‘Bowery
of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’
By
Gregory V. Boulware
Part Two: “The Wedding Party”
“One day men will look back and
say, I gave birth to the twentieth century”
~Jack The Ripper~
/*
Dr. Farrow is the attending doctor to the Queen and the Royal Court.
Til Next Time....
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~
~
Pt. 2:
http://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2014/09/23/bowery-of-the-crimson-frock-and-flesh-part-two-the-wedding-party/
~
Wikipedia
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"The Spirit of the Soul and the Death
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A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An
Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’
http://philadelphiastoryeller.blogspot.com/
ASIAN VOICES
NHK website.
Hong Kong on the
Brink
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“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
getting better; the check is in the mail. I just threw my last dime in the
wishin 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.
*/
Partial Ending of Part Two... Next, Part Three:
‘Isle Manhattan’
"The
Changeling – Loup Garou"
Til Next Time....
Whoa! Hold On A Minute!
The Full and Complete Stories Are Now Available, As Promised Prior To Halloween 2015!
/*
‘A
Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision’
“Even a man, who is pure of heart
and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the ‘Wolfsbane’ blooms
and the Autumn Moon is bright.”
"You unlock
this door with a key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension, a
dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving
into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas...you've just
crossed over into the 'Twilight Zone.'"
~Rod Serling~
The
steady flow of neighborhood customers keep the old lady pretty busy, by day and
by night. Oh, did I mention that she was about eighty-four or eighty-five years
of age? That was of course back a few years ago.
Well
now, here’s another masterpiece by this superlative writer with this latest
addition to a collective assortment of goodies. Hallow II presents a wonderful collection of Horror, Thriller,
Adventure, and Philosophical wonderlands of Mystical and Physiological
Enlightenment.
~
Readers, Blog Followers, On Line Members of ‘BlackInAmerica.com,’ ‘BlackHistory.com,’
‘BlackAuthors.com,’ ‘BlackWomenConnect.com,’ ‘HBCU’ and ‘HBCUconnect.com,’
‘ChocolatePagesnetwork.com,’GoodReads.com,’ ‘BookMarketingNetwork.com,’
‘Google.com,’ ‘Facebook.com,’ and ‘Twitter.com.’ ~
“They say there is
no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and
the other end - Why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense
of knowing better?”
“God took dust from
the ground, and formed man, and inserted in him a spirit and a soul. This man
was called “Adam,” which in the Hebrew tongue signifies one that is ‘Red,’
because he was formed out of Red Earth (Africa), compounded together; for of
that kind is virgin and True Earth!”
~ Josephus – Moshe/Moses ~
HALLOW II
- An Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany
by
Mr. Gregory V Boulware
5.5"
x 8.5" (13.97
x 21.59 cm)
Full Color on White paper
466 pages
Full Color on White paper
466 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1518770227
ISBN-10: 1518770223
BISAC: Body, Mind & Spirit / Shamanism
ISBN-10: 1518770223
BISAC: Body, Mind & Spirit / Shamanism
/*
Hallow II is
a follow-up addition to Hallow
in its collection of short stories filled with adventure, Science-Fiction,
Horror, and thrills.
Here we go again…’another masterpiece by this superlative writer with this latest addition to a collective assortment of goodies.’ Hallow II presents a wonderful collection of Horror, Thriller, Adventure, and Philosophical wonderlands of Mystical and Physiological Enlightenment.
Here we go again…’another masterpiece by this superlative writer with this latest addition to a collective assortment of goodies.’ Hallow II presents a wonderful collection of Horror, Thriller, Adventure, and Philosophical wonderlands of Mystical and Physiological Enlightenment.
~ “A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious
Redolence and Epiphany” ~
“Bowery of The Crimson Frock and
Flesh”
“Coincidences,
seemingly of a marvelous character, there are few persons who have not, on
occasion, been startled. It also goes without saying; even the calmest of
thinkers have experienced a vague thrilling half-credence in the supernatural
genre.
Speaking of certain, albeit, limited,
coincidences, understand that we, Mr. ‘Eddie’ Poe and I, the Editor /
Publisher, choose to speak of this topic. In my own heart, I cannot speak of
his; there dwells no faith in the praetor nature. In past and probably, future
conversations, men will debate the issue of the original intentions of God’s
Laws. They may dispute that nature and its God are two. The latter creating the
former can, at will, control and/or modify it. Would you not agree, my friend?
The insanity of logic has, of course, assumed it is not that the Deity cannot
modify his laws, the question is of will. Does man insult God with the
imagination of a possible necessity for modification? Mr. Poe espouses the
origin of these laws were fashioned to embrace all and every contingency which
could lie in the future. All that one would need to do is to pay the strictest
and closes attention with unwavering indulgences.
This topic is only referred to as
coincidences. It was submitted for my review as ‘Bowery of the Crimson Frock
and Flesh - The Poe Report.’”
“Howl Of An Angel”: 'HALLOW II'
'The
Bookmarketing Network!’
“The
Devil Made Me Do It…The Devil Made Me Do It!”
How many
times have we all heard this statement when someone is/has been accused or
convicted of a crime?
“Demon’s Throat”
"Twitter"
"Amazon"
*/
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~
~
Pt. 1:
Pt. 2:
~
Wikipedia
Protestantism and
Lutheran
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Archangels, Blood, Boulware, Castle, Debauchery, Demons,
Devils, Disciples, Evil, Horror, Magi, Murder, Mutilation, Mystery, Novel,
Occult, Seafarers, Thriller, Visions Dracul, Kelpius, Rosicrucians,
Valley-Green, Wissahickon, Roxborough, Germantown, Mount-Airy, Vlad-Teppes,
Poe, Lippard, Washington, Lafayette, Transylvania, England, Germany, Church
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~ 'The E-Store for Books by Gregory
V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
“Article Posting Sites”
~The Connect Platform~