Auszug aus englischem Roman

[JacksProstata]

Hi,
ich suche einen Textauszug aus einem englischen Roman, der die Stimmung vorm und bei einem Mord von Jack the Ripper atmosphärisch gut beschreibt. Wäre nett, wenn mir jemand einen Link geben könnte, oder wenn als pdf oder txt auch gern per mail. Meldet euch.

Danke im Voraus

[academyfightsong]

this is the place where the world ended, here in this mean ground-floor flat just off dorset street, more than a century ago.

this is the bed, and the knife, and the candle stub. this is the rag that hung over the window. this is the kettle that melted to slag on the hearth.

this is the women, and this is the man.
on this night. in this room.

after that, only fire. only ritual.[/b]






"...b - beneath... beneath the fat of the upper thigh we find the fascia."

"this sturdy membrane must be penetrated before we can cut into the muscle which it encases."

"the muscles of the upper leg are thick, prime beef... that serves to conceal the femur, longest of our body bones... it's globate head fitted against the concave pelvic underside... and with an oaken strenght so that one cubic inch might easily withstand more than a ton of..."

"babylon? the myth of the tiamat and marduk, the enuma elish... extraordinary. absoluteley extraordinary."

"these archetypal forms... to become as gods... the bacchanal. apothesis. it's almost... it's almost as if... as if the act itself... the act of violence... some trigger in the brain, as if.... as if it were..."

"oh dear god."

"dear god, what is this aethyr I come upon? what spirits are these labouring, in what heavenly light?"

"no... no, this is dazzle, but not yet divinity. nor are these heathen wraiths about my spirits, lacking even that vitality."

"what, then? am i like saint john the divine, vouchsafed a glimpse of those last times? are these the days my death shall spare me?"

"it would seem we are to suffer an apocalypse of cockatoos... morose barbaric children playing joylessly with their unfathomable toys."

"where comes this dullness in your eyes? how has your century numbed you so? shall man be given marvels only when he is beyond all wonder?"

"your days were born in blood and fires, where of in you i may not see the meanest spark! your past is pain and iron! know yourselves!"

"with all your shimmering numbers and your lights, think not to be inured to history. it's black root succours you. it is inside you. are you asleep to it, that cannot feel it's breath upon you neck, nor see what soaks it's cuffs? see me! wake up and look upon me! i am with you always!"

"you are the sum of all preceding you, yet seem indifferent to yourselves. a culture grown disinterested, even in its own abysmal wounds."

"your women all but show their sexes, and yet this display elicits not a flicker of response. your own flesh is made meaningless to you."

"how would i seem to you? some antique fiend or penny dreadful horror, yet you frighten me! you have not souls. with you i am alone."

"alone in an olympus. though accomplished in the sciences, your slightest mechanisms are beyond my gasp. they humble me, yet touch you not at all."

"this disaffection. this is armageddon. ah mary, how times levelled us. we are made equal, both mere curious of our vanished epoch in this lustless world. this world, where in comparison i am made ignorant, while you... you are made virtuous."

"do you understand how i have loved you? you'd have all been dead in a year or two from liver failure, men or childbirth. dead. forgotten. i have saved you. do you understand that? i have made you safe from time and we are wed in legend, inextricable within eternity. know that i am... uh..."

"no! no, i don't know you! i'm not jack! i'm william. i'm william..."

"nnnn... nnugh. GOD?"






"s-sir william? have you done, sir? is it finished with?"

"it is beginning, netley. only just beginning. for better or worse, the twentieth century. i have delivered it. help me up. now there is only descent. only the valley. would that i had died there, netley, in that light above the cold line... i'm cold. take me home..."

[thomas schachner]

ich liebe diesen comic! .-)))

[academyfightsong]

hi thomas,
geht mir auch so.  

ahh... hab ganz vergessen zu schreiben, dass es sich bei dem text oben um einen auszug aus "from hell" chapter 10,  "the best of all tailors" handelt.

"the killer is no longer operating upon a recognizable basis of logic, and what he does to his victim before and after death is motivated by what can only be called magical thinking, where a private world of symbols and significance is acted out in psychodrama form upon the victim."
--alan moore