Sunday Evening At The Wax Museum

Angelique Dumont stood outside the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London.

She was wearing a white evening dress and white leather gloves.

The Price Atwill Wax Museum was open on Sunday evenings in the summer and although it wasn't officially summer yet (that was another two weeks away), the museum's owners generally opened the museum 7 evenings a week starting on June 1st and then went back to 6 evenings a week after the Feast of Michaelmass in September.

She was waiting for her escort Amadeus Emanon, a rather shy young man who faithfully attended every Friday and Saturday evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera when she was singing the role of Christine a couple of years ago.

She hadn't seen him for a while.

She found him blubbering away in an all-night cafe a few evenings ago visibly upset and distraught over the destruction of his Mickey Mouse watch by an acquaintance of his.

She had invited him to visit the Wax Museum with her tonight.

She was intrigued by rumours about the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors exhibit in the basement.

There were rumours circulating throughout the vampiric netherworld (for Angelique Dumont was a vampiress- she had been turned into a vampiress in a New Orleans cemetery back in the summer of 2005 when Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters had hit the cemetery where she was visiting her family's crypt to tell her ancestors that she was a young woman officially dying of cancer. She had been turned into a vampiress on request by the obliging Spanish vampire pianist Manuel de Rivera y Vargas who happened to be flying through the cemetery at the time) that the spirit of Jack the Ripper had been released from Hell and had taken possession of the wax effigy of the Ripper figure in the Museum's Chamber of Horrors.

Even though numerous Church of England clergymen and bishops had been preaching sermons the past few weeks that there was no such place as Hell and therefore no stock should be put in these rumours, crowds continued to visit the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors anyways.

Far more than the small, aging and grey-haired half dozen people who snored through Church of England sermons in local parishes every Sunday.

Angelique longed to see the wax effigy of Jack The Ripper for herself.

Despite being a vampiress, she was a little uneasy about visiting the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors on her own.

That is why she had invited Amadeus Emanon to be her escort this evening.

"Angelique?" she heard a voice behind her.

She turned and there stood Amadeus Emanon. It was funny how much Amadeus looked like a young Alan Rickman she thought to herself.

Inside the basement of the Wax Museum, an angry snort was heard.

It was the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper.

It could smell the scent of another mass murderer somewhere in the vicinity.

Somewhere in the vicinity lurked the smell of California mass murderer Charles Manson.

The Ripper growled. He was the greatest murderer of all time not Charles Manson.

To be continued.