An expert in producing derivatives

Misty Midnight
Source: | Author:ringtoys | Publish time: 2018-12-19 | 1301 Views | Share:
No one could understand his faithful love for Bella. He is isolated, lonely, and not understood.

1.Enemy from abyss
        The second……
        Warren knitted his brows, gazing at the woman who died miserable.
       The dead was a prostitutes, Mary Ann Nichols, 43 years old. She was found in Bucks Row near Whitechapel. Her abdomen was incised, the gut was dragged out and her private part was assaulted severely.
        Because of her mutilated dead body, many polices at Scotland Yard vomited on the scene.
        Warren didn’t vomit. He only examined the corpse, frowning.  It was nearly the same as Martha Tabram’s body, which was found in the east zone of Whitechapel on August 7th. The places were both near Whitechapel, and the dead were both prostitutes, seeming very likely done by serial killer. Anyway, if so, then it's just the beginning. 
        Warren suggested his idea to the authorities, however, the authorities didn’t announce this assumption----in order not to cause unnecessary panic in the society. But the media, still named the two cases as “the Whitechapel murders”. The authorities dispatched more plainclothesmen under great pressure from the public, so that people believed no such cases would happen again.
        Yet, Warren didn’t think so. The arrival would come. He almost could assure, this series killer, would become the greatest enemy in his life.
        Warren was born from a middle-class family. Now he was a mainstay in Scotland yard. Persevering,calm and clever, because of this kind of character, he had detected many cold cases by getting inspiration from thread of a spider and trail of a horse.  However, his contribution was always owing to his boss Rachel.  He always just was an unknown police. Warren didn’t care about fame and gain, what mattered was the pleasant sensation he could get from solving a case. Yes, the pleasant sensation. Warren was addicted to it,  which could be got from complicated riddle. When detecting these two murders, Warren’s blood pressure was up,he trembled slightly. Rachel thought he was afraid, however, in fact he was just feeling extremely excited.
        When Annie Chapman’s body was found at 29 Hanbury Street, Warren’s  assumption was confirmed. It was a wonderful murder. The killer committed the crime near uptown, and it was only eight days away from his last murder.  At the same time, his technique was more skillful and inhumane. 
        On September 27th,  news agency received a letter whose signature was Jack The Ripper. From then on, this cruel series killer, had his unique nickname.
        Jack The Ripper? Warren smiled. Be dare to challenge the police, so mad was he…… 
        The authorities was under really great pressure. Various conjectures began to come out. Someone concluded, Jack should be a butcher. There were also people who thought he was a doctor.  Someone even related him to royal household.
       Warren read all reports about Jack. He only laughed at them. No, no……Jack was not a butcher, he must have been educated to some degree. He was not a doctor as well, for he was artsy actually. Even less so royal household, as he was purposeful,persevering and ruthless. Royal household who was spoiled couldn’t have that idiosyncrasy.
        Jack’s crime could be regarded as art----Yes, dark and perfect art. At the dark night, as London covered with thick foggy,  in somewhere people couldn’t see, he, appeared stealthily,left a diabolic scene, where people would tremble, with fear.
        Artist, artist……
        Suddenly, something occurred to Warren’s mind. Yes! Artist!  Pick up the same point of the dead! They were all prostitutes! Artists----painters, they had chance to contact with Streetwalkers who were in the bottom of society, because they needed to find them for body painting. What’s more, they had got the knowledge of human anatomy.
        This discovery made Warren excited. He didn’t tell anyone, he knew, if he said now, his contribution would be owed to others as used to be.
        He wanted to capture this criminal in person, yes, this criminal, Jack The Ripper, he was the biggest enemy in his
life.  Though he may need to use drastic measure,he wanted to catch him too! 
        Warren read all related materials, overnight and overnight. He also thought back the scene, again and again.
        An idea began to form in his mind.
2.Graceful criminal
        When he knew the news that Elizabeth Stride was killed, he smiled slightly.
        Oh no, it was not done by him. He was an artist, but that person, was only a ridiculous imitator. But why that person did that? Jack massaged his temple, maybe it was a imitation, maybe it was a provocation, maybe, it was a  frame, or maybe…… He only wanted to get him out.
        Yes, Elizabeth was not killed by him. Because that time, he was busy killing Catherine Eddowes.
        That imitator was an opponent worth respecting.  Because he took action at the same time when he planned to act.  Jack smiled. Maybe that person had known his identity already.
        But it was not graceful enough, either perfect. Jack touched the portrayal he drew for his wife. This was not what Bella wanted to see. He knew deeply. Oh, Bella, his lovely and unlucky wife. She couldn’t see at last. But what he did was all for her.
        That imitator wrote a letter to news agency in the name of Jack. It was flatulent and windy,which also included  Catherine’s death. This time, Jack didn’t smile.
        He could forgive people who regarded his fate as an evil crime. But that imitator’s ridiculous action, really annoyed him. His fate was sullied. Even worse, it was sullied by a ridiculous and exaggerated method. As an artist, his soul abhorred this kind of plagiarism. It was absolutely that imitator was plagiarizing.
        Jack decided to kill that damned imitator. And this time, the president of Public Security Committee received a long letter again. It was still from the imitator. “From Hell” was this letter’s title. There were some words which were misspelled on purpose. He was sure this letter would be published and the real Jack would see it. And in the fact, Jack indeed saw it .
        And Jack understood, the imitator meant he would keep committing crime. The only way to stop it was----he appeared. 
        The imitator wanted he to come out of the dark.
        It was interesting. However, you would die, unluckily. Jack put down the Times and drank a mouthful of Vanilla Tea.
        3. The criminal and the imitator
        His real name was surely not Jack, it was only an appellation.
        Once he was a general artist, and he had a very well-being family. He loved his wife, and they had lived together happily for a long time.  If drawing was the most important thing in his life, then Bella was his true love above all other things. 
         Bella was weak, but she really wanted to have a child. Jack couldn’t disobey her insistence, however in the last, because of this instance, Jack lost her forever.
        Jack was caught in despairing abyss after he lost Bella. He began to plan and take action, he killed familiar prostitutes and took away their uteruses.
        Bella was died from metrorrhagia, thus he used these fresh and healthy  uteruses to sacrifice her. Maybe, Bella would come back in one day. Jack believed this naively.
       Jack adjusted his mask, all the things about Bella occurred to his mind. In this so dark room, it was obviously that he couldn’t see clearly.The nose reveals a concentration of smell of blood, the woman who lied on the bed was prostitute Mary Jane Kelly. She was already dead when he came. In the dark, all things were vague. Apparently, it was done by imitator, he wanted to plant this on him, or he only wanted to find him.
        “Come out.” Jack said in short. He knew that person must be in here. If his aim was not ding him, he wouldn’t make much ado.
        A short laugh came from the dark. Jack was adapted to darkness gradually through the mask, he could see the imitator now.
        That person was in similar clothes as his----maybe he heard rumors about this.   He had really spent a lot of time! Jack just waited, waiting for him talking. He must would say something, because all what he had done was for seeing him, 
       “You were really clever, going so far as to know I am here.” The imitator said with banter. “ You are worth being the most powerful opponent in my life.”
        “I don’t regard you as my opponent. But since you have spent so much time on challenging me, I should guess seriously. “ Jack sneered.
        “If my conjecture was not wrong, you were an artist. Maybe you have contacted with these prostitutes before. You are well-educated, and you are good at anatomy. You think your crime is a series of magnificent performance art. “ The imitator said.
        “You are right, but only a small part.” Jake took out a knife from arms and started to play it. “ It was not a performance art, it was a rite consecrating to Bella!” In the dark, Jack took action. He snapped the imitator, silently. These two people wrestled together. 
        This fight was silent. They didn’t make a sound, only in struggling to use their own weapon,fighting and killing. 
        This furious fight ended soon, Jack was hurt by the imitator on the abdomen,he fell down to the ground, losing breath.
        The imitator panted urgently. He was also hurt in the fight. He never thought an artist would have so high martial prowess. Under the misty taste of moonshine, the imitator sighed relaxingly, he slowly took down his mask.
        Yes, it was Warren, the mainstay of Scotland Yard. But now, it was more appropriate to call him another criminal. His face was young and resolute.
        There was smile on his lips which was not easily perceived.
       “Jack, finally, you were caught by me in person. But you don’t need to worry, I will bury you well, your name won’t be mud.” Warren’s face twisted, he gave forth an odour of blood.
         He walked to Jack slowly, then squatted down, came near to his face: “Do you know why? Because I will inherit your art. I will be Jack the Ripper instead of you. I will be the tale in the history of crime instead of you!”
4. To dear Bella
      At the misty night in London, a man carried another man, walking laboriously. 
      The fog was really thick after midnight. The moon had disappeared now. 
       Citizens in the whole city had been asleep, no one would appear on street at such midnight. It was not only because of such mist,  but also because of a series killer---- Jack the Ripper.
        But Jack wouldn’t appear again, would it, Bella?
        Jack looked up the sky, attempting to see through the mist, seeing the starry sky again.
        He carried a dizzy man, this man was the mad imitator.
        Several minutes ago, Jack fought against the imitator in the battleground arranged by him. He was hurt on the abdomen,thus he pretended to have been falling into a coma and fell down. 
        When the imitator approached him, he suddenly acted, using the needle tubing to acupuncture the imitator’s arm. 
        In the needle tubing, it was the anesthetic. He had used it in the crime before-----It could make people faint and lose voice. And that‘s exactly this carry-on anesthetic,saved him at this crucialmoment.
        He would carry this dizzy man to a covert,then killed him and buried him insidiously. This imitator would disappear forever, and Jack would also on his way out. 
       All of a sudden, he understood, Bella had died.
       No wonder how many people he killed, how many uteruses he took away to sacrifice, she wouldn’t come back to life.
        Unexpectedly, Jack became sad. It was not for the crimes he had committed, neither for those innocent dead, just because he realized the death of Bella. 
        No one could understand his loyal love to Bella, even that imitator who claimed to have understand his criminal art.
        He was exclusive, lonely and not understood by anyone.
        This time, Jack felt unparalleled loneliness. He didn’t say anything, just carried the dizzy imitator, gradually, disappeared in the misty night of London.