Ripper: The London Years by xXSirenofMidnightXx and LestatLombre2nd (ereader for textbooks TXT) 📕

Midnight,

25th February 1888,

A beautiful blonde haired woman walks past me...She is average in height and wearing a green bustier and skirt that goes below the knees... She's a whore, well known.... It bothers me... Their kind roaming around the streets of London.... it’s a disgrace... Men, walking with their mistresses down the alleyways of Whitechapel getting there fill...

I follow her and regular Male customer. He has long black hair and brown eyes. His clothes are well kept for a man of his common stature... they go down an alleyway and I wait to make my move. His loud moans can be heard coming from the alleyway. There shadows moving in time with them as he allows himself to feel every inch of her. His moans become more rapid and faster. The wooden fence behind them groans against their weight and movement. After a while his final cry can be heard. Placing money in her hand he moves past me not even aware of my presence it seems. He began zipping himself up and walked back into the regular world. Calm and pleased he exits the Alleyway with a smile on his face and returns to his home satisfied. The Whore appears to be flushed a delicate shade of red, her skirt is still half up, and her breasts are squeezed in her tight green bodice. Pulling her skirt down she begins to walk down the alleyway placing the money into a hideaway pouch in her bodice and she walks towards the busy street. Slowly I sneak up behind her wrapping my arms around her neck and placing my hand over her mouth I stop her from screaming. Gently whispering in her ear and smelling the sweat smell of fear that seems to emanate from her. "You know you want this Whore...” Throwing her to the ground I watch as she becomes stunned her face terrified, frozen. Looking at her dead in the eyes, I fumble around in my pocket and a small glint of metal appears I my hand, my weapon of choice for tonight is a small silver Clasp knife.

Her frozen Blue eyes look up at me pleading not to end her miserable, pathetic life in this alleyway where she worked for her 'livelihood'. Taking pleasure in this a small but wicked smile appears out of the corner of my mouth. As I begin the first cut....






6am

26th February 1888

Whitechapel High Streets is bursting with locals walking around selling and buying their wares, many women are walking around busily chatting about the local gossip and news. The local paperboy shouts out the daily headlines to passersby. The Streets are lined with rubbish and waste and a strong smell of miasma fills the air.
Shouts can be heard by several different men. ‘Stop’ ‘Thief!’ … a small young boy runs down the street, dodging and knocking into several vendors and their wares sending bread and fruit flying down the busy street. Ducking into an alleyway the young boy slowly looks behind him then pulls out a small loaf of bread out of his bag. A small rumble can be heard from the boy stomach as he looks at the small loaf hungrily.
He carries on walking pay no attention to the surroundings around him, just licking his lips and looking at the loaf of bread like it was the most beautiful and expensive diamond. After taking a few more steps he trips on what he thought was a large brick or stone. Lifting himself up he realizes that he is covered in a red sticky substance. Standing up and looking at his now red hands. Something on the floor catches his eye. There in front of him is the body of the blonde unfortunate.

A resonating scream leaves the boys lips.




7am

26th February 1888

A crowd has now gathered to the alleyway, photos are being taken of the scene. The young boy is stood with a police officer next to a huge crowd of prying eyes. A young sergeant stands above a crouching inspector. "Ahhh Inspector Abberline... funny seeing you here at this neck of the woods". The Inspector looked up at the sergeant. He had a goatee and a tanned complexion. His dark brown eyes looked dull and dark with bags under his eyes. “Sergeant Godley, I have been transferred back to help with the work load. It seems I know the area well and maybe able to solves crimes faster”
Sergeant Godley was small and quite plump; the buttons on his sergeant’s uniform seem to be ready to pop. He had no facial hairs but his chin and cheeks were smooth. His eyes were a cloudy blue and his hair was more a mousey brown. He was stood a few steps away from the body. “Do you know the name of this poor woman?” Inspector Abberline questioned while moving the skirt to see where the blood had come from.
“Her name was Annie Milliwood. She was an unfortunate, a well-known one at that. She was last seen leading one of her ‘customers’ down this alley.” Godley looked at his notepad…. “She was last seen at around Midnight….’Av you found something Inspector?” Godley walked closer to the inspector and the corpse. The Inspector was closely examining Annie’s lower region. “She’s been stabbed repeatedly in the legs and lower stomach.” The Inspector raised the skirt so the sergeant could see more clearly. “I believe this to be done by someone who knew the victim. This was brutal and full of rage.”
While the police were scouting around for evidence and asking questions to the nearby people a man stayed amongst the shadows, He was polishing his clasp knife and a wide smile erupted over his face… How wrong the inspector was…. He didn’t know the victim well… He just knew she was an unfortunate, the scum of the earth of which he needed to eradicate.




3pm

28th February 1888


Its pouring down with rain, an open grave can be seen in the middle of Christ Church Cemetary. There is only a few people at the graveside of Annie Milliwood. The Unlucky Unfortunate who met her untimely end at the whitechapel high alley way. Stabbed by a clasp knife in the lower torso and leg area.

It was a quick ceremony for no one wanted to stay out in the rain. In the distance under a large willow tree is a shadow of a man. With a silver knife in his hand, shimmering in the daylight. His smile is charming but deadly. As quick as a flash he is gone leaving nothing but 2 undistinguishable footprints behind.

An evil laugh escapes my lips, as the casket with the unforunates body is cast into the pits of hell. It was from this moment i knew that i was doing the right thing helping god cast out the devil and his sirens. It's funny how nobody cares of this unfortunates murder. Seeing as the only people who turned up were friends of hers. Siren's who's bodies i would multilate and send them into oblivion.

I will return later to place a rose over the grave. A signiture if you will of my claim to her death... Its a shame no one will notice these trival little matters. Its these matters that makes the kill more thrilling. Knowing you still have the power of them even though they are gone.

The next thrill will taste even sweeter...







5pm

30th February 1888

The air around me was cool and crisp, a soft breeze stirring up the final leaves of winter while the green on the trees was just starting to bloom. The soft glow of the street lamps lit the path of Hanbury Street like a small controlled sun. There were few people left upon the street, mostly workers making their short pilgrimage back to their residence. An elderly lady was struggling her way down the street, a heavy looking back in her hand. As she stumbled gently I was there in a flash to catch her. “Please allow me to help you miss” she looked up softly as I resting one arm upon her shoulder and the other under the hand that held the bag. A bright smile lit her face clearly delighted by the help. Her voices was a testament to her age, soft and quiet barely an audible whisper over the sound of heavier footsteps passing nearby, “why thank you dear, I only have a few more houses to go yet the help would be much appreciated”. While we walked the woman spoke of her day, while it may have been a short journey she was slow in pace and able to fit a great deal of story into those few doorways that we had to pass. As we reached her home I placed her bag inside the doorway and bowed my goodbye. My good deed done for the night I went in search of my original task. In the beginning I was not bothered by what I might seek, that was until the laughter reached my ears. High yet soft. Clearly it must have come from a child and then my eyes locked upon her. Flaming red hair in soft curls framing her face, her cheeks a rose red colour that gave her the appearance of a small china doll. She could not have been more than five in age yet once I had seen her I knew I had to have her, it was all a case of waiting for my chance which, luckily for me was not too long. Skipping down the pavement behind what I assumed were her parents a single ally caused her to stop, the soft barking of a dog had caught her attention and she made a move towards it. I refused to wait any longer, rushing up behind her I wrapped my hand around to cover her mouth, any hint of a scream muffled from existence. Without hesitation my hand pulled her head to the side, the taught skin and the increased heart-rate made her veins look like rivers of life, and to me that is what they were. My mouth came down breaking the skin effortlessly. Pure innocent life, untainted by time and the world, it was the perfect accompaniment to what had been transpiring recently. As her heartbeat grew weaker and her time began to end I released her, dropping her softly to the floor and cleaning her up. Her blood not making a difference in colour to the red of the handkerchief. With the handkerchief came a small blade, where her cheeks were still slightly rosy I pressed the blade against the skin, letting it easily break skin and leave a simple cross on her cheek. By this point her parents had begun calling for her, I moved her into a more suitable and comfortable position and made my exit, leaving the night to claim its new victim.

The high pitch squeal of a broken heart rang out upon the sleepy night. Accompanying it like the deep base of a soft song came the cry of a broken man. Combined together they formed the chorus of death and pain