Chapter 13

        I was home.  My parents had locked themselves in their bedroom after I showed up at the door.  I went up into the attic and started looking through my grandfather’s old things.  I found the sheath that my dagger belonged with.  I had never bothered to take it because it just seemed to get in the way when I hid the dagger in my clothes.  Below I heard my mother crying as my father tried calling the police.

        “Hello?  Hello, is anyone there?” he said into the phone.

        “Don’t bother Dad, I cut the phone lines before I came in,” I called down.

        “S**t,” I heard him mumble.

        I smiled like a mischievous child.

        “John?  Please just stop honey.  Please just turn yourself into the police,” my mother sobbed to me.

        “Sorry Mom, but that’s just not going to happen.”

        “Oh God!” she started wailing.

        They feared me and they feared me killing them.  I feared killing them, they were my parents after all.  But then I saw something at the bottom of the box that had my grandfather’s things that made me forget about them.  It was my grandfather’s journal.

 

 

May 17, 1956.

        My grandfather pulled me aside today.  He told me ‘I have something for you my boy, something that historians all over the world would die to have.’  He gave me a dagger.  He said, ‘That dagger is what killed five w****s in the Whitechapel district of London and many more since.  You see my boy, I am Jack the Ripper.  I wasn’t always Jack, see, but this dagger changed me.  Something overcame me when I came into possession of this dagger.  It changes you.  Use it if you choose.  Ignore me if you choose.  But take it boy and keep it with you and make sure you’re grandson finds it.  We must keep the tradition alive.’

        He laughed as if it was hysterical.  I’m still shaking from what he told me.  I fear the power of the dagger.  I fear my grandfather.  I fear for my future child and grandchild.

May 22, 1956.

        My grandfather died today.  I’ve told no one the information he shared with me or about the dagger.

March 2, 19__.

        My grandson was born today.  I will do as my grandfather said and when the time comes, I will leave my dagger to him.  I hope I die before that time.  I do not want to know all the things that will happen when he has the dagger.

June 28, 20__.

        I am dying.  Before I die, I will leave a confession in this journal.  I killed people during my life.  I fought in ’Nam and killed many innocent women and children.  I did not shoot them down with my gun.  I slashed their throats and stabbed them to death.  I came home and acted normal but the urge to kill has always been with me.  I have always hated myself.  I am glad I am dying.  The world will not be a better world, how can it be?

June 29, 20__.

        I   

        I’m 

        Dead.

 

 

        I am the descendent of Jack the Ripper?  Holy s**t.