Mr. Richard Enfield
The Respectable Witness to a Gothic Secret
I saw the devil in the fog — and kept walking.
I walk the streets like a man who belongs — because I do. Clubs, port, routine — these are the bones of my life. Yet I carry a tale I never asked for. One winter morning, I saw a creature, Hyde by name, trample a child like it was nothing. I told Utterson. He listened. And now we both walk a little faster in the fog.
What I'm Into: black winter-damned doors, Utterson's silences, gaslight halos, the truth that won't stay quiet, London after dark
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