A Frightful Fight

In the East End of London in the winter of 1879, a bare-knuckle boxer accidentally kills his opponent during a match and finds himself haunted in the ring.

Created & Produced by Samuel Weston Evans

Written & Directed by Samuel Weston Evans

Sound Designed & Edited by Samuel Weston Evans

Vocal Performances by:

Kazeem Tosin Amore as Jem

Samuel Weston Evans as The Keeper

Cover Art Illustrated by Mongemanuk.std

Website: https://aloneintheattic.buzzsprout.com/

Instagram: @_aloneintheattic

Transcript

Come in.

I’m pleased to see you here again. Are you set to listen?

Well. On we go then.

Which tale will you hear tonight?

Ah. The boxing gloves you hold in your hands belonged to Jem Lewis, a bare-knuckle boxer who found himself haunted in the ring. This is the tale of...“A Frightful Fight.”

As usual: close your eyes, open your ears, and journey back to that frightful evening.

It was the 6th of December, 1879, the night of my big fight against Henry Sullivan at the Green Elephant in East London.

The boxing saloon in the back of the pub was filled with spirited spectators. I had never seen a crowd that large gathered around the ring before. This match was one of the most anticipated in the area since Henry and I were both local fighters and neither of us had ever lost a match. We’d each been working our way through other challengers for a while, but our inevitable meeting had finally arrived. This night would determine which of us was the best bare-knuckle boxer in the East End.

He was a brutal fighter known for leaving his opponents battered and broken, but I had an equally ruthless reputation. Anyone who had seen either of us fight before knew this bout would be a bloody one, which is why so many had come to watch.

The faces in the crowd were mostly familiar since the match was happening at the saloon I managed. Henry was a brash and arrogant man, and had challenged me to a fight in my own ring. He sought to dismantle and dishonour me in the place I had helped establish, but I was ready to send him home bruised and beaten, just like all those who had faced me before.

The ring was my home. I’d been managing the boxing events at the Green Elephant and fighting in its matches for years. I lived upstairs, above the pub, and my longtime business partner, Hitch Turner, was its proprietor. So every time I stepped into the ring to face a challenger, it was personal. I was fighting for my honor and defending the reputation of what Hitch and I had built. No one was going to take that away from me.

When it was time for the event to begin, Hitch called us into the ring. First, he announced Henry, which was followed by shouting and booing from the crowd. Once the noise had died down, he bellowed my name and the place erupted with cheers.

I made my way through the mass of people and ducked between the ropes, stepping into the ring. Henry stood in the far corner, staring me down. He was a towering man, whose broad frame was packed with muscle. His chest and arms were covered with strange tattoos and his face was heavily scarred from previous fights. He was a formidable sight to look upon, and I knew he would be my toughest opponent yet. Our eyes stayed locked on each other from opposite sides of the ring, until, at long last, the bell rang and we met in the middle.

He lunged at me and swung his right fist hard, hitting me across the face. I could feel the sting on my cheek from his bony knuckles. I shook it off and brought my hands back up. When he came at me again, I blocked his arm and hit him with my own right fist on his jowl. He spit out blood and snarled at me. This was going to be a long fight.

We moved around the ring, trading and dodging blows. As the bout progressed, his face and gut were slowly turning purple. A bruising ache radiated from every area of my body where he’d landed a hit, and I wiped away a streak of blood dripping from the corner of my brow. Our fists were spattered red. The crowd was untamed, shouting wildly as the carnage unfolded.

Round after round, we pummeled and wore each other down. The fire within us continued to burn, but the pace of the fight slowed after a while. Soon we began circling each other, conserving our strength and studying when to strategically attack next. I went in to hit his torso, but he reacted quickly, stepping to the side and catching my chin with his left fist. It knocked me up against the ropes.

While I was off balance, he rushed forward and hit me again, hard. I was suddenly backed into the corner and found myself getting battered. He unleashed an onslaught of punches into my ribs, which felt like bricks. I tried to grab his arms, but he was too fast and my fingers slipped off from the blood. Barely able to breathe, I thought he was going to kill me.

In a frenzy of panic, I summoned all the strength left within myself and fought for my life. I shoved him away, into the center of the ring. In that brief moment, when he was off balance with his hands down, I twisted and pulled back my right arm. Time slowed down in that single instant, and I watched his eyes fill with fear as I swung my clenched fist around. In the next second, my knuckles struck deep into his cheek, drawing blood and snapping his head to the side. I heard a crack and watched those fearful eyes go dim. His body went limp and fell straight backwards, thudding onto the wooden floor.

The crowd erupted with shouting and cheering, but I was stunned. Henry’s ring men ran in to check on him. They were patting and shaking him, but he wasn’t moving. I made eye contact with Hitch, who looked worried. Trying not to alarm the crowd or draw unwanted attention from outside, he made an announcement that the saloon needed to be cleared out so Henry could be properly treated.

But the crowd’s focus then turned from me to Henry, and gasps of shock and dismay filled the room as they realized the severity of the situation. Shouting over their chattering, Hitch and I ushered them out of the pub as quickly as we could. They slowly filed out, but there was one man who lingered. He had slicked black hair, was dressed in a fancy suit, and carried a leather bag at his side. He told me he had a personal proposition and needed to speak with me, so I asked him to have a seat at the bar and said I would talk with him afterwards.

I then went back to the ring, where only Hitch and the two men remained around Henry’s body. They had been checking his breath and trying to save him, but he was gone. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach, and I felt an ache in my gut worse than any punch. Had I really killed him? I was filled with remorse, then looked at Hitch and began to panic.

Bare-knuckle boxing was illegal, and if the police found out about Henry’s death, I would be charged with manslaughter and the saloon would be shut down. The ring men threatened to report us, but said they’d keep quiet for the right price. We offered them as much as we could, but they still wanted more. As we tried to work out a deal, the mysterious man entered the room.

He’d overheard our conversation, and said he was willing to pay the men what they wanted in return for my help. When I asked what he needed from me, he told the men to wait and brought me over to the bar to speak in private.

He opened up his bag and pulled out a pair of boxing gloves, introducing himself as Arthur Everett from the West London Boxing Club. He explained how the sport of boxing was changing, with the introduction of the Marquess of Queensberry Rules, and how he believed gloved boxing would soon fully replace bare-knuckle fights. As a scout for the club and an investor in future champions, he had attended this fight and was impressed by my victory. He offered to be my backer in professional bouts if I were to train and box at the club.

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at the gloves and then down at my bloodied hands. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to step back into a boxing ring again. Sensing my hesitation, Arthur added that he would handle tonight’s situation, if I were to join the club. He was offering me a way out with a new start. I looked at the scene in the ring and then turned back to Arthur.

“Alright,” I said to him, and he handed me the gloves with a grin. He told me to come visit the club the next day to meet the other boxers. We headed back into the saloon, where he paid the two men their desired sum, in exchange for their silence and cooperation.

I put the gloves down on the ring floor to help them lift Henry’s body. Then Hitch and I watched Arthur lead them out the back of the saloon, until they disappeared into the darkness.

I was exhausted and shaken from the day, so I went upstairs to my room to get some sleep, while Hitch closed up the pub.

I tossed and turned in my bed, having haunting nightmares of Henry’s bloodied face and fearful eyes. Since I couldn’t sleep soundly, I went downstairs to the bar to get a drink. The moon shone through the window, but I lit a candle to see better in the dark. The place was eerily quiet compared to the lively sounds from the crowd earlier that evening. I went behind the bar to grab a bottle of scotch, but stopped when I heard a noise from the saloon.

I walked around and peered into the room with my candle. I didn’t hear any other sounds or see anything strange, but the pair of boxing gloves I’d left in the ring caught my eye. I walked towards them but stopped when I saw Henry’s blood stains on the wood. My heart sank again.

I took a breath to embolden myself and then stepped into the ring, putting the candle down on the ground. I picked up the gloves and put them on. It felt strange to cover my fists. I threw a few punches, but had to stop since my body was sore from the fight.

Suddenly, I heard another noise from the other side of the room. When I looked in that direction, I saw the silhouette of a figure standing in the corner of the saloon

“Couldn’t sleep either, Hitch?” But there was no response. As I looked longer, I realized the figure was taller than Hitch. I tensed up, now on alert.

“Who are you?” I was met with silence once again. I couldn’t see who it was since they were too far from the candle’s light, and I was unable to move it with the gloves on my hands.

I waited in the silence and then the figure started slowly circling in the shadows outside the ring.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

He approached the ring and began to emerge from the shadows. I raised my fists to defend myself. But when he ducked between the ropes and stood up, a shudder ran through me.

In the dim glow from the candle I could see the familiar, towering, and tattoo-covered frame. How was it possible? The lifeless corpse I had seen on the floor of the ring was now standing before me, getting closer with every step.

I backed into the corner and froze with terror, unable to move. When he was right near me, I could see his scarred face and ghostly eyes.

But they were not the eyes of Henry...the two dark pits staring back at me were grey and soulless, like something—

Jem Lewis won the match, but lost the fight of his life that night; His first and only defeat in the ring. But now his story has been shared and you have helped set his spirit free.

In return, I will continue sharing about the Attic.

As I told you before, my brother is free to leave this place, while I am bound within. We both inhabit this space during the day, but every evening he ventures out, which is when I am able to welcome my guests in private. He always departs after the sun sets, and returns before it rises again. The bell, which you have heard each visit, chimes the moment before dawn and lets me know he will soon be coming back.

Right on cue. Come visit again to aid the ghosts and discover more of the Attic’s secrets.

I shall open the door for you again soon. The spirits and I are grateful for your time. Stay safe out there...and don’t drop your guard when faced with fear.

Thank you for listening to Alone in the Attic. Tonight's episode was written, directed, and edited by Samuel Weston Evans, with vocal performances by Kazeem Tosin Amore as Jem and Samuel Weston Evans as The Keeper.

Join us next week to hear the eerie story of “The Ghost Town.” When an outlaw on the run in the summer of 1868 hides near an abandoned California gold mine, she is haunted by a specter that still inhabits the seemingly empty village.

Find out next time...Alone in the Attic.