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theJRWesley — Visiting London by-nc-nd
Published: 2009-11-16 06:20:35 +0000 UTC; Views: 222; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 4
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Description Walking through streets familiar and yet not, I have only a very faint sense nostaligia for the city where I grew up as a mortal. I had been born in 1582, before the first English colony was ever established on what would one day be American soil. The world was harsh, cruel, and the city even more so. It was crowded, noisy, and in most places smelled worse than a rotting corpse. But it had been home.

There are quite a few sights that are hallmarks for visits. One is of course the London Bridge, so different now then when I was alive but still a staple of the city. I had resided, like most people, in the part of London north of the river. But on occasion I would venture across the bridge, sparing a glance or two up towards the latest batch of traitor's heads raised on pikes at the entranceway, past the shops and homes and offices that littered both sides and at points even spanned the width of the bridge, obscuring the sun,  crossing to see a play at the Globe Theatre or to find a woman to entertain for the evening. South Bank was the most dangerous part of the city, rife with pick-pockets, petty thieves, whores, con-artists and nearly any other denizen of the city's underbelly. But it was a lively place and the food at the pubs was cheap and where the company mostly pleasant, so long as you had a few coins in your purse to spare.

Yes, men had purses in those days. There were no such things as pockets, unless they could be attached to your belt. The intelligent wore their money-pouches inside their clothes but that still did not always deter a determined thief. There were so few jobs then. And barely enough food for the common folk, though the Lords and Princes all had more than enough. Queen Elizabeth took care of her own, that was for certain, although she did suspended most of the taxes on household items by 1601 because of the objects raised by Parliament.

Which is why I was ever thankful that I had taken up training as a barrister rather than joining my father and older brother in the family line of work. If chance had not intervened, I would have been canny with the money I earned, intending one day to buy my own coat of arms and secure a title. Since I wanted to raise a family, that course of action would have been the best way to provide for them. Which is most of the reason I had not yet married.

Being a bachelor at 21 was not entirely uncommon, but if I had waited much longer to choose a mother for my children I'm certain my peers would have started to wonder on my behalf. I had desired a wife, and a family, but continued holding off a decision to allow myself to be a trifle more selective than merely finding a handsome woman of good breeding. Consider me a romantic, but I had hoped to marry a woman for love.

Of course, all that changed the night I met Alima. To this day I am still uncertain why she chose to turn me rather than simply murder me.  She did often try to tell me there was something special about me, but as the years passed and I looked back on those early days I realized that she whispered such things to me because it made me accept my new nature all the more readily. It worked, so I can hardly fault her.

Being able to see the city of my birth four centuries later is one of the many reasons I hold no regret towards what I am today. But it seems no matter where I start off in the evening, my thoughts always turn to my mortal days when I am in London.
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Comments: 4

PhantomThiefVier [2009-11-23 01:05:56 +0000 UTC]

if in every thick book there's a short one waiting to get out, then the opposite is true too; your short piece has a much larger story in it. in short, way cool.

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PhantomThiefVier [2009-11-23 01:05:48 +0000 UTC]

if in every thick book there's a short one waiting to get out, then the opposite is true too; your short piece has a much larger story in it. in short, way cool.

👍: 0 ⏩: 0

peterdawes [2009-11-16 06:30:39 +0000 UTC]

as we visited london, i could not help but to sense the nostalgia myself, even though i had not beheld it during your years, my maestro. *grins* your stories painted such vibrant pictures, though, it was hard not to see the world, as it once existed, through your eyes.

being privy to your tales is always a treat. i am glad to see you sharing them.

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theJRWesley In reply to peterdawes [2009-11-16 06:36:28 +0000 UTC]

It meant a great deal to have the opportunity to share some of my past with you, my poet. I am glad I was able to do it some justice.

As to sharing my tales here, we shall see. Things at least seem to be off to a good start.

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