husband, father, a friend, and even a grandfather who will be missed by those who cherished him. The minute the grandfather clock struck twelve that is when uncanny things started to occur in and around the manor house. Strange sounds began echoing all through the manor house leaving me feeling uneasy and startled. Than the floorboards began creaking with the only logical explanation that there might be ghosts lingering in and around the manor house; which explains cold chills in certain areas on the manor house. The spirit was trying to make itself known by communicating with servants working all hours of the night in and around the manor house. However, there are times when I feel like as if I am alone in world, but I know that it is almost certainly impossible. For weeks now, employees have reported strange sittings of paranormal activity around the edge of the manor during all hours of the night.  

Oddly enough, I began looking back over the case file to see whether there was information that I have neglected to recognize. Several days have passed and I was on my way to meet Mrs. McDaniel to discuss her deceased husband's business arrangements and if she knew what he was doing the night before he was found disfigured in an upstairs bedchamber lying in a pool of his own blood. As I made my way over to the old McDaniel residence, something about the atmosphere made me feel dizzy. Until finally Ms. McDaniel approached me, guided me towards an empty chair, and took my seat. Could not recall what just happened all I know is I felt slightly dizzy from an encounter with a strange odor from the atmosphere in and around the property of the house. Fortunately, as I was figuring out where the ghastly odor was coming from I was shortly approached my Isabel Vaughan the maidservant; that is when she started to speak with a soft tone in her voice.

“Are you here about Mrs. McDaniel deceased husband Inspector?”

“Yes I am. If you know anything you would let me know, right.”

“Certainly Inspector.”

“Perhaps you could tell me where Mr. McDaniel was the night before he was mutilated in his sleep the morning of July 25th 1888.”

“Sorry Inspector I don’t stick my nose in business that is not my own.”

“Surely you must have heard or seen something that peeked your curiosity.”

“Honestly, Inspector if I had heard or seen anything that peeked my curiosity, don’t you think I would have told the constabularies by now.”

“Just thought I’d ask. Since you claim that you don’t know anything about that night, doesn’t make sense to bother you any further.”

Moments later Mrs. McDaniel appears before me looking rather startled then hands me an opened piece of parchment, which she urgently wanted me to read. As I began, examining the piece of parchment that is when I noticed something quite peculiar concealed beneath it. Minutes later, I began to realize what I was reading; the initial on the parchment belonged to someone who has dealings with your Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself. It does not add up, who wanted Cornelius McDaniel dead. What did he do to deserve such horrific death? Later that afternoon I headed over to Jennings and Son's Investigation Amenities to further my queries to see what the connection between Cornelius McDaniel and those of the royal court of England.

In all conscience, who would want him dead? It is completely out of the question to what lead to Cornelius McDaniel unexplained death. Without any hesitation, I began noticing signs that were not there previously. There was something about this signs that I couldn't put my finger on and that is because I needed existing evidence to pin against whoever murdered Mr. McDaniel in cold blood on July 25th 1888 who will have their hands stained in blood of the victim which they will never forget the face of. Torment and pang of guilt will always haunt they have killed an innocent man with the intention to hurt the family. Besides, not everything that has happened it is always intended to be since everything happens for a reason.

On the contrary, every single shred of evidence that I have been speculating over has finally given me leads to follow in solving this homicide case. As months grew darker things began turning for the worst particularly in the East London with a murderous lunatic at large. The Star suggests that the murderous lunatic goes by the name of Jack the Ripper who was pursuing low-class prostitutes because they were easy victims for his ruthless killings. Whom in their right mind murders low-class prostitutes because are seen as easy prey victims and gets away with it? One out of hundred and twenty prostitutes are targeted on the streets of London, which happens every day down in East London due to hardships, and falling victim of heinous crimes.

After reading The Star, I then began to realize that the streets of London are not safe with a lunatic at large. More importantly, the constabulary needed to take charge of this matter before it becomes a bigger problem than it already is. Need not I say more that everything is happening in our own backyard and behind our backs? Troubling enough to know that the safety of its citizens are in peril with the shortage of constabulary to take action to make London a safer place to live. For months now, rumors have escalated to the point where the family is sick and tired of the lies that have been blown out into the open. Is there no peace for the family of Cornelius McDaniel? Why must they suffer and be put through so much torment? It simply is not fair treating the family as if they are made of nothing.

Close as I was in figuring out who had deliberately murdered Mr. McDaniel to cover up a dark secret the more it began withering away. For weeks on end, it has bothered to find the culprit responsible in the death of beloved man. I will not sleep nor drink until the one caught is put behind bars and left there to rot until their end of days. But then again, I will make sure that no one else becomes the next victim of such heinous crimes. Until recently, I had imagined that things would get much worse before they would get better with all that was happening due to a matter not concerning those who do not give the slightest impression to care. For some time now, this has bothered me to know, if the Queen of England was responsible for the murder of Mr. McDaniel why she could not do it herself. I am guessing murdering an innocent man means nothing to the court of England; all they seemed to be concerned about is who will dare speak poorly about your Majesty Queen Victoria and all she has done for this godforsaken country.

Something drastic had befallen with the family. The odd folk vandalizing the old McDaniel residence by putting satanic messages on the sidewall of the house by saying Mr. McDaniel belonged in hell with Lucifer himself. Truth is told that the family is not very religious because of their experience with the church of God. Couple of years ago something quite sinister had occurred putting their life in danger ever since then they had lost their faith in the ecclesiastical and God. Now with their own beliefs at bay they trust no faith to put them in harm's way.

During the duration of my investigation, it had come to my knowledge that Queen Victoria required all proof of evidence to be burned so that no trace of vulnerable proof to centralize her as the prime suspect in the death of Mr. McDaniel. Who would ever suspect the Queen herself responsible for the death of an innocent man? It would eventually have to come to terms to finally realize no matter what they did will not bring back their dearly beloved Cornelius McDaniel. Neither I nor anyone else knew the precise answer to why the case has not progressing due to further impediments dealing with the case. My associates and I have tried many times to single out key witnesses to see if they knew anything that might help us find the killer involved in murdering an innocent man but so far no luck.

What ever happened to helping those in time of need? Ever asked yourself that question. If you do then you already know the answer to the question. Mind you not everyone is tolerable in helping those in time of need; just like the McDaniel family who were in need of helping hands due to the loss of a loved one. Why is society such an unpleasant place to live? Leaving several hundred homeless without sustenance or a roof over their heads. Now is that unjust or just plain cruel?

In the coming months, the investigation took my associates and me further then we have ever expected. Leaving us with non-coexisting proof to which we had nothing to place it in compare to everything, which has not yet occurred. So, for the time being my associates and I will be on high alert for anyone who appears to be to a certain degree out of place which might result in us taking immediate action towards those we suspect to be the culprit. All in all not everything will be precise. As the changing in season began to take effect, the weather was beginning to alter briskly. Leaving nothing but the sense of ghostly whispers of winter in the very air. With the feeling that autumn will not return and bring us happiness of fallen leaves beneath your feet as we walk. The brisk chill automatically makes you feel as if you God is taking pity on you for the many debaucheries you have committed for your wicked ways.

As the months heightened to their worst the weather, became so cold that people had no choice but stay inside to keep warm from the horrid winter months. My associates and I hastened our search to find the key piece of evidence to lay to rest the McDaniel murder but that was not happening anytime soon. For the intervening time I will do everything in my power to make sure that, the McDaniel family is able to the lay to rest the past and start fresh with the future that may lay ahead of them. Before I can do anything like that, I must mention that there are possibilities that people will try to eradicate the family for knowing so much about what had transpired between Cornelius McDaniel and those of the royal court of England.

After the death of Cornelius McDaniel, bizarre things started occurring in and around Old Compton Street leaving the local residence fearful for their well-being. Countless of individuals spoke of a drifting spirit lingering in an around the old Highgate Cemetery of Old Compton Street. The maddened spirit who was lingering around the old Cemetery to seek vengeance on those who did him wrong during the English Civil War of 1642. Sworn to secrecy to hide the truth of what had occurred during the English Civil War of 1642 has the McDaniel family on the edge from their ancestry secret from spilling out into the open. It will haunt them to know what their ancestors had done will not be forgotten for years to come. Mysterious to know that the death of an innocent man lays in the balance of eternal damnation. As of late, disturbing things have started appearing out of nowhere; which led to a decapitated she-wolf found on the grounds of the local Basilica with her pups clutching on to her teats not wanting to let go. Disappointing as it were, the pups fought vigorously until finally, they gave up and watched as their mother was being hauled out of sight it made it harder to know if she would ever return.

As the sky grew darker, residences slowly began retreating into their homes for the evening leaving the streets abandoned with emptiness. Soon after lampposts began, illuminating single gleams of light making the abandoned street feel full of life but knowing that everyone decided to retreat in for the evening. In the meantime, more than a few large white snowy owls began making themselves known to minuscule rodents and other small birds by making loud shrieking noises to frighten them out of their hiding places. When the hour had passed, everything had stopped and became forever silent. As the snow began falling gently over the unobtrusive and diplomatic city of London, it made it seem impractical to know that at least one person might die tonight through the hard choices they had made in life. Which makes dying a lot harder for those people who believe that their life is no longer worth living.

I had awoken up from a horrific nightmare; took one glance around my chamber and saw that there was nothing to cause me harm. Graciously as I walked over to the bay window, squinted down upon the empty street to my greatest surprise I saw a fawn and her kid walking effortlessly upon the softness of the white snow upon the cobblestone walkway and disappeared into the night. After more than a few minutes, I shut the long curtains to the bay window, headed back to bed, and fell fast asleep. Until I awaken from a long nights sleep, shall I know the true meaning of life and death? 

The End

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