I should begin by saying that the men and women written in these pages do not exist anymore. Those of us who remain have taken on pseudonyms. It would be a waste of any gentleman's time to try to track us down. With that in mind:
I have gathered, to the best of my ability, a collection of notes, newspapers, and correspondences between myself and a few other individuals. In these papers, you will find the truth of what took place in London this past summer—June through August of 1882. I do not know that you will believe this tale wholeheartedly, for it is peculiar (as is it's compiler), but I do hope that you might be willing to read and take from these papers what you will. I can assure you, what is written in this document has come to pass just as it is recorded here. I in no way mean for this to be a record or a testament to clear my name, nor do I suggest it be used to accuse me of any manner of other wrongdoing. I hope only to clear my own conscious and the consciouses of the others who have consented to have their writings gathered here for your viewing.
Thank you.
YOU ARE READING
Senseless
Historical FictionThe year is 1879. When thirteen-year-old Ruth Merritt Holbrook emerges from her family's burning estate, bloody and charred, but entirely numb--She makes headlines. Reporters believe she is deranged. They accuse her of having set the fire. All the h...