Sweeney Todd; Demons of Fleet Street

Sweeney Todd; Demons of Fleet Street

"...Here comes a candle to light you to bed." Tnk. "Here comes a chopper to chop off your head," sang the drunkard as he threw another pebble. Tunk. "Chip chop chip chop - the last man's dead!" He whirled around as he threw the last of the pebbles in his hand. They all hit the dusty window with loud ‘chink's. He took another swig of his gin as he steadied himself.

"Quiet down, you buffoon," a man in a top hat said in a hushed whisper. His lady looked at him strangely, and tugged at his arm to leave. "What?" He snapped.

"I'm in a hurry, leave the poor man," She pleaded. He sighed and straightened his clothes out as they went on down the street. The drunkard looked back at the building with longing. The faded cream curtains were closed, not that you'd be able to see through all the dust caked on the windows. The faded golden letters above the shop were imprinted onto the green panel. He sighed and dropped the empty bottle.

"Ten years," he said slowly. "Ten years, Mr. Todd. I know you're hiding." He spat on the ground. "I can see you. You and your ‘ittle demons, right through them walls. I hope they eat you, Mr. Todd. Eat you up like you did them innocent peoples."

...

The sky was grey, darker clouds lazily going by, waiting to drop their load of rain onto the dirty streets of London. A large ship pulled into the harbor, its passengers antsy to get off. The sailor men were starting to unload suitcases, when one in particular was trying to get a woman's attention. When he finally interrupted the woman from her dry conversation, he held out a small blue coin purse.

"Thank you," She made a curtsy before taking her purse from the sailor man. She made sure that everything was there before snapping it shut. She hurried off of the ship and onto the dock, shoving her way past people.

"Miss!" She turned around, the same sailor boy from before, chasing after her. He has a large tawny suitcase in his arms.

"Oh!" She took it from him, and pecked him slightly on his cheek. "Thank you, again!" She continued on down the docks, leaving the confused sailor behind. She hurried down the street, trying to get to her destination without tripping over her dress. She went around several corners until she reached Fleet Street. She slowed down, primping in the windows. Her blonde hair was dirty, and messy, hair askew all over. The woman pulled out a small key.

She frowned darkly as she made her way to the door. The brass doorknob was cold beneath her pale hand. The door swung open with a creak, sending dust flying everywhere. She coughed briefly, holding her hand over her mouth. Bugs crawled away from the new disturbing light. She gasped as the looked around the place.

Nobody had touched the place except the dust and pests; it was if time had almost stopped. She ran her finger along a knife, stuck down into a cutting board from its last use. She spotted an old broom in the room's corner. She picked it up, and one by one, the straws all fell out.

"First things first... A new broom." She picked up the rod and dropped it into the trash tin.

...

The drunkard turned back onto Fleet Street, another bottle of alcohol in his hand. He grumbled to himself under his breath.

"Excuse me." The drunkard looked up from the ground. A man and a woman with a small child came over to him.

"Could you tell me where Mr. Todd is?" asked the man. The drunkard began laughing. When he realized he was serious, he stopped and wiped his mouth.

"News has it e's been dead for ten years, ‘e has." He looked around for anyone that might be listening. "But I believe... He's still in there somewheres." He tilted his head. "Hiding. What did you say yer name was?" He asked.

"Anthony... Anthony Hope." His voice was dry and sort of cracking, apparently upset by the news.

"Me name's Toby. ‘Believe I seen'd you ‘round his shops. Used to help wif Missus Lovett's shop. Till she died."

"If she's dead too, then who does the shop belong to?"

"Nobody. Ever'one thinks it haunted. Nobody wants to buy the place. It's a downrigh' mess, anyways."

"Then, if I may ask, who is that?" Both of the men looked at the old shop. Behind the cream curtains was a shadow, of a woman with a broom. Toby went wide eyed, and began shaking.

"I told yous! I told yous they weren' gone!" He pointed his finger at the shadow, shouting at the tops of his lungs. The small child in Johanna's arms began crying.

"Hush, Millie..." she chided softly. She looked at her husband pleadingly.

"We'll go... As soon as I find out what's going on." Anthony walked over to the door of the old shop. His hand closed around the door knob when Toby spoke again.

"I advise you don't do that. Who knows what'll happen." A shot of doubt went through him as he turned the doorknob.