Fallen Angel
01 Nov 2006, 15:15
Jack Is Back
L. Davidson
“I Shant Quit Ripping Them, Till I Do Get Buckled”
“Smiles on empty faces dim the way in lightened places.
Expressionless eyes burn through your soul and search for darkened secrets. Your head moves side to side, your heart is beating fast. As your muscles tense, you start to feel the onset of fear. You are sure that someone is watching you but fail to realise whom. The empty eyes and lonely smiles all appear the same to you. Who is the man that taunts you so as you walk this road?
He stands alone in the shadows, watching your every move. His eyes show no emotion just a glimpse of hate. He sees you worrying and wonders why you have not started to run. As you cautiously move on, he begins to follow in the shadows. One by one the others around head to their own peaceful destinations, leaving you to walk this road alone. As the sky darkens, the shadow gradually increases. He has more chance to catch you now than ever before.
All your nerves are on edge, breathing uncontrollable and steps quick yet cautious. He steps out in front of you his attire all black. When he speaks, his voice is strong and deep. You try to speak but you have lost your voice. Soon you begin to weep. He looks at you. He knows you are weak. His eyes show a pathway to a blackened soul, as they look you up and down once more. Suddenly, your whole body seizes…you cannot escape. You stay too long and soon you are gone. Leaving the man in black still free.
He knows he may get caught but he would rather give us hell.”
The Journey Begins.
Our journey starts on a dark November night in the Whitechapel district of London. The street was in near darkness because of the lack of streetlights. If you were to stand near a light on that dark cold night in November, you would have caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure skulking in a dim alleyway. At first sight, you would see this man as perfectly harmless but on closer inspection his looks alone would make your heart pound with fear, your eyes widen and your feet would be immobilized with fear.
No one knows his name; all the folks here call him “Jack’s kid.” You may think that it’s a pretty pathetic name for a man the public believe to be a new version of “the ripper”, yet that name as soon as it was mentioned would strike fear into the hearts of all who heard it…even the most cold hearted of men showed fear at the very thought of his name.
Around eleven on that dark November night in Whitechapel, a young woman was walking to her work at the local inn. On the normally empty street, she bumped into a large man wearing a long black coat, leather gloves, a large brimmed black hat, which was something like a Stetson and a scarf covering his face. The only visible part of his body was his dark eyes and long untidy hair. The young woman apologised and went to proceed on her journey. However, our stranger stopped her in her tracks. He started to speak to her in a voice, which was as dark as his clothing and colder than the cold look in his black eyes. His words chilled her to the bones. “My oh my. What a pretty thing you are. So pretty in fact Im going to have to put you beside the rest of my collection”. He was clever enough to direct his eyes at the silver locket on the woman’s neck. The woman knew it was not the locket he was interested in, so she tried to run. He grabbed her. She tried to fight but the man was too strong for her and brought her to the ground. The young woman never appeared at her work again.
In the early hours of the next morning, a kitchen porter was putting out all the rubbish from the restaurant into the alley, which looks out onto Whitechapel. Although, it is still slightly dark it is easy to see most of the boxes and bags. As the porter relieved his arms of the heavy burden of rubbish bags, he spotted a dog tugging at an unusual shape in a dark corner of the alley. On a slightly closer inspection (he did not go too near the mysterious bundle for fear of what he might find), he realised that the mysterious bundle the dog was pulling at was the still form of a woman. Filled with shock and fear he contacted the police.
Sergeant McAllister arrived on the scene an hour later with, what seemed like, the whole of Whitechapel’s police department. On close inspection of the body it was discovered that the woman’s dress was torn from the midriff to the ankles. Deep slashes were discovered on her right breast and collarbone. Her wedding finger had been removed with one swift cut of a knife. Her face had all the telltale signs of a stiff beating and her neck showed friction marks as if a necklace of some sort had been pulled off with a violent tug. The most fearful injury of all was the fact her uterus had been removed with surgical precision. This very injury struck an immense amount of fear into the police officers’ hearts. They realised they were dealing with a murder which could be the work of a man who knew the very actions, and had the very skills which “Jack the Ripper” himself had used only years before. Little did they know how right there assumptions were. A stiff investigation began.
A few yards up the alleyway, the police uncovered a purse beside a rubbish dispenser. Inside the purse was empty except for some loose change and a card, which identified the victim as Ellie Gray. Sergeant McAllister approached the innkeeper. H e claimed he had not seen or heard anything from Ellie since her failure to come into work the night before. When asked if this was unusual, it was noted that Ellie had never failed to turn up to work in the last five years. This arose the innkeeper’s suspicions. Unfortunately, he had no way to contact Ellie so was unable to query her whereabouts. He did, however, give police the details of a fellow barmaid who was a friend of Ellie’s, Mary-Anne.
Failing to get any information about Ellie from the owner of the Inn, the police contacted Mary-Anne. It soon came about that Ellie was a roommate of Mary-Anne and had left the apartment just before eleven the previous night heading to work. Mary-Anne was able to identify the body as that of her friend. She claimed there was a silver heart shaped locket missing from Ellie’s personal effects. This explained the friction marks on her neck to the police. The police went back to the crime scene and scoured the area in the hope of finding the locket. This, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. With no witnesses or further leads, the police department decided to close the case of Ellie Gray. When this was explained to the public, the press had a field day. Every newspaper had stories about how Jack the Ripper had returned in the shape of another man and would continue killing innocent women. The public did not know all of the details about the case, only their own suspicions. They decided to go about their normal day-to-day lives as well as could be expected, considering the events of previous nights. Little did they realise that they had let down their guard and in time, our killer was going to strike again.
The Murder of Polly Cairns
A few days after the murder of Ellie Gray, most of the suspicions that the public held about the new murderer had eased off, as there had been no sign of any more victims. Unfortunately, it soon turned out that the both the police and public had let their guard down immensely and another victim was found.
It was the early hours of Saturday morning a young man was walking up the stairs of the George Yard Buildings in Whitechapel. Had he not been as drunk as he was, he would have noticed the covered bundle pushed up against the wall of the alleyway on his left. It was not until daybreak that the true identity of the bundle was revealed. Joe Andrews, the local milkman, was doing his rounds and discovered the unusual bundle in the alleyway, which was surrounded by a thick pool of dark, red blood. Cautiously, he removed the long black coat to reveal another human body. With no access to a phone and in shock, Joe dropped all of his milk bottles and ran out into the street screaming, “MURDER,” as loud as his lungs would allow him. His screaming quickly alerted the local police officer who had been walking his beat. Wondering what all this commotion was about, the police officer hurriedly followed Joe to the crime scene. Short of breath, he glanced briefly at the still form and immediately alerted sergeant McAllister.
Once again, the Sergeant and his team were called out to a grisly crime scene. They arrived surprisingly quicker this time, even though they had not finished their coffee and doughnuts. Typical policemen. McAllister turned the body over and realised that his worst fears had been confirmed. He was dealing with a serial killer. The woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties, had one deep slash across her left cheek. A bundle of money was left in her mouth. Could this be something to do with religion or was there an even darker purpose?
On further inspection of the body, they discover her wedding finger was sliced cleanly off. This sent alarm bells ringing because of the similarity to the previous murder. They also discovered that her left ear has been removed with the cleanest of cuts known to man. The last visible injury was a swift cut across the throat stretching from ear to ear, in a grisly smile. Further examination showed a left-handed person would have done this. Yet again, her dress was open from the midriff to the ankles. This time however, he appeared to have taken his time and carefully cut the dress instead of hastily tearing at it. Her personal possessions had all been neatly placed above her shoulder. Just under her right hand the killer had hastily written her name and beneath that a message to the police, informing that Polly Cairns was nothing but a whore who walked the streets looking for men.
The police looked into the prostitutes that worked around the Whitechapel area sure enough, Polly was a “lady of the night”, or so they say. They contacted Polly’s friend, Louise McPherson, to ask for any clarification on her friend’s whereabouts the night before. Louise explained that they had both been on a night out, drinking, since Polly had a night off. On their way home at around midnight they bumped into a man dressed all in black from head to toe and he was the perfect gentleman. Although his voice was dark and cold, he spoke with recognisable charm, which made both women feel at ease in his presence. The stranger accompanied the girls to the cut off before the street, which housed the George Yard Buildings. Louise explained that this was the last time she had ever seen her friend alive as she had parted company and headed home due to tiredness. When asked if she could identify the man, Louise stated, “I would recognise that voice anywhere. How many people do you know that walk the streets at midnight dressed all in black, Officer?” The police knew that people would have spotted the girls out that night so they enquired for anyone who may have seen anything to come forward.
The police department searched high and low for anyone fitting the description given to them by Louise. Six feet tall with long unkempt, dark hair and he sounded slightly foreign with a deep, throaty voice. The police interrogated every man fitting that description in the Whitechapel district. McAllister already had his suspicions that the perpetrator may be Doctor Peterson as the large injuries on the victims were carried out with excellent surgical precision. His suspicion was also down to the fact that Doctor Peterson was the only qualified surgeon in the Whitechapel district. Imagine the feeling of relief McAllister felt when the only known witness who had spoken to the man identified the Doctor. To help the police in their case, Louise was asked to view a line-up. With a feeling of anxiousness, as she did not want to see the man who possibly killed her best friend face to face, she went into a cupboard type of room and looked through the one-way mirror. With one glance at the line up and without hesitation, Louise identified the man as being the fourth in line. The man identified was Doctor Peterson.
However, as the police were interrogating Doctor Peterson a brown parcel arrived at police headquarters. Inside the parcel was a grisly sight. The left ear of Polly Cairns and a handwritten letter in red signed by none other than “Jack the Ripper. “
“Dear police HQ,
The press are saying you have caught me…what planet are you men on, Mars? Did you honestly think you had caught me? Me the ripper? Where do you think I am sergeant? In your pretty little office? Sorry to disappoint you sir.
I WILL be back and this time the girl will actually scream. Since I have been kind enough not to let the other two scream as they have been shut up with force.
Enjoy our little game sergeant.
Yours,
Jack the Ripper
PS I saved a bottle of the real red stuff but it went thick, red inks good enough don’t you think? Ha Ha!”
This made McAllister realise that he had detained the wrong man and that his witness was mistaken. Doctor Peterson was released without charge.
Is Jack ever going to be stopped or will his killing of innocent people continue?
L. Davidson
“I Shant Quit Ripping Them, Till I Do Get Buckled”
“Smiles on empty faces dim the way in lightened places.
Expressionless eyes burn through your soul and search for darkened secrets. Your head moves side to side, your heart is beating fast. As your muscles tense, you start to feel the onset of fear. You are sure that someone is watching you but fail to realise whom. The empty eyes and lonely smiles all appear the same to you. Who is the man that taunts you so as you walk this road?
He stands alone in the shadows, watching your every move. His eyes show no emotion just a glimpse of hate. He sees you worrying and wonders why you have not started to run. As you cautiously move on, he begins to follow in the shadows. One by one the others around head to their own peaceful destinations, leaving you to walk this road alone. As the sky darkens, the shadow gradually increases. He has more chance to catch you now than ever before.
All your nerves are on edge, breathing uncontrollable and steps quick yet cautious. He steps out in front of you his attire all black. When he speaks, his voice is strong and deep. You try to speak but you have lost your voice. Soon you begin to weep. He looks at you. He knows you are weak. His eyes show a pathway to a blackened soul, as they look you up and down once more. Suddenly, your whole body seizes…you cannot escape. You stay too long and soon you are gone. Leaving the man in black still free.
He knows he may get caught but he would rather give us hell.”
The Journey Begins.
Our journey starts on a dark November night in the Whitechapel district of London. The street was in near darkness because of the lack of streetlights. If you were to stand near a light on that dark cold night in November, you would have caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure skulking in a dim alleyway. At first sight, you would see this man as perfectly harmless but on closer inspection his looks alone would make your heart pound with fear, your eyes widen and your feet would be immobilized with fear.
No one knows his name; all the folks here call him “Jack’s kid.” You may think that it’s a pretty pathetic name for a man the public believe to be a new version of “the ripper”, yet that name as soon as it was mentioned would strike fear into the hearts of all who heard it…even the most cold hearted of men showed fear at the very thought of his name.
Around eleven on that dark November night in Whitechapel, a young woman was walking to her work at the local inn. On the normally empty street, she bumped into a large man wearing a long black coat, leather gloves, a large brimmed black hat, which was something like a Stetson and a scarf covering his face. The only visible part of his body was his dark eyes and long untidy hair. The young woman apologised and went to proceed on her journey. However, our stranger stopped her in her tracks. He started to speak to her in a voice, which was as dark as his clothing and colder than the cold look in his black eyes. His words chilled her to the bones. “My oh my. What a pretty thing you are. So pretty in fact Im going to have to put you beside the rest of my collection”. He was clever enough to direct his eyes at the silver locket on the woman’s neck. The woman knew it was not the locket he was interested in, so she tried to run. He grabbed her. She tried to fight but the man was too strong for her and brought her to the ground. The young woman never appeared at her work again.
In the early hours of the next morning, a kitchen porter was putting out all the rubbish from the restaurant into the alley, which looks out onto Whitechapel. Although, it is still slightly dark it is easy to see most of the boxes and bags. As the porter relieved his arms of the heavy burden of rubbish bags, he spotted a dog tugging at an unusual shape in a dark corner of the alley. On a slightly closer inspection (he did not go too near the mysterious bundle for fear of what he might find), he realised that the mysterious bundle the dog was pulling at was the still form of a woman. Filled with shock and fear he contacted the police.
Sergeant McAllister arrived on the scene an hour later with, what seemed like, the whole of Whitechapel’s police department. On close inspection of the body it was discovered that the woman’s dress was torn from the midriff to the ankles. Deep slashes were discovered on her right breast and collarbone. Her wedding finger had been removed with one swift cut of a knife. Her face had all the telltale signs of a stiff beating and her neck showed friction marks as if a necklace of some sort had been pulled off with a violent tug. The most fearful injury of all was the fact her uterus had been removed with surgical precision. This very injury struck an immense amount of fear into the police officers’ hearts. They realised they were dealing with a murder which could be the work of a man who knew the very actions, and had the very skills which “Jack the Ripper” himself had used only years before. Little did they know how right there assumptions were. A stiff investigation began.
A few yards up the alleyway, the police uncovered a purse beside a rubbish dispenser. Inside the purse was empty except for some loose change and a card, which identified the victim as Ellie Gray. Sergeant McAllister approached the innkeeper. H e claimed he had not seen or heard anything from Ellie since her failure to come into work the night before. When asked if this was unusual, it was noted that Ellie had never failed to turn up to work in the last five years. This arose the innkeeper’s suspicions. Unfortunately, he had no way to contact Ellie so was unable to query her whereabouts. He did, however, give police the details of a fellow barmaid who was a friend of Ellie’s, Mary-Anne.
Failing to get any information about Ellie from the owner of the Inn, the police contacted Mary-Anne. It soon came about that Ellie was a roommate of Mary-Anne and had left the apartment just before eleven the previous night heading to work. Mary-Anne was able to identify the body as that of her friend. She claimed there was a silver heart shaped locket missing from Ellie’s personal effects. This explained the friction marks on her neck to the police. The police went back to the crime scene and scoured the area in the hope of finding the locket. This, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. With no witnesses or further leads, the police department decided to close the case of Ellie Gray. When this was explained to the public, the press had a field day. Every newspaper had stories about how Jack the Ripper had returned in the shape of another man and would continue killing innocent women. The public did not know all of the details about the case, only their own suspicions. They decided to go about their normal day-to-day lives as well as could be expected, considering the events of previous nights. Little did they realise that they had let down their guard and in time, our killer was going to strike again.
The Murder of Polly Cairns
A few days after the murder of Ellie Gray, most of the suspicions that the public held about the new murderer had eased off, as there had been no sign of any more victims. Unfortunately, it soon turned out that the both the police and public had let their guard down immensely and another victim was found.
It was the early hours of Saturday morning a young man was walking up the stairs of the George Yard Buildings in Whitechapel. Had he not been as drunk as he was, he would have noticed the covered bundle pushed up against the wall of the alleyway on his left. It was not until daybreak that the true identity of the bundle was revealed. Joe Andrews, the local milkman, was doing his rounds and discovered the unusual bundle in the alleyway, which was surrounded by a thick pool of dark, red blood. Cautiously, he removed the long black coat to reveal another human body. With no access to a phone and in shock, Joe dropped all of his milk bottles and ran out into the street screaming, “MURDER,” as loud as his lungs would allow him. His screaming quickly alerted the local police officer who had been walking his beat. Wondering what all this commotion was about, the police officer hurriedly followed Joe to the crime scene. Short of breath, he glanced briefly at the still form and immediately alerted sergeant McAllister.
Once again, the Sergeant and his team were called out to a grisly crime scene. They arrived surprisingly quicker this time, even though they had not finished their coffee and doughnuts. Typical policemen. McAllister turned the body over and realised that his worst fears had been confirmed. He was dealing with a serial killer. The woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties, had one deep slash across her left cheek. A bundle of money was left in her mouth. Could this be something to do with religion or was there an even darker purpose?
On further inspection of the body, they discover her wedding finger was sliced cleanly off. This sent alarm bells ringing because of the similarity to the previous murder. They also discovered that her left ear has been removed with the cleanest of cuts known to man. The last visible injury was a swift cut across the throat stretching from ear to ear, in a grisly smile. Further examination showed a left-handed person would have done this. Yet again, her dress was open from the midriff to the ankles. This time however, he appeared to have taken his time and carefully cut the dress instead of hastily tearing at it. Her personal possessions had all been neatly placed above her shoulder. Just under her right hand the killer had hastily written her name and beneath that a message to the police, informing that Polly Cairns was nothing but a whore who walked the streets looking for men.
The police looked into the prostitutes that worked around the Whitechapel area sure enough, Polly was a “lady of the night”, or so they say. They contacted Polly’s friend, Louise McPherson, to ask for any clarification on her friend’s whereabouts the night before. Louise explained that they had both been on a night out, drinking, since Polly had a night off. On their way home at around midnight they bumped into a man dressed all in black from head to toe and he was the perfect gentleman. Although his voice was dark and cold, he spoke with recognisable charm, which made both women feel at ease in his presence. The stranger accompanied the girls to the cut off before the street, which housed the George Yard Buildings. Louise explained that this was the last time she had ever seen her friend alive as she had parted company and headed home due to tiredness. When asked if she could identify the man, Louise stated, “I would recognise that voice anywhere. How many people do you know that walk the streets at midnight dressed all in black, Officer?” The police knew that people would have spotted the girls out that night so they enquired for anyone who may have seen anything to come forward.
The police department searched high and low for anyone fitting the description given to them by Louise. Six feet tall with long unkempt, dark hair and he sounded slightly foreign with a deep, throaty voice. The police interrogated every man fitting that description in the Whitechapel district. McAllister already had his suspicions that the perpetrator may be Doctor Peterson as the large injuries on the victims were carried out with excellent surgical precision. His suspicion was also down to the fact that Doctor Peterson was the only qualified surgeon in the Whitechapel district. Imagine the feeling of relief McAllister felt when the only known witness who had spoken to the man identified the Doctor. To help the police in their case, Louise was asked to view a line-up. With a feeling of anxiousness, as she did not want to see the man who possibly killed her best friend face to face, she went into a cupboard type of room and looked through the one-way mirror. With one glance at the line up and without hesitation, Louise identified the man as being the fourth in line. The man identified was Doctor Peterson.
However, as the police were interrogating Doctor Peterson a brown parcel arrived at police headquarters. Inside the parcel was a grisly sight. The left ear of Polly Cairns and a handwritten letter in red signed by none other than “Jack the Ripper. “
“Dear police HQ,
The press are saying you have caught me…what planet are you men on, Mars? Did you honestly think you had caught me? Me the ripper? Where do you think I am sergeant? In your pretty little office? Sorry to disappoint you sir.
I WILL be back and this time the girl will actually scream. Since I have been kind enough not to let the other two scream as they have been shut up with force.
Enjoy our little game sergeant.
Yours,
Jack the Ripper
PS I saved a bottle of the real red stuff but it went thick, red inks good enough don’t you think? Ha Ha!”
This made McAllister realise that he had detained the wrong man and that his witness was mistaken. Doctor Peterson was released without charge.
Is Jack ever going to be stopped or will his killing of innocent people continue?