A Simple Story About A Mad Man Part 1More Like This
A Simple Story About A Mad Man
The year was 1888 and it was a chilly night in Whitechapel. The hookers wandered the streets in search for someone to give them a simple intimate act for either money or food. The streets seemed to be abandoned with the few who still were out at night.
What the people of Whitechapel didn’t know was their nightmares would be answered with one single man alone.
Maka Albarn, a prostitute wandered the street like usual. She had recently given a man her body for a single piece of bread. The food hadn’t given her the satisfaction she wanted but she was still grateful for having some food in her belly.
She was in search for her dear friend Patty. They always meet up at the in before they checked in to sleep against a rope standing but she was an hour late and the in started to close down. She was very worried for her friend since only a few days ago a woman was killed. She had suffered a deep cut in her throat. She remembered s
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I rose up from the ground and decided to begin packing. Professor Stein and I will depart tomorrow evening to our designated posts. With a quick swipe at my drenched face, I dug into the closet and pulled out a week's set of clothing, toiletries, and extra pair of shoes followed by shoving them into my duffel bag.
A while without Soul? I thought aimlessly as I zipped the bag. I never thought it'd come to this.
I turned to my window and saw pictures of us with the gang. Beside it was a picture of Soul and I at the sick bay when I fallen victim to Arachne's paralysis webs. I was making an embarrassed face as Soul spoon fed me the meal. He had a small grin on his lips, as if my uncomfortable state pleased him. I knew he was a sadist.
But still… I'll miss Soul.
With one final glance at the picture, I closed my room and decided to make dinner to make up for what I did. This is, after all, our last dinner together for a while.
I opened the fridge to check if there was an
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"Maka!" someone called from behind.
A masculine boy of the age of eighteen with disheveled, frosty, spiky hair, and a pair of intimidating yet playful ruby eyes strode lazily to the table and took a seat behind me. "Lord Death called."
I flipped the bacon over the pan as a sign to continue.
"He needs us to stop by his office; said it was urgent."
I stopped fidgeting with the sizzling strip and glanced at him with a short acknowledging glance. "What did you do this time, Soul?" I sighed disapprovingly.
"Hey," he raised his voice defensively, "don't assume I did something wrong when I don't even know what I did."
"That's exactly it," I stated teasingly, "sometimes I wonder if you ever grew up Soul."
"Of course I did," he grinned with that dangerous, charming trade mark smile of his, "a cool guy like me would never pull immature stunts and get caught."
"Only with Black*Star," I muttered aloud.
"So not cool, Maka," he retorted in an annoyed, even tone.
I snorted as I brought the pan