Surreal. A dream I can no longer wake from has taken over my very exsistance. All I can see, over and over, in some sadistic slow-motion film, is Grace and Stella in the courtyard and that man chasing after me. Running to and from at the same time, but it seems backwards somehow. Should I be running to the man, who I professed innocence? Why should I care what he thinks or even believes? Why would my saying,'I am not the madman' be believed by a total stranger?
In the instant our eyes met at the pub, we were locked in a kind of exsistance only for us, a few seconds was a lifetime and we had exchanged all our thoughts in one burst of feeling. At the time, I thought it was pure fear of being caught and he was my greatest enemy, so of course I had to run for my life only to be nearly run down by a horse cart. But his eyes told me something else... he was the one who was afraid. Was it his sense of duty, a blind reaction to chase me down? Glory of capture, ridding the streets of a mad killer? No, that much foreboding eats at your soul and living becomes a habit of motions, day after day. I understand that all too well. We share a living death that is far worse than that bastard we are both chasing can ever inflict.
I can't ignore it any longer... I have to find out if I can... trust him...it's nearly 10 p.m., time to go have a pint.
20150531
No Fruitful Leads
Nearly two weeks since the last killing and the only new information I see is in the paper, if it can even be called new. Fear and conjecture running rampant, only to fuel the public's vengeance for swift justice and the end of these vicious murders.
So many false leads to track and witnesses to question, only to muddy things further. I am exhausted and frustrated by this madman's amazing abilities to obscure the truth; maybe I am exhausted from my own obfuscation of the truth I may believe to know.
A small piece of luck with my private investigations in regards to the 'ghost' women. Several merchants in Miller's Court and Mitre Square remember a beautiful blonde lady, of strange pallor, recently in the early hours of the evening in the last week. She was alone when seen in Miller's Court, but with another woman in Mitre Square; no description can be given for the second one as she wore a large hat with a dark veil which covered her entire face. It seemed she needed help walking along, as she leaned on her companion as they moved down the street. Locating where they are living has proved fruitless so far. Money or fear could be the stumbling block here... or some kind of witchcraft?
I haven't given up on Jack. He will seek me out... he must, he has to know I said nothing about what happened in the courtyard or even being seen in The Britannia. Please, please be at the pub this night!
Once again I make my way, like a ghost myself, seemly invisible to all I pass as I make my way to The Britannia, a lonely vigil up to this point... let tonight be different.
So many false leads to track and witnesses to question, only to muddy things further. I am exhausted and frustrated by this madman's amazing abilities to obscure the truth; maybe I am exhausted from my own obfuscation of the truth I may believe to know.
A small piece of luck with my private investigations in regards to the 'ghost' women. Several merchants in Miller's Court and Mitre Square remember a beautiful blonde lady, of strange pallor, recently in the early hours of the evening in the last week. She was alone when seen in Miller's Court, but with another woman in Mitre Square; no description can be given for the second one as she wore a large hat with a dark veil which covered her entire face. It seemed she needed help walking along, as she leaned on her companion as they moved down the street. Locating where they are living has proved fruitless so far. Money or fear could be the stumbling block here... or some kind of witchcraft?
I haven't given up on Jack. He will seek me out... he must, he has to know I said nothing about what happened in the courtyard or even being seen in The Britannia. Please, please be at the pub this night!
Once again I make my way, like a ghost myself, seemly invisible to all I pass as I make my way to The Britannia, a lonely vigil up to this point... let tonight be different.
14 September, 1888
Alderley and Wilmslow Advertiser
The fearful epidemic of crime which has broken out in the East End of London seems to have afforded an opportunity for sentimental and gushing writers to pour the vials of their wrath on the unfortunate heads of the constabulary, and to charge the Metropolitan police with having allowed the first city of the world to lapse into primeval savagery. The frightful murders in Whitechapel indicate an assassin with the cunning of a madman and the heart of a brute, and reveal a nature so foul and so dominated by animal-ism that we can only hope for the sake of humanity the fiendish crimes may be traced to one irresponsible for his actions. A London journal is accountable for the statement - which we find rather a big pill to swallow - that a police official told a representative of the Press quite coolly that the police would never detect such crimes as the Whitechapel murders, and that the only thing to do was to let the man-monster go on murdering people till his homicidal mania wore off or wore him out. The same authority, in the most serious manner possible, expresses its regret that this individual only too faithfully reflects the spirit of fatalism and pessimism that is demoralizing the detective department. Surely it may be safely assumed that the police authorities are doing their utmost to find the author of the ghastly murders, and it is a pity that they should be hampered by the vapid nonsense indulged in by writers who seem ever ready to turn their pen in whichever direction the tide turns. They would have been the first, doubtless, had the murderer been caught, to load the captors with fulsome flattery.
The fearful epidemic of crime which has broken out in the East End of London seems to have afforded an opportunity for sentimental and gushing writers to pour the vials of their wrath on the unfortunate heads of the constabulary, and to charge the Metropolitan police with having allowed the first city of the world to lapse into primeval savagery. The frightful murders in Whitechapel indicate an assassin with the cunning of a madman and the heart of a brute, and reveal a nature so foul and so dominated by animal-ism that we can only hope for the sake of humanity the fiendish crimes may be traced to one irresponsible for his actions. A London journal is accountable for the statement - which we find rather a big pill to swallow - that a police official told a representative of the Press quite coolly that the police would never detect such crimes as the Whitechapel murders, and that the only thing to do was to let the man-monster go on murdering people till his homicidal mania wore off or wore him out. The same authority, in the most serious manner possible, expresses its regret that this individual only too faithfully reflects the spirit of fatalism and pessimism that is demoralizing the detective department. Surely it may be safely assumed that the police authorities are doing their utmost to find the author of the ghastly murders, and it is a pity that they should be hampered by the vapid nonsense indulged in by writers who seem ever ready to turn their pen in whichever direction the tide turns. They would have been the first, doubtless, had the murderer been caught, to load the captors with fulsome flattery.
Silent Witness
An asylum... that's where they'll put me if I tell the Superintendent what I saw and heard the other night. A great place for ol' Det. Gasbag himself. Damnation! I suppose I could leave out the fangs and hissing, it could have been the strange glow of their skin and my rush of fear that caused me to see otherworldly visions of demons... I thought I was chasing one after all!
I can't seem to reconcile my thoughts on this matter. My duty is to report my findings on this investigation and to help prevent further murders. Yet, there was something in the way Jack... Jack... said "he wasn't the one" that still makes me feel hesitant in telling what I think I know. If I could find out more on those two women and their potential connection with the killer, I might have a better idea on how all this fits together. Tracking down two living ghosts should be easy, since they won't blend in well with the locals. Their clothes were tailored and looked like expensive fabrics, not to be found in common Whitechapel shops or on the inhabitants for that matter. I must also contact Jack and get him to meet me somehow... a notice in the personals could do the trick. I'll have to be very careful in my wording or I could end up on the suspects list as an accessory.
My work is cut out for me; I just hope I don't get cut up in the process.
J-
Tired of chase.
Believe you, meet at pub 10 p.m.
Friend
I can't seem to reconcile my thoughts on this matter. My duty is to report my findings on this investigation and to help prevent further murders. Yet, there was something in the way Jack... Jack... said "he wasn't the one" that still makes me feel hesitant in telling what I think I know. If I could find out more on those two women and their potential connection with the killer, I might have a better idea on how all this fits together. Tracking down two living ghosts should be easy, since they won't blend in well with the locals. Their clothes were tailored and looked like expensive fabrics, not to be found in common Whitechapel shops or on the inhabitants for that matter. I must also contact Jack and get him to meet me somehow... a notice in the personals could do the trick. I'll have to be very careful in my wording or I could end up on the suspects list as an accessory.
My work is cut out for me; I just hope I don't get cut up in the process.
J-
Tired of chase.
Believe you, meet at pub 10 p.m.
Friend
20150527
Complications
Stella and Grace return to the death scene of Dark Annie on Hanbury Street. In the courtyard they use a special sensor to attempt to locate the KEY. Its a slow task, due to the small size and transparency of the component, and the sensor has a very limited detecting range.
Taking close to a half hour, the very tense situation erupts with an argument during the final stages of the search; distracting the sisters from keeping watch. The KEY is finally located when two unexpected visitors arrive on the scene. Seeing both Jack and Det. Warren has enraged Stella and badly frightens Grace. They are not alone in the shock of the situation; it seems a twist of fate has complicated an already bizarre and macabre chain of events into a whirlpool of certain disaster for all present.
Taking close to a half hour, the very tense situation erupts with an argument during the final stages of the search; distracting the sisters from keeping watch. The KEY is finally located when two unexpected visitors arrive on the scene. Seeing both Jack and Det. Warren has enraged Stella and badly frightens Grace. They are not alone in the shock of the situation; it seems a twist of fate has complicated an already bizarre and macabre chain of events into a whirlpool of certain disaster for all present.
Death Threat
What is it Stella? What has happened?? Silence. How am I to help you if you refuse to tell me what's wrong? Tear stained face looks up. I lost the KEY Grace... if I don't find it, we are all stuck here and something very bad will happen... to me and probably you. A wild look forms across Stella's face. Jack may have it by now... I would be happy to take it from him and just for fun, sink my fangs... Stop it! How can you say that, to me of all people? He is kind and helped us, even knowing what we are and still you want him dead.
Fine. Let's just forget it. I need your help and I need it now Grace. We must go back and search the last zone, it has to be there. Or else? We are the next victims. I see. No, you don't... I am not ready to die!
Fine. Let's just forget it. I need your help and I need it now Grace. We must go back and search the last zone, it has to be there. Or else? We are the next victims. I see. No, you don't... I am not ready to die!
20150525
Sisters Forever
My sister Stella and I are both Nosferatu, with one significant difference, I never gave into the blood-lust. At puberty, when the affliction manifests itself, there is a choice, faced for life and it can never be altered or so they have told us. Stella made her choice by ripping the throat of our older brother and sucking his cruel body dry. I can't blame her completely, as he repeatedly raped her since we were young and its possible I would have done it as well, although he never touched me; I felt her pain and hated him for what he had done to her all those years. Our parents disowned her and was going to have her exiled, but we ran away together before she was taken. I vowed to take care of her and try to protect others from her vengeance. We thought we had found a safe and accepting sanctuary for our kind, even meet two men who befriended us. Jack was sweet and kind, always making sure we had food, protection, and a safe place to live. His friend, ironically thinking back now at their friendship, was different. Stella latched on to him immediately, some strange bond between them, and I knew she would never attack this man. She began to change; her outbursts increased and the beast began to rage more and more, changing how she looked when the blood-lust was on. Everything changed then and bodies started turning up... drained of blood. I new it was Stella with that madman controlling her. Jack tried to stop them and Stella attempted to kill him. I knew then we had to leave. If anything happened to Jack... I would have to destroy my sister, only to become a wild, vicious creature like her. I couldn't let any of that happen. I made a deal with the 'devil' and the three of us left. I never realized we were going to a hell that had no escape for anyone and Jack was still in grave danger.
Discovery
As I turn the corner and enter the narrow street of Hanbury, I see my quarry standing near the fence that separates the courtyard from the street. He seems to be waiting there, why? I move as quickly as I dare and as I get within 10 yards, I realize he is listening to a conversation coming from inside the courtyard. My opportunity has come, he moves through the gate and I get to the fence just as I hear the name Jack. I stop looking at him and turn to peer into the darkness seeing two women standing in the corner of the courtyard. There is a grey pallor to their skin and one has teeth bared like a rabid dog, with the fangs to match! She is hissing with eyes glowing red, wild white hair atop a face filled with such hatred, while the other has golden curls flowing around her angelic face. She is saying, Jack, Jack, stay away and grabs the other woman, keeping her from lunging forward and ripping... ripping Jacks throat!! Good God, what is happening here? Who are these... people??
As my own mouth gaps open, my presence is acknowledged and the women flee. Jack moves after them, but stops on the spot where they were just standing, one arm outstretched reaching for the beautiful ghost-like woman who vanished before both our eyes. I get as far as the body location, now cold in the morgue, and stop myself. Jack turns to face me and says, "I am not who you believe me to be. No harm will come to you, but you must stay away." At that moment I realized he wasn't my enemy, but he knew who was.
In a flash he was gone too, leaving me standing in the place of death wondering if the last hour was some freak nightmare; no, I am not that lucky...
As my own mouth gaps open, my presence is acknowledged and the women flee. Jack moves after them, but stops on the spot where they were just standing, one arm outstretched reaching for the beautiful ghost-like woman who vanished before both our eyes. I get as far as the body location, now cold in the morgue, and stop myself. Jack turns to face me and says, "I am not who you believe me to be. No harm will come to you, but you must stay away." At that moment I realized he wasn't my enemy, but he knew who was.
In a flash he was gone too, leaving me standing in the place of death wondering if the last hour was some freak nightmare; no, I am not that lucky...
 |
| © Mary Evans Picture Library, used with permission. |
Unexpected Encounter
As I sit in the pub, my senses begin to return and thoughts clear. I feel eyes burning into me and giving in, I turn my head to meet the gaze intent on seeing into my soul. My mind freezes and animal instincts take over; the fear is over whelming and I grab my scanner while extricating my rigid body from the cramped booth. Hiding in the back was a mistake, but the crowd will be to my benefit, if I am to escape capture. The man's face is not threatening and his eyes have an unusual cast to them, but he is looking for the same fiend that I am, only he believes its me. I manage to free myself from the restrictions of the public house, but outside doesn't give me the freedom I am looking for. He is pursuing me and his wits are a match for mine. In other circumstances, I might enjoy his company. Sounds of his boots are not far behind, I must loose him before I return to Hanbury Street.
This is utterly maddening, he seems to know where I am going... damn it all! If only I had something to immobilize him without getting near him. My 'pal' would just slit his throat and call it a day. That bastard is why I'm in this mess.
I don't hear him now... my heart is beating so loud, I couldn't hear a... holy shite!! Horse cart suddenly appears. Aaaaah! Horse whinnies and hooves stomping on cobble stone. Whoa thar' Bessy, easy girl. Hey, misser, you just 'bout got trampled. Ye' fine laddy? Y-yes. Just scared out of my wits. You 'ought be a might more careful laddy. I'll try to remember that. Cart moves on, Jack moves to a dark doorway to hide. Damn it to Hell... this is not my night. Bloody horse nearly took my head off! If I hadn't rolled out of the way... stomp, stomp, nice horseshoe hole in my head and Jack is dead. Well, the danger isn't over, all that ruckus would have alerted my pursuer and he should be showing up about now. Nothing, total silence; not even rats scurrying about for a snack...like my nearly pummeled brains on the road.
I strain my eyes so hard they begin to water. I can't wait any longer, I've got to get back to retrieve that key. The Butcher has to know by now its missing and he'll do anything to get it back. I move swiftly down the streets with my headache pounding; must have hit it falling. I still feel like I'm being followed, but every time I look back, nothing but flickering street lamps. Finally, Hanbury Street; nearly to the fence and gate opening now, only a few feet to go... voices, voices in the court yard... I stop to listen... their conversation is muffled, but as I creep closer, my blood freezes. I know those voices. Stepping into the yard, all our eyes meet and my name rings out from her lips... Jack!!
This is utterly maddening, he seems to know where I am going... damn it all! If only I had something to immobilize him without getting near him. My 'pal' would just slit his throat and call it a day. That bastard is why I'm in this mess.
I don't hear him now... my heart is beating so loud, I couldn't hear a... holy shite!! Horse cart suddenly appears. Aaaaah! Horse whinnies and hooves stomping on cobble stone. Whoa thar' Bessy, easy girl. Hey, misser, you just 'bout got trampled. Ye' fine laddy? Y-yes. Just scared out of my wits. You 'ought be a might more careful laddy. I'll try to remember that. Cart moves on, Jack moves to a dark doorway to hide. Damn it to Hell... this is not my night. Bloody horse nearly took my head off! If I hadn't rolled out of the way... stomp, stomp, nice horseshoe hole in my head and Jack is dead. Well, the danger isn't over, all that ruckus would have alerted my pursuer and he should be showing up about now. Nothing, total silence; not even rats scurrying about for a snack...like my nearly pummeled brains on the road.
I strain my eyes so hard they begin to water. I can't wait any longer, I've got to get back to retrieve that key. The Butcher has to know by now its missing and he'll do anything to get it back. I move swiftly down the streets with my headache pounding; must have hit it falling. I still feel like I'm being followed, but every time I look back, nothing but flickering street lamps. Finally, Hanbury Street; nearly to the fence and gate opening now, only a few feet to go... voices, voices in the court yard... I stop to listen... their conversation is muffled, but as I creep closer, my blood freezes. I know those voices. Stepping into the yard, all our eyes meet and my name rings out from her lips... Jack!!
20150524
Hot Persuit
What'll it be sir? A pint of bitter barkeep. Yessir. pulls pint Here you are, that'll be 10.5. Thanks, keep the change. Very kind sir! I could use your help. How so? Well, how long have you been at The Britannia? Nye on eight years it be now, sir. Why do ye' ask? So you would know if any strangers were coming in. Yessir, I reckon' I could tell if new folks' about. Why ye' interested... you look'n for the madman who's kill'n them women?
I would appreciate your discretion and a lower voice. Flashes his cops badge surreptitiously. It will help not drawing attention to our conversation. Of course sir, lets step to the side bar and George can serve'm whilst we have our little chat. I quickly explained that any strangers in the last month and any who may still come in could be very useful to my investigations. There were several and I noted what particulars he could recall in my notebook. As luck would have it, haven't been getting my share of late, one was currently there. When our conversation was over, I ordered another pint and moved closer to the man of interest. He was seated in a small corner booth facing the wall. Slender, dark hair, pale skin, dark brown overcoat and studying something on the table. I couldn't make out what it was but it looked metallic. My heart began to pound faster and my stare so intent, that he suddenly turned; our eyes meet long enough for me to see a look that told me I may have a real suspect in my sites. My expression must have frightened him because he immediately got up, grasping the metal object and moving swiftly, headed towards the door. I in turn got up from the bar-stool and followed. He was fast! It was unfortunate that he was aware of my pursuit, but I really didn't see any other course of action in this situation. His footsteps were silent... rubber soles... very useful for a would be killer. His familiarity of the streets rivaled my own; I had to try to anticipate where he might be headed, even if he were just trying to loose his pursuer. Cursing under my breath I had to creep along to avoid making noise to ease my quarries flight. Just when I thought I had lost him, I heard an altercation with a horse cart and dashed in that direction. I had just enough time to hide and witness his recovery from a near death experience. He stopped in the shadows of a doorway and watched for me to appear. Unaware that I had already done the same and was watching him. I was afraid to even breath, but after 20 minutes, he finally left his hiding place and moved down the street. He was extremely cautious, checking behind every few paces. It took all my skills to track him; clever fellow indeed and strangely fascinating. In some way, I felt he knew I was still there and wanted me to follow. If this was the madman, then I could easily be his next victim and walking into a trap. That thought made me tingle a bit. I suddenly realized where we were and that the alley he just entered was Hanbury Street... he's returning to the crime scene... my god... it's him!
I would appreciate your discretion and a lower voice. Flashes his cops badge surreptitiously. It will help not drawing attention to our conversation. Of course sir, lets step to the side bar and George can serve'm whilst we have our little chat. I quickly explained that any strangers in the last month and any who may still come in could be very useful to my investigations. There were several and I noted what particulars he could recall in my notebook. As luck would have it, haven't been getting my share of late, one was currently there. When our conversation was over, I ordered another pint and moved closer to the man of interest. He was seated in a small corner booth facing the wall. Slender, dark hair, pale skin, dark brown overcoat and studying something on the table. I couldn't make out what it was but it looked metallic. My heart began to pound faster and my stare so intent, that he suddenly turned; our eyes meet long enough for me to see a look that told me I may have a real suspect in my sites. My expression must have frightened him because he immediately got up, grasping the metal object and moving swiftly, headed towards the door. I in turn got up from the bar-stool and followed. He was fast! It was unfortunate that he was aware of my pursuit, but I really didn't see any other course of action in this situation. His footsteps were silent... rubber soles... very useful for a would be killer. His familiarity of the streets rivaled my own; I had to try to anticipate where he might be headed, even if he were just trying to loose his pursuer. Cursing under my breath I had to creep along to avoid making noise to ease my quarries flight. Just when I thought I had lost him, I heard an altercation with a horse cart and dashed in that direction. I had just enough time to hide and witness his recovery from a near death experience. He stopped in the shadows of a doorway and watched for me to appear. Unaware that I had already done the same and was watching him. I was afraid to even breath, but after 20 minutes, he finally left his hiding place and moved down the street. He was extremely cautious, checking behind every few paces. It took all my skills to track him; clever fellow indeed and strangely fascinating. In some way, I felt he knew I was still there and wanted me to follow. If this was the madman, then I could easily be his next victim and walking into a trap. That thought made me tingle a bit. I suddenly realized where we were and that the alley he just entered was Hanbury Street... he's returning to the crime scene... my god... it's him!
Key to Time
I was seen. This will not be good for future endeavors. I don't need the police after me as it will hamper my own investigations into these murders. I spent too long scanning the crime scene, but I did detect something that should help me track down the maniac and the women with him... Grace and Stella. I don't believe I can be clearly identified, but it may be risky to return. I am certain the signature which registered was a KEY, which is amazing if so. Why would he leave something so vital to his technological abilities behind? Accident or intentional? Does he want me to find him so easily since it works as a homing device as well? I hardly think he has tired of this sadistic game... so something must have gone seriously awry. There was more care in setting up the death scene, with all the victims belongings, not to mention her innards nicely arranged in a pile. Did they come ill equipped and short on time... no, that can't be a factor since it was all there after the flash of light. Could there be a limit on how long time stops and a miscalculation caused a rush to finish the job? I should have seen some kind of shadow passing me, had they used the gate as their escape route; my goggles do allow me to see other dimensions in a single spacial area, hence the flash, but I saw, nor registered anything else. I don't have enough data yet to understand the devices he has at his command and mine are limited, which is unfortunate and extremely frustrating. Damn it! I have to go back and find that key... my time is running out as well now.
20150522
Psychopaths Rage
Where is it?!! I asked you where it is... don't make me ask you again Stella or you know what I might do.
I... I... don't know. Please, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to loose it. What?! What did you just say?! You... lost it! You stupid bitch! Do you realize that we could be stuck here in this disgusting hole of putrid filth? I should carve you a nice tattoo, right across that pretty face of yours.
I... I am sure I can find the KEY. It could only be in one place, the last body drop and it has to still be there.
Why? Wh-why? Yes, my pretty... why does the key still have to be there? Be...be...because it can only be detected by the scanner and we are the only ones who... knife slash...aaaah!!! You cut me!
Yes, and I'll do more if the key has been picked up by our dear, dear friend Jack... Oh! NO! You'll be saying a lot more than no Stella; screaming probably. Get Grace and get out of here; find that f'ing key and should the police pick you up... the consequences may be fatal.
I... I... don't know. Please, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to loose it. What?! What did you just say?! You... lost it! You stupid bitch! Do you realize that we could be stuck here in this disgusting hole of putrid filth? I should carve you a nice tattoo, right across that pretty face of yours.
I... I am sure I can find the KEY. It could only be in one place, the last body drop and it has to still be there.
Why? Wh-why? Yes, my pretty... why does the key still have to be there? Be...be...because it can only be detected by the scanner and we are the only ones who... knife slash...aaaah!!! You cut me!
Yes, and I'll do more if the key has been picked up by our dear, dear friend Jack... Oh! NO! You'll be saying a lot more than no Stella; screaming probably. Get Grace and get out of here; find that f'ing key and should the police pick you up... the consequences may be fatal.
20150511
Detective Warren
Gasbag! No, her exact words..."son of a gasbag, you fool Detective" as I questioned Eliza Cooper, the woman who fought with the victim. I suppose I should be insulted, but for some reason it was rather amusing.
I'm trying to help these women of ill repute; fallen women who, through no fault of their own, in many cases, have no other choice to survive and may have children to support. Left destitute and easy prey for men to treat them in foul ways for their own lust or greed.
This butcher isn't making my job any easier; ripping open and taking organs of women unable to defend themselves from a madman bent on some satanic quest or need to brutally destroy their flesh.
I got little more out of Eliza and since I was now Det. Gasbag, it was clear I needed to move on like the foul smell I was accused of and let the wind disperse me. Walking the streets of Whitechapel depresses me and I can't see an end to this bloody mess. We have no real leads and now neighbors are accusing neighbors; anyone with a grudge can take revenge by claiming they are sure the culprit of these fiendish murders is so and so neighbor... and so it goes. Maybe Eliza is right and we are fools. Well, this son of a gasbag needs a drink! The Britannia Public House is just around the corner and who knows, I may learn some new facts about Annie there and have a pint with our madman. What a quaint thought.
I'm trying to help these women of ill repute; fallen women who, through no fault of their own, in many cases, have no other choice to survive and may have children to support. Left destitute and easy prey for men to treat them in foul ways for their own lust or greed.
This butcher isn't making my job any easier; ripping open and taking organs of women unable to defend themselves from a madman bent on some satanic quest or need to brutally destroy their flesh.
I got little more out of Eliza and since I was now Det. Gasbag, it was clear I needed to move on like the foul smell I was accused of and let the wind disperse me. Walking the streets of Whitechapel depresses me and I can't see an end to this bloody mess. We have no real leads and now neighbors are accusing neighbors; anyone with a grudge can take revenge by claiming they are sure the culprit of these fiendish murders is so and so neighbor... and so it goes. Maybe Eliza is right and we are fools. Well, this son of a gasbag needs a drink! The Britannia Public House is just around the corner and who knows, I may learn some new facts about Annie there and have a pint with our madman. What a quaint thought.
20150507
29 Hanbury Street
8 September 1888, 5:35 a.m. Once again, alarm bells are ringing as I dash down towards Hanbury Street. I stop to survey the situation and check my cuff dial, not far now, the rip is accelerating and I should be very close to the epicenter. I am feeling a strange hum pulsing in my chest; a vibration that increases as though I had a dozen tuning forks striking in unison in my shaky frame. Frozen by this ever increasing hum, I find myself near a 5-ft picket fence, stepping inside and as I turn my head... a glow of blue white light flashes for just an instant, blinding me for that moment. As if waking from a dream, my eyes clear and there the body lies. This is not what I expected. The hum is gone and my limbs no longer feel restricted; quickly I move through the gate to discover what gruesome work The Butcher has committed this time. My god... his fiendish use of the knife is telling of the hate he harbors and it is clear he has some purpose now.
Dark Annie is certainly dead from the knife wound on her neck (nearly took her head off), cut the same way as the previous victim; he must really enjoy the look in the eyes of the retch as he wields the knife to their soft throat and spills blood like paint cans overturned. Her abdomen is torn open and laid out with her intestines severed with expert precision, as if piling rubbish they lay above her shoulder. He has removed and taken with him, uterus and appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and two thirds of the bladder. With one clean sweep of his knife this madman expertly removed the pelvic organs and heaven only knows for what purpose! Also, three brass rings were forcibly removed and taken, but her other belongings were left behind and seemed staged around the corpse. Was this some kind of message or clue to taunt me?
As I stare at the blood splatter on the fence I am reminded of the Locard Exchange Principal of trace evidence, something is always left behind and I must find it. I have just enough time to do a sweep of the area and my scanner picks up something...
Dark Annie is certainly dead from the knife wound on her neck (nearly took her head off), cut the same way as the previous victim; he must really enjoy the look in the eyes of the retch as he wields the knife to their soft throat and spills blood like paint cans overturned. Her abdomen is torn open and laid out with her intestines severed with expert precision, as if piling rubbish they lay above her shoulder. He has removed and taken with him, uterus and appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and two thirds of the bladder. With one clean sweep of his knife this madman expertly removed the pelvic organs and heaven only knows for what purpose! Also, three brass rings were forcibly removed and taken, but her other belongings were left behind and seemed staged around the corpse. Was this some kind of message or clue to taunt me?
As I stare at the blood splatter on the fence I am reminded of the Locard Exchange Principal of trace evidence, something is always left behind and I must find it. I have just enough time to do a sweep of the area and my scanner picks up something...
Next Victim
7 September 1888, 3:35 p.m. Exploring Whitechapel in the daytime is quite colorful. The worst of the poverty stricken live and work in this area. The filth and over crowding of humans turns my stomach. I've lost count of the men, butchers, walking the streets with fresh blood splattered on their aprons. The foul stench of urine and shite waft in the alleys. In some terms, all of Whitechapel could be thought of as alleys; a strange maze filled with deprivation, hunger, loose morals, and squalor covered by a grey fog choking what life is left.
I search the faces, hoping I'll see his. Maybe he wouldn't stand out in this neighborhood... surely the face of evil would glow with the demonic presence hidden within. His true face is behind a mask of solemn indifference, showing little affectation. No, he has chosen wisely on his hiding place and can roam freely without fear of identification.
As I continue my fruitless search, I feel a growing anxiety and trepidation... he is on the hunt again and very soon another woman will succumb to his bloody passion. All I can do is wait. Bloody hell!
I search the faces, hoping I'll see his. Maybe he wouldn't stand out in this neighborhood... surely the face of evil would glow with the demonic presence hidden within. His true face is behind a mask of solemn indifference, showing little affectation. No, he has chosen wisely on his hiding place and can roam freely without fear of identification.
As I continue my fruitless search, I feel a growing anxiety and trepidation... he is on the hunt again and very soon another woman will succumb to his bloody passion. All I can do is wait. Bloody hell!
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Fool's Heart
Why, Jack... why... did you follow? Do you really think you can stop this fiend; a butcher of women, so far... You can't save us, my sister or me. Why destroy yourself for love? Knowing your alive and safe is what gives me strength to go on, day after day. Your jeopardizing my sanity and putting us at greater risk to perish by the hand of a madman. Every day he becomes more obsessed with his games and my sister has been twisted into an evil creature under his control; your presence just exacerbates it and causes more pain, destruction of human life. Why can't you just leave? Your foolish heart will be the excruciating death for us all.
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