Whitechapel Fears

 brought a new dress today. It is blue all over, but with a pretty white lace part at my waist. I am wearing it now. I heard about the killer. Four women already dead. All friends of mine. The police say there is nothing to fear anymore; he's got what he wanted. He's probably moved on to another place.

It is now nearly midnight. Oh it is so dark tonight. I'm cold, but I lost my caridigan. It is a pretty dress...

I can hear something. Footsteps. Oh that must be John, the man I must meet tonight. You see, I'm part of the oldest profession. I've been doing this since my sister died, when I was fourteen. Now I'm twenty, I'm doing it for the money. Oh I so desparately need the money...

Here he is. He is holding something. It is shiny in the moonlight. He holds it against my new pretty dress. I do not want my dress ruined, so I step back. The street sign says "Whitechapel"

 

 

This is the killer. I have to get out of here. But how? Each time I step back, he steps forward. I am against a wall, with nowhere to run.

He cuts my pretty new dress. I don't like him doing that. He cuts at my flesh. I watch, hypnotized, as he cuts deeper, and as my insides spill out.

I scream. I'm scared. I die.