The Hollow Children
The plague came on a Tuesday in November, 1888. By Thursday, every adult in the Whitechapel district was dead. By Saturday, the dead were smiling. Eleanor Vance stood at the third-floor window of St. Jude's Workhouse and watched the street below. Bodies lay where they had fallen—on the cobblestones, in the gutters, leaning against lampposts as though resting. There was no blood. No screams....
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