Journal-Going to the Movies!!!! (I<3MOVIES!)

Sweeney Todd-The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Supernatural Aid

“It’s just up here.” Mrs. Lovett said has she turned the key to the upstairs door. It clicked in approval for them to come inside. She let Mr. Todd go first.

He stepped in, the rush of cold and dust sticking to his skin. It was nothing like how he remembered. The once buttercup wall paper was now faded to brown and peeling. The floor boards groaned underneath him as he went to the wide window. Through the dirty glass he could see the smog filled city. Outside everyone wandered to their business. In the corner was the crib, untouched after all these years. He went to it, not noticing Mrs. Lovett’s crouch down and fumble with a loose floor board.

A molding blanket was draped over the crib. He removed it. Underneath was a doll, the doll he had given his little Johanna when she was so small. It had once had a powdered face, its little lip and little eyes glossy. It had worn a silk dress that would be soft against Johanna’s skin. Now its face was broken, its dress mangled with age and wear. What wasn’t ruined from that long time ago?

“Here we are!” Mrs. Lovett’s chirped from behind.

Mr. Todd wandered in a daze over to her.

He knelt beside her at the hole. Inside sat a box. He knew this box.

“When they come for the little girl I hid them. I could have sold them, but I didn’t,” she said.
He opened it. It creaked with age just as everything else did in the room. Inside were eight razors, all sleeping and untouched.

“Those handles are chaffed silver, ain’t they?” Mrs. Lovett’s said with awe.

“Silver,” he whispered fondly, “yes.” He tried to flick a bit of happiness in his lips away.
He ran his finger slowly across, touching each razor. He pinched one by the handle and took it out. He was slow to lift it in front of him.

“These are my friends,” he declared as he twirled for Mrs. Lovett’s to admire their glimmer. She stared at them with hungry eyes.

He flicked it open. “See this one shine.” He spoke only to the blade, his eyes filled with desire. “How he smiles in the light. My friend.”

He stood so he could inspect it in the window light. He flipped it over and over, watching the glimmer off the silver.

Wandering away from the window he held it to his ear, as if could whisper a secret only he could hear. These razors had been locked away for all these years, just like him. He could feel their longing for freedom, just as he had heard it in his own soul. He would promise these friends, his only friends what they deserved.

Mrs. Lovett’s, still watching, smiled. Her heavy eyes were filling with a mother’s care. She placed her hand on Mr. Todd’s shoulder and breathed deep. He paid no attention, his eyes focused on the blade.

“I’m your fried too Mr. Todd.”

“You will soon drip rubies,” he promised to the silver.

He stared at his reflection in the blade. His face was worn and ashy and his hair was streaked with white. He tilted the knife and saw Mrs. Lovett’s with her chestnut eyes.

“Leave me,” he said over his shoulder.

She turned and with out protest, walked out. He looked once more at his reflection. He stood before the window, holding his weapon to the light.

“At last,” he declared. “My arm is complete again!”