The Tattered Apron

The Bloody Beginning

The London Gazette

August 26th, 1848                                                                                                                                Volume CCCXXVI

Numerous Missing Persons

Found In Fleet St. Pie Shop

Demon Barber on Fleet St.

The Honorable Judge Edward Turpin Murdered

The morning of Sat. the 25th of the month of August, dozens found murdered under Fleet St. residence of renowned pie emporium formerly owned by Mrs. Elenore Lovett. The culprit in question, ten and six year old Tobias Ragg was found with the weapon over the bodies of an unnamed woman, Judge Edward Turpin and his master, Mr. Sweeney Todd. He was discovered by Anthony E. Hope - a friend of Todd's - and Ms. Johanna Barker - the ward of Judge Turpin. His mistress, the well known, respectable Mrs. Elenore Lovett remains unaccounted for after this heinous crime that appears to have been occurring for weeks. Ragg currently awaits trial at Newgate.

The echo of newsboy's shouts filled the misting London skies. A flock of people surround the once respected, renowned shop that sat upon the corner of Fleet Street. The once peaceful and friendly building had now become a sight that the history books would not soon forget. For the infamous demon barber, Tobias Ragg, had resided in this very place.

Men in navy uniforms disembarked from the second floor shop, where the demon himself was an apprentice. "Nothin' to see 'ere," the one man muttered, helping guard another who held a box full of objects that people could only assume was evidence to his crimes. The proper - and curious - Londoners retreated at his words, going back to their lives they were lucky enough to have while whispering amongst themselves. All but a single woman.

The woman stood behind everyone, a brown cape held tightly around her by his ash dusted hands that were the only appendage to peer out from behind it. Not even a hair dared to stray. Unlike the others in the crowd, this woman seemed to fascinate herself with the building, perhaps it was the story or maybe even the truth that lurked within. "'Ey! You there," an officer approached her, "you heard the man. Nothin' to see 'ere."

"Of course," the woman replied, her voice high yet raspy somehow as she turned away. Her path heading right towards another building, this one boarded up except for a small gap in the splintery wood just big enough for her to squeeze through. Old menus were peeling off the stained walls, ones that read Mrs. Mooney's Pie Emporium. Though only vacant for a mere few months, things had already grown into disrepair. Even the door to the bakehouse had snapped off its hinges and now leaned against the wall.

Beyond that doorway were the wooden stairs that creaked one by one as the woman made her descent into the pitch black abyss. As her feet landed on the dirty brick floors, a cool rush of air hit her face. A shelf hung on the matching brick walls just at the landing of the steps and the woman's hands scattered about atop of it before clutching a soggy box of matches with the only hope that they would still prove effective. With a hopeful stroke against the wall, the wooden stick ignited. She rushed for the near empty oil lamp that remained on the shelf and set the fire to it before placing the glass around the flickering flame.

The mysterious woman pressed on her heels, turning to see the dimly lit room. In the corner another set of stairs led downwards towards another black abyss in which the woman hastily made her way into. The sound of liquids trickling and rats squeaking filled the echoing air around her in the stone tunnels. After a little ways walk, an old wooden door was left ajar by a spare brick. The woman's crusty fingers curled around it, opening it just enough to slip inside.

Beyond that door laid horrors unknown. A large pool of blood - large enough perhaps to be considered a lake of that horrid red substance - grooving its way between the bricks that created the ground. A cavernous over that was filled with the sound of screams hours prior. Upstairs, a harmonium already covered in collecting dust with an emptied money box on top and in the front shop, a counter still covered in freshly made dough. On the top floor, a beaten teddy bear in a young boy's bed, a still raging fire in what appeared to be a couple's bedroom and in the front, the second floor shop, a tattered apron, held together with loose threads and hope on top of a wooden chest.

The caped woman's first thought was to open the box, digging through to stuff a few watches, rings and necklaces that were stored inside into her pockets. Her fingers clasped around a string, one with pearls threaded down it. She paused, her gaze landing on it while a memory danced throughout her mind before shoving that into her pocket with the rest of it all. She forcefully slammed the chest shut before running over to a vanity, covered in shaving equipment and a single picture frame that housed an old photograph of a fair looking woman holding a baby.

Her stare was focused on the frame before her hand clutched the shaving brush it rested beside, raising it before making the two items collide. The shatter of the glass filled the empty room along with the woman's enraged screech. Small shards found their way into the side of her left hand, blood oozing out and onto the table. She lifted her hands, seeing how bruised, burnt and bloody they were before focusing on the mirror behind them, seeing her very own reflection. Her dark brown eyes traced her finger's movement over every little sore and cut along her rosy red cheeks as small strands of dusty blonde and scorched black hair fell loosely in front of her face.

"Hideous thing," she murmured before securing her hair and seeing that her hood covered her dark face. She fought with the picture frame for a moment before securing the photo in her possession and throwing it into her pocket with the other objects she acquired. Her feet led her towards the door but her heart made her freeze, turning once more to look at the old apron lying on the wooden topped chest. With a heavy sigh, as if giving in to all things evil, she ran back, snatching the apron and hiding it in her cape before bolting out of the room, the building and London.