Sincerely Yours

This is part of the journal of an actor, and an artist only... he seems a bit off the net.

 

Today was a good day. As I strolled along the grove, I spotted her. Corset bunched up around her, her elegant neck  and chest laid out as if inviting me. I couldn’t resist her, nor, I could see, could the other men walking down the bricked street. Knickers thigh-high, dress, split at the hip on either side. she was gorgeous. I could tell she hadn’t been on this street before. New, fresh. Flesh pale, hair ghostly blonde.  And yet… I could not have her. Not the way I wanted. I am ill…

 

The mere pressure of the feather pen snapped under the man’s frustration. His pale, sickly hand shaking from madness. He couldn’t… He would need another quill. He wiped something from his hand onto his pant leg with a shudder. But he was addicted now, his heart, his mind, his hands couldn’t stop what he was doing, not anymore. Just… just one more.

 

He would write more later. There were more pressing matter at hand.  His new tarp was stained from his latest creation. Ah, it was beautiful at that. He boxed it nicely. Red velvet for the lining, he could afford it, he was an actor. Black finish, and a simple red bow around it. It’s recipient would know well what it meant. He sighed, now he had to clean up his flat before he became too exhausted. He slid the box into his trousers.

 

He dragged the tarp, with the extra weight of the leftover material from his present thudding against the ground. The smell of it was intoxicating, he really couldn’t understand why more artists didn’t work in it. He always disposed of unwanted materials in places he hoped, someone would find them. He wasn’t sure why, but, some naughty part of him liked people to know what kind of man he was. It was late, the alley was dark and the beat was clean of people. Good lord, this was heavy, even for dragging. But… it was too late for anyone to bother him on his way to the park to dispose of the garbage.

 

The black box tapping against his trousers, and a shiny liquid seeping from the lid. Damn it all, he shouldn’t have wrapped it so soon. He knew it would run. He shook his head, and found the quaint path to the park. He heaved the tarp up and slid it out from beneath the heavy load. He’d be washing it for hours. He pulled the box from his pocket, and set it on the ground a moment, folding the tarp.

 

He sat now, sat at his desk. More writing needed to be done, and with his present in the mail, a letter would be appropriate to go with it.

 

Dear Scotland Yard,

 

I hope you received my present, and upon receiving it, I hoped you liked it well. It wasn’t so clean as last time, and for that I apologise. Next time, be sure I won’t be so rude as to send it out so soon. Thank you, sirs, for all of your encouragement in my work, and I hope to hear from you soon.

 

 

Sincerely yours,

 

Jack The Ripper

Author's Note

Keep an open mind, it was an experiment.

Reviews

[Charlotte Meyer]

It was so good!!!!! You are an amazing writer keep on writing!!!!

[Nevah Ann]

Creepy girl.

[James Hall]

This was very good. I liked the sense of knowing something wasn't right from the moment you started. Very pleased with the ending, with writing like that, it would have made for a very good longer story.

[LoveLikeThis]

WOW. It was excellent.