Death Diary (Entry 52)

Entry Fifty two

You’ll have to forgive the lateness of this entry…and also the brevity. I’m afraid that this Ebola thing has gotten more out of hand than I anticipated. Pestilence is at it again I fear, and he’s got a new toy to play with. Now I’m not spending this whole entry on that nonsense, you hear enough about it I’m sure from the media…but I will say this about Ebola. For those of you who are afraid of Ebola becoming the next big pandemic and that it will go airborne….relax. As much as Pestilence would love for this disease to hit the airways, he’s not that quick about it. Virus’s like this do not mutate in such a way easily. Also, keep in mind that Ebola has been around for many, many years, and it is in no way a death sentence, if given the proper treatment.  
But like I said, I’m not here to talk about Pestilence and his idiocy…rather I’m here to take you down memory lane…to take you into the past. As it is the month of Halloween and scares, I feel it is only fitting to discuss a real monster. A monster that I came to know quite well in fact.

I’m in London right now…and I’m looking out at the stary sky as whisps of clouds just drift by. They don’t cover or hide the moon…but they just manage to fad the shine slightly, casting an eerie glow on the streets and houses below. London has changed so much in the time I’ve known it…it’s nothing like it was when it was all cobblestone roads and carriages. It was a different place! You probably wouldn’t recognize it. But…London brings back many memories for me…ugly memories. One such memory is not of a man…but a monster. A monster who, to this day…isn’t truly dead. He went by the name…Jack the Ripper. And that, my friends….brings back many memories.
Jack the Ripper…Spring Heeled Jack…the Prostitute Surgeon…These were some of his nicknames, but his real name was never known to the public. The only reason he got the name Jack the Ripper was because of a letter sent in, claiming to be from the killer himself, as he bragged about his killings. That letter was signed as “Jack the Ripper” but the truth is that this letter was likely created as propaganda by some media reporter wanting to make the story more interesting. His true name is a mystery…of course I know the real identity of Jack the Ripper because I was the one who collected his soul and extracted the truth. Should I tell you? Hmm….I might wait till the end to tell you their true name. But allow me to indulge myself a bit longer, if you please.

I first came to meet Jack during his first killing in 1888 on the night of Auguest 31st. It was cold that night…much like tonight, and there I was to meet a young woman named Mary Ann Nichols. She was lovely…her physical form was anyway. But when I came to her, she was…quite a site. I’d not seen killings like this in a while. It was not just hatred that fueled this murder…it reminded me a bit of Pestilence…a sick twisted need to prove something. Her neck was cut and her face was bruised as if beaten and punched. Her body was mostly untouched save for her lower abdomen…where her flesh was cut but not surgically operated on…no, it seemed Jack had not quite gotten to his true nature yet, but he would.
I stared Jack in the face that night and he knew me…we both made a note to keep each others faces in our minds. He was a cruel sort…the knife was bloody and it dripped down to the ground as blood covered his left hand. Yes, Jack was left handed…that much I can tell you. The look on his face as he stared at me was not one of joy but intrique. He found me…interesting. I found him interesting too. This sociopath…was strange to me. What man such as this gets such a twisted sense of glee from such crimes as these?

Jack would strike again 7 more times. Yes, I know the canonical version says he only had 5 victims, but not all of them were found…some of them Jack was very clever about hiding. However, his final victim was the one that terrifies me the most. Her name was Mary Jane Kelly. I met her in 1888 on the 9th of November. I came to her…and what I saw horrified me. Jack wasn’t done with her. He’d grown progressively more vicious over the few months he’d been at work. The smile on his face was…quite terrifying. He hacked at her with such fury and such tenacity it made me think I was looking at a devil and not a man…and that’s what Jack the Ripper was…a true monster. He cut off her breasts one by one…mutilated her face so there was almost nothing recognizable. He ripped open her lower abdomen and removed any identity of her as a woman. I was disgusted….and she was unable to scream. Her throat had been cut and her voice was useless. I showed her my only kindness and ended her suffering, removing her soul and allowing her release from her pain. And once again…my eyes fell on the bloody monster.
There are few words that need saying between beast and angel…but I did have the courtesy to call him a “savage” as I walked out the door. He just chuckled, cleaned himself off, and fled from the scene. I would not see or hear from him again for another year. I don’t know why he stopped killing in that time, and I don’t much care…but I will tell you the last time I met the creature.

I approached him as he lay dying in his house. I looked into his eyes…and I recognized him. He was suffering a heart attack if I recall…it’s hard to remember what was ailing him. All I remember was the satisfaction I was feeling. Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m never pleased at the death of someone…but there was just this feeling of…relaxation. As if I was glad to know this man would never walk the streets again. That I’d never have to meet another Mary Jane Kelly. He looked into my eyes, and do you know what he did? He just shrugged. I was amazed…and mystified by his passive attitude. This man intrigued me so…I was blown away by his demeanor…his attitude, and his just all around nature. What WAS this creature called Jack the Ripper? Despite this, I had no compassion…and no tears to be shed. As I reached in and grabbed his struggling soul, he spoke to me. He SPOKE to me…he said:
“I thought…I’d live forever.”
What an odd thing to say. And yet it makes such cosmic sense. Do you ever think about dying? Do you ever consider the day we’ll meet? No…not many do. Until the day I come for you, most don’t even consider their own mortality. This man, who was so used to using me against others was now coming to realize he could not escape my clutch either. I replied to him with a single phrase:
“No, I’m afraid not.”
….What? Expecting some epic speech or cool action movie line? I’m afraid I’m not that cliché. I told him the truth, and that’s the honest truth. But maybe…maybe he did live forever in a way.

When do you think a man truly dies? I don’t think it’s when I remove their soul…no I think that a man truly dies when he is forgotten about. But Jack the Ripper is indeed very much remembered and celebrated as one of the most illusive and malicious serial killers in history. Movies, books, tv shows, and comics have all been dedicated to this monster…so in a way he still lives on, haunting the minds and hearts of millions around the world with just his few months of murders. I guess he got what he wanted then…let his name go down in history.
Oh that’s right! I never did say his real name. He was a doctor by the name of….
….
No, as I consider it, it’s best not to tell. After all, that would ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it? His last wish was to live forever and it’s not my place to spoil such a fun and gripping mortal legend like that, even one as sick and twisted as him. In a strange way I respect the man…not for what he did, but because of how…fascinating a sociopath he was. Believe me, I’m glad he’s dead…but such a creature is a mystery to me, a mystery I still would like to unravel…but I guess that’s what makes him live on forever…the mystery.
The mystery of Jack the Ripper.

That does it for me. I will write again if I can. But if I don’t in time…do have a very Happy Halloween, and keep your eyes out…I’m considering going trick or treating myself. Hahaha!

Sincerely,

A.D.