Stacy Green - Jack the Ripper (Jane the Ripper): Killer Shorts: Murderers Among Us

Jack (Jane) the Ripper

Killer Shorts: Murderers Among Us

Copyright 2016 Stacy Green

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN: 978-1-944109-34-9

Published by Vesuvian Books

www.vesuvianbooks.com

Mary Ann Nichols

I am compelled to do this horrible thing. It is as if I am pulled by some larger force, a demon that will not rest. He whispers despicable things into my aggrieved mind. My heart knows I should not act, but my brain does not listen. I am no more than a slave to the blood I will yet spill tonight.

JTR

31 August 1888

I removed the final tooth in one swift stroke, a bit of stringy flesh still clinging to the bloody root, my knife slicing into the delicate flesh of the harlots tongue. I dabbed a bit of it off with my forefinger and watched the hot, dark crimson slide to her palm.

Diseased, every bit of it ripe with The French Gout. Londons filthy wasps frolicked in the night, stinging unsuspecting proper men with their filth.

But not ye, I whispered, slipping the browned tooth into my pocket. Ive surely saved someone tonight.

The wretchs body lay in shadow, but a thick river of rotting blood spread like tar beneath me, dripping into the crevices between the worn stones, infecting the ground. Filthy, beastly prostitutes. My head near to exploding, I seized the corpses foul skirts and laid them on her ripped stomach, leaving her tainted womanhood in view.

The demon living inside my head stirred, his voice softer than the gentle August breeze, wafted through my conscious thought like a delicate stream of smoke. Youve done well tonight. But we must leave now.

I slipped the knife into the hidden pocket Id sewn into my petticoat and stole away from the stable yard. Behind me, a horse whinnied, pathetic and nervous. I didnt look back, frightened of seeing my own reflection in its dark eyes.

I kept walking until I reached the wharf, the knife bumping against my sweating legs. The familiar smell of the sea, rife with fish and salt, cleared my head of the scent of blood. The streets were all but empty, but my heart never stopped ramming against my chest, certain that at any moment, a constable will appear behind me, brandishing his club and screaming, murderess!

With every step removed from the body, the euphoria ebbed. What had I done? Certainly Id dreamed of gutting them, of revenge and cleansing our city. Prostitutes destroyed everything they touched, while good women suffered. But to act upon those desires? What had I done, and in the eyes of the Lord?

Rest now, the demon purred as she stole into the safety of my own home. Weve more work to complete.

* * *

J ack the Ripper is one of historys biggest unsolved crimes and one of the most controversial. In the span of three years, from April 3, 1888 to February 13, 1891, eleven women, most of them prostitutes, were murdered in the Whitechapel area of London. Most experts believe only five of those womenthe canonical fivewere victims of Jack the Ripper.

Mary Ann (Polly) Nichols, August 31, 1888

Annie Chapman, September 8, 1888

Elizabeth Stride, September 30, 1888

Catherine Eddows, September 30, 1888

Mary Jane Kelly, November 9, 1888

They shared several common features including deep throat slashes, abdominal and genital-area mutilation, removal of internal organs, and progressive facial mutilations.

Since those terrifying months in Whitechapel in 1888, when the canonical five were murdered at an escalating pace, there have been more than 100 theories on the killers identity. Dozens of suspects and alleged partial DNA evidence have yielded several tantalizing possibilities, but none so fascinating as Jane the Ripper.

The idea first emerged with Inspector Frederick Abberline of the Metropolitan Police, a central figure in the Ripper murders, during the investigation into Mary Jane Kellys murder.

The fifth and final canonical Ripper victim was discovered in her room at Millers Court at approximately 10:45 a.m. on November 9, 1888. Body temperature and stiffness, along with most eyewitness testimony from those who saw Mary that evening, established Marys time of death between 3:30 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. Yet one witness, Caroline Maxwell, insisted she saw Mary long after the established time of deathtwice. First between 8:00 a.m. and 8:30 a.m., looking ill. Maxwell insisted she had the time correct because her husband returned from work at 8:00 a.m. each morning.

An hour later, Maxwell saw Mary Kelly speaking with a man outside the Britannica public house, describing her clothing in detail as a dark shirt, velvet bodice, and maroon-colored shawl. She also stated shed seen Mary Kelly wear the outfit before.

Inspector Abberline was perplexed. Caroline Maxwell had no personal reason to lie, and her claim never wavered. Yet he knew when Mary Kelly had died. Abberline posed the question to his mentor, Dr. Thomas Dutton: Could the killer have possibly been a woman who wore Marys clothes to escape?

Dutton didnt think so but did say a midwife would be the only woman with the anatomical knowledge to commit the crimes. And a midwife walking around at strange hours with blood on her clothes wouldnt raise alarm.

But while it appears Abberline never seriously considered the idea, the Ripper as a woman has become an integral part of Ripper lore.

Annie Chapman

The demon speaks to me again. He basks in the furor stirred up by the slaying of the first woman and demands another. My stomach recoils at the thought of tearing anothers flesh, and yet my mouth salivates at the prospect. What have I become?

JTR

8 September 1888

M y arms ached from the struggle. This whoreAnnie, Id heard someone call herwas stouter than the first. Perspiration stung my eyes, and I listened for the sound of another boarder coming out to the yard at 29 Hanbury Street. But in the thick darkness, I heard only the heavy sounds of my own lungs.