1

With the sharp stench of coal smoke and dead leaves strewn across the cobblestones the October wind blew through the Bowerys windswept streets. In 1847 New York was a city of contrasts with the glare of gas lamps futilely trying to drive back the darkness of the empty alleys. With her thin fingers feeling for warmth in the tattered fabric twenty-year-old Eleanor Blake pulled her wool shawl tighter around her fragile shoulders. Despite everyones advice she chose to walk home alone after leaving a fun party at the Harpers a family of longtime friends. An internal conflict had caused her to decline her hostesss offer of a carriage ride home despite the pleasant evening being interspersed with light conversation and laughter around an unplaying piano. She desired to walk to experience the cool air on her face and to briefly escape the oppressive norms of her world. A little rain that had stopped moments earlier had made the cobblestones slick reflecting the flickering light of the oil lamps that hung from the building facades. With her leather boots clicking steadily against the stone Eleanor walked quickly creating a rhythm that reverberated in the nights relative quiet. Even though the Bowery was a hive of activity during the day with its bustling marketplaces and well-known theaters it looked entirely different at night. There were very few passersby instead there were sly shadows that moved like ghosts between the buildings. Alongside snatches of inebriated songs and boisterous laughter the windows of the still-open taverns cast halos of yellowish light onto the sidewalks. Eleanor had grown up in a modest but cozy home a few streets away where her father Theodore Blake would spend his days poring over old manuscripts and his evenings whispering weird stories that she had always assumed were fairy tales. As a result Eleanor was familiar with the neighborhood. However she felt a strange chill that night that had nothing to do with the chilly autumn air. She could not get rid of the hazy feeling that she was being watched no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that it was completely a figment of her imagination fed by fairy tales read by candlelight. She tucked a strand of her brown hair that had fallen out of her bun under her bonnet and looked up to take in her surroundings. The buildings which were made of red brick and weathered wood towered over her their dark windows suggesting lifeless eyes that were unconcerned by her. She jumped when she heard a dog barking in the distance. It was a brief and sharp sound. She smiled nervously while making fun of her own anxiety. She muttered to herself Too much mulled wine at the Harpers her voice barely audible over the roaring wind. She was aware that a woman alone at this hour was not safe in the Bowery. Stories of muggings and robberies were common in the newspapers and her father always warned her not to leave the house after dark without an escort. However Eleanors constant stubbornness was a trait her mother who passed away when she was eight years old had instilled in her with her hazel eyes and clever smile. She preferred the freedom of the streets to the confines of drawing rooms where marriage and rags were discussed refusing to follow the strict rules that governed the lives of girls her age. Despite the cautions her desire for independence had led her to turn down offers of company tonight and spend the evening by herself. A dried-up fountain with moss and weeds growing over its contours stood in a small square where she crossed. A short distance from her a group of men who were likely dockworkers seeking a final drink passed by their deep voices and raspy laughter briefly breaking the stillness. She felt his eyes pressing down on her like an unseen hand as one of them turned his head toward her. She sped up lowered her gaze and held her velvet bag close to her chest. 

As they rounded the corner the weight of their attention left him but the uneasiness persisted like a sleeping beast in the pit of his stomach. The Blakes residence was still close to St. and was about a fifteen-minute walk away. Marks which is in a somewhat more tranquil area where the sidewalk trees gave the impression that you were in the middle of the city. This location appealed to Eleanor because of its worn stone facades and small gardens. She still had to go through a number of blocks to get there some of which were well-known for their illegal gambling dens and gangs of small-time thieves. Her brief consideration of turning around and going back to the Harpers was put off by the idea of having to justify her return and acknowledge that she had been afraid. Determined to show herself and others that she could handle things on her own she squared her shoulders. The wind became more intense causing her to shiver as it seeped beneath her shawl. Her thoughts drifted back to the party she had just left as she increased her pace and turned up her collar. As usual the Harpers had been endearing but their discussions lacked substance. They had discussed rumors of a traveling circus soon to be established close to the Hudson the latest Parisian fashions and the political scandals roiling Albany. While Eleanor would have liked to talk about the books she was reading in secret Shelleys poetry or Mrs. Dot Radcliffes gothic stories she was aware that these subjects were unsuitable for a young woman. Thus she had played an awkward waltz on the piano to the guests tepid applause listened courteously and smiled when appropriate. She snapped out of her reverie when she heard a creak behind her. She came to a complete stop her heart racing and slowly turned around. Everyone was gone from the street except for an old newspaper that was being pushed by a gust of wind and rolling along the ground. She squinted trying to see through the darkness but all she could see was a stack of crates next to a warehouse and an overturned barrel. She told herself Its nothing but her inner voice was unconvinced. She started to walk again more quickly this time her senses sharpened. The shadows appeared to grow longer around her writhing in the streetlamps flickering light like avaricious fingers. She took one of her usual shortcuts to save time turning a corner and going down a narrower alley. The buildings in this area were more dilapidated with windows boarded up with loose boards and facades blackened with soot. The stench of damp wood and rotten fish permeated the air reminding everyone of the nearby docks where ships spent the day unloading their cargo. Eleanor pressed a hand against a chilly wall and slowed as she caught her breath. In an attempt to stop her hearts irregular beating she closed her eyes. She whispered Youre almost there trying to calm herself with a mantra. However a fresh more intense feeling swept over her when she opened her eyes once more. There was no longer any doubt that someone or something was observing her just a hazy feeling. As real as an icy touch she could feel someones eyes pressing against the back of her neck. The alleyway was deserted when she turned and looked around in the shadows. But the instinct that had made her run from the dockers curious gaze came back to haunt her screaming in the back of her mind that she wasnt alone. Her fists clenched as she struggled with the urge to run without turning around and the urge to scream to break the silence. She became aware of a covert movement: a blurry hardly noticeable figure briefly rose against a warehouse wall before vanishing. Eleanors fingers clenched around her bag as she held her breath. She didnt have time to wonder if it was a thief a prowler or just a trick of the light an illusion brought on by her mounting fear. 

Just then a few meters ahead of her another figure—this one especially real—rose from a hollow and blocked her path. A burly man his face etched with grit and malice stepped forward toward her a rusty knife gleaming in his hand. The night which had previously only served as a foreboding backdrop had suddenly turned into a very real threat.