Midnight in Whitechapel

It is late summer in the year of Our Lord 1888. All of London is in the grip of mass hysteria over a series of brutal murders in the Whitechapel District. Though all the crimes so far appear to have been comitted against poor souls forced into a life of prostitiution by the crushing poverty pervasive in the area, you take no chances, carrying a loaded derringer as you walk home from your job as a laundress at one of the local inns. You decide to take a shortcut through a back alley, reasoning the sooner you get home, the better. A movement in the shadows makes you tighten your grip on the pistol.

"Who's there?"

A well-dressed man in a top hat moves towards you silent and graceful as a panther slinking up to its prey.

"Stop where you are or I'll shoot! I've no intention of being the Ripper's latest victim I tell you!"

You level the gun at him, but he does not even pause, a slight smile flickering across his lips.

You fire the derringer point blank into his chest at a distance of two meters. He reaches out a gloved hand, grabs the gun, and tosses it aside.

"Wrong Jack," he whispers as he plunges his fangs into your throat and sucks your blood with ravanous abandon...


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The model is Pumpkinking

Top hat ~ravenarcana

The Whitechapel Alleyway is Right Royal Back Alley, Hampton Court , in Greater London , courtesy of *PixellyPerfectStock