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Great Writing - Home > Crime > Dancing In Cold Blood - CASE CLOSED
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Crime and Thriller
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| Dancing In Cold Blood - CASE CLOSED | |
| By Goddess | ||||||||||||||||
| 29 April 2007 | ||||||||||||||||
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This is a little short story that I did through my interest and horror at the terrible things that Jack the Ripper did in the Victorian Era in London. I did a fair bit of research on Jack to try to get inside his mind to write these letters in his tone. Hope you enjoy my first post! Exhibit A – Letter to Metropolitan Police, Case 10 I see you found her. She was one of my better pieces of art as I’m sure you know. I’m sure you are sitting there chewing your finger nails, staring blankly at my words and wondering – How did I do it? How did I get passed your heavy surveillance of the dark alleyways? Well, my friend, a magician never tells his secrets… so a killer never tells his. Poor girl, a pleasure to know. For as long as I did. You want to know how she died, neighbour? I used a hammer for this one. You should have seen her face. Distorted with fear. Her warm blood pulsing through her body, her heart beating to the sound of my hammer on her head. Sharp, painful. One, two, three. Then the last slamming her against the wall. So much blood. She was barely conscious when I brought out my blade. Oh, her screams! Like a pitiful pathetic child. I carved her stomach with great skill, she began to choke then gurgle. The blood gushed over my hands. You, so pure and great, will never know the true thrill of murder but that sinful harlot had got what she deserved… what they all had deserved. What they all deserve. Yours truly, as always, catch me if you can, Jack ~~~ I glowered at the letter. Anger bubbling inside me. I had known that unfortunate girl for years, she was my brother’s niece and now she had become victim to this… monster. A dark, merciless, heartless monster. I remembered her turning away from my brother’s house, a smile on her face, glee in her eyes then the next morning… I shuddered at the state of the dark alley, the rain flowing like blood through the cobblestones on which her head lay, disguised by the shadows. Her body entangled with bloodstained clothing. Ripped. Torn. Like the condition of her stomach and guts. ~~~ Exhibit B – Letter to Chief, Case 12 I’ve written you a little story, Chief. Let me set the scene. It starts with another helpless girl, dancing through the alleyways of the smog-ridden streets of London. Shoes clicking against the ground, provoking the cities most well known killer. The street’s stonewalls dripping with rainwater and the ground glimmered but there was something odd in that glimmer. It was cold. Harsh. Death sung in the air. Then an old man from around the corner. Head shaved, top hat, cloak and a walking stick. He follows her and she continues, seeing nothing strange or unusual. She was pretty, I’ll give you that. Pale faced, red lipped, serene. After my rendezvous with her, she was white faced, her lips white… cold… and the look of revulsion on her face. I left her alone in a dark puddle of rainwater. But you know what I’m talking about don’t you, Chief. The same street, the same alleyway and still your ignorance defies you. I’ll give you a clue to my next murder, look out for me on that street before the clock strikes midnight. If you are too late then may God have mercy on the girl that falls victim to my knife this night. So long, my friend. I’m sure we’ll meet one day. Jack ~~~ Yes, that’s right, I thought angrily, we’ll meet in the very depths of Hell. You and I. Alone. I shuffled through the broadsheets and tabloids analysing the clippings from the last few weeks, the same words flickered through my mind; murder, death, destruction. One article even went as far to say The Evil One has returned to purge the world of good but I believed that was taking this story too far. I soon found the latest extract which I read with bitter interest: ‘Police Playing With Murder’ - ‘… and still the Metropolitan Police are failing to catch the most dangerous man known to London central. Women are reminded to take care on their midnight walkabouts as…’ ‘Sir.’ I jumped as a hand touched my shoulder. ‘For God sake, Geoffrey, make a noise when you enter the room.’ My butler held a letter in his shaking fingers. ‘A letter, sir. It was found on the doorstep.’ I recognised the writing before I had even drawn the letter from the carefully sealed envelope. The rain had begun to fall out of the ripped clouds, thunder growled like a wolf on its prey and the lightening crashed like the sound of a clean-cut knife… all as I opened the letter. Then the midnight bells began to chime. Once, twice, three times… reaching twelve as I read. Exhibit M – Letter to the Chief And again, ignorance seems to run in the family I see, Chief. When the papers warn women, young and old, to stay off the street. Then I send you a letter informing you where I was to be tonight and at what time. You heeded my warning and sent all your best officers off on their merry little way but… You forgot one thing, Chief. You should keep closer watch on your daughter. Hyde Park would be an ideal place to check, my friend. Farewell, Jack The Ripper
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