Red District – The Invitation

Once upon a time, I was studying to become a game designer. In one of my classes, I had to write an interactive scenario based on a city. I drew London out of the hat. Yay! After researching for a few days, I came up with a story that I’m not going to detail here; it really wasn’t that good. What was interesting though was one of the characters that I still can’t write off of my mind.
The story is set in Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper era. Back then, prostitutes were really working in the streets, forget the shady motels, which made them easy prey for the killers. From that fact, I extrapolated a character named Isobel – who’s last name I can’t seem to remember. She is the widow of a rich man and, out of boredom and kindness, she decided to open a tea shop. The tea is free and, so is some food, for the women of the street. Isobel likes the company and is glad she can help the prostitutes during cold and humid London nights.

Isobel eventually inspired me to write a series of poems and songs (that I have yet to complete). I called in the Red District series. The poems are hers and the songs are her ladies, each having their own story to tell. I set that aside a few months ago to concentrate on my novel and blog.
Recently, Isobel and her girls forced themselves back into my mind. They seem to be bound to encounter Tatiana and her pirates from my Foray Into Steampunk. Well… didn’t I say, in one of my How I Write post, that you never know when an idea will come back to hunt you and suddenly morph into something new and much better?
I’m telling you all this because I have decided to share what I wrote in that series. I hope you enjoy it.

This piece here is the original invitation, excepting minor chances, Isobel put on her door and around Whitechapel in the story I wrote for class. The last two lines are some of my favorite among those I’ve written so far.
If any Emilie Autumn fan reads this, can you find the little homage I paid to her work?

The Invitation
Dearest Scarlet Women, 

Thou are invited
At my midnight tea parties
For I shall be delighted
By thy presence, fancy ladies
For thou are not less refined
Then day living baroness
And thou shalt not be confined
To cold streets and loneliness

Come to my door
No matter how sore
And have some tea and scone
Drink some Dubonnet
Play some French cabaret
My piano is right on tone

And if one night,
Thy sugar sits untouched
We’ll pray everything’s right
And if, to us, thou are lost
The memory of your eyes of blue
Shall bloom in our mourning dew.