The Diary of Dr. Jekyll: The Lost Page
Dear Diary,
Yesterday, while returning home from an evening walk, I discovered… something lying in the cold, damp alley next to my house. I took this "something" to my laboratory in the basement. His body was scarred, as if he had been wrestling a bear. There were cuts upon his neck and gash on the left side of his torso. His left palm had an engraving, a pentagram. It looked faded, as if the skin was closing over the marking. His body had hair. His chest moved up and down very slowly. He was still breathing. Knowing and seeing the condition he was in I couldn't allow him to live any longer. He was suffering. Anyone would have done the same. I extracted some blood, as I do with many of my experiments. I studied it. It had a peculiar form. Something about it was… otherworldly, almost… demonic. I felt every fiber of my being fighting the temptation, but alas, in my moment of weakness I could no longer take it. I injected myself with the blood of the man. Then I waited. Everything beyond that was a blur. I found myself laying in my bed, my clothes tattered and torn. The morning papers spoke of five murders that all were committed last night, all in my hometown. The police are referring to the killer as "Jack the Ripper". After washing the mysterious blood from my fingers I knew good and well who committed those murders. As I stood there, slouching over the lavatory sink I stared at my reflection. I have turned myself into a monster, and worse yet… I enjoyed it. I wanted more. I yearned for more. I hid the rest of the extracted blood in empty wine bottles. I disposed of the body in the fireplace. Everything is perfect. I'll go about my day pretending I have nothing to hide. Hide? Yes. That's what I'll call it. Hyde. Mr. Hyde. The perfect name for the beast that lay hidden within me, within my soul. I can hear him calling, saying "Let me out. Let me out.". But no, not yet. Only at night or in times of desperation I will let him out to stalk, for now he stays within me. Locked away, until I come with the key. I can still taste it. The metallic taste of blood in my throat. Tonight will be unlike any other. Before I rip the page from this journal, I will hide it where I hid the bottles. No one will know. I will keep this secret to my grave and this page will be a continuous reminder of the day Hyde was born.
Dr. Henry Jekyll, A.K.A.
Jack the Ripper, A.K.A.
Mr. Hyde