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|The Whitechapel Horror (standard:drama, 2269 words)|
|Author: Michael Lance Kersting||Added: Nov 25 2009||Views/Reads: 1821/1256||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|My version of the "Jack the Ripper"mystery.|
Prologue: Jack the Ripper is the name that has been given to an unidentified serial killer responsible for murders occurring in the impoverished Whitechapel section of London in 1888. "Jack the Ripper" became the first internationally known serial killer. The name Jack the Ripper comes from the signature of a letter, dated 25 September, 1888, and received by the Central News Agency on 27 September, 1888. There were 11 murders of prostitutes in the Whitechapel area from 1888 to 1891, known as the Whitechapel Murders. Five of these are commonly identified as the Jack the Ripper murders. Those of Mary Ann Nichols at Buck's Row, Whitechapel, on Friday 31 August 1888, Annie Chapman at Rear Yard at 29 Hanbury Street, Spitalfields on Saturday 8 September 1888, Elizabeth Stride at the yard at side of 40 Berner Street, St Georges-in-the-East on Sunday 30 September 1888, Catherine Eddowes at Mitre Square, Aldgate, City of London on Sunday 30 September 1888 and Mary Jane Kelly at 13 Miller's Court, 26 Dorset Street Spitalfields on Friday 9 November 1888. All Jack the Ripper murders took place in a one square mile area of the East End of London. (Miller's Court, Christ Church, London, November 1888.) It was a cold, foggy November night. The street was almost deserted, but for a few coachesl passing by occasionally. A tall, lone figure was walking hastily, his head bowed, His footfalls echoed on the cobblestones. The thick mist swirled around him as he made his way along the deserted street. “Feeling naughty tonight, Sir?”Asked a seductive, husky voice. coming from the shadows of an alleyway . It was addressed to the tall man who was passing by. From his bearing having a top hat and a long overcoat .The prostitute figured he was a “gentle man” possibly on his way home. The man stopped as she emerged from the alleyway. His face was shadowed by the brim of his hat. . She was a bit on the plump side in her twenties, wearing a fur collared, well worn brown frock that fell to her ankles. She had a small artificial dot on a side of her red, pouted lips and smelled of cheap liquor. The man sized her up quickly and asked in a well modulated voice “How much?” The prostitute smiled, showing a missing tooth, ‘For you, Sir, two Shillings!' she responded hopefully. “Slut!”He thought furiously. Recognizing her at last “Where shall we go?" He asked bluntly. “I have a little room at the back “she replied softly,” Follow me “ The man clutched the handle of the little black bag he carried firmly. The room was approximately 12 feet square. Opposite the door was a fireplace. On the left of the door and at right angles to it were two windows, one of which was close enough to the door as to be able to reach through it and unbolt the door. To the right of the door was a bedside table so close that the door would hit it when opened. Next to the table was a bed with the head against the door wall, its side against the right wall. The room contained two tables and a chair and a cheap print entitled "The Fisherman's widow" hanging over the fireplace. Opposite the fireplace was a small cupboard which contained cheap crockery, empty ginger beer bottles and a little stale bread. “The money first, please” she requested politely. “Money? ah yes.” the man replied evenly. He set the bag down on the bed and turned his back to her as she began undressing. The man fumbled round a bit, then turned suddenly. He held a straight edged razor in his gloved hand. “You?' she cried, recognizing the man., she then froze with terror at the sight of the straight edge razor he held in his gloved hand. She tried to get away , but the man quickly grabbed her and with a deft stroke,slit her throat .He then threw her on the bed. "Slut! "He screamed as he began slashing at her face "You must die, slut !," he raged," Die, like the rest of them!"and he went into a frenzy.. A few minutes later, his rage abated, he left and disappeared into the night. Later at half-past eleven o'clock that morning a man went to the room to collect rent and failing to gain any answer to his knocking, he looked through the window. It was then seen that the woman lay naked and bleeding on the bed frightfully mutilated .The mutilation was so dreadful she could only be identified by her red hair and her eyes ! In a small Inn on Whitechapel Road, a doctor entered the premises. The owner, Sims, greeted him as he entered and asked pleasantly, “The usual, Doc," Walking across to his favourite table, he sat down The man Click here to read the rest of this story (166 more lines)
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