The Last Victim (standard:horror, 2321 words)
Author: Michael Lance Kersting	Added: Dec 31 2011	Views/Reads: 2958/2082	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story of the last victim ( Mary Kelly )of the infamous Victorian serial killer "Jack the Ripper"

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

windows, one of which was close enough to the door as to be able to 
reach through it and unbolt the door. To the right of the door was a 
bedside table so close that the door would hit it when opened. Next to 
the table was a bed with the head against the door wall, its side 
against the right wall. The room contained two tables and a chair and a 
cheap print entitled "The Fisherman's widow" hanging over the 
fireplace. Opposite the fireplace was a small cupboard which contained 
cheap crockery, empty ginger beer bottles and a little stale bread. 
"The money first, please" she requested politely. "Money ? ah yes." the 
man replied evenly".You bitch !" he thought bitterly. He set the bag 
down on the bed and turned his back to her , she began undressing. The 
man rummaged around a bit ,then turned suddenly." You?' she cried, 
recognizing him. 

" Yes, me , Slut!,Remember?" she then froze with terrror at the sight of
the long blade knife he held in his gloved hand. She tried to get away 
, but the man quickly grabbed her, covered her mouth with his other 
hand, and with a deft stroke,slit her throat.  He then threw her 
squirming on the bed. 

"Slut! "He screamed as he began slashing at her face "You must
die!,whore" he raged," Die! like the rest of your stinking lot!". He 
went into a frenzy.  He began cutting off her pair of still warm 
breasts and placed them on a bedside table. Then he gutted her from her 
breasts to her pubes in a single gash and ripped out her intestines, 
enjoying the gurgling sounds it made. Muttering to himself,he then 
piled them up beside the breasts,. Searching around the body cavity, he 
found her kidneys and cut them out .He then took out heart and began 
eating it, enjoying the texture.  Afterwards he licked the blood that 
ran from between his fingers ,and continuted the mutilations . Cutting 
off her ears and nose,he placed them on top of the pile. Exhausted , he 
got up, wiped his brows, then slashed her face several times again and 
finally spat on her in disgust before he left and disappeared into the 
night. 

London, Nov. 9.th 1888- The city is again stirred to its very center,
and again mysterious murder is the cause. Excerpts from the Boston 
Globe, November 9th 1888 : The cause, this time, is evidently another 
in the dread Whitechapel series, though it differs from the others in 
some particulars. In the first place, this latest addition to the list 
of horrors was made indoors. A house in Dorset street, near Hamburg 
street, was the scene of the murder. A woman was the victim, as in the 
other cases, and her body was shockingly mutilated. It was found not 
many hours after the violence had been done. The murder had been 
committed in the woman's own room. 

News of the discovery spread rapidly after it was once given out, and in
a short time the vicinity was thronged with excited and morbidly 
curious people. The police authorities took charge of the body and the 
house at once after the fact of the murder became known to them. They 
brought into use bloodhounds, which were lately tested for the purpose 
of hunting own the Whitechapel murderer in hope that the brutes could 
catch the scent and follow up the trail of the assassin. 

The Lord Mayor's parade made an emergency which called a great portion
of the police force to special duty in controlling the crowds in the 
streets. Hence the rigid patrol which has been kept up in the 
Whitechapel district was somewhat relaxed. 

This gave the murderer his opportunity, which he was not slow to seize.
He is evidently more vigilant than the police, and has the advantage 
that he can study their movements without being himself subject to 
espionage. The present victim is the eighth who has fallen before the 
Whitechapel fiend. 

The fourth one was found in Hamburg street, not far from the location of
this one, and at the time she was discovered there was written on the 
wall near the body the legend: "Fifteen before I surrender." 

According to this, seven more lives are yet to be taken, and from the
success which has thus far attended the murderer's operations, it seems 
entirely possible, perhaps probably, that he will be able to fulfil his 
horrible intentions. 

The appearance of the remains found last night was frightful, and the
mutilation was even greater than in the previous cases. The head had 
been severed and placed beneath one of the arms. The ears and nose had 
been cut off. The body had been disemboweled and the flesh was torn 
from the thighs. The womb and other organs were missing. The skin had 
been torn off the forehead and cheeks. One hand had been pushed into 
the stomach. 

The victim, like all the others, was a lewd woman. She was married, and
her husband was a porter. They had lived together at spasmodic 
intervals. Her name is believed to have been Lizzie Fisher, but to most 
of the habitués of the haunts she visited she was known as Mary Jane. 

She had a room in the house where she was murdered. She carried a latch
key, and no one knows at what hour she entered the house last night, 
and probably no one saw the man who accompanied her. Therefore it is 
hardly likely that he will ever be identified. 

He might easily have left the house at any time between 1 and 6 o'clock
this morning without attracting attention. The doctors who have 
examined the remains refuse to make any statement until the inquest is 
held. 

Three bloodhounds belonging to private citizens were taken to the place
where the body lies and placed on the scent of the murderer, but they 
were unable to keep it for any great distance, and all hope to running 
the assassin down with their assistance will have to be abandoned. 

Later that day, he stood among the crowd and watched as her remains were
placed in a covered wagon and quickly removed to a mortuary adjoining 
the old Shoreditch Church. The crowd dispersed. 

Later, the Ripper was in his flat sitting before the fire place sipping
some Port. He was deep in thought. "Some how, he's got to end this 
torment" he thought .He knew what he must do" .he got up went over to 
his writing desk and began writing. Dear Sir.... 

Just then came a loud knocking at his front door. 

"Who is it?"asked the killer. 

"Police!" came the sharp reply. His heart pounding, he quickly threw the
letter in the fire place, then composing himself, went to the door and 
opened it. 

A pair of uniformed police officers stood on the threshold, one tall and
thin, the other short and fat. 

"Yes, Officers, what can I do for you?"He said trying to keep himself
calm. 

" I am Officer Percival," said the tall one, " and this is Officer
Newton," indicating his friend who nodded. 

"We are checking the neighbourhood, we saw that your light was on, so we
came to tell you that should you hear any unusual sounds, please note 
the time and description. We have reason to believe the Ripper is 
hereabouts . The net is closing in on him," 

"I see ,is that all, Officer ?" "Yes, sir, Just be careful."The officers
wished him a good night amd left. 

The doctor closed the door gently. A few days later, the Chief Inspector
received a letter addressed to him.He opened it and began reading : 

Dear Sir, 

By the time you read this letter I will be  dead.  I cannot go on like
this. I must confess the torment is too much and weighs heavily on my 
soul. I cannot carry this secret for the rest of my life . I must now 
put an end to it. I confess that I am responsible for the last five 
recent murders here in Whitechapel namely that of Mary Nichols ,Anne 
Chapman, Cathrine Eddoes ,Elizabeth Stride and finally ,Mary Kelly in 
Spitalsfield ,the woman I was searching for, the woman who had caused 
my only son to commit suicide because she spurned his love. I have 
travelled far and wide looking for her. When I heard that she was in 
whitechapel working among the unfortunates.my gloom was lifted and I 
made the long trip from Dublin.I do not wish to live any longer so I 
must do what I have to. I was bent on revenge . Last friday I found her 
again and I killed her .I went into a frenzy in the room, it was as if 
some demon had possessed me , an unholy rage gripped me. I also killed 
the others to prevent them from warning her that some one was looking 
for her.Now that the deed is done a sense of relief flooded my mind,but 
it later proved too strenuous for my conscience and may all forgive me. 
Signed , John Hanbury ,F.R.C.S. Alias : Jack the Ripper. Later that 
night his coat pockets filled with heavy stones. He went to a bridge. 
After looking around for a last time he plunged into the dark murky 
water below . They found his corpse three days later. “Damn!  He was 
right under our noses." said the Inspector, shaking his head in 
disbelief as he handed the letter to Pims. “What are you talking about 
?”asked Pims The Inspector handed him the letter. After reading the 
letter Pims exclaimed ‘Dr. Hanbury? I-I can't believe it ,why –why ,he 
is our own Police coroner !” “Yes,” replied the Inspector still in 
shock, “no wonder we couldn't catch him, he knew our every move.” !He 
looked up at Pims and said, " The public must not know about this, It 
would make us and the department look like fools.  Destroy it!" He 
ordered. 

He did.! 

Copyright 2011 by Michael Lance Kersting 


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