Precisely around an hour before Officer Graham and his partner had arrived, ‘Jack the Ripper’ had struck.

It had been several years since he last fed on real human blood. And his mouth watered with the thought of a fresh body.

Of course this would be his first victim of the man who would become known as “Jack the Ripper” so nobody had any way of knowing that his real name was Bartholomew Frances and that he was a creature of the night who cast no shadow. A Vampire.

“Mary Ann Nichols, the first victim to be/ Ripped by her killer, with laugh malicious with glee.”

The Ripper giggled with the imagination of a child. His inhuman mind had already sprung up with millions of different scenarios in which he could kill his victim. 

Who shall it be? Who shall it be! Hehehehehehehe.

Jack was salivating now, rocking back and forth on a roof a block down from Buck’s Row.

And then there was a humming that echoed through the night. Yes. This was the one.

Jack, now lucid, shot across the rooftops until he laid eyes on a woman.

He deflated just a bit when his eyes focused upon the madam. She was a bit on the fat side, which Jack was opposed to.

Hm… well! I guess she’ll have to do.

There was no defeating hunger. He was Jack. He was Mr. Frances. He shall get what he wants.

The — Meal — Woman was humming, her woven basket swinging as she walked.

The Ripper stalked silently behind her at a safe distance. He was practically drooling.

He approached. He whipped out his knife, a long but slender blade of about 8-10 inches.

“It’s getting kinda late to be out by yourself, Madam,” the Ripper said, from behind his Victim’s shoulder.

The Woman gasped and turned around, defensively and instinctively swinging her basket toward his face.

They are all animals. The whole lot of them. And I… I am on top of the food chain!

She swung too slow. Jack ducked effortlessly and not showing a second’s mercy, gripped the Woman’s throat.

“Say! What’s your name?,” The Ripper asked his victim, loosening his grip ever so slightly, so she could speak. But not enough to let his prey get loose.

“Mary A—!”

Her words were choked off as Jack squeezed harder.

“Sorry to waste your breath,” the Killer apologized. “You see, what I just did? Your blood got flowing quicker, so it’s much more savory when I do this.”

Without warning, the Ripper dropped Mary to her feet and then slid his knife neatly across her throat.

Blood shot out of her throat like children free to break at the end of the day at secondary school.

Mary gagged and her eyes widened.

A smile touched the Rippers’ lips, his fangs exposed.

“Please…,” Mary managed to choke out.

“Hush,” was her killer’s only response before he pulled up her skirt and stabbed her twice between her legs.

The Woman dropped to her knees and he kicked her full force in her face with his dress shoes.

He could see the life draining away from her body, along with any traces of color in her skin.

He licked the blade clean as Mary reached out for something that could ensure her safety. The other hand clutched her throat, which was still leaking liquid, which appeared black in the night.

After cleaning his knife of all its contamination, he dropped to his knees and plunged his knife into the Woman’s stomach.

The woman was losing consciousness now. That would spoil his meal. So he fetched a hard slap to her face, bringing the light back into her eyes.

His face splattered with her blood as he yanked the blade to his right, giving an opening to which he began tearing out her insides.

And then he made his victim watch as he fed. Death came seconds after.