YO! I didn’t write this! ALL credit goes to the wonderful @vikingzombieboyfriend . I just gave him a before and after (and maybe some money as extra motivation), and he filled in the rest. Enjoy.
It was a sweltering July afternoon in 1883 as Sir Charles Magnus-Drake strolled regally through London’s Whitechapel slums. He knew his tall, muscular frame would deter any ruffians tempted by his fine clothing and sapphire-studded cane. A handful of other society folk were about that hot July morning, observing the poverty for their own amusement from the safety of their carriages. These men and women led empty, frivolous lives, and were eager for any sort of thrill. Sir Charles mixed with them regularly, in the balls and salons and fashionable restaurants, but they had no idea he was no longer of their world.
Transatlantic Crossing
Published
Stuck as Santa 