The Whispers I Get At Night by Art Nightshade (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

Before I could ask questions he turned around to leave us in the dark, leaving us with many, many questions.

***

"Jack the Ripper was your uncle?!" Charles asked, just as surprised as Lucy and I was.

I thought all of these questions. 'How was he my uncle? Will I be a murder just like him? Was my father one? And who was Julianna really?'

"Just be happy he isn't murdering you yet. And I am sorry you haven't brought him to justice." Lucy said in an apologetic tone.

Not being able to take it anymore, I gathered her in my arms and kissed her a sweet, gentle kiss. A kiss that would last forever and never be killed.

*****************

The Whispers I Get At Night 3: The Beginning

It was only 9:00 and already I was bored to death, my brother, Ian seemed to be enjoying himself with a woman whose name was Clarissa.

My name is Jack, well not really, I go by the name Jack since I wanted to keep my real name a secret, why? Well I don't really like it, there are too many men who have my name. Jack, not many people have that name plus I like the sound of it.

"Jack, why so down?" Ian, my brother asked placing a strong hand on my shoulder.

Taking two glasses of whiskey that was coming our way, I gave one to Ian who began chugging it down like he always does, as for me, I take sips. I like to enjoy the sweet flavoring of the whiskey.

Before I could speak a word, Clarissa came by and stood next to Ian. She was beautiful I admit but I can plainly see that she only had the heart for my cousin.

Ian deserved it, there had been so many women who rejected him, he nearly given up so I'm glad he founded someone, someone who loved him.

"Brother, this is Clarissa." Ian said with a broad smile.

Lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, I smiled and told her how very lucky she is to be with my cousin.

***

I left before the party ended, wasn't feeling so well after fifteen glasses of whiskeys.

Walking slowing towards my carriage, I told the driver to send me home.

The cobble stones made the ride bumpy, making my stomach and head feel even more worse than it was before.

"Oh dear lord, why did I drink so much?" I muttered to myself, regretting all the whiskeys I've drunken at the party.

***

It was only a few blocks away from my house when suddenly; I felt a huge bump making me jump from my seat.

"Stop the carriage!" I yelled out, getting ready to see what we just hit.

Once my driver pulled the reins, I stepped out and walked behind to see a man lying dead on the ground, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth

"Oh my, oh my oh my. What have I done?!" I thought out loud, thinking I've done it.

This whole scene then draws attention to everyone around White Chapel.

People began muttering, thinking the same thing I did.

My brother arrived with Clarissa and more people, few were his friends.

"Jack," Ian said looking down at the body in both concern and horror. "Did you do this?"

I couldn't speak a word at first; I didn't know what I did.

"I-I think so. I-I don't know! Oh Ian help me!" I cried out as Ian came over and a few other men to helped me with the body.

'I'm so sorry.' I whispered so low that only I could hear but in my head, it shouted out, "more, more, more. Do it again!"

***

That night, I had nightmares about that man and all the voices inside my head saying to do it again.

I am not a killer! Am I? But I couldn't be. What would society think of me? They'll start calling me "The White Chapel Murderer".

'No! I am NOT a murderer!' I screamed in my head causing me to have a great headache.

Sitting up, I lit a candle and walked downstairs for a glass of water. No more of the whiskey tonight or ever.

Gulping down three glasses of water, I look up to see a full moon shining down a silver knife that was lying on the table, forgotten until used tomorrow.

I walked over slowly, my focus only on the knife.

Placing the glass down gently, I pick up the knife gently and ran my finger up and down the silver blade. From the bottom to the very tip of it, careful not to prick myself.

All of a sudden, my mind went mad.

***

Mary Ann Nichols, the daughter of a locksmith, came walking down the streets of London with a basket in her arms.

"Oh, hello Jack, lovely night we have. The moon is shining bright and..." Mary started but stopped when she saw the state I was in.

"Um, Jack, something the matter? Jack?" Mary said taking a few steps back. I began to walk towards her. "Jack!"

With that final scream, I lashed down the knife to her heart, killing her.

Over and over I stabbed her until I was sure I heard footsteps and people talking.

Not leaving any evidence behind, I ran into the shadows and walked home.

***

The next morning, the news came out about "The Murder of Mary Ann Nichols near White Chapel".

"Must have been someone drunk." Someone said.

"I don't think so," said another, "I don't think there has been a drunken man who would stab a woman many more times than once and leave no evidence."

When Ian saw all the commotion, he ordered the carriage to stop a few feet away from the scene.

"What happened?" He asked pushing through the crowd to see the body being covered by a white lenin cloth.

"Murder?" He wondered, then out loud he asked who did it.

No one knew.

***

I knew I knew who did it and it felt good which was most odd.

Could it be that someone in my family was a murder and that his murderous blood was now coming to me?

Putting my coat and hat on, I walk downstairs to get the same knife I used the night I killed Mary Ann Nichols.

"Well, let’s do it again." I whispered to myself, sneaking out of the place in the shadows, making myself invisible.

***

"Extra! Extra! Annie Chapman was murdered by the Leather Apron, also known as The White Chapel Murder!" A boy shouted out giving out the news to the people and receiving shillings for every news he sells.

"Oh my, two murders. Will there be more?" A woman asked scared to death and worried about her children.

"I dunno, maybe." The boy said shrugging his shoulders then turning back to his work.

Ian came again into the scene and read the news at the spot.

'Oh my lord.' Ian thought not paying full attention to his now wife's concern look, who was also pregnant with their first child.

"A letter, to Mr. Ian." A man said giving Ian the letter.

Taking the letter from the young middle aged man, Ian opened it and read it...

"They call me many names. The White Chapel Murder, Sir, Leather Apron and so on. You called me brother; Jack. Yes, I killed them and more will come. I am now and forever more...Jack the Ripper."

Publication Date: 05-22-2013

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