My dear cousin,
I write you these letters even though I have grave doubts you'll ever read them, for I do not know now if I'll ever find a place where I could send them, or if you'll survive these times that have befallen us all. I wish to paint you a picture of how all these occurrences have impacted our civilised world, maybe if by some chance you do read this you'll be able to provide some perspective for all of us as I know you resided almost within sight of the first appearance of the invaders' bases.
There wasn't much in the papers of our visitors on the Thursday, although the article included did regard it as a much unusual phenomenon, and Friday's article treated the impact on your hometown as merely a freak occurrence and you can imagine the annoyance one would feel upon reading that, though several gentlemen on my street would be on the verge of giving one the cold shoulder had they heard any voice I could've given on the matter. Saturday's papers had more to say when the so-called Battle of Byfleet was headlines news, but they seemed to consider the drastic impact upon the British Army as an exaggeration spread by gossip amongst the workers, indeed the neighbourhood was rather more excited by their plans for the coming Sunday and shrugged off any sense of danger with confidence that the full military strength of Great Britain would resolve any setbacks.
I can say without any real qualms that the early hours of the Sunday the whole street was roused as a policeman came marching along ringing a bell as loudly as he could, shouting "Gas! Deadly gas! Evacuate!" It was fortunate that preparations had been made for a short trip already, although amending these efforts for a longer period of absence was rather a bother, especially as there was a general sense that we all had to make our way out of the area by sunrise. I had managed to stack all that I could on my bicycle and made my way across Chelsea Bridge before pedalling hard to evade the worst of the crowds and keeping an eastward trajectory. The chaos that I saw was appalling, for perfectly sensible men had suddenly become utterly barbaric in their behaviour, smashing and looting every shop they could whether there was a true benefit or no, attacking each other to acquire the slightest advantage. It was shocking that there was no organisation to our exodus whatsoever; I had thought at the time that if the police initiated the exit from London, then surely they were responsible to keep good order during the departure.
The convoluted route I had to take brought me into Peckham of all places! When I realised where I was I felt deeply troubled, fearing that at any moment a cudgel would be applied to my head and everything I had taken from me, and thus I turned to the North in hopes of reaching Tower Bridge and finding a more appropriate way out of the City. It wasn't long before I came upon a mob scrabbling their way towards the river and immediately hid round a corner to avoid being apprehended by any one of these ruffians, whereupon I saw something that contrasted starkly with the previous scenes. One of the most notorious pickpockets in the neighbourhood, whom I had known partly through the papers' reports on his crimes and convictions, was huddled in the entrance to an alley cradling a small boy who I couldn't expect to be more than seven years of age. Any time a manic soul tried to push their way through he would promptly knock them back with a shout of "Leave the li'l' dustbin!" I was so moved by the sight I approached and, when he looked like ready to give me a fierce whack (presumably thinking I had the same motivation), I threw a half-crown at his feet and made my way due East again, seeing as the way North was blocked.
The next event that I feel warrants mentioning occurred when I reached Greenwich, where a momentary lapse in judgment led to me colliding with a lamp post, breaking my bicycle's front wheel. Thus I gathered what I could and continued on foot until I came upon the next sight of atrocious behaviour. A pair of men who from their attire could well have been dockers were clambering up on a post-chaise, inside of which a young lady was freaking at their behaviour while resisting their efforts to open the door while a notably older lady sat on the driver's seat and swung a heavy-looking umbrella at each of them in turn to try and persuade them to desist with their brutality. This sight was so abhorrent to me that I leapt forwards, dropping most of my baggage, and shouted a challenge to the men; I conclude that without my experience in pugilism I would've been battered and bruised alongside the two ladies in Greenwich Park as a result. Nevertheless it must have been midday by the time I had incapacitated the brutes, the result of which had the two ladies approach me and introduce themselves; a Mrs Stoneywell and her daughter Miss Stoneywell. Recognising our mutual predicaments and not knowing how long it would be before their assailants would come around they invited me to join them on their journey, Mrs Stoneywell having no issue when her daughter invited me to ride inside with her. Curiously enough, just as the horses started on their way, Miss Stoneywell presented me with a revolver that was hidden under her chair. It turns out that this used to be her father's but he died five years previous, and she hated the thought of using it, so she entrusted it to me.
As we rode eastwards the two ladies informed me that they had to turn back from Tower Bridge as the Port of London was packed with boats and throngs of people all vying to gain a place on board, and from what they saw almost every road on the North side of the Thames was packed with refugees. A few more remarks between us about all that had been seen made me realise that this wasn't a proper evacuation, it was a stampede. Every resident of London was concerned about escaping the encroaching threat, but had no thought as to how or where they should go; I then concluded that, in less than a week, Britannia lost her place as the centre of the civilised world.
We made it as far as Dartford that day. Though we did manage to secure room and board for the evening I found the cost extortionate, it was as though the people of the town only saw an opportunity to line their pockets with the fruits of London's desperation. Still, it could've been worse as I still had a fair number of coins in my pocketbook. The following day there was a rising tide of refugees coming in after us, so we did all we could to make our escape from the developing mob and made direct for Gravesend. Upon arriving we found several vessels waiting, all just as mercenary if not more so than those we had to deal with in Dartford. I did secure us a place on a steamship, bound for Ostend, with a midday meal for a whole sovereign - daylight robbery, I tell you!
Anyhow, as we waited anxiously for the steamer to make her way out to sea with the decks filling up with more people, some of whom appear to have been displaced by our fellow Londoners from their homes, I took the opportunity to take in the scene as best I could and was able to see a small flotilla of naval vessels sitting close to the Tilbury side of the estuary. Only one was close enough for me to identify, the Formidable-class battleship HMS Enterprise. Finally we found our ride moving away from the shore and began to breathe when there was a great shout of alarm from the port side, which was facing towards old London.
I suppose you'll be familiar enough with the description of what was seen. Thundering up the Thames was an enormous creature that resembled a stocky horse, almost a Shetland pony but with a strangely human-like way of expressing itself on a much larger scale. I don't know if it had a blue coat or if it was actually wearing a kind of uniform that clung to its figure like a bathing costume, but there was a sharp orange mane and tail that stood out against the blue. The eyes were huge even compared to the being itself, golden orbs focused with disturbing purpose upon the vessels that were now all struggling to make their escape. As it approached I could see that the chest section wasn't blue but a rather sorry-looking shade of yellow, and then I saw two huge feathery wings in a much more canary kind of yellow that matched the suggestion upon the giant muzzle. As it came along I saw another following along, mostly the same blue and yellow but the mane and tail were more of a navy blue and the eyes soon revealed themselves to be green, what's more the wings were blue although not of the same shade as either of the previous descriptions. Where the first was looking with intense purpose upon all of us, this one was looking at us more like how a young boy would look upon a rocking horse in a shop window, such as wouldn't offer any reassurance given the circumstances. Still, another was coming up further behind, and this was a brighter blue with some very stark contrasts in the colours of its mane and eyes that were a glowing magenta; most disturbing of all was that this one appeared to be hovering in mid-air by slowly flapping its wings.
These beasts closed the distance in good enough time. I could see that there were lighter zig-zag patterns on the fetlocks of the first one every time it lifted its hooves out of the water to step closer to us. I watched as some of the vessels that hadn't made as much headway as ours were pinned by the front hooves of the first two of these beasts, making me swallow some bile at the thought of how the people on the decks would fare. Their wings flared open but they didn't flap and they began to turn around, dragging the boats back to shore, when a great noise rang out across the estuary and the Enterprise thrust towards the giants. There was a tremendous heavy sound like an eagle's cry combined with a panicked whinny that resulted in the first giant to start and look back towards the approaching warship.
I write you these letters even though I have grave doubts you'll ever read them, for I do not know now if I'll ever find a place where I could send them, or if you'll survive these times that have befallen us all. I wish to paint you a picture of how all these occurrences have impacted our civilised world, maybe if by some chance you do read this you'll be able to provide some perspective for all of us as I know you resided almost within sight of the first appearance of the invaders' bases.
There wasn't much in the papers of our visitors on the Thursday, although the article included did regard it as a much unusual phenomenon, and Friday's article treated the impact on your hometown as merely a freak occurrence and you can imagine the annoyance one would feel upon reading that, though several gentlemen on my street would be on the verge of giving one the cold shoulder had they heard any voice I could've given on the matter. Saturday's papers had more to say when the so-called Battle of Byfleet was headlines news, but they seemed to consider the drastic impact upon the British Army as an exaggeration spread by gossip amongst the workers, indeed the neighbourhood was rather more excited by their plans for the coming Sunday and shrugged off any sense of danger with confidence that the full military strength of Great Britain would resolve any setbacks.
I can say without any real qualms that the early hours of the Sunday the whole street was roused as a policeman came marching along ringing a bell as loudly as he could, shouting "Gas! Deadly gas! Evacuate!" It was fortunate that preparations had been made for a short trip already, although amending these efforts for a longer period of absence was rather a bother, especially as there was a general sense that we all had to make our way out of the area by sunrise. I had managed to stack all that I could on my bicycle and made my way across Chelsea Bridge before pedalling hard to evade the worst of the crowds and keeping an eastward trajectory. The chaos that I saw was appalling, for perfectly sensible men had suddenly become utterly barbaric in their behaviour, smashing and looting every shop they could whether there was a true benefit or no, attacking each other to acquire the slightest advantage. It was shocking that there was no organisation to our exodus whatsoever; I had thought at the time that if the police initiated the exit from London, then surely they were responsible to keep good order during the departure.
The convoluted route I had to take brought me into Peckham of all places! When I realised where I was I felt deeply troubled, fearing that at any moment a cudgel would be applied to my head and everything I had taken from me, and thus I turned to the North in hopes of reaching Tower Bridge and finding a more appropriate way out of the City. It wasn't long before I came upon a mob scrabbling their way towards the river and immediately hid round a corner to avoid being apprehended by any one of these ruffians, whereupon I saw something that contrasted starkly with the previous scenes. One of the most notorious pickpockets in the neighbourhood, whom I had known partly through the papers' reports on his crimes and convictions, was huddled in the entrance to an alley cradling a small boy who I couldn't expect to be more than seven years of age. Any time a manic soul tried to push their way through he would promptly knock them back with a shout of "Leave the li'l' dustbin!" I was so moved by the sight I approached and, when he looked like ready to give me a fierce whack (presumably thinking I had the same motivation), I threw a half-crown at his feet and made my way due East again, seeing as the way North was blocked.
The next event that I feel warrants mentioning occurred when I reached Greenwich, where a momentary lapse in judgment led to me colliding with a lamp post, breaking my bicycle's front wheel. Thus I gathered what I could and continued on foot until I came upon the next sight of atrocious behaviour. A pair of men who from their attire could well have been dockers were clambering up on a post-chaise, inside of which a young lady was freaking at their behaviour while resisting their efforts to open the door while a notably older lady sat on the driver's seat and swung a heavy-looking umbrella at each of them in turn to try and persuade them to desist with their brutality. This sight was so abhorrent to me that I leapt forwards, dropping most of my baggage, and shouted a challenge to the men; I conclude that without my experience in pugilism I would've been battered and bruised alongside the two ladies in Greenwich Park as a result. Nevertheless it must have been midday by the time I had incapacitated the brutes, the result of which had the two ladies approach me and introduce themselves; a Mrs Stoneywell and her daughter Miss Stoneywell. Recognising our mutual predicaments and not knowing how long it would be before their assailants would come around they invited me to join them on their journey, Mrs Stoneywell having no issue when her daughter invited me to ride inside with her. Curiously enough, just as the horses started on their way, Miss Stoneywell presented me with a revolver that was hidden under her chair. It turns out that this used to be her father's but he died five years previous, and she hated the thought of using it, so she entrusted it to me.
As we rode eastwards the two ladies informed me that they had to turn back from Tower Bridge as the Port of London was packed with boats and throngs of people all vying to gain a place on board, and from what they saw almost every road on the North side of the Thames was packed with refugees. A few more remarks between us about all that had been seen made me realise that this wasn't a proper evacuation, it was a stampede. Every resident of London was concerned about escaping the encroaching threat, but had no thought as to how or where they should go; I then concluded that, in less than a week, Britannia lost her place as the centre of the civilised world.
We made it as far as Dartford that day. Though we did manage to secure room and board for the evening I found the cost extortionate, it was as though the people of the town only saw an opportunity to line their pockets with the fruits of London's desperation. Still, it could've been worse as I still had a fair number of coins in my pocketbook. The following day there was a rising tide of refugees coming in after us, so we did all we could to make our escape from the developing mob and made direct for Gravesend. Upon arriving we found several vessels waiting, all just as mercenary if not more so than those we had to deal with in Dartford. I did secure us a place on a steamship, bound for Ostend, with a midday meal for a whole sovereign - daylight robbery, I tell you!
Anyhow, as we waited anxiously for the steamer to make her way out to sea with the decks filling up with more people, some of whom appear to have been displaced by our fellow Londoners from their homes, I took the opportunity to take in the scene as best I could and was able to see a small flotilla of naval vessels sitting close to the Tilbury side of the estuary. Only one was close enough for me to identify, the Formidable-class battleship HMS Enterprise. Finally we found our ride moving away from the shore and began to breathe when there was a great shout of alarm from the port side, which was facing towards old London.
I suppose you'll be familiar enough with the description of what was seen. Thundering up the Thames was an enormous creature that resembled a stocky horse, almost a Shetland pony but with a strangely human-like way of expressing itself on a much larger scale. I don't know if it had a blue coat or if it was actually wearing a kind of uniform that clung to its figure like a bathing costume, but there was a sharp orange mane and tail that stood out against the blue. The eyes were huge even compared to the being itself, golden orbs focused with disturbing purpose upon the vessels that were now all struggling to make their escape. As it approached I could see that the chest section wasn't blue but a rather sorry-looking shade of yellow, and then I saw two huge feathery wings in a much more canary kind of yellow that matched the suggestion upon the giant muzzle. As it came along I saw another following along, mostly the same blue and yellow but the mane and tail were more of a navy blue and the eyes soon revealed themselves to be green, what's more the wings were blue although not of the same shade as either of the previous descriptions. Where the first was looking with intense purpose upon all of us, this one was looking at us more like how a young boy would look upon a rocking horse in a shop window, such as wouldn't offer any reassurance given the circumstances. Still, another was coming up further behind, and this was a brighter blue with some very stark contrasts in the colours of its mane and eyes that were a glowing magenta; most disturbing of all was that this one appeared to be hovering in mid-air by slowly flapping its wings.
These beasts closed the distance in good enough time. I could see that there were lighter zig-zag patterns on the fetlocks of the first one every time it lifted its hooves out of the water to step closer to us. I watched as some of the vessels that hadn't made as much headway as ours were pinned by the front hooves of the first two of these beasts, making me swallow some bile at the thought of how the people on the decks would fare. Their wings flared open but they didn't flap and they began to turn around, dragging the boats back to shore, when a great noise rang out across the estuary and the Enterprise thrust towards the giants. There was a tremendous heavy sound like an eagle's cry combined with a panicked whinny that resulted in the first giant to start and look back towards the approaching warship.
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April 19
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