Through time; The ripper

Running scared

*Lily*

My breath comes in quick bursts as I sit frozen in my seat, my heart pounding like a frantic drum. The man at the end of the carriage seems to radiate an otherworldly aura. His dark cape flows around him, who even wears a cape these day? His piercing gaze is locked onto me, sending shivers down my spine. Is he a villain lurking in the shadows, or a brooding hero straight out of one of my favorite novels?

The train rattles through the tunnel, the sound echoing ominously in the confined space. My eyes widen as he takes a deliberate step toward me, his movements smooth and fluid. The flickering lights overhead cast eerie shadows, highlighting the sharp lines of his face. My imagination spirals into wild stories of intrigue and romance, but deep down, I know the reality could be far more sinister.

As if sensing my fear, he halts his advance. The train screeches to a halt at Belsize Park Station, the doors sliding open with a mechanical sigh that feels both inviting and foreboding. Instinct kicks in, and without a second thought, I spring from my seat, my feet propelled by an urgent need to escape. I stumble out into the dimly lit station. As quickly as I can without flat out sprinting I make my way to the surface and my heart racing as I emerge into the deserted street outside.

The cool night air hits me like a wave, but it does little to calm my nerves. The usual vibrancy of the area feels muted, like the sounds of laughter and conversation had faded with the sun. I glance back at the exit from the station, half-expecting to see him follow me out, but he is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you have a coin, miss?” A voice jolts me from my thoughts, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

I look down to see an elderly man sitting on the ground, a tattered blanket wrapped around his thin body. He offers a toothless grin, but it does little to ease the tension in my chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you, luv.”

“It’s okay, I just didn’t see you,” I say quickly, forcing a polite smile as I rummage through my bag. My fingers fumble as I pull out a five-pound note and hand it to him. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” His eyes light up as he looks at the note, as if it’s the most precious gift in the world. “May light shine upon you.”

I smile back, but as I turn to leave, an unsettling feeling lingers at the back of my mind. I start walking briskly down the sidewalk, my senses heightened. Each step echoes in the silence of the empty streets, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. The shadows seem to stretch and contract, morphing into shapes that dance just beyond my line of sight.

I glance over my shoulder, scanning the street behind me. Nothing. Just the flickering streetlights standing sentinel in the darkness. Even the homeless man seems to have vanished. Taking a deep breath, I try to convince myself that it’s just my imagination running wild, but the sense of being watched wraps around me like a tight shroud, tightening with every passing moment. Or maybe it’s the fog rolling in that makes me feel this way.

I always thought the London fog had a kind of romantic charm, a nostalgic softness. But now, it feels damp and eerie, more like a gothic scene than a fairy tale.

The rhythm of my footsteps quickens, adrenaline surging through me. I steal one last glance over my shoulder and spot it… a figure cloaked in darkness, the unmistakable silhouette of a cape billowing behind them. Panic floods my veins, and every instinct screams at me to run.

Without thinking, I break into a sprint, my feet pounding against the pavement as I flee down the street. The wind whips against my face, and my breath comes in short gasps. But the sounds of pursuit echo behind me, the unmistakable sound of footsteps closing in.

Why is this happening? I think frantically. I should have just taken a cab!

My heart thuds in my chest as I round a corner, my eyes darting around for any sign of safety. But the street is eerily empty, the buildings looming over me like silent witnesses to my plight. I push myself harder, but my legs begin to burn, the weight of fear dragging me down.

Then, in a moment of panic, I stumble over a c***k in the pavement, my foot catching awkwardly. Time seems to slow as I fall, my hands bracing for impact against the cold, hard ground. The world around me blurs as I hit the pavement with a thud, pain shooting through my palms and knees.

I lay there for a moment, breathless, the cool night air surrounding me like a heavy blanket. I turn my head cautiously, my heart racing in my chest. The figure is closer now, emerging from the shadows, the dark cape swirling around him like a storm.

Get up, Lily! I shout at myself, forcing my trembling limbs to move. I push myself off the ground, wincing at the sharp pain in my palms. But when I look up, he is almost upon me, his expression unreadable, though a hint of concern flickers in his eyes.

“Wait!” His voice is low and smooth, cutting through my panic like a knife. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

His words hang in the air, a fragile lifeline in my whirlwind of fear. But every instinct tells me to run. Can I trust him? The night is dark, and the fog is thick, but something in his gaze compels me to listen.