literature

Ripper

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Literature Text

Ripper
               ~All this World is Hell,
              and all the Men and Women  
                     merely Demons~

    He Looked and watched as she passed. With her hair down and hips swaying East to West. Once a Virgin, Pure and White, now a vile Portrait of Sin and Wickedness.

    Once her Gaze met his, all Hope was lost to the Beast. She looked into his eyes, and saw nothing, he was sure. But hers told a story. A solitary Tale that defined the way of the world in this day; this God Forsaken time.

    He Lured her into his grace with sweet, luxurious fruits and Drinks named for Beautiful Queens of far way lands.

    Her Eyes were bright Green, like Envy; like Greed; like Poison. Like the poisonous winged lady that possessed him this very Night. And her skin was a rosy Pink. Oh, curse the mind and Damn the imagination. That which torment him with brutal fantasies. How would it feel to let that pale flesh stroke along his Blade?

     One swift gesture and the deed was done. The Knife was kindled in the Blood of this whore, as she was laid to Rest

     He looked down on her lifeless body, the Blood like Gossamer, and he felt a wave of Righteousness lap over him. Then, it turned quickly to Rage and drowned him from within. Hatred. This Blade, this Hellish Companion was his ruler, and he was powerless against it

     He knew what he was. He was much like this woman. A whore and a slave to circumstance. The Hatred boiled inside him, but the Devil's thirst had not been quenched, so he lived on with an insatiable Lust for the kill.

     Still, somehow, with great glee and a satanic essence in his voice, he spoke to her, "Good night sweet Lady. May flight of Devils wing you to your Rest?"  And offered a smile for our recently departed Maiden.

      As the skies turned red, like the Blood on her dress, and his Eyes faded from a Malicious Black back to a soft Blue, he looked into the Darkness wishful that he might see more than the repulsive spectrum his world had become, and hopeful for a day with Gladness to see another.

     He searched the very depths of his Soul for the words that might comfort him, but there was nothing. Nothing but the Cruel truth.

      "May God have mercy on my Soul. For I am in Hell."

     And so it was, that the last words on his lips were of sorrow and sadness with no Hope of ever receiving the glory of Heaven.

     Good Night Sweet Prince.
I was inspired one night to write about Jack the Ripper, but in a different way than I usually saw. This is what came out.
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