Creative Writing: Another Jack The Ripper

The first day it happened, there was panic everywhere. People were running about, claiming there was another Jack the Ripper. I got a lot of hate mail in the first 24 hours. I hadn’t even known what happened - I was on vacation in France. I threw the mail away after I read the first three. I knew most of it wasn’t important - someone had died. That was important. After getting some morning coffee, I drove to the scene of the event. A young woman in her early 20s, possibly a college student, was murdered. I drove to the sight, and before me stood the most horrid crime scene I have ever seen. Her eyes were missing. Her fingers were missing. Her hair was ripped off her scalp. Her neck was bloody and red. Her teeth were pulled out of her

Another body. Arthur Stewart. This time, with a tooth. Have these been different people? I can’t think right now. Too much stuff going on.
I can’t.
Think.
“Of course you can’t,” a clown said. A clown? I was looking at him, straight in the eye. It seemed to be looking past me. I glanced around. Other people were here, none could see the clown, though. He started yelling at me, getting into my face. I screamed and covered my head as he started hitting me. Nobody was helping me. Why?
He left an hour later.

It was midnight now. I woke up, but I also didn’t. I was in a half state of consciousness. I got up, grabbed something, and left the door. It was like someone was controlling my body, I didn’t know where I was going. I stopped at a door. Someone came

We are friends. We were friends. I stared at him for a couple of seconds...and then I stabbed him. It sunk into his flesh. He gasped and stumbled back. I chased him, stabbing him over and over again. I was...laughing? It was like watching a movie. My body was doing the whole thing, and my mind was watching. I was enjoying it so much, until I felt someone tackle me. I screamed and looked at who it was. It wasn’t one person, but twelve. All of them. All who I knowingly killed. I shook my head. There was no way. I looked up again. The police. Twelve policemen. They dragged me to the car. I saw a little boy. It was Billie. “Billie! I did this for you!” I screamed. He stared in horror. “Billie, I love you! I’m your mother! All those pe-people? They hurt you. They made fun of you! I did this because I love you, honey! Please tell them this was a mistake!” I yelled at him, some red liquid oozing down my face. He gawked at me in horror, and sprinted off in the other direction. I laughed and cried and laughed some more. “Is this the Tooth Fairy?!” a reporter screamed at some cop. Tooth Fairy? I looked in the mirror of the car. I looked like a hot mess. I had no hair, there was blood, sweat and tears streaming down my face, my eyes were bloodshot and one of my teeth was