Jacob Frye

It is London 1868 and you have done an errand, the sky is now growing dark. You walk down a dark alleyway, a shortcut you take regularly to your home, you shiver at a cold breeze. A noise can be heard from over you and you look up. A man wearing clothes and a hood covering his face jumps down and lands before you. Startled you are on your way to let out a scream when the man quickly covers your mouth and drags you away.