74453

Raven Salvers

United States

Message from Writer

I am 17 and am an amateur writer for fun. One problem I have though is when I create something I like, I try to turn it into a book... now... several unfinished books later, I am still going!! :) I hope you like what you see and if you do don't forget to click the all important star in the corner so I know!!!

The Crimson Revenge

April 15, 2016

I am walking as silently as humanly possible, my heart beating like a drum inside my chest. I breathe deep calming breaths, hoping that my fear will not jeopardize the reason I am here in this dismal place. The air is cold and sharp in the December air, the night sky is cloudy and dark, and the cobbled streets of Whitechapel, England are quiet. Small snow piles decorate the sides of the icy streets that were cleared earlier today. 

 My name is Jenny Wilde, and I am a part of The Crimson Revenge. The Crimson Revenge is a secret society that was established fifty years ago to protect the people of England from those who wish to harm the innocent. I joined when I was ten, and now, eight years later, I am one of the best there is. 

My reason for being out tonight is no laughing matter. My partner, Sam is one street over, watching my back. As I turn the corner, I catch a glimpse of Sam. He is hiding in the opening of a dark alleyway with his back pressed against the wall closest to me. In the dim light, I see the silver revolver he is holding, and feel the reassuring weight of my own, tucked away inside the long coat I wear. Sam sees me and nods quickly. I return the nod and slowly begin creeping forward again. 

As I am walking, I remember the conversation Sam and I had before coming here. We were at headquarters, arguing over who would get to eat the last apple. Just as Sam snuck behind me and stole the apple out of my hands and held it over his head, one of our superiors walked into the room. I immediately froze in mid reach, and casually nodded to the woman. The woman walked over to the two of us, and without saying a word, plucked the apple out of Sam’s hand before leaving the room. Sam and I had both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Now, in the chilly night, I half smile, before snapping myself back to reality. 
  
A breeze blows across my face, cold and crisp. My cheeks are already pink from the cold, and my hands feel like ice, but I keep going. The still silence batters at my fear, threatening to cause it to overcome me when suddenly there is the sound of a footfall behind me. I whip around to see a tall, thin man wearing a dark trench coat standing there. Other than the glint of his dark eyes, I can see nothing about him through the darkness. 
  
I am tempted to glance at Sam but know if I do I will give him away, getting us both killed. The man said in a low voice filled with cruel humor, “A bit late to be out and about miss Don’t you know that these are dark times?” My heart is pounding so loudly I am surprised that I can even hear the man. The fear I felt earlier was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. All my being is screaming at me to run away, and nothing but my training keeps me in place. The man slowly pulls out a knife. I make up my resolve, and whip out my gun, pointing it at his head with a steady hand. The stranger freezes, his crazed grin now gone, as my fear evaporates. “Hello Jack,” I say calmly, “I don’t believe we have met. My name Jenny Wilde, and this is my partner, Sam Tollewood.” At the mention of his name, Sam stepped out of the alleyway’s shadow and into the light of the street lamps. He was tall for his age, with brown hair that curled into his eyes, calculating dark brown eyes that always shone with excitement at the prospect of a new case, and the fair skin of his Irish ancestry. 
  
The man's eyes darted in between the two of us. Sam smiles coldly at the older man saying, “Is Jack even your real name? Or have you just taken a liking to the nicknames of the press?” Suddenly, the man darts down the street, Sam and I right behind him. As we run, I feel the wind blow through my auburn hair, as it bounces behind me in a long braid. 
  
Sam and I chase the man for several blocks before we come to the bank of the River Thames. The man begins looking around frantically for a method of escape, but there are none to be found. Sam and I skid to a halt and point our revolvers at the man. “It’s over,” I said. The man looked shocked for a moment, but then his surprise seemed to slip away, and a smile began to grow on his lips. It unsettled me. Why would a cornered man be smiling? Next to me, I hear Sam cock his gun. The man said, his eyes dancing, “Children, you should never count your kills until they are confirmed.” Then, without warning, he hurled something at us. 
  
My eyes grew wide and my heart stopped, we had forgotten about the knife. I immediately drop to the ground and I see out of the corner of my eye as Sam does the same. I watch, as if in slow motion, as the blade flies over my head.The man once again tries to run, but I jump up again. We all hear the distant clatter of the knife as it hit the ground with a clang. My gun is now pointed at the man, as well as my gaze, which is hard and cold. Without a second thought, I pull the trigger and watched as the man falls below the surface of the river. “RIP The Ripper," The irony of my words were not lost on Sam, and I heard him laugh quietly as we turned and left the river, as well as an evil man to his fate.

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1 Comment
  • Raven Salvers

    I was wondering, when I wrote this and showed it to one of my friends, she said that I should turn this into a book... Does anyone else agree that I should try to create a book off of this piece?


    almost 2 years ago