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A Study in Pink: Section Nineteen

From section one
Victoria is Queen in London Town.
The Empress rules it all with velvet hands.

From section two
while Mog the monster's free somewhere.
Mystery wraps, the demons weep,
confusion seems would close this case.

From section three
She began serving beer at the Blue Boy Tavern,
befriending an outcast,than an unknown stranger.
Friendships that would lead to nothing but danger.

From section four
The owner of the the Grand Royale Hotel was fuming
His business rival, John Creel, has been spreading rumours
sending his worried customers packing and leaving,
fearing the lies about a non-existing curse.

From section five
Urilla, dressed in mauve and pink,
bend over to study the drawing.
Gum stuck on her Mauve heels is evidence.

From section six
Detecting suspects and divining truth
is what Guy has done since his youth
The latest test of his detecting skill
is a most disturbing kind of kill

From section seven
Diverse emotions now are cast
All emotions not just fear,
which one to pick, which one to pick?

From section eight
I found Winter in a Putney bar, a limping man with a nasty scar
He said “Sorry Guv I went there but I was much too late”
A murder out back, peelers were there, so I just turned away

From section nine
Well you guys hold your horses
As I, Milford Lowe settle my cigar.
Fitzroy's body lay lifeless, red blood ran pink in the rain.
Without a head! Ah!!! Those guys in a coach threw a body out
There without a head, Fizzy’s body, who was so dead .

From section ten
Mackwill paces rapidly about his cold boudoir.

“Guy, I want the girl, the barmaid seen, you know of whom I speak.

He hides his eyes and looks not on the bloodied murder knife.

From section eleven
"I saw it in his pocket, last night at the bar"
Yet I never thought it'll go that far."

From section twelve
Closing time at the tavern, Guy French is about.

"What happened in your home town, Anabel Lee? Why did you leave so fast? You can't outrun the past!"
"That's impossible. I don't go that route. If you really must know, my name used to be Jim."

From section thirteen
You know nothing about the forces at play."
He caught sight of the man in the shadow
The panicked man started running
Stop that man!" he cried out but none came to his aid.

From section fourteen
Mackwill still has no memory of that rainy night with murder weapon in his pocket.
She found Fritzroy's favorite gum, Tutti-Frutti in his pocket.
There's a stench in the air. John Creel's customer's head she found.
Anabel covered her mouth to silence her scream, ran in fear.
Fritzroy waited for her to come. She left the scene undetected.

From section fifteen
What horror was this, that chased him so?
Red eyes flame and burn
Wishing for, more than a knife
Fitzy waiting for his doom

From section sixteen
yet tastes are teeming everywhere.
But one person is two it seems

this is the one which I will favor
Some deamon is now in control
it makes me smile an evil smile
then sets me running after another
I catch up in less than a half mile..........

From section seventeen
I asked what, he said don’t you know, Mackwill’s wife was why.
We planted a body behind his hotel without a head so they can’t tell
A friend I know at a local morgue gave it to me free.

From section eighteen
In the eerie places of old London streets, in town
all left before the darkness came down
may be tis all, I still think, a myth to scare you all


He’s run and Hell has chased him far and now into a cramped and lonely room.
“Why run you so?” the Demon asks, “I’ve nothing different than I had before.”
Detective French has caught them up and wonders what indeed he’s caught.
And then the manly girl turns round and French knows he’s the Devil caught.

Far faster than the eyes can see, the girl takes claim of Fitzroy’s knife
and with a flick It gives it to the doomed detective’s vuln’rable heart.
The red in Jim’s cold eyes is gone and now it warms Guy French’s face.
The doomed man grins before he fails and mumbles through a blood filled mouth.

“A pity I must leave afore he dies, but elsewise I would take the loss quite hard.”
And now it’s Anabel who speaks again to Fitzroy cowered up against the wall.
“Good bye dear man, but you have been great fun.”
And then full rein Mog gives to Anabel who laughs with eyes of red.

Poor Fitzroy struggles, but it’s all in vain.
His eyes glow red the instant ere he dies.
Then Anabel turns round bewildered out her mind.
Urilla, eyes aglow, is grinning, laughing feeding off the night,

then spits another piece of fruit laced gum.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I said Be Bold and I meant it. Time to wind this up a notch and then to wind it down.
Editing stage: 


It is now your turn. Make no qualms about this. Anabel/jim is dead. Mog killed Fitzroy, then he murdered Guy French, then he slew the manly girl and now possesses the detective.
Run with it. Don't start over somewhere else. There is a monster on the loose in the streets of London and he hungers evermore.
Someone has to find a way to stop It or It will stop the streets of London. I don't care which. They would both be interesting, but it's time for some storytelling.
Exposition over folks. Time to rock and roll.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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The NeoPoet Mentor Program

author comment

Well that sucks and there went any ideas I have....don't even know what to write now...

Keep Writing,

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

You must blame Geezer. I knew you would be upset, but she was in place for my kicking this thing into a higher gear. Everyone has been hesitant to get serious about telling some real story and I wasn't going to hold back even if the cost was great. I hope you forgive me, but the point of the workshop is to explore storytelling and that's what I did. I changed things dynamically. I hope you will take the example as a goad to not only tell your part well, but to also take chances. Nothing is sacrosanct in telling a tale.
Be Bold or go home.
This includes you. You have just recently discovered what I feel is a previously hidden talent for storytelling. Use it and take this thing to a higher level. Your turn is coming up. Be Bold and show me that talent.
Don't be fearful. Take your ideas and find a way to use them.
Remember... (and I fear to say this out loud) just because a character is dead doesn't mean they are unusable.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program

author comment

I'm mom now. Can't wait to show theis pretty girl fight.

*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* American Version of Japanese Poetry ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka.

Neopoet Community

I can't wait to see your limericks.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program

author comment
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