The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Jekyll
From the desk of Dr. Henry Jekyll
16 May, 1889
I have just recovered from a hellish transformation.
Last night, I drank a vile elixir–a potion meant to separate the “good” and “evil” parts of man. In my folly, I believed that this potion would benefit mankind. And yet, I was wrong. Dead wrong. For you see, dear journal–after I drank this terrible potion, I realized to my horror that I was no longer Doctor Jekyll…
Instead, I had been transformed into the hideous Mister Jekyll.
That’s right, dear journal:
… I was no longer a doctor!
In a blind rage, I thrust my fist against the mirror and watched the glass shatter beneath the weight of a hand that I now no longer recognized. See, in many (if not all) respects, I looked and felt just like Dr. Jekyll. But in this new and corrupted form, I no longer had the poise, intellect, and medical expertise of a man who had studied Biological Bacteriology for six consecutive semesters at the University of Bristol. Instead, I was Mister Jekyll.
It was only then that I realized what I had created. My hellish elixir did not separate “good” and “evil.” No. It had a far more-sinister purpose:
It separated “Doctor” and “Non-Doctor.”
A fate I would not wish upon my enemies.
Retching silently, I sprinted into my study in search of an opiate to clear my fevered mind. But as I opened my medical cabinet, I felt myself grow pale–for I now no longer recognized any of the labels on the medicine!!!
What was morphine? What was Camphor? What was Acetanilide??? Mere minutes ago (back when I was a doctor), I knew what all of these medicines were. And more. But now (now that I was no longer a doctor)… Why, I was as helpless as a pre-med student on his first day at University!
Glancing around fretfully, I saw a horrid, two-headed snake curled up in the back of the cabinet. And I screamed.
It is only now, in the sober light of day, that I realize that this “snake”…
…was a STETHOSCOPE!!!
And the horrors of the night were still far from over…
For you see dear journal, that night I was also expected to go to dinner with my innocent yet stunningly-beautiful fiancée: Elizabeth Dorothea Carew. And so, in a mad rush, I sprinted to the restaurant–panting, covered in sweat, and still wearing my lab coat… like the charlatan I was.
My dear, sweet Elizabeth spotted me from across the restaurant and exclaimed: “Why, there you are Doctor Jekyll!”–I couldn’t help but notice that Elizabeth had put a slight (yet inescapable) emphasis on the word “Doctor.”
And I felt my skin crawl with terror.
Forcing my lips into a smile, I quietly responded: “Yes Elizabeth. That’s right. I am a doctor.”
Elizabeth laughed harshly and replied: “Oh, I know that you’re a doctor, Dr. Jekyll. That’s why I’m marrying you, you silly goof!”
I stared at Elizabeth with a coarse and unfamiliar look upon my face. And then, coldly, I muttered: “Look. I already said that I’m a doctor. Can we just drop it?”
Yet, as soon as these words (these LIES) had been uttered, I felt my stomach begin to boil with equal parts nausea, fear, and self-loathing. Why, in my present state, I was no more a doctor than a street urchin is the Crown Prince of Siam! But to let dear Elizabeth know the truth? To let Elizabeth find out that I was no longer a man who had served as the chief physician at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital for over 13 years?
It would destroy her.
I rushed to change the subject of the conversation: “So Elizabeth, I hear they’ve created a steam powered engine. Can you even imagine-”
But just as I was about to finish my question, there was a loud commotion from across the restaurant. “This man is choking,” screamed a woman hysterically. And then I heard a waiter yell the following five words–five small, innocuous words that will haunt me until my very dying day:
“IS ANYONE HERE A DOCTOR???”
Elizabeth stared at me expectantly and I felt myself grow faint. “I’m… Mister Jekyll” I whispered silently as the sweet embrace of unconsciousness washed over me like the waters of the Thames. I heard myself hit the table with a deafening thud.
And then my world was darkness.
When I woke up six hours later, the effects of my elixir had finally worn off. And I was a doctor once more.
But by then, the man had already choked to death.
There is more I could say about this vile transformation. There is more I should say. Yet, even now, I feel the horrid power of Mr. Jekyll once more taking over.
And my time is running short.
My dear Elizabeth, if you find this journal, know that I never stopped loving you.
But enough idle chit-chat. The transformation is happening.
I bid you all a fond farewell,