roar by bunnybeth

(no subject)

I am new to the community and I'm looking for some help.
I have written a play based on the Whitechapel Murders and I would love to get some insight from people who are interested in the events and the era in general.
The dialogue was difficult to write and when it had it's first reading (just a 20 minute of the 70 minute total) some people expressed concern that some of the language/ slang was too modern. I really want the lines to fit the mood of the piece and keep it proper.
The play is pseudo- historical (I have kept and discarded facts that work with the plot and condensed the events of four months into a "one moment in time" situation.
If anyone would like to read through the script and offer advice please contact me at gowestjack AT gmail dot com and introduce yourself.
Thank you.

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The Last Chapter... The Last Deal... The Last Night

Mary Jane Kelly
Murdered Friday, November 9, 1888

Mary Jane Kelly was approximately 25 years old at the time of her death which would place her birth around 1863. She was 5' 7" tall and stout. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and a fair complexion. "Said to have been possessed of considerable personal attractions." (McNaughten)

She was last seen wearing a linsey frock and a red shawl pulled around her shoulders. She was bare headed. Detective Constable Walter Dew claimed to know Kelly well by sight and says that she was attractive and paraded around, usually in the company of two or three friends. He says she always wore a spotlessly clean white apron.

Maria Harvey, a friend, says that she was "much superior to that of most persons in her position in life."

It is also said that she spoke fluent Welsh.

Joseph Barnett says that he "always found her of sober habits."

Landlord John McCarthy says "When in liquor she was very noisy; otherwise she was a very quiet woman."

Caroline Maxwell says that she "was not a notorious character."

Catherine Pickett claims "She was a good, quiet, pleasant girl, and was well liked by all of us."

Contemporary illustration of Mary Kelly outside 13 Miller's Court.

Mary Kelly's Last Words
by Robert Crawford

"You'll be alright for what I've told you."-
By which to live a wholesome, happy life.
I wasn't always like this, do you know?
The woman of the hour, or the queen
Of the four penny knee trembler,
Back alley lover and the scourge of love.
You get the message, eh? In my home county
(It's unimportant which), my father found
I'd loved a lad so deeply, with a slap
Across my foolish face I landed here
In Miller's Court, in Jolly Olde. You've heard
This story countless times while traveling,
I'd wager, from the countless girls like me
Soliciting for custom in the fog.
Oh dear, somewhere in mischief I had lost
My kerchief. There's a dear, I'm much obliged...
A red one! 'Ey, bloke, are you tryin' to tell
Me something that I'm better off not knowin'?
Let's get a move on, love, 'cause, as they say,
The Ripper lurks about behind each lamp.
Those girls! You wouldn't do that to me, would
You, love? No, you've too much a gentle face,
And I don't think you'd ever have the heart.
Say, since you're feeling generous tonight,
Would you mind tossing in an extra ha'
Penny or two for an expectant mum?
I guess that I'm three months along or so.
I haven't seen a doctor, yet- Who can
Afford to take in physic, nowadays?
I don't know what I'll name it, boy or girl.
But I'll admit I haven't given it
Much thought, with all my cares to worry of.
Me rent's long overdue, M'Carthy's (He's
The landlord) breathing down me neck
For 30 shillings that he claims I owe.
Can you imagine, 30 shillings for
A hovel as this, even for a year?
For thirty silver pieces, he betrays
Me and me child, much like another lass
Named Mary's child. But still, I shouldn't be
Too hard on the old bastard, as he throws
Some custom my way every while or so.
Don't mind the broken window, love, the heat
Thrown out the grate just pushes out the draft
Where it belongs. If only evil were
As easily intimidated. Make
Yourself as comfortable as possible-
I promised you that much, at least.
Right where
You're standing, at the door, is where my friend
Had stood today when I told her before
She left, "Be good, and don't turn out to be
As I have."
Why are you still loitering
Beside the door? You're acting as if this
Is your first time. This is your fifth, you say?
Well, in Whitechapel, that's as close as one
Can get to sainthood.
What's in the valise?
You won't need toys with me, my dear. A knife...!
Oh, Lord, it's *you*. Oh murder...!
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