full jack story:) Oppinions needed!!!

[Fallen Angel]

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?

[Fallen Angel]

Alcohol and Murder
December 15th. The public are still living in fear for their lives even though the ghastly murderer has not committed another horrific crime in almost four weeks. McAllister and his team have been working on trying to trace the handwritten letter that accompanied the left ear of “the ripper’s” latest victim. Unfortunately, they have had very little success in this. Due to the lack of success in tracing the letter, McAllister sent his team back to both of the crime scenes. This was all in the hope that he would find some sort of clue as to who the killer was. The police worked extremely hard for five days, straight through one of the coldest winters Whitechapel had ever seen. This, accompanied by McAllister barking instructions at the police officers left, right and centre, made their jobs increasingly harder. After five gruelling days of immensely hard work, no results were to be shown. They still had no idea about who the mysterious stranger was.

Back at the station, McAllister was sitting at his desk biting his nails to the bone. The mounting pile of files on his desk was related to previous serial killers in and around that area of London. He had sat for days going through every single file trying to find a possible link or similarity to the recent murders. To no avail. While McAllister and his team searched for links, someone else was to become the “ripper’s” next victim.

In Whitechapel, violent husbands were not uncommon and for one man this fault would soon lead to a very bumpy road of interrogation. Catherine Enwood was well known throughout Whitechapel. However, it was not her looks and kind nature that gave her recognition. It was her husband and her own serious alcohol problem. This was to soon give even more possible links as to who the killer may be.

Catherine was heading home after being at the local inn spending all she could on her regular supply of alcohol. It was a cold winter’s night and the road, which she walked, had very little light to show her on her way. On that fateful night, she met a charming man dressed from head to toe in black clothing, which could be expected regarding the harsh weather. The stranger greeted Catherine and offered his assistance so that she could get home safely. Being none the wiser, Catherine accepted this offer. Had she been sober, she would have known not to accept help but given her recent state she did not realise that the acceptance of help was the worst possible mistake she could make.

Just before New Years Eve, a local grocer went down to his yard at dawn to get ready for the days work. On his way down, he found the gate that led to Whitechapel ajar. This arose his suspicions, as he had made sure the gate was firmly locked the previous night. Although, he was uncertain about the thought of what he might find, the grocer proceeded to cautiously look beyond the gate. Since he was an ex-military man; Paul Johannsen he did not hesitate too much about trying to find out what was amiss. Slowly he opened the gate. Tiptoeing his way around into the alley, he stumbled on a rock and landed face down. As he raised himself to get up he came face to face with the dismembered body of a woman. Panicking, he quickly alerted the police.

First, to arrive on the scene was a new recruit to the police force. With one glance at the still form of the woman, he bent over and was violently sick. Once the rest of the team had arrived, it was stated that it was the first time the recruit had encountered a dead body. After the recruit had been excused, McAllister and his faithful team went about the process of examining the body. Unsurprisingly, this had become a second language to the officers.

On close examination it was discovered that yet again, the ring finger had been removed. The victim’s personal possessions had been placed by her body in an untidy pile. This was a strong contradiction to what had been before with the possessions of Polly Cairns. Her wedding ring was placed above her left shoulder. Amongst her possessions was a letter written to a Mrs Catherine Enwood. Since the letter was sent by a man, the police figured that Catherine was the victim. Catherine’s dress had been torn steadily from the neck to the hem and had been left wide open so that all parts of the body were visible. It was observed that there was a slight tear on the bottom of the diaphragm and on closer inspection, that her liver had been removed. Without much damage to the nearby organs. The final injury, which was visible on Catherine, was the well-known grisly smile from ear to ear. The police could not understand why the killer used two signatures. Was it to try and confuse them or did he delight in keeping trophies of infinite victims?

McAllister was sure he had seen Catherine’s name at some point in a police file. Therefore, he decided to investigate further. Eventually, after hours of searching, he found a report, which claimed Catherine had recently tried to file charges against her husband George Enwood. When McAllister went to the given address, George was not in. Therefore, he paid a visit to a neighbour. After explaining to the neighbour why he was here, McAllister was informed that the couple had an extremely violent relationship. Catherine had started divorce proceedings but stopped after George’s fist had put her in her place for the last time. After hearing this McAllister was determined to bring George into the station.

George Enwood was arrested later on, charged with domestic abuse. However, this alone could not satisfy McAllister. In a desperate bid for a confession to the murders, McAllister insisted that he was left alone for ten minutes with Mr Enwood. At first, he talked calmly; however, after two minutes without a response he began to get frustrated. McAllister yelled at George saying: “LISTEN BOY! WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU ARE RESPONIBLE FOR YOUR WIFES DEATH AND THAT OF THE OTHER TWO YOUNG WOMEN. CONFESS NOW AND THE PENALTY MAY BE LIGHTER”! George looked fearfully at McAllister and just shook his head in response. McAllister pulled him of his seat by his shirt collar and threw George against the wall. Yelling all the time. Fortunately, for George McAllister’s time was up. A knock on the door indicated that the sergeant had to leave the interview room.

While George remained in custody, a letter arrived on McAllister’s desk. As he read the letter, a sudden twinge of anger gripped at his stomach.
“To the sergeant & his team of pathetic excuses for men.
Honestly! I would have thought you would have performed better on the victims. I mean, you had no idea who I was on the Ellie & that whores cases. Did you receive your little gift? I thought at least I could lend you an ear. Get it? F.Y.I Mrs Enwood screamed louder than a banshee. I am surprised no-one came to the drunken woman’s aid.
Do you actually care??
You thought I was a doctor? Ha! You must be joking.
End of round three. Let us see how you play later.
You will NOT know when I will return but rest assured. When I do, you’ll know about it.
Yours,
Jack The Ripper”

George was not the killer of his wife. Or the other two girls for that matter. All he was guilty of was battery. As the day drew to a close, McAllister began to wonder what happened to Catherine’s liver. Was he to expect it or did the killer take it home? Little did he know that his answer was to come too soon.

[Fallen Angel]

Extract from Sergeant McAllister’s Journal

“January 2nd. For two months, I have been hopelessly searching for a mad man who calls himself “Jack the Ripper”. Two months and I still do not even have a slight incline into who he could be. With all the info. I have I can only gather the fact that he seems to attack woman of poorer income, all of whom, seem to have caused some sort of problem in the area.
Why is a man, who has a reasonable amount of medical knowledge, playing cat and mouse?
Does he really want to be caught?

I am lost in regards to the case.
NO EVIDENCE-NO EYEWITNESSES- NOTHING!
What are we meant to do?...”


From Hell
For weeks after McAllister’s third failed attempt to find the killer a deathly silence fell. There had been no movement from the mysterious killer and the publics heightened fear began to show. People were refusing to go out at night unless they had to. The police force had heightened the security around Whitechapel in the hope that the killer would be caught if he was to strike again. How were they to know what Jack was planning?

One morning, a journalist, Andrew Stuart, awoke to find a brown parcel on his door. A knot of fear tightened round his stomach as he read the two words scrawled on the top. “FROM HELL….” With a shaking hand, he cautiously opened the mysterious package. The sight that he beheld made bile rise in his throat and his blood freeze. In his hand lay half of a human liver. Accompanying the gruesome gift was a bloodstained letter from none other than Jack.

“News department,
Please note that the gift enclosed is proof that I am back. Feel free to tell all you please. Tell your boss, I wouldn’t mind seeing my name in print.
If you like, you can tell the public that the other half of the gift was fried and eaten. Ha Ha!!! Was a very nice treat, considering it came from a bitch of a woman!
Keep your ears open long enough if you can!
I love you all.
Jack”

The arrival of the letter and parcel sent hearts racing all through the police department and public once the information was passed on. The streets became deathly quiet at night apart from the odd groups of people heading to and from work. With no more appearances from “the Ripper” in the space of eight weeks, people began to assume he was gone for good this time.
If this is so, who was the man hiding in the dark alley like a lion looking for its prey?


Margaret’s Demise
After two months of absolute silence from our deadly killer, the public started to walk the streets at night once more. It seemed that the older generations living in the area were the only ones who were still too afraid to walk Whitechapel’s dark, winding streets. Little did the public realise that the assumption of the disappearance of “Jack the Ripper” was soon to be short lived.

Whitechapel’s resident vet, Peter Rogers, was taking a casual stroll through the back roads of the town when he noticed a stray dog with its paw caught underneath a six-foot fence. On closer inspection, he realised that there was something caught on to the poor animal’s foot at the other side. Peter gently squeezed has hand under the wooden fence and discovered that it was a bit of rope that had become entwined around the dogs back leg, as he carefully unravelled the rope his hand brushed against an object which felt like the icy cold flesh of a skinned animal. Being the caring man that he is Peter ran around to the other side of the fence but instead of finding a dead animal, he saw the mutilated body of a woman. Too shocked to investigate further he made haste and alerted the local police department. McAllister and his men realised that this probably meant that their worst nightmare had came true.

[Fallen Angel]

Eager to please his Sergeant, new recruit Robert Jones arrived first on the scene. What he saw caused his throat to numb with fear and shock move all through his thin body. There, sitting up before him was none other than Mrs. Margo McAllister. She was the local schoolteacher but more importantly, she was the sergeant’s wife. The rest of the team were not far behind and McAllister was bringing up the rear.
Late as usual!
Robert saw it as his duty to inform the Sergeant of this unfortunate discovery, even if it did mean getting a swift punch in the jaw from one of the other men for making the Sergeant upset.
“Sir, I don’t know how to tell you this but…”
Robert's words failed him. The glare he received off of McAllister and the thought of what he had to tell him caused the recruit to freeze. McAllister pushed him to answer. Just before Robert tried to tell him again, someone came bounding toward the pair of them.
“Sir, I must inform you, the victim is your wife”!

McAllister stared helplessly at both of the men and insisted that he had to see the body. Slowly he walked around to where the body was sitting covered from the neck down by a black bin liner. There, with only one eye staring back at him was his beloved wife. McAllister screamed and fell to his knees cursing this very day. With some help from his team McAllister was escorted home where he vowed that he would no longer be working for Whitechapel’s police force.


A few days after the loss of his wife McAllister received a letter written in an all too familiar hand. With a feeling of dread he cautiously opened the yellowing envelope.





“My Dear Sergeant,
I could say I am extremely sorry for your loss. However, that would be lying and I, for one, don’t lie to the so- called law. I do however have a little something for you, which I will pass on with another letter in the near future. Believe me this will be of interest to you.
Keep your eyes open!!
Regards,
Good ol’ Jack”

Tears of rage and upset stung at McAllister’s eyes and quickly flowed like a stream down his large cheeks. What could this man possibly have which could be of any interest to him?

After an anxiety filled two days a parcel arrived at the sergeant’s wooden door. Once again it was in the same scrawled hand, which was used, in the previous letters. This time a knot of fear gripped at McAllister’s stomach and bile started to raise in his throat as he realised he had been given a bloodstained box. Fearfully he lifted a small corner of the lid, closed his eyes and pulled hard. What he saw in the box made him grab his stomach and bend over ill. There, in his hands was half of a black lung and his wife’s pearl wedding ring. Hastily, he unfolded the letter.
“Told you I had something of interest for you.
In your hands you hold half of your wife’s lung which she damaged because of her own filthy smoking. That wretch, Margaret, Margo to only friends hit and punished young children. What kind of caring teacher does that? So me being such a caring man I have taken liberty and decided I will soon tell you exactly how she died.
Yours,
Jack”


Weeks went by with no more correspondence from “Jack” but this did not put the sergeants mind at rest because every night he was dreaming about what this monster could have done to his wife. McAllister had been kept out of the loop regarding the injuries his wife sustained so imagine his disgust when the final letter arrived.

“Details of the murder of Sergeant McAllister’s witch:
I pretended to be a concerned parent and walked the cow half roads home. We cut up an alley for a “shortcut” and it was there I had my way with the evil schoolmistress. She tried to fight but was too weak for me. I then cut off her ring finger, I seem to do that a lot do not I sir? She was then tied to the fence by her hands and legs spread like an easy whore. I cut her from top to bottom, removed the blackened lung as a token for you. Then I removed the all seeing eye…the eye she used to pick children to punish. Evil witch!

That is how your woman died and I will continue to keep ripping these women who are society’s downfall.
Sweet Dreams,
Jack”

That final letter was the last straw. McAllister went back to work and swore dead he would find the monster that killed his wife.

Hunt Gone Wrong

Emily Craig was walking home from a day at her friends house on a cool spring night when she was approached by a stranger .He was 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. Emily thought this was a bit unusual considering the weather was not that cold but failed to question. Just the presence of the man made her feel apprehensive and uneasy. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as steel and a shiver went running through Emily’s delicate frame. He spoke slowly. “I wonder if you can help me Miss. I seem to be a little lost.” Although the mans presence made her feel awkward she offered to walk him to the local grocers as it was up one of Whitechapel’s dark alleys. Even in daylight you could get lost looking for the grocers, Emily thought. Therefore, both Emily and the man headed up one of the dark alleyways.

[Fallen Angel]

Once away from the main streets the man grabbed Emily’s thin arms and pushed her hard up against a wall. He just stared straight at her and Emily caught the glimpse of a knife sticking out of his pocket. Emily pretended that she was a woman of the night, so the man let his gaze slip. Gently, she put her hands around his neck and carefully removed his hat and scarf.
Quickly he grabbed his knife and held it to her throat. Unfortunately, for him, Emily saw his face by the light of the moon and was a strong fighter. There was a long scuffle and the stranger ended up with scratches to his face and a large bruise from being hit against the wall. Emily, however, ended up with a small stab wound to her hip. Both the hunter and the hunted had been wounded. Quickly they both headed off in separate directions.

Emily limped to the nearest medical centre and explained what had happened. She managed to give a clear description of a man in his mid-thirties, with rough features and a lot of other information but most of all she informed the police of the bruise her attacker would have sustained.

For weeks, the papers published a description of the mystery attacker, who was eventually caught thanks to a woman who noticed the markings when the stranger tried to talk to her.

During an interrogation with Sergeant McAllister one sentence was to be the mans downfall; “I’m Jack and I killed your wife to protect these poor children”. He said it so calmly that McAllister’s blood froze. It was then that he knew he was looking at the killer of his wife. The court required no more evidence than that one, fatal, statement and sentenced Jack to death.

On Friday thirteenth of May, Jack the Ripper was led to the gallows for a public hanging. When asked if he had any last words he stated:
“You now know I am Jack the Ripper and that I killed all those women over the past years. Why did it take you so long to catch me? I had already killed years before. I cannot believe your police department is so slow. Time for me to go but rest assured when the time comes you will all join me in hell!”
With those words, the rope was tightened and the stool supporting Jack was kicked out from underneath him. As he fell, a loud cheer arose from the crowd and the people felt safer than they had in a long time. After the execution of Jack, Sergeant McAllister died peacefully in his bed.

That dear reader concludes our venture into the dark streets of Whitechapel.



Thank You to…
Debbie Cochrane: My main inspiration, a great help and a good friend.
Jens Moffat: The first person to give me a push in the right direction.
Chris Milar: Being the support I needed and an even better friend.
Anne and all supporters and friend on mlukfc.com
Last of all, the Nikki Sixx fans who gave me the encouragement I needed (nikkisixx.net)

*Folks..real sorry for the amount of posts it took to get this up lol*

[MeatGrl1]

WALLS OF TEXT

Can't you lead us to them with links....

[Fallen Angel]

my bad that one....forgot to post em online. sozx