Dear individ’l o considrable note:
Smy misforchun to inform yo that yo accomplis was found kilt by poison. We’d taken alook at im but seems e’s not gon wake. Es been burnt ta hide any evdince his body mighta ad. I shouldn be writtin this note ta yo but seein ows my frens canna read o writ it don matter mucha anythin. I’s just noes yos a cleva indvidul that us stretskids owes a favor n I’s thought yo’d wanna noe.
I’ve uncovered the secret.
Is it possible?
It must be done. I must know the truth.
I leave my earthly possessions to Maybell. Av would not know what to do with it all.
I’ve never had any difficulties with the gentlemen in blue. They’re about as corrupt as they come, and uncovering modern gossip has been my forte since I was a babe. A red stocking here, a little blackmail there, “Oh dear, Mr. Constable, what have we here?” They’re never too difficult to dissuade from investigating my daily activities.
The Special Constables, however…
There was a time when I didn’t care for politics. If Mr. Pages and the Ministry of Public Decency claimed a topic was too vile for the public to muse over, I could only benefit. With so much restriction, social climbing becomes natural, like breathing air, so long as the words you’re exhaling are teetering on the edge of scandalous. I don’t miss those simplistic days. Perhaps if I were still as naive as I was then, I may long to return to the safety of Society’s posh social rings, but I have come to realize there is heresy afoot, and it’s not among the ranks of the Flit. Read the rest of this page »