Jill the Ripper
The pounding of shoes on cement, the blood sloshing in my veins, dripping onto the floor. This is my life, adrenaline in my veins, the crunch of bones under foot, the sound of screams echoing in my mind, the fear of the police around every corner, the wide-eyed terror in my victims’ eyes, this is my life as the infamous killer , Jack the Ripper's, desendant, Jill the Ripper.
The streets of London with the stench of decay and death in the air. I walk through the alleys with a smile plastered to my face. My knife hung loose in my grip as I sauntered my way through. I saw a flicker of motion in the corner of my eye, it had a feline shape and slinked slowly and silently closer it was my side it was my partner in crime, a black cat named Midnight. She was colored red with the blood of its and my victims, I smiled crouching down by the cat holding out my hand, the cat walked up headbutting my hand purring softly, I smiled and picked it up, sheathing my knife.
“Well now, you got a little blood on your coat just like me,” I said smiling as I stroked the bloodsoaked fur. The cat meowed and crawled onto my shoulder, I chuckled and started walking back the way I came, I saw the body of a woman laying on the ground void of motion, staring dully at the rusty red brick wall, I walked over flicking out my knife, I crouched down grabbing the woman’s chin. I sneered in disgust.
“You look hideous, let me fix this,” I said setting the knife on her bottom lip and carved upward, tearing her flesh into a immortal smile. I did the same to the other side, loving the sound of her flesh ripping. I stood up admiring my handiwork, I tsked and carved a heart over her chest where her real heart was. As fresh blood pooled over her chest and I wiped my hand across it savoring in the warmth of the thick red liquid. I raised a finger to my lips divulging in the red treat, sending me into a blood high. The clap of shoes on cobble stone brought me back to reality. Grabbing my knife I slipped into the shadows like a wraith. I ran silently through the streets, making twists and turns escaping the city and hiding in my own personal sanctuary, the sewers. The stench would bug most, but after spending years here the smell is just like a birdsong, sweet and always there. The darkness welcomed me like a mother embraces a child.
I walked through the tunnels, weaving my way through as I have countless times before. My feet hitting the floor being the only sound echoing through the chambers. I noticed Midnight falling behind, I slowed until we were walking side by side. When I reached the cavern I called home, I allowed my thoughts to roam back to the woman I killed in cold blood, or more accurately warm blood. I laughed despite myself, walking over to my ratty couch that had as many holes as Swiss cheese. A glance at my jacket told me it was horribly stained but I was to tired to care. I sat down enjoying the quietness of the sewer, the only thing I could hear was water dripping somewhere from a leaky pipe, the occasional rat skittering across the room, and my own racing thoughts. I wish I had more time with that lady she looked like she was rolling in dough. I can't believe those people interrupting my ritual they deserve death at the hands of another or even better my own. I chuckle imagining their shocked faces when they locate my seventh victim of the month. My personal record in the past ten years that I took over for my old man. I even beat the six victims I slaughtered with my dad when he was still teaching me the ropes. I closed my eyes remembering my dad, I could remember deep voice and piercing red eyes, I remembered his red coat that always inspired me to kill, I fell asleep with his image burned into my brain.
I woke up with a start to the sound footsteps pounding on the ground. I jolted up and raced to the nearest ladder racing to the surface. I dashed behind a dumpster and watched the manhole carefully, looking for signs of my pursuers. I noticed that there were few surface dwellers for midday. I stared at them in disgust returning my gaze to the manhole. I saw movement from the dark hole and stiffened. A small head poked out not much older than ten. The child had black hair and large red eyes the color of blood that could chill one to the bone with nothing more than a glance. Just as I was about to walk over I saw another head peaking out of the darkness. The second child was almost identical to the first however this one had large black eyes as deep as a starless night. They appeared to be wearing matching clothes; long white sleaved shirt, worn out, baggy blue jeans, and appeared to be bare foot. They were slightly hunched over as if something was weighing them down. As they closed the hole I realized these children would be no threat to someone as skilled in combat as me. I sauntered over I noticing that they were talking, attempting to eavesdrop and find out why they were in the sewers I caught a few words here and there. ".candy.....carve......cut.....jelly......he....dead.....fun..." By then they had noticed me and stopped talking instead peering at me with cautious eyes and startled faces. As I approached I remembered I had never changed out of my blood stained clothes.
