Chapter 15
§15. Street where animals live
CLANG
I gingerly rested my teacup upon its saucer, its surface marred by an enigmatic stain. It was a testament to the hurried and fatigued dishwashing that had overtaken me after standing for far too long.
The flavor of the tea was nothing short of abysmal. The leaves, damp and sodden due to careless storage, imparted a repugnant taste that necessitated an increase in the milk quotient. Yet, in my haste, the ratio miscalculated, transforming the beverage into a nauseating concoction akin to imbibing raw milk rather than the soothing elixir of tea.
───Bang bang!
Indeed, that was the sound.
The nightmare of that fateful day concluded thusly. A procession of tardy soldiers strode along the street, discharging their weapons at anything within their sights. Wherever their path led, only the thick stench of gunpowder lingered, obliterating even the scent of blood.
The Whitechapel streets teemed with bodies, consigned to the flames of cremation. Humans and beasts alike writhed in the inferno, their destinies intermingled as they transformed into blackened ash within the crematorium's embrace.
Beasts, instinctively repelled by light and sound, were powerless before the onslaught of gunpowder.