literature

The end of the ripper

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Literature Text

The darkest of London nights crept in amongst the fog as I drew forth from the shadows in search of prey like a beast of evil, dragging and tearing my way back through fire and brimstone yet I am still only mortal, a master of fear amongst terrified children, through this haze I did stalk.
Always keeping to the darkness following the sound of pointless screeching and moaning as the ladies of sin and night went about their decadent business unaware of me watching like sheep unaware of the wolf in their midst.
I see my prey slowly walking into an alley throwing out her lust and charm for the entire world of slobbering oafs to see, creatures like her will do anything for a chance at coin selling thier dignity and beauty to the point where...where even I, a being of malice is sick to my stomach, nauseated beyond belief due to their disgusting habits.

Through the alleyway I follow wrapping myself in the shadows wearing them as one would where a mask, I can see her with up most clarity yet she cannot tell her death is so close, the anticipation rising up from my depths like a strange ecstasy driving me one, crying out for me to put blade to flesh.
The alleyway opens up into a small square, large empty buildings line the rim of this place completely devoid of life like hollowed out skulls leering out of the night already knowing what was about to commence. This place probably used for tradesman and merchants to sell their wears and what a more fitting place for a dealer in death to flaunt his latest kill. There is no other visible escape to this place just another long winding road leading into the fog….strange, it’s as if she knew her doom was approaching and had picked out a place to die.

I slowly making my way towards her as silent as the grave she doesn’t hear me until I’m right on top of her. I reach out taking her by the wrists, spinning her round to face me so I can see the fear and despair in her eyes; I pull the blade back into the air only to plunge it down into her breast. As the blood begins to flow I pull back and thrust the blade again and again staring her in the face as I do my dark deed, taking pleasure in the true horror that only death can bring dancing in the back of her eyes until the life leaves them dull and empty.

I let go of the body and she falls limp to the stone landing in a puddle of her own blood leaving my clothes caked in crimson, I step back to admire my work then disappear back into the shadows but things aren’t they way they seamed……footsteps….getting louder.
I watch for the shadows intrigued by the prospects of a new kill but the notion of being court swims through my head, my instincts tells me leave this place but curiosity compels me to stay. A shadow falls across the stone slowly growing smaller as it enters the light, its……another one. Another midnight harlot probably knows the one on the floor.

She steps begin to slow as she nears the body, her hands covering her face from the site of such dreadful of carnage. She turns the body over staring at the face and in a soft whisper the name “Sarah” ventures from her rose red lips, she falls to her knees and weeps into the body clinging to it like a mother and her new born.
I turn away repulsed by this sight not because of guilt for that left me along time ago but because the notion of creatures of their nature could have compassion was disgusting considering their line of work. As I take the first few steps I realize the mistake, amongst the sobs of pain and sorrow, very clearly audible above the general weeping came the shrill, angered cry “IT WAS YOU, YOU MURDER!!!!!!”

I turn around to see her staring straight at me, too late to do anything about it I sprinted up to her blade held aloft and plunged it into her throat before she could utter another cry but to no avail, the loud pitched sound of police whistles echoed around the streets. Knowing the obvious I had to retreat back to my lair, in the state I was in now bathed in blood they’d surely catch me. I make my way down the winding road losing myself in the fog, the thundering sounds of heavy feet ring of the stone all around me as the whistle blows and shouts of the law grew closer.

I duck and weave in and out of the shadows heading everywhere and anywhere that might hide me from the oncoming meet with so called ‘justice’. Running wildly now as the footsteps sound like there right behind me I tear around a corner and old sign hanging above, weathered away by the elements I barely made out the words “Fleet Street.”
Racing now the disguise of shadow and stealth lost to me amongst the din of boots meeting stone, I see an old, dark, decrepit barber’s shop next to a pie seller. I don’t have to hide anywhere else so I sprint through the open door into the welcoming darkness of the shop.

I wait a few minutes as the shouting dies away into the night as they move the chase further into the city, I leaned against the wall and let out a sigh of relief and looked back out the window “those fools will never catch me.”
After catching my breath I turned around to survey this makeshift safe heaven but only then did I notice the glint of silver in the back of the shop slowly, methodically drawing closer to the light. “Who goes there!!?” I whisper into the darkness but no reply came, I draw my blade and hold towards the shadows but it continued on until the glint turned in the shape of a barber’s razor.
The hand that held it finally came into the light and with it did the most macabre of phantoms did follow.
Dressed in long thin trousers, a white shirt and a black waist coat. His skin was pail almost and white as the moon light that flooded the shop; his eyes were slightly sunken in and gave off an aura of darkness around them black as coal giving him the face of a demon. His hair was the colour of night apart from a shock of purest white that ran from the front of his head striaght to the back.

With the blade held out with malicious intent he started edge closer to me again just at the same moment the shadows crept back bathing the shop in utterly in darks but not him, the darkness refused to cover his entire as if even the shadows feared this darkened soul. The look of shadow and moonlight playing across his features sent a shiver down my spin and that evil smile of his only promised a death most bloody. Here I am now a creature of fear for the first time feeling terror as my scream catches in my throat, all I can do is stare up into those dark unforgiving eyes and see to my horror that I don’t face a man here today but a beast from hell released into the world of men to kill and destroy all in his path.

I try to shout in terror, for help, for my last words but only silence escapes my lips as I gaze up into face of the demon and my gaze held there transfixed with garrenty of death. then came quick glimmer so fast and silent I amlost didn't register its existance until I felt the blade come down across my throat, I didn’t even feel the pain as his blade met my flesh. I slump to the ground my life blood leaving me, I cannot move my limbs or turn my head, all I can do is stair into the eyes of the darkest evil I’d ever known and as the darkness moves in the last image I’ll take with me to hell is the dreaded smile of the only one that could instil such terror upon me, the thing that lesser evil like my self fear.
The last thing I see before death takes me.

Is Sweeny Todd………The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
I got the inspiration for this from the film "Sweeny Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" and also a particular picture called "Ripper's end" created by a fellow deviant :iconpmoodie: and witch I hope doesn't mind me linking him to this page.

the pitcure itself was what got me thinking and the movie gave me the drive and impulse to right this.
anyway I hope you all like it even if this piece is very dark
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FatalBellman's avatar
Hooray for Jack-Sweeney crossovers! There aren't enough of them.

But seriously? Come on, Jack! Get it together! You so could've taken him!