PLEASE READ: This is a story that I wrote a while ago but it really needed some work. It was my first Sherlock Holmes story. It's still short, but I'm going to write it in a few chapters...I hope you enjoy the new and improved story!
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Buck's Row, Whitechapel, London, August 31st, 1888
The man looked around the alley, making absolute certain that no one was around. He lured his chosen "lady of the night" into a dark corner without raising her suspicion. Surely there were many men before him who had done the same, given her unfortunate occupation of prostitution.
She won't have to work the streets of Whitechapel ever again, he thought darkly. In a roundabout way, he figured he was doing her a grand favour of taking her off the streets-for good. He thought of himself as an angel in disguise-saving the women from their own brutal fate. He honestly couldn't see the point to their life if they had to sell themselves for a piece of stale bread. Yes, he would be their angel.
"What's your name, you?" she asked. Her voice had a thick accent. It made him sick to hear her talk. This would be easier if she were silent. You can't die...peacefully...while you're talking.
"Never you mind that. I don't see what use it could be to you anyways. Let the matter alone." he warned sternly.
"Perhaps you're right. Well, in any case, I'm Polly Nichols."
"I've never met a woman of your profession who talked so much."
I'll be glad to get rid of you.
He wrapped his hands round her neck. Thinking he was being playful, she tried to laugh but found her air cut off. Panicking now, Polly threw her hands up to try and ward the man off. She trashed about in his strong arms, desperately trying to be seen or heard. Her screams, however, were muffled by his jacket and her lack of air wasn't allowing her to be very loud anyway. Any hope she had of escaping seemed to be disappearing in front of her.
The man felt his heart pound against hers. He held her close, choking the life out of her. He saw the fear in her eyes and it made him feel powerful. He felt unstoppable and invincible while holding this insignificant human. She was unimportant. This Polly Nichols wouldn't be remembered a week from now.
The killer knew the woman was dead when her body fell limp into his arms. He laid her on the ground next to the wall in the unit part of the street. Looking over her, he felt the sensation that his work was not complete. Suddenly, it was not enough to only kill her. He had to cut her-take her beyond recognition. He had to mutilate her.
He knelt beside his victim and slit her throat, thus beginning his night's work. He smiled knowing that he would soon be the most feared man in London.
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More to come! If you've read the story before, tell me how it's been improved and if it hasn't, let me know that as well. Please read my other story called "Still Watching You"
-Myelle