Tag Archive: Evil


 

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~ “Monsieur De La Marquis” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/monsieur-de-la-marquis/

 

“It’s The Judges, Priests, and Bishops who are the real criminals and sexual perverts!”
~MarquisDeSade~

“The Most Impure Tale Ever Written!”

~”The Horror Of It All”~

 

Prologue:

Dr. Maitland – a collector of the occult and ardent student of the supernatural; tries to keep control of his life, the forces of unspeakeble evil bear down upon him. Given the opportunity to purchase the “Skull” of the infamous sadist and demonic supporter… “Murder From Beyond The Grave!”

The graverobbers, with their shovels, finally hit paydirt… The metal digging end of the tools hit the targeted object with a loud noisey echoing clang. The sound, at three in the morning…a cold, dark, damp, and windy morning. They continued in their labor of digging up the long dead bones and rotted flesh without so much as a pause. The brittle surroundings of wood once served as a coffin for this murdering corpse. Its’ body, once the lid was removed, resembled that of a young teenaged boy. It was indeed not the expected size of a fully grown man. It required no real effort at all in removing and carrying it away from its home in the ground.

One of the two “Body-Snatchers” complained of feeling a bit dizzy. The horse drawn cart of wood and metal wiggled and waggled, clanking and shuddering along the way over a dirt and rock covered roadway. After a few miles, the road became that of ballasts stones and smoothen gravel. They were in from the outskirts of town. In from the graveyard of corpses and death. The partner continued to complain of dizziness and hearing something speaking to him from inside his head… The first body-snatcher dismissed his friend’s annoying and ambiguous consternations.

The second thief screamed aloud. “I’m telling you, I think I heard something…wait a minute, I could swear, I say that body moved!”

“Yeah, we’ll just see about that.” said the first thief.

He pulled back on the reigns controlling the two horses. Stopping the cart, thief one grabbed one of the shovels while pulling the long dead and decayed body to the ground. Uncovering the wrappings and exposing the body of the stinking rotted flesh; the first thief, with the sharp digging end of the shovel, chopped off the head. He laughed aloud as his friend shuddered in fright. He nearly fell off the cart when the head was severed…it popped from a body covered in rotting aristocratic clothing and jewelry. The jewels and rings found their way into the pockets of the bodysnatchers.

Arriving at their destination, they unloaded the long dead body of the aristocrat. Its head wrapped in a dirty cloth. The headless body was delivered in the cart’s shipping ropes and wraps of straw and hay. They pounded on the door of the darkened residence. The wood laden letters on an overhanging sign read “Doctor Of Health and Sciences.” The door opened and a man beckoned them to enter.

The driver explained to the recipient of the dead remains and about their adventurous trip from the graveyard. The rest-stop and drink received at the neighboring tavern allowed them to refresh after a long morning of digging. The receiver hungrily grabbed the head and uncovered it…

The delivery men where paid in coin(s) most generously. They turned and left after inquiring about future assignments. The collector brushed them out. He wanted to be alone with his newly acquired possession.

They turned and left the premises. The two agreed to return to the tavern for more libation(s); women and song with their newly earned coin(s). However, they never returned to the tavern… The horse drawn cart showed up to the front of the Inn. The bartender knew the men were working; making a delivery up yonder road. Their bodies were found just south of the delivery point. Only less than a mile from the house, they were found dead in the mud of the creek shoreline, laying face down.

When the Sheriff turned the bodies over, the cause of death was revealed. The remainder of their blood sprayed its’ last squirt in his face. Their throats had been torn out…the local examining physician declared the wounds were in fact, made by human teeth. The identifying marks were unquestionably evident. No animal known, could have created or had teeth that resembled or matched those wounds.

The Sheriff pounded on the door of the health and sciences building. There was no answer. He ordered his men to find another way into the dwelling.

“Look in the windows and see it there is anyone about!” ordered the Sheriff. The deputies found nothing…nothing out of the ordinary as well. A horse-drawn cart pulled to a stop inside the pathway leading to the front of the house. A woman appeared. She inquired as to all the fuss. They in turn explained the details. She hurriedly rushed into the building with a key removed from her handbag. Once inside, they all were made aware of the eeriness therein. The woman entered the back room were the man; the flat’s owner mostly worked…his “dark-room.” An ungodly scream erupted from within the darkroom… The Sheriff and deputies rushed in to see what was the matter. The woman was horrified, standing in paralyzing shock against the far wall of the room…the body of her fiancé, was lying there in a pool of his own warm blood. He too had his throat torn out by what appeared to be human teeth.

The man collected rare items and artifacts…he had in his collection, statuettes of demons, tools of demonic practices, and books of all sorts relating to unnatural beings and their worlds. One collection or group of statuettes were the image(s) of “Lucifer,” “Mammon,” “Asmodeus,” “Satan,” “Beelzebub,” “Leviathan,” “Belphegor,” and a book listing the power(s) and existence of the evil of the “Ten Variety of Devils;” Not to mention the head of “Donatien Alphonse Francois, Count Marquis De Sade!”

The skull of the Marguis was nowhere to be found although his body remained. The headless body could not immediately be identified. It was laying next to a tub filled with acid…the kind that dissolves everything, clothes, meat, bone, skin and otherwise.

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The chambermaid quietly entered the room. Her voluptuous body peered out from the folds of her unbuttoned robe. Smooth milkiness slipped through and revealed a beautifully sculptured silken thigh. She smiled. The darkened room allowed the view of this beautiful vision of loveliness…this marvelously innocently beautiful young woman.
She knew this undesired rendezvous would bequeath her a more desirable position in the household. Life was very difficult in 1768 Paris. Monsieur Le Marquis promised. He was not terrible of vision. His childlike handsomeness earned him many hours and nights of pleasure with the household servants…some of the female participants of “Donatien’s” sexual misadventures ascended to higher posts in the family employ, while others simply disappear, never to be seen again.
The French Aristocrat’s physical attributes left much to be desired. His physical stature as an adult male was less than a third in size. One could say his soft delicate body could easily be mistaken for that of a woman. Albeit, survivors of his bedroom antics reveled in their shared and varied descriptions. The off-campus conversations traveled fast among the village taverns and public accommodations like that of a rapidly spreading flash-fire. The prostitutes along the boweries were highly cautious when requests emerged from the castle… The overly cautious, declined the opportunities altogether. They remembered the ones who did not return. They spoke of one particular “Easter Sunday Morning” when a very pretty and innocent young woman was invited into the bedroom of the Marquis. She survived the notoriously explicit and cruel sexual exploits of the young and wealthy aristocrat.

He was known as a rebellious and spoiled child whose temper outgrew him. Donatien was introduced to these obscene practices between the age(s) of four and six by his uncle, a church “Abbot.” Obsessed with this affinity, the young Marquis continually practiced sodomy with as many prostitutes as possible. His man-servant often joined in as a participant of his many overnight or weekend-long sexual soirée(s). This particular young woman managed to escape her captivity. She vehemently denied a pleasurable encounter while in the company/custody of the “Marquis de Sade!”

The escapee, spoke of the horrible things that were done while she was there. She spoke of a decapitated dog, cat, and monkey. The hapless animals were supposed to be the exciting and engaging foreplay to impending sexual activities for all participants. On this occasion, it was only the Marquis and his man-servant and the lucky young virgin.
The poor little monkey wasn’t as fortunate as the young lady. His hands and arms were locked tight like that of his neck within the portals of a horrible yoke; a smaller model of the life-sized torture device.

The ominous grinning of the young mad man will forever haunt my soul. He smiled at me while he stirred the red hot coals of the fireplace with a long black poker.
He then motioned to his man to hold me still while approaching me with the poker in his right hand. He walked ever so slowly, menacingly, terrifyingly…I was very frightened, I was terrified! Despair possessed my every fibre! Monsieur de Marquis breathed a hot breath when he bit my naked breast nipple. He smiled a sinister smile. He laughed a sinister laugh. My blood ran cold. He smiled and laughed a hearty laugh after smacking my bared buttocks with his left hand. And just when I thought he would spike me…spike my flowered intimacy with that red hot poker…he turned suddenly, squealed a horrid squeal and stuck the red hot poker into the anus of the poor shackled monkey!
The poor little monkey screamed in ungodly agony! It screamed for what seemed like an eternity! I prayed for the poor little creature. I prayed that it would stop that ungodly noise. The sound caused my blood to run even colder (in spite of the heat generated from the fireplace) and caused my skin to crawl… Monsieur de Marquis danced and laughed and cried as he pranced in his nakedness out in front of me. I was held tight. I saw him draw a large shiny and heavy broadsword from the wall above the mantel. The sword was much too heavy for the little man to wield. He dropped it loudly upon the chamber floor. The noise it made could be heard everywhere when it clanged upon the cold stone floor.
Instead, he drew a long, curved knife from the waist-sash of his man-servant. He danced, laughed, screamed, and cried some more…he swirled and with one killing swoop, chopped off the head of the little screaming monkey. Its’ poor little body shivered and shook violently as its life-blood bathed the Marquis, squirting fluid out from the monkey’s neck. The Marquis smiled a horrible smile while he began to approach me. His bloodied hands caressed my bared skin from breast to foot.
It has been said, the practice of sodomy was commonly practiced among the aristocrats… I desired no part in these horrid acts of debauchery and evil. I was not thrilled with the idea of losing my virginity to a maniac at all. He was pretty though… He is royalty, I am not. I am just a lowly creature, a chambermaid who sought only a better life for myself and a sickly old grandmother. He fondled my virgin flower with his fouled bloody hands. His vicious tongue moistened my behind…and then the hairs of my forked crotch.
I thought I might like this pretty young man. He could not possibly be a danger to me. While pondering that thought, pain surged through my left side breast. The pretty man had bitten my nipple with his sharp white teeth. It bled. The warm red fluid ran down the contours of my belly into the naval pit. I screamed in agonizing agony…realizing this devil of a young man would surely kill me when he finished playing with my body! The pretty man lied to me about his promise.

He prepared to enter me while we were standing eyeball to eyeball. I was still held fast by his man-servant who pressed himself to my rear quarters, pushing and grinding his hardened penis against me. The Marquis still held the bloody blade in his right hand, his left gripped my waist on the right. I could feel him pull me close as I tried with all my might to resist… Just as I felt his manhood touch the entranceway to my virginity, the room was suddenly bathed in bright brilliant lantern-light and a loud angry thundering voice. The voice demanded to know what in “Satan’s Hell” was going on in this room?
The man-servant lost his grip upon me. He backed away rather quickly. I was relieved! The Marquis turned in anger while blinking from the sudden brightness of the unexpected brilliance.

His voice and evil demeanor changed when he was forced to explain to his father the goings on here.

I was ordered to dress and leave here as quickly as possible.

The elder Marquis and his wife, the parents of the little man did not offer apologies. His mother’s eyes revealed the sadness within. She gave me a hug. During this hug, a purse laden with coin(s) was forced into my quivering, shaking hands. There was no need to count the contents of the purse, for I knew from its’ heavy weight that the booty was well more than I would earn (or need) in my role as a chambermaid. It was more than enough to see me and my grandmother through many a year to come.
I was more than grateful to be given escort to my home by castle guardsmen. My grandmother who heard our approach, was very much relieved to know the horsemen were not coming for an arrest or on a raiding patrol…simply the safe return of her grandchild to home.

The DeSade family was embarrassed to know what their son was doing to many young women and boys in the immediate region.Many of his victims had been cut and tortured…some died. Several were reported to have been cut with sharpened blades and hot wax dripped into their freshly administered wounds. Finger and toe-nails have been removed from victims while under captivity of this mad individual. Others where lucky enough to exit the household with pay and the ability to boast of their explicit sexual encounter(s) with the young Marquis.

they were all lucky, LIKE ME! 

Stories have emerged regarding dismemberment of individuals while in the company or captivity of the Marquis. He’s written of many “Hellish Hellbound Lasciviousness” in his numerous manuscripts. It’s no secret among his known associates that the young aristocrat enjoyed collecting the severed heads of his many victims. …Sexual organs were his favorite.

After the Marquis was interrupted by his father, the parents desperately sought a rich wife for their insane son. They could not continually pay victims for their numerous and constant silence. Their coffers were depleting drastically. The money, somehow, had to be recouped.
Donatien’s insanity was introduced at an early age by his uncle. The child was delivered unto him at the age of four. He remained with him until he was about six. DeSade was also known to have an ever-growing temper as a rebellious and spoiled child. It is known that he once beat the French Prince severely. This occurred while he was spending time with his uncle in the South of France. Threatened with death by “the Crown,” he was returned to Paris to attend the “Lycée Louis-Le-Grand School.” Flagellation was the prime punishment at the school. He was the subject of severe “Corporal Punishment” on numerous occasions. The art of violent acts became his obsession for the remainder of his life.

After finally being (formerly) caught, the court decided to make and example of him by banishing him to exile in Italy.

Married life did not eliminate DeSade’s sexual pursuits. In order to continue his desired and perverted way of life, he rented out rooms everywhere and anywhere he could, in order to continually and privately carry out his intense fantasies. Albeit, stable in social status, the family financial holdings had drastically decreased due to the many, many “payoffs for silence”; surviving victims who threatened to complain to the authorities.

Donatien Alphonse Francois, Count Le Marquis DeSade took to wife, “Renée-Pelagie De Montrevil,” daughter of a wealthy government official (in 1763).
On occasion, soirée’s were held. Many of the people who were his victims (missing bodies) attended as well as the invited guests and relatives. They (the missing) attended not as expected by the invited, they simply showed up in the many served Pies, Custards, Tarts, Pâté, Cooked Meat, Ground Powders, etc. The guests, as usual, continued to kiss the ass of Monsieur de Marquis; complimenting him on the delicacies of the evening – their delightful enjoyment in the rare taste(s)…the rare Cuisine and drink.

Born in Paris, France, Monsieur Marquis DeSade, a.k.a, “Donatien Alphonse Francois, on June 2, 1740 entered this world. Diplomat in the Court of Louis XV, was his father’s station. His mother’s position was “Lady-In-Waiting” to the (the Crown) Queen. Born into the life of the elite (elitism) its easy to understand DeSade’s fluent access to servants who praised and flattered his every move.

Donatien’s father, Joseph, left his mother, Marie Eléonore de Maillé de Carman, for richer and younger pleasures…refuge in a convent was her only option; divorce was not an option…there was no such thing in the French Court of the powerful elite and the Church. Needless to say what effect this has on the younger DeSades’ mental stability…again it was challenged…put to the test.

The Catholic Church adamantly denounced his published writings.

“They depict debauchery, evil violence, loathsome criminality, and blasphemy against the church!”

The Marquis and his wife brought into this world, three children. She had vast knowledge of his heinous practices. She had grown weary of their marriage long ago…his behavior of course, tested her limits to near insanity. …Divorce, in reiteration, in those days, was all but non-existent; an impossibility.

DeSade had been arrested on several occasions due to suspicion or rumor. People began to discuss his open-private-escapades of paid-to-play pleasures…“sexual orgies” throughout the locations of rented rooms.
One of his first serious offences came when one of the non-familiar prostitutes complained to the authorities. She told them how she was forced to utilize a crucifix into their sexual activities and orifices. Even though her body was for sale, she felt the perverted acts demanded, were all Blasphemous to the Church and God!

He was immediately arrested.

DeSade’s societal Stature allowed an early release from prison. He ever so promptly returned to his evil haunts and bold practices of sexual perversion.

DeSade made good use of his time in prison, the fourth time around; while incarcerated, he wrote fifteen manuscripts which included the sweet and virtuous “Justine.”
Images of tortured naked women danced around in his hallucinating head. Juliette and Justine are two orphaned sisters who resided in a “Nunnery.” When their father died, they were evicted and moved in with Juliette’s friend. Fortunately, the girls were left a bit of gold by their father. Un-Fortunately the friend’s abode turned out to be a brothel. The friend is the brothel’s owner who wants the girls to earn their keep by lying on their backs and spreading their legs – from the front as well as the back; anal sex…prostitution!
Juliette earns a good stable living while Justine, who rejected the demand, leaves the house only to be accused of theft, prostitution, and murder. The elder sister marries a rich nobleman, the younger is arrested, falsely accused, and sentenced to death after being lied to, tortured, raped, and continually persecuted.

DeSade also pinned “The 120 Days of Sodom” during his prison stay in “The Bastille” (1785).

According to posted recordings, the story relates to several wealthy “Libertines” who desired the ultimate sexual gratification via orgies and such. They enjoyed enslaving teen-aged victims and sexually torturing them. Tales were told by four old accomplished prostitutes. The old women utilized anecdotes of depraved careers. Their stories were supposed to inspire or to sexually arouse the particular characters into explicit acts of depravity.
The four old broads were aged 48, 50, 52, and 56. They all have given vivid descriptions of themselves. One is described as having her three inch clitoris tickled only by females. She says that she is a virgin while her rear is large and flabby, worn from use so much that she feels nothing in that area at all. Another says she is especially excited by anal sex. Her particularly natural deformity prevents her from having any other kind of sex. And another of them who happens to be missing one breast-nipple, six teeth, an eye, and three fingers, stated her anus was so large that she also couldn’t feel anything there.
The captive harem of thirty-six teenage male and female victims are forced to listen and engage in these types of sexuality stories of abuse and torture – which intensifies, ending in slaughter.

DeSade outlines “the six-hundred passions” in the story with a warning to his so-called “Friendly Readers.” The incredibly “Lawless and without religion Super-Rich protagonistic libertines” had nothing and no one to obey. They only recognized their “Imperious Decrees of Perfidious Lusts.” Ironically, the Marquis despised authority and religion. He considered Judges, Priests, and Bishops to be the real criminals and sexual perverts.

The inscribed authoritative aristocrats came to wealth by the process of inheritance. One of them poisoned his mother and his sister. Another is described as being tall, strong, highly sexually potent, powerfully built, and being a devote and complete coward. The next one is a scrawny weakling with a vicious and nasty mouth. He is a lover of sodomy. He refuses vaginal intercourse. And then their friend who is tall, lanky, a frightfully filthy individual who delves in voluptuousness. He is a judge who loved to hand out death sentences. The last deviate is described as one who is a banker. He is short, pale, and effeminate.
All of these predators have abused their own daughters for many years – all of them (the victimized daughters) die. These authoritarians have kidnapped young boys and girls who were chosen simply for their beauty and virginity. The libertines intended to deflower the girls while especially defiling them (all) anally. Their ages were between twelve and sixteen years.
For some reason, DeSade wrote about four elderly women who were chosen for their ugliness in contrast to the beauty of the children. One of them, strangled all fourteen of her children, another was hunchbacked, blind in one eye, and lame. The next one had no teeth or hair. She never wiped her ass throughout her lifetime. Every one of her orifices stank to high heaven. The last one is described as having hemorrhoids the size of a very large and manly fist hanging from her ass. She was nearly always drunk, vomiting constantly, and suffered from fecal incontinence. They all served as cooks and servants.

Being short on writing material, Donatien feared the long scroll of paper smuggled to him, would be confiscated and/or destroyed. However, the “Bastille” was stormed on July 14, 1789, at the beginning of “The French Revolution.” He said he “wept tears of blood” because he believed his written works were lost to him during “the Bastille Siege,” gaining him his freedom. Much of his written work portrayed men with simple passions, i.e., masturbating in the faces of seven year old girls, urine drinking, (coprophagia) coprophagial (Eating Feces) scatology, vaginally raping female children, incest, flagellation, sacrificing, sacrilegious activities, having sex with Nuns while watching Church Mass proceedings, deflowering young virgins vaginally and anally, evening orgies, criminal activities – just short of murder, sodomizing babies as young as three years of age, men who prostitute their own daughters while watching them being raped, mutilations of men and women by tearing out their fingers and toes, burning them with red hot pokers, the skinning of children while alive, dismembering pregnant women, burning alive entire families, killing newborns babies in front of their mothers, vaginal mutilation, intestines being pulled out of sliced open belly wounds, the pin-pricking of breast nipples, and murder – the killing of women who are being raped atop beds of nails.

Captured escaped survivors (and those who did not escape) almost always seemed to disappear…

The described characters consider these practices as normal, and routine, to sexually abuse very young children, male and female while a lot of attention is given to the consumption of feces – it is considered to be a delicacy as designated by “The Chapel For Defecation.”

“The Most Impure Tale Ever Written!” – The many missing bodies were known to have been fed to two Rotweillers (male and female), two Irish Wolfhounds, and two Doberman Pinschers…bodies were made ready for dog food, and fodder for gardening, soups, pâté, and man eating fish and reptiles in castle moats or ponds – the soups and other foods were often served to invited guests of the Marquis and his associates.

DeSade convinced the members of the “New Regime” that he was a victim of the old authoritative aristocracy (Govt.). He amazingly was released from prison and welcomed into the new government – “The Rise of Napoleon Bonaparte!”

(Madame De Montrevil, DeSade’s Mother-In-Law had had enough of this evil…she petitioned the King, incarcerating him for thirteen years – arrested in Feb. 1777 – 1790). How he managed to escape the guillotine is beyond the quess of this author… However, it is known that “in 1801, Napoleon Bonaparte ordered the arrest of the anonymous author of Justine and Juliette. DeSade was arrested at his publisher’s office and imprisoned without trial; first in the Sainte-Pélagie Prison and, following allegations that he had tried to seduce young fellow prisoners there, in the harsh Bicêtre Asylum. After intervention by his family, he was declared insane in 1803 and transferred once more to the Charenton Asylum. His ex-wife and children had agreed to pay his pension there.”

The French Aristocrat, philosopher, Criminal, Sadist, Elitist, and Author who became notorious for his (and that of his conspirators in acts of sexual cruelty), as well as his writings, was finally committed to an insane asylum. After it was found that he had carried out a sexual relationship with the thirteen year old daughter of an employee of that same asylum. That information made its way to the court in or about 1810. He was then locked away from the main populace of the institution…Desade met his death on December 2, 1814 while incarcerated in the mental asylum.

Epilogue – “The Curse”:

The grave of the Marquis was defiled and raided by “Bodysnatchers” – “Graverobbers” who dug up and sold the Marquis’ remains to wealthy collectors. These men collect, trade, and share these rare and mysterious artifacts. A cleaned and polished smaller than usual skull being the most valuable of collectibles. Along with “The Skull of The Marquis DeSade” was a book…a rare thing indeed. It told the life story of the Marquis and its binder was made of pure skinHuman Skin.

Upon the death of the last owner of the book and skull, his partner and solicitor came to call at his flat. He was there to assess his partner’s assets and valuables. An unexpected visitor came to call. She too had come to collect her things…little did she know, she would not be leaving the flat with her valuables…she would not be leaving at all except after death!

An artifact, a sacrificial knife laid upon a table. The skull was sitting there as well. The man examined the tiny skull of his partner’s belongings and tossed it aside, it was of no value to him. He noticed after turning, that the damned head-bone had vanished into thin air…where had it gone? No one was in the room except him. The partner’s woman was packing and collecting her things in the next room…

The unsuspecting solicitor was going about his duties, when he heard a voice call to him…he did not know from where the voice had ventured. He only knew that he had to obey its commands.

The solicitor came to consciousness while in police custody. He did not know how he came to be in this place. He explained to the investigator all that he had known to be true. It did not matter to them, the authorities. They had their man for the murder of the woman packing her things in the tiny three roomed flat. The blood was on his hands and clothing – he swore to Heaven and the God above that he was innocent…it did not matter.

He was guilty as charged.

So Sayeth the court…

When they came to hang him, he was already dead. It was a great mystery. How had this man’s throat been torn out? He was alone in his cell, awaiting “the Hangman.” How is it that he came to his death in this fashion? There were no dogs or attack animals about! How did this man meet his death, cheating the gallows that awaited him?

His spilled spouting blood left no trail…

“One is never so dangerous when one has no shame, than when one has grown too old to blush”
~Marquis DeSade~

 

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!”

 

 

Til Next Time…

 

 

“G”

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Source/Credits/Acknowledgement(s):

“Marquis DeSade” – Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marquis_de_Sade
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=the+death+of+the+marquis+de+sade

“The Skull of The Marquis De Sade”

 “The Skull”
(The Evil of The Marquis DeSade / Life of The Marquis DeSade)
Paramount Pictures, Legendary Films
Peter Cushing & Christopher Lee

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‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’

Contemplation

Contemplation

By

Gregory V. Boulware

Part Two: “The Wedding Party”

“We knew we were all doomed…all of us who knew.”

/*

Abberline recalled the statement from one of several interviews with the six whores of ‘Cleveland Street’ in the ‘White Chapel District.’ The funeral of Martha Taibron brought them all to collusion. They needed to join forces for their very survival. They were constantly pursued by McQueen, the pimp of Nickel Street. He extorted money and sexual favors from the street walkers – ladies of the night.

“They were lured with grapes, champagne, and laudanum. And then they were all euthanized.” The inspector spoke in trance-like sentences. “They were transported and dumped.”

The inspector began interviewing professional men. He spoke with doctors, dentists, taxidermists, veterinarians, surgeons, barbers, and butchers to the disapproval, chagrin, and dismay of Scotland Yard High Officials.

“Foreigners are the culprits. They are the ones who are upsetting our economy – The Jews.”

The boasting neuro-surgeon showed pride amongst the gathering of Britain’s finest professional colleagues. This one…this Dr. Farrow, guardian to Sir William Gull; master surgeon and newly ordained member to ‘The Society and Brotherhood of Free Masons – an entity founded by Jews; glared at the inspector as he passed through the dining room of the Masonic Hall.

“It isn’t an Englishman,” said the Scotland Yard Commissioner. “Thank God.”

Dr. Farrow is the attending doctor to the Queen and the Royal Court.

When all had been exposed, the organ collecting masonic avenger lobotomized, the killings subsided. I felt that I was no longer watched by the brotherhood. Albeit, the feeling, the tense feeling of Dred overshadowed what was supposed to be peace. Inspector Abberline was once again summoned to duty. This new danger has shown its face with a sign written in blood.

To the dismay and embarrassment of Scotland Yard, Inspector Abberline did deliver the truth of the matter. He delivered a truth that Scotland Yard decided to disallow. It refused the inspector’s theory from the time he discovered the text. The text in the book was written by the founder of the ‘Free Masons.’

The blood printed sign was directed to the murder investigations by Scotland Yard personnel. The inspector dreaded answering the call. He sure as hell did not intend to go back through the ‘Gates of Hell.’ He fought against evil and won – even though it wasn’t sanctioned by the brotherhood or the royal house or his immediate supervisors.

But, answer the call he did…it was his duty to God and Country. Inspector Abberline arrived on the scene to see the sign first hand.

London Town’s Chief Commissioner was there as well. There was a large contingent of reporters and photographers breezing all about as well.

On the wall, atop the freshly butchered corpse of Mary Kelly’s White Chapel mate…Martha Taibron. The blood-stained message was posted for all to see:

“The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing”

Abberline argued that the message was written by an educated man. The point was not unlike his investigation findings and determinations.

The higher echelon was well aware of what was done to hide and cover-up the guilt and shame as well as their association with the perpetrator. The guilt of the brotherhood and all its members, including the top commanders of Scotland Yard, and the royal house; they all knew about the secret wedding sanctioned by the Catholic Church and witnessed by the ‘Whores of the White Chapel District.’

The kidnapping of Annie Crook was intent to capture her and Baby Alice. The marriage and the baby posed a direct threat to the bloodline of Queen Victoria. She exploded with anger and ordered the elimination of the two.

“How dare my son marry this thing – this creature – this harlot – this streetwalker whore who is less than the lowest commoner!” The Queen delegated the task to the Lord Chamberlin. The order was then given to Sir William Gull, ex-master neuro-surgeon, member of the Brotherhood, and in service to the Queen. This opportunity served well for the doctor’s alter ego and major organ removal, primarily the offending sexual organs of the streetwalking females of the night. Also entwined within the assignment awaited the open door sanction for revenge. The execution of traitors provided Sir William Gull with great pleasure. He hatched a sinister deed in executing the traitors to mankind and the sanctity of marriage – the abomination of fornication – the elimination of whores and prostitutes.

The assignment specifically called for the deaths of six whores from England’s White Chapel District on Cleveland Street.

The wedding party was of a private nature. Mary, Liz, Kate, Marie, Mitzi, Martha, and Anne Crook, the bride, were all present. They wore their best dresses while Anne was adorned in a brand new white wedding gown of the finest chiffon, silk, and satin. No expense was sparred. She was truly a lovely bride beneath veils of fine woven material and true love.

Prince Eddie donned his majestic white uniform of royalty. The pure silver and golden sashes with breast-pinned medals gleamed and flashed of blinding brilliance. He was accompanied by his most trusted and close assistants. These particular individuals were sworn to the greatest of secrecies. They were all loyal except for one of the most important members of royal service. Sir William Gull was succeeded by Dr. Allan Farrow who personally treated, attended, and reported directly to the Queen.

The head Priest of the Catholic Church presided over the ritual. Baby Alice was born soon after. The Prince and Anne were infatuated with one another. The sexual romance and interludes began at the White Chapel Brothel, run by a sinister, conniving, and snakely individual identified by police and colleagues as ‘McQueen.’

His position was one of ownership over the six whores in attendance. The seventh, Mary Kelly, would soon fall into the fold, one way or another. Mary was independent. She was beginning to succeed in convincing the other girls to stop paying McQueen for their non-existent protection and keep their hard earned earnings for themselves.

Eddie had become an exclusive client to Anne. She wanted for nothing and made sure to look after her sisters of the streets. McQueen had other plans for the women. The protection fees had just been increased. He also knew of the secret marriage.

“It’s in their best interest to pay me. If not, they will never work with their physical abilities again – and could possibly be found dead.”

The body was fresh. The gore of crimson was found just about everywhere in the alley. It pooled and puddled all about the body of the victim. The wounds were nearly invisible to the naked eye. Albeit, sliced with the utmost precision…the precision of a master surgeon. The organs were skillfully removed with no sign of brutal ravaging. Even the killing cut was a work of art.

New York City was not very much unlike Paris. The hustle and bustle of the people mirrored many images of many busy cities across the globe. The rain poured and then misted accompanying a thick cloudy atmosphere. The smell of breakfast delicacies and strong rich coffee permeated the ‘Garment District’ this morning. Duprae and I strolled along 7th avenue just as the Sun poked rays above and over the horizon line and the top edges of buildings and the sparse spreading of greenery.

Chaunea insisted on a ‘walk-about’ just as soon as we could get settled. Our rooms were very cozy indeed. Cozy enough to meet our immediate needs. I meticulously hung my garments with care. We really didn’t know how long we would be visiting the island city. He wanted to familiarize himself with the everyday lifestyles of the city-folk in New York. He did the same thing in Philadelphia once. I recalled our chance meeting in Baltimore while planning the trip to Paris. Was our chance meeting in that obscure library really a chance meeting? I wondered while studying his current movements. The Inspector and I first met in Baltimore City. He’d taken the position of interest in my written works during my employ with one of several news and article agencies. The interest was aroused while perusing an article; one of many publications, concerning a black bird. His reason for the office visit was to place and advertisement in the newspaper of which I was employed.

The beneficial coincidence allowed he and I to become acquaintances…a kindred spirit of sorts. We did become very close friends and eventually, like brothers.

It was highly fascinating to learn, as time progressed, that Chaunea and I thought and felt very much alike. He of course is more advanced, sharper, and keener than I.

I’ve learned and continue to learn very much from him, especially in the art of deduction, rationalization, analyzation, reasoning, and patience.

The ballast and cobble stoned streets appeared and served as they did in the aforementioned metros. The rancid wetness of early morning garbage filled the cool breeze. It caused the sinuses to tingle and the nose to itch as the multi-collaboration of aromas urging face twitching annoyance.

We were not long departed from our sea-going vessel when our American journey got underway. We breakfasted at an eatery near the corner of 34th Street and 7th Avenue. Abberline was already finishing the morning news when we entered during his nearly completed nourishment.

After completing an enjoyable greeting and eating; allowing Abberline to finish his meal, the three of us headed towards the chief inspector’s Manhattan office at the nearby police headquarters.

We walked a few blocks on 34th Street to Amsterdam Avenue. The building was a rather handsome yet large ‘Brownstone’ with gated or bared windows on the ground floor level. We climbed the stairs to the second floor landing. Turning to the left at the end of the corridor was the inspector’s office. The center of the door was of hazy non-see-through glass. Printed on the outside was ‘Chief Inspector Abberline, Scotland Yard Investigations.’

Abberline was a tall yet thinly muscular man with long wavy black hair which surpassed his shirt collar. He combed it straight back. It hung in length to just above his shoulder. Many would consider him a handsome man. His apparel was not shabby, new, or top shelf; although neat and sharp in appearance, did not offend a normal eye.

The office atmosphere was brilliant and highly professional. It was fully equipped with all the latest gadgetry and literature. It also held the latest in communication, the telephone, and telegraph as well as a wireless.

The chief inspector stepped out from behind his desk with an extended his right palm, gesturing a handshake. We, as gentlemen and professionals, exchanged greetings and other pleasantries. Refreshments were offered and accepted as we made ourselves comfortable.

“Gentlemen, it brings me much pleasure to know the invitation to assist in this investigation has not been wasted.”

Queen Victoria ranted and raved. She threw her golden goblet across the room. It skidded off the gold-silver-and chrome laden table and hit the wall. The wall was painted ivory-white. The windows trimmed in shimmering brass, draped with silk and satin dressings on soft and dark pastels. The cup was filled with claret as it splashed all over. The chalice ended its flying and ricocheting journey after the wall by bouncing off the shoulder of a servant who simply passed by.

“We want them disposed of… We do not wish to know or care in which manner this thing is done. We want this matter dissolved and forgotten forthwith…or closer heads to thee, will surely serve instead.”

The first to disappear was the baby’s mother, ‘Anne Crooke.’ She was taken by ‘The Royal Secret Service Police’ while making love to the ‘Crown Prince.’ She had no idea it was ‘Prince Edward Albert Victor, the Duke of Clarence,’ and not simply ‘Albert’ whom she was atop; riding and writhing in quintessential rapture. Their combined effort of vigorous pumping up and down, lost in a sea of passion, had no clue of the impending assault. He caressed her naked flesh with pleasingly aggressive lust and the determination of fulfillment.

They hadn’t noticed the booming and thundering noises made by the invading usurpers of the White Chapel Brothel, of which their flat was located. Violently, pleasantly, engaged in the throes of sweet pleasure and passion, combined with that of pure love, the ex-harlot and the Duke did not hear the noise. The engagement was brutally and explosively interrupted when the bedroom door blew open and inward against the fast hold of the hinged frame. The door slammed against the papered wall as the fasteners within the wood splintered away from the wall that made every effort to hold. The abrupt action allowed the ingress of the horde to descend upon them, subduing them and separating them…forever.

The sexual fluids dripped all over the satin sheets as the ruffians ripped and pulled them apart. The burley men lifted the terrified Anne right up in a partially wrapped bed sheet, throwing her unclothed, down the stairs into the waiting arms of more darkly clad ruffians. They, in turn, carried her to the waiting carriage of black with six Black Stallions who kicked and whinnied to a full gallop. The mysterious escaping Black Carriage bore the royal markings of the majesty on its outer doors.

Prince Eddie, whom the local populace knew as ‘Albert’ or ‘Eddie’ was shocked and horrified. He was under the impression that he was the target of an assassination. Little did he know, the palace had known of his secreted rendezvous with the ex-whore for some time. She had become his exclusive concubine well before they were married; a wedding unknown to the Queen. Recent determinations, secretly discovered, were divulged to ‘Her-Majesty’ – Eddie was being treated for syphilis.

He was secretly taken to an undisclosed location. Anne was shuffled off to a nearby asylum, viciously interrogated, tortured, and finally lobotomized, ensuring the vile secret would remain a secret.

Fortunately, ‘Baby Alice’ was in the safe-keeping of Mary Kelly. She’d been left with Mary the night before. The following day presented the newly-weds with their six month wedding anniversary. Their daughter, Alice, was one year and eight days of age.

Arguments have been founded upon the fiction of truth. An investigation into said truth was quite possibly the objective to the point. Some have said that paralleling the inessential facts surrounding the murder of a young girl in New York as it relates to the double-murder in Paris, Madame L’Espanaye and the young mademoiselle, her daughter.

Abberline explained his departure from us in a brief manner to which he expelled our suspicions. He felt that our investigation was at a close in Paris while the threat carried itself across the waters into America; the facts addressing the murder of Miss Mary Cecelia Rogers.

Although the young woman’s death occasioned an intense and long enduring excitement, my journalistic intuition kept nudging me to not put trust in this inspector from Scotland Yard. He did not mention to the ‘Chevalier – Duprae,’ and me, his involvement of the coincidences surrounding the murder in Paris and the one in New York.

In my mind, I endeavored to depict some very remarkable features in the mental characters of my friend, ‘The Chevalier – Lord Charles ‘Chaunea’ Alexander Duprae.

The affair surrounding the deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter were placed on suspension. We could not dismiss the case due to its familiarity with this one in New York. Duprae’s concentration is now focused on the inspector and this case of ‘Mary Rogers,’ aka ‘Marie Roget.’

Before jumping head-first into the case, we decided to break from our mental meeting with ‘Chief Inspector Frederick Quincy Abberline’ of Sussex County in the Southeast of England. We felt that we deserved a much needed rest…a little ‘R and R;’ and maybe a little bit of debauchery and drink. The idea of smoking the plant was also entertained upon the undesired relapsing into old habits of moody revelry, I was found to be in a prone position nearly at all times during the dream-like binges; I do love the drink, love-making, and smoke; to abstraction. I really fell in with the humor; and continuing to occupy our chambers, we gave the future to the winds. We decided to slumber tranquilly in the present, weaving in and out dully around the world in dreams and allusion. We would take up the New York investigation soon after our mini-vacation; after all…Abberline in on the case.

Chaunea and I took a near drunken walk down Broadway. We sampled the area delicacies and needless to say, the beers and liquors as well. The neighboring taverns were cordial and amicable enough. I do believe that some of them, patrons and staff, did recognize us. Several recognized the famous detective via the newspapers and newsreel footage portrayed in the moving picture houses. The others who knew of me through my written works in magazines, newspapers, and periodicals. I dare say my printed image did me a great service as well.

“Welcome Monsieur Duprae, would you and Monsieur Poe like a quiet table in the rear or one close to the stage and show? The bar is also available for your convenience!”

The tavern was soft lit and full of people. The ‘Black Maître de’ seated us nicely into a cozy dark corner which allowed an excellent view of the stage and the entire establish as well.

The audience, primarily people of color from every continent imaginable, added an extra bit of flavor to our enchanted evening. The both of us do like an integrated crowd, made up of many different types of folk, cultures, and lifestyles. We both found that simply invigorating and fascinatingly wonderful. France and England had its fair share of the world’s populace, but not like here in the United States. The jazz music was unbelievable. It was magnifique and ever so delightful.

We must have spent the entire night here at the ‘Che De Lounge’ after our visit to the ‘Bamville.’ The same type of people gathered there as well. Chaunea enjoyed himself immensely. The bronze colored deva kept him upstairs for nearly two hours before rejoining me at our table.

We’d sampled many types of enjoyment this night. Our jumpstart of marijuana and bitters was topped off this morning with French Champagne, while the wine and cocaine flourished throughout the night. Chaunea did entertain the thought of visiting the ‘Chinese House of Pleasure.’ The address was supplied by the Chief Inspector. He swore us to secrecy when we parted for the evening.

“This is where I’ll be for a few hours – care to join me?” We both declined and shook our heads in unison while accepting the note for a possible visit later during our stay in the Americas. Chaunea talked himself out of the visit because he knew one hour could quite possibly turn into three days or more.

Just prior to sunrise, we did have our fill of pleasurable indulgences…it was time for sleep and rest before returning to work.

The singer on stage, as we prepared for our departure, was a petite ginger-brown woman with a masterfully overpowering groin for a singing voice. It was simply magnifying. The song she sang brought about memories of a story I once heard. Chaunea appeared to be in a recollective state of mind as well. The story brought memories of a not so long ago occurrence back in England – the ‘Family Talbot!’

The song she sung was mystifying yet entertainingly and eerily suggestive. It was more bluesy than that of jazz music. Its lyrics mesmerized us. The Chief Inspector also came to mind:

“I got early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets cause there’s a wolf outside my door.

The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes…gonna go to church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose…

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for the blues.

It’s raining cats and dogs outside, and I’m lookin for a job. The man I worked for laid me off; Lord, I worked for him real hard! But I won’t let my kids go hungry, no matter what I have ta do…

And it’s a good day; it’s a real good day for da blues.

Things are gettin better, the check is in the mail. I just threw my last dime down the wihin well…

and it’s a good day, it’s a real good day for da blues.

I got up early this morning, so I could walk the floor. I’ve got to hit the streets, cause there’s a wolf outside my door. The bill collectors are calling, and my kids need better shoes, gonna go ta church on Sunday, cause I’ve got nothin left ta loose.

And it’s a good day…it’s a real good day for da blues.”

The song’s lyrics seemed to stay with us on our short walking journey back to our hotel. For me, I kept seeing the sinister figure of the Chief Inspector, glaring from the darkened corner of the flat owned by ‘Madame L’Espanaye. The vision continually haunted me to no end…

We expected to be awakened by the charms of harmonious chatter and laughter. We looked forward to the sensual arousal of breakfast aromas dazzling our every senses to complement the happiness of the nostrils. It did not occur.

We were abruptly awakened by two burly New York City Cops. They were not smiling while we twitched and bitched about; tossing and turning in our beds.

Abberline was standing in a pool of blood. His gloved hands dripped twelve-hour-old gore. The right hand held a freshly lit cigarette… His face was ghostly white; bloodless.

 

End of Part Two…Next, Part Three: ‘Isle Manhattan’

“The Changeling – Loup Garou”

 

Til Next Time….

 

Acknowledgements:

Mr. ‘Eddie’ Poe (Edgar Allan Poe) and I, the 3rd Party Voice of the Editor/Publisher, Gregory V. Boulware

This story is based on and greatly inspired in whole or in part by Edgar Allen Poe, Master of the Macabre, ‘Murders In The Rue Morgue (Street)’and The Mystery of Marie Roget

The Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

ISBN 9780385074070 and notes from Bookrags.com, “He has ruined the old sound with the first letter” http://www.bookrags.com/notes/poe/part17.html

“From Hell,” ~Jack the Ripper~

http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/2014/05/bowery-of-crimson-frock-and-flesh.html

“It’s A Real Good Day,” Ruth Brown

Wikipedia

Protestantism and Lutheran

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“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

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A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

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Hong Kong on the Brink

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