These narratives have been drafted during Literacy Lessons, they try to reflect what Tudor London was really like. Surrounded by a wall only accessible through gates where body parts of thieves and murderers were hung to deter 'bad people'. Only the toughest survived (or the rich) and crime was prevalent. Read on if your dare BUT BE WARNED these stories contain graphic gruesome detail!
The Boy Who Nobody Saw
The hangman smiled menacingly at me. The crowd was watching, waiting for my death. My decisions to help my family had been in vain. The deep dark slope of robbery and theft dragged me in from the start; survival was the only thing we wanted. Children, carlots, friends, family; everyone was here to witness my last moments in which I cast my mind back to the peaceful time before my suffering...
My family was gripped with sweating sickness just like most of London, and I was the only one in the house with any strength left to live a normal life. I could have lived a normal life, but mine was in the shadows; the boy who nobody saw. My brother was the first to go; the family grew smaller and weaker each week. I knew I would go someday soon; but I wanted to help. Theft was the only way forward.
Eagerly, I began my stroll to the other side of the city where no-one would recognise my face, to find my first victim. Lurking outside a busy tavern I waited for a drunk. Excitement took over my brain, and at that moment a lumbering figure stumbled towards me, but before I could think, I struck. The blade went straight into his chest, blood poured everywhere. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Terrible guilt hit me so hard I dropped everything and fled the scene. If I was to survive I had to get better and harden myself to the thought that I may have to harm people or even worse to get what I wanted.
Despite the failure I knew I had to go through it all again, but this time I had to succeed. Back outside the tavern my next victim emerged from the light, with no idea what was about to happen. I plunged the knife into his back. The giant figure fell into my hands as I dragged him into the darkness desperately trying not to make a sound, I carefully lay him on the cobbles. The look he gave me as his life drained away will stay with me forever. His blood soaked my garments whilst I scavenged though his pockets for my reward. The sound of coins was the highlight of my day; finally we could get some food.
Back at home there was nobody left to share my earnings. They were all gone, within a day they had all passed away. Sweating sickness was even more of a killer than me. I had nothing, nobody, no purpose in life which made me careless.
I soon became obsessed with my ‘interesting’ new hobby. I wasn’t doing it for the money, the jewels or anything I came across, I was interested in only one thing; the blood. I was an expert with murder, but that all changed on one wintery evening.
It was one of the coldest nights I had experienced and I must have become impatient, because as I approached my next victim the boy who nobody saw, got seen. I ran down the alleyway to see the parish there; waiting for me. The maze of the city encased me in a dead-end. A dead-end, where I would be caught. I knew the risks, and I knew the punishment for murder. Everyone did.
The hangman yanked the lever. I felt the rope tighten on my neck and gravity pulled me to my doom.
By Robert Carter
The hangman smiled menacingly at me. The crowd was watching, waiting for my death. My decisions to help my family had been in vain. The deep dark slope of robbery and theft dragged me in from the start; survival was the only thing we wanted. Children, carlots, friends, family; everyone was here to witness my last moments in which I cast my mind back to the peaceful time before my suffering...
My family was gripped with sweating sickness just like most of London, and I was the only one in the house with any strength left to live a normal life. I could have lived a normal life, but mine was in the shadows; the boy who nobody saw. My brother was the first to go; the family grew smaller and weaker each week. I knew I would go someday soon; but I wanted to help. Theft was the only way forward.
Eagerly, I began my stroll to the other side of the city where no-one would recognise my face, to find my first victim. Lurking outside a busy tavern I waited for a drunk. Excitement took over my brain, and at that moment a lumbering figure stumbled towards me, but before I could think, I struck. The blade went straight into his chest, blood poured everywhere. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Terrible guilt hit me so hard I dropped everything and fled the scene. If I was to survive I had to get better and harden myself to the thought that I may have to harm people or even worse to get what I wanted.
Despite the failure I knew I had to go through it all again, but this time I had to succeed. Back outside the tavern my next victim emerged from the light, with no idea what was about to happen. I plunged the knife into his back. The giant figure fell into my hands as I dragged him into the darkness desperately trying not to make a sound, I carefully lay him on the cobbles. The look he gave me as his life drained away will stay with me forever. His blood soaked my garments whilst I scavenged though his pockets for my reward. The sound of coins was the highlight of my day; finally we could get some food.
Back at home there was nobody left to share my earnings. They were all gone, within a day they had all passed away. Sweating sickness was even more of a killer than me. I had nothing, nobody, no purpose in life which made me careless.
I soon became obsessed with my ‘interesting’ new hobby. I wasn’t doing it for the money, the jewels or anything I came across, I was interested in only one thing; the blood. I was an expert with murder, but that all changed on one wintery evening.
It was one of the coldest nights I had experienced and I must have become impatient, because as I approached my next victim the boy who nobody saw, got seen. I ran down the alleyway to see the parish there; waiting for me. The maze of the city encased me in a dead-end. A dead-end, where I would be caught. I knew the risks, and I knew the punishment for murder. Everyone did.
The hangman yanked the lever. I felt the rope tighten on my neck and gravity pulled me to my doom.
By Robert Carter