Jack the Ripper

“Extra, extra! Read all about it!”

Her boots stepped carefully on the muddy streets. Her dress was intricate and coloured in a dark purple hue. Her hair was undone, wild curls raging against the norm.

“Extra, extra! Read all about it!”

The people were rushing to buy the paper. Everyone was looking to figure out who this mistery man was. Jack.

“Extra, extra! Read all about it!”

The carriages passed through the crowd, nearly hitting the distracted minds who were stuffing their faces on the pages.

There were kids running and jumping on puddles, while their mothers were buying fresh bread for breakfast.

“Extra, extra!”

The strange woman roaming the neighbourhood, disappeared. Her steps were no longer part of the background noise. The deep coloured dress had gone missing from the general pallette.

“Extra, extra!”

The day was wasted away, with people wagering about the various possibilities on who could be this killer. It had been the third time. 

The night took over the city. The streets were cold, the kind that would freeze one to the bone. A hint of fog. The lights were flickering.

A woman was walking alone through an alley. The familiar sounding steps returned. The darkness hid her figure from the cautious. A metallic glow sold her out.

And there… The lone lady was lying on the ground. Her neck had been slashed. Her guts were splattered all over the wet dirt. 

The killer looked upon her and ran a finger over the bloody blade. That very same finger spread the warm blood over the victim’s lips.

And minutes afterwards, the dark dress vanished, taking the soft steps along with it. It was long before dawn.

“I am Jack, the Ripper.”, she whispered in a mocking tone. “Extra, extra! Read all about it!”

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