Here I stand, in my new home. Finally, getting away from London . I hated it there. Now I'm in Whitechapel, most people fled after the Ripper incident, and I'm coming here for that reason. I need to be alone with me thoughts. I need to think these plans through. Surely I'll get my revenge, but the questions are how and when. Let's see, nobody will know me here, so there will be no one suspicious of my actions. I can make this my safe spot, a place to come back to.

I already know my main goal in life: revenge on those who ruined my childhood. I was made fun of constantly, and I won't let it go. I know all the names. Alice Addams, Sarah Grayson, Irene Goldtark, Brian Chiffler, Greg Malive, and John Burkis. They took the happiest part of my life from me, so now I will take theirs from them.

My name is Sydney Madlum, I live in Whitechapel , England , I am twenty years old, and nothing will keep me from what I want. Once vengeance and justice are served, I will gladly take any punishment. But there is nothing anyone can do to make up for the twenty years of torture I endured, nothing that will change what those people deserve, nothing that will change the way they made me see. Some people may call me twisted, but I see myself as a punisher. People do bad things, bad things happen to them. I am the bad thing. I am the one who won't give up. I am the one who is inspired by The Ripper.

I was seven years old when the murders happened. Jack the Ripper, they called him. He brutally killed women in the Whitechapel area. The most gruesome murder of all was that of Mary Jane Kelly. She had her throat slit and horrific body mutilations followed. Her torso was completely cut open and most of her organs were removed. Her face was gashed all over and flaps of skin were removed from her chest and thighs. She was unrecognizable, and the room was left covered in her blood. Yet not a single fingerprint was left.

Even at a young age, I took great interest in this. I thought he was a mad genius. I still do, however demented that may be. Growing up without a father, and therefor no father figure, I look up to him. He didn't care what he had to do to get what he wanted, and he stopped after he had it. Five murders. I will stop at six. Six is all i need to curb this bloodthirsty monster inside me. I know I'm a monster, but the people I'm after are much worse. Demons, the spawn of Satan, sent to wreck havoc on my life. Alice, Sarah, Irene, Brian, Greg, and John will need all the mercy they can plead out of me. They won't get any.

The kindest thing I will do to them is end their lives before they can ruin it anymore and get more people like me after them. Really, I'm doing them a favor.


First on my list, John Burkis. He was the least cruel, so his death shall be quick, but not painless. He will be made to suffer as I was. I gather all of my materials and head out the door. All the years of hatred have given me a cold heart, so to feel the warmth of the razor beneath my fingertips made me jump. I walked down the street with the blade in my hands. Tonight straight razors are for more than just shaving.

In half an hour's time, I make it to London . In another half hour, I arrive at John's home. No lights are on, and I hear snoring coming from his open upstairs window. He really has made this too easy for me. I slip into the window soundlessly and creep into his bedroom.

I gag him with a rag from me satchel and he sleeps right through it. But when I slash the back of his ankles, his eyes pop open. A muffled scream comes from his throat and then no noise at all. I have cut his jugular vein. It was a small cut; I could take hours for him to die this way. I check for a pulse, and he's still alive. I move lower in his body and cut one wrist, watching him grow pale. I cut the other, much deeper. I have hit bone. A last muffled cry for help is all I hear as I do the last steps. I remove the gag; there's no point to it now. Them I take the razor and cut out his tongue. He'll never talk bad about anyone again. I slip out the window and head for the next victims house.


Now it's time for Sarah Grayson. Not the worst of the group, but bad enough to deserve what's coming for her. This house is a bit trickier. It's gotten very foggy out, so it'll be hard to see on the way there. I cross the street, head back into the alley, and go up towards Sarah's house. The cutting of the tongue is something that will happen to all of the five left.

To make sure she's really asleep, I give her a little bit of chloroform. She'll feel this, but she won't be awake to scream. First I cut her tongue out and put it in my satchel. I take my razor and cut all up and down her arms. Starting with the wrists, I press the blade into the skin, life it, and watch her hand swim in blood. I continue to cut up one arm, then the next. I smile as I watch the color drain from her face. I lift her eyelids to find her pupils losing the life in them, too. Two down, four to go. But two is enough for tonight. I clean the razor's blade off and head out the back door, prepared for the long journey home, holding my head a little bit higher.

I walk home, covered in John and Sarah's blood. It is late at night, so no one is out. Even if they were, it's much too dark to see me, hidden in the shadows as I am. I get to my house and run hot water, preparing to wash my clothes and bathe. Once the washtub has filled up, I get in, clothes still on. I begin scrubbing away at both skin and cloth. These clothes are all I have, so I must keep them clean. Once there is no trace of blood, I hang them to dry, and climb under my covers. Feeling satisfied and quite sleepy, I lie down and fall into a deep sleep. The last thing I remember seeing is the sun rising over the horizon.

I woke up at four in the afternoon and, realizing that I overslept, jumped out of bed. I have plenty of time until night falls, but I still want to be thorough. I have the razor, the chloroform (in case I should need it), and rope (should someone need to be secured). All ready for tonight. Now I must wait. About three hours until the mask of the night shades me. Then I can do the devil's deed.

Once I had my things together for tonight and was fully dressed, I planned to lie back down, but my stomach rumbled in protest. That was when I realized I hadn't eaten all day yesterday, and here it was, five in the afternoon, and I still haven't fed myself. I go to the kitchen, remember that I just came here two days ago, and decide to go shopping.

I get to the market, and, as expected, I hear gossip about the 'unresolved murders'. They were, and I quote, "obviously done by the same person. The cut tongue was a dead giveaway." I hear nonstop chatter, and I can't help laughing to myself. Here she is, the 'Second Ripper', as they're calling me, standing in the middle of a market like a normal person. In all of this chaos, I find a dark humor.

I settle for a week's worth of vegetables and meat. I will remain secluded during the day and wonder the streets at night. I can't have people seeing what I do. So I'll remain hidden away. The light has begun to fade from the sky, so I head home.

The blanket of night has covered me, so I head towards London . I catch a buggy heading that way and convince them I'm visiting an old friend. They allow me to ride with them and we engage in friendly chatter on the way. They drop me off down the street from my true destination and save it to wherever they were going. I wasn't really listening on the way. I walk up to Brian's door and, finding it unlocked, walk inside. He is in the dining room, sitting with his dinner, sad and alone. Soon he'll have John and Sarah.

Quick as I can, I tie Brian to his chair before he realizes who I am. He panics and starts screaming. I grab his neck, choking off his air supply, and he is speechless. I pry open his jaws and remove the tongue. I put it in a flap in my satchel, and continue working. I grab his hair, pull his head back, and prepare to slit his throat. Then, I stop myself. It hits me. I pull up on his hair and take his scalp off with the razor. His brilliantly white skull begins to leak bright red onto the floor and I know I must hurry. I take the hairy flap of his scalp and shove it down his throat. He turns blue, then purple-red, then gray. I leave with a smirk on my face and head for Irene's house.

She lives not a mile away, so I get there in about twenty minutes. She is fast asleep on a bed too big for her. She's sprawled out all over the mattress. I get the rope and tie each of her limbs to one of the four corners of the bed. She sure is a deep sleeper. I open her mouth, slice out her tongue, and watch her panicky eyes wander around the room to my face. She can't see me. I begin to draw a bloody version of a stick figure on her body. I make a small incision on her collarbone and traced down her torso. Then, from the line on her chest, cut again, this time down her right arm, her blood painting it crimson. I copied the action onto her left arm and her lags, watching her bleed out. She was cut open like a Jack-O-Lantern at Halloween. I laughed at the thought, and carved up her face, too, just for the fun of it. I leave her tied up and head home, still laughing and feeling rather pleased with myself.

I am home in an hour, choosing to walk. Bathe, hang clothes to dry, same as last night. Under the covers, I really begin to think. I have killed four people. Four people are dead, because of me. I just washed two peoples blood off my clothes. I am a murderer. Simple, yet so complex. I don't think I'm crazy, but others surely would. I'm not going to stop, but when it's over, I should hide. But if I was hiding, that would raise suspicion. So I won't hide, and I won't hurt. Just get this over with, lift the weight from my shoulders, and face my demons. I dream about these things, about a happy life after all of this is gone.

I wake up at five, even later than yesterday. I have nothing to do today. Tonight, however, I get Greg. I've had a busy week, so just one will do tonight. And on that, I fell back asleep.

I woke up for the second time that day and see that it is almost light out. I run all the way to Greg's house. He actually lives about half an hour away from me, but I am running. I get there in ten minutes. The door is locked, so I scale the wall and pry open his window. I am already in his room. I must do this quickly. In about ten seconds, the tongue is out. In another fifteen, his stomach is split open. I reach in, trying to find his intestines. When I do, I yank them out, wrapping them around his neck. He gasps for air, turns the dead gray, and I leave him like so, running towards my home. I'm not fast enough. The sun rises, giving color to the black night world.

I duck into the nearest place I can find, which is a sewer system. I jump in and start running. I bump into a tall man wearing a tattered cape and top hat. The mad grabs me by the neck and pins me against he wall.
"What are you doing down here?" he demands.
"Hiding" I manage to choke out.
He drops me and I crumple on the ground, gasping. He saw the blood on my clothes. It' all over. My plans are ruined. He kneels down and looks at me. After some time of this he says "Come with me. " And I do. I follow this strange man in this unfamiliar place because I know he can hurt me if I don't. He just demonstrated that.

         He leads me to a turn where there is a small blanket and candles. He instructs me to sit, and I try to find the cleanest place to do so. I find a spot and he sits in front of me.
"Who are you?"
"I'm...um...Alice. Alice Addams." I murmur, taking the name of an enemy. "Who are you?"
"Jack" he replied coldly.
"What are you doing down here Jack?"
"Well, Alice, I am a bad person. I did bad things that I have to hide from. And you? You said you were hiding. Why?"
"Same reason. I didn't make it home in time, so I ducked down here."
"Home? Where?"
"Whitechaple"
"Mind if I see it?" He was genuinely curious.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Good point. Let's go."
"In broad daylight?"
"Yes. I have extra clothes. You can wear them."
"Um, okay." I was handed a simple shirt, pants, and a belt. I dressed and we climbed out of the sewer. I led him to my home in silence. It was soon broken.
"Why did you move here, Alice?"
"Okay, well now that I feel that I can somewhat trust you, my real name is Sydney. Sydney Madlum. I moved here to get revenge on those who ruined my childhood."
"You came here even after the Ripper murders?
"He doesn't scare me. I'm inspired by him."
"Well, I thank you for that."
Suddenly, it clicks. this man, Jack. he is the Jack The Ripper! That is why he hides! He seems to see the sudden realization in my facial expression, and he smiles.

   When we arrive at my house, i invite him inside, not wanting a hero to live in a sewer. He accepts and over the next few hours, we become quite close. I tell him why I am really here, what I have already done, and he looks impressed. Never in all my years would I have imagined he was still alive . I told him i would be taking my last life the next night, and he wanted to come with me. He was willing to wait in the alley for me.

   We set out for London after a long nights sleep and good food. I arrive at Alice's door and break in, Jack in the alley as promised. Alice, the worst of all, shall have the worst death. A party of people will gather to see her, and a mob of police will investigate. Nests of vultures will pick at her, and not a school of children will go untaught of what happens tonight.

   I go to her bedroom and shake Alice awake. I don't care if she screams. She recognizes me as soon as I'm on top of her, pinning her down. She pushed me off and runs for it. She goes straight for the alley, bumps into Jack screaming for help, and he pushes her down. I come running, and she clamped her mouth shut. I hold her nose until she opened her mouth for air. That's when I cut open the sides of her mouth and cut out her tongue. She was bleeding and choking on her own blood. I had Jack hold her nose and hold her mouth open while I carved bloody designs into her body. she was drenched in blood and turning gray by the time I was done. She soon went limp.

    It's over. No more painful memories. no more regret for not saving myself earlier. It's all over. I'm free. I can finally see things in a different light. My mental celebration continued as i giddily walked home under the cover of night with Jack. Two birds of a feather, flying over the same uncertain path.

_________________________________________________________________________________________


                                JACK'S JOURNAL

April 16, 1901

    I haven't a clue what to do. I met a girl yesterday, at the age of twenty. her name is Sydney. She reminded so much of the daughter I left so long ago, I helped her finish her gruesome task. I've committed my fair share of gruesome crimes, and it is now apparent that she has as well. I never intended to inspire anyone in such a way, yet it seems I have against my knowing. Now, knowing her last name, I must hold back these tears. if i told her the truth, she might hate me. I can't lose her, not again. Abandoning  her was the biggest mistake of my life. but i was only twenty myself, young, stupid, and not ready for such a responsibility. I don't know what to do. Risk losing her, or live with her, knowing that I'm lying. I love her. She is my daughter. I need help most where i cannot get it. Perhaps I deserve this...

                                                          Yours truly,
                                                 Jack "The Ripper" Madlum