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  • Listeners As the twilight descends and shadows lengthen,

  • obsidian river Productions invites you to journey into a world where the line

  • between man's inherent good and haunting evil is blurred.

  • We stand on the precipice of a tail that delves deep into the heart of our

  • darkest desires and the duality that resides within each of us.

  • The bustling streets of Victorian London hide more than secrets.

  • They echo with the haunting duality of one man's soul.

  • In the hands of the masterful Robert Louis Stevenson,

  • we are about to embark on an exploration of identity,

  • morality and the duality of human nature.

  • The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is not just a tale,

  • it's a reflection,

  • a mirror that makes us question are we ever truly one person and what might

  • we be capable of when the societal masks we wear are cast aside.

  • So with each heartbeat,

  • let's step closer to the enigmatic door behind which lies the mystery of a man

  • Torn between two worlds.

  • Prepare yourself for a tale that has haunted readers for generations,

  • making them wonder which face they see in their own reflection.

  • Hold tight for as the story unfolds.

  • You might just discover that the line between Dr. Jekyll and Mr.

  • Hyde is finer than you ever imagined.

  • The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr.

  • Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Story of the door, Mr.

  • Terson, the lawyer,

  • was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile.

  • Cold scanty and embarrassed in discourse, backward in sentiment,

  • lean, long, dusty, dreary,

  • and yet somehow lovable at friendly meetings and when the wine was

  • to his taste, something eminently human beacon from his eye,

  • something indeed which never found its way into his torque,

  • but which spoke not only in these silent symbols of the after dinner face,

  • but more often and loudly in the acts of his life.

  • He was austere with himself,

  • drank gin when he was alone to mortify a taste for vintages and though he

  • enjoyed the theater, had not crossed the doors of one for 20 years,

  • but he had an approved tolerance for others.

  • Sometimes wondering almost with envy at the high pressure of spirits

  • involved in their misdeeds and in any extremity inclined to help rather than to

  • reprove, I inclined to Cain's heresy. He used to say Quain,

  • I let my brother go to the devil in his own way in this character.

  • It was frequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance and the last

  • good influence in the lives of downgoing men and to such as these

  • so long as they came about his chambers,

  • he never marked a shade of change in his demeanor.

  • No doubt the feat was easy to Mr.

  • Terson for he was undemonstrative at the best and even his friendship seemed to

  • be founded in a similar catholicity of good nature.

  • It is the mark of a modest man to accept his friendly circle ready-made from the

  • hands of opportunity and that was the lawyer's way.

  • His friends were those of his own blood or those whom he had known the longest.

  • His affections like ivy were the growth of time.

  • They implied no aptness in the object,

  • hence no doubt the bond that united him to Mr. Richard Enfield,

  • his distant kinsman, the well-known man about town.

  • It was a nut to crack for many what these two could see in each other or what

  • subject they could find in common.

  • It was reported by those who encountered them in their Sunday walks that they

  • said nothing looked singularly dull and would hail with obvious relief.

  • The appearance of a friend for all that the two men put the greatest store

  • by these excursions,

  • counted them the chief jewel of each week and not only set aside occasions of

  • pleasure but even resisted the calls of business that they might enjoy them

  • uninterrupted.

  • It chanced on one of these rambles that their way led them down a by street in a

  • busy quarter of London. The street was small and what is called quiet,

  • but it drove a thriving trade on the weekdays.

  • The inhabitants were all doing well it seemed and all em hoping to do

  • better still and laying out the surplus of their grains in coquet tree so

  • that the shop fronts stood along that thoroughfare with an air of invitation

  • like rows of smiling saleswomen.

  • Even on Sunday when it veiled its more florid charms and lay comparatively

  • empty of passage.

  • The street shone out in contrast to its dingy neighborhood like a fire in a

  • forest and with its freshly painted shutters,

  • well polished brass and general cleanliness and gaity of note

  • instantly caught and pleased the eye of the passenger,

  • two doors from one corner on the left hand going east.

  • The line was broken by the entry of a court and just at that point a certain

  • sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on the street.

  • It was two stories high showed, no window,

  • nothing but a door on the lower story and a blind forehead of discolored

  • wall on the upper and bore in every feature the marks of prolonged

  • and sorted negligence.

  • The door which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker was blistered and

  • disdained.

  • Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels.

  • Children kept shop upon the steps.

  • The schoolboy had tried his knife on the moldings and for close on a generation

  • no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their

  • ravages. Mr.

  • Enfield and the lawyer were on the other side of the by street,

  • but when they came abreast of the entry,

  • the former lifted up his cane and pointed. Did you ever remark that door?

  • He asked and when his companion had replied in the affirmative,

  • it is connected in my mind,

  • added he with a very odd story indeed said Mr. Terson,

  • with a slight change of voice and what was that? Well,

  • it was this way. Returned Mr. Enfield.

  • I was coming home from someplace at the end of the world about three o'clock of

  • a black winter morning and my way lay through a part of town where there was

  • literally nothing to be seen but lamps street after street and all

  • the folks asleep street after street,

  • all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church till

  • at last.

  • I got into that state of mind when a man listens and listens and begins to long

  • for the sight of a policeman all at once. I saw two figures.

  • One,

  • a little man who was stumping along Eastwood at a good walk and the other a

  • girl of maybe eight or 10 who was running as hard as she was able down a cross

  • street. Well sir,

  • the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner and then came the

  • horrible part of the thing for the man trampled calmly over the child's body

  • and left her screaming on the ground.

  • It sounds nothing to hear but it was hellish to see it wasn't like a man,

  • it was like some damned juggernaut. I gave a few hello,

  • took to my heels,

  • collared my gentleman and brought him back to where there was already quite a

  • group about the screaming child.

  • He was perfectly cool and made no resistance but gave me one look so

  • ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running.

  • The people who had turned out were the girl's own family and pretty soon

  • the doctor for whom she had been sent put in his appearance.

  • Well the child was not much the worse,

  • more frightened according to the sore bones and there you might have supposed

  • would be an end to it, but there was one curious circumstance.

  • I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight,

  • so had the child's family, which was only natural,

  • but the doctor's case was what struck me.

  • He was the usual cut and dry apothecary of no particular age and color

  • with a strong Edinburgh accent and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well sir,

  • he was like the rest of us.

  • Every time he looked at my prisoner I saw that Sawbones turned sick and white

  • with the desire to kill him.

  • I knew what was in his mind just as he knew what was in mind and killing being

  • out of the question we did the next best.

  • We told the man we could and would make such a scandal out of this as should

  • make his name stink from one end of London to the other.

  • If he had any friends or any credit we undertook that he should lose them and

  • all the time as we were pitching it in red hot,

  • we were keeping the women off him as best we could for they were as wild as

  • harpies.

  • I never saw a circle of such hateful faces and was the man in the middle with a

  • kind of black sneering coolness. Frightened too.

  • I could see that but carrying it off, sir,

  • really like Satan if you choose to make capital out of this accident said

  • he, I'm naturally helpless, no gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene.

  • Says he name your figure.

  • Well we screwed him up to a hundred pounds for the child's family.

  • He would've clearly liked to stick out but there was something about the lot of

  • us that meant mischief and at last he struck the next thing was

  • to get the money and where do you think he carried us?

  • But to that place with the door whipped out,

  • a key went in and presently came back with a matter of 10 pounds in

  • gold and a check for the balance on couches drawn payable to bearer

  • and signed with a name that I can't mention though it's one of the points of my

  • story,

  • but it was a name at least very well known and often printed the figure was

  • stiff but the signature was good for more than that if it was only genuine.

  • I took the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the whole business

  • looked apocryphal and that a man does not in real life walk into a cellar

  • door at four in the morning and come out with another man's check for close upon

  • a hundred pounds.

  • But he was quite easy and sneering set your mind at rest says he,

  • I will stay with you till the bank's open and cash the check myself.

  • So we all set off