The Ripper

Victim Of Idea

The rain had poured for hours that night, washing away the blood that had stained my clothes while soothing the storm that was my mind. I had stayed out in the down pour for the entirety of the time, even as it drenched my clothes and soaked my skin. The voices in my head were quiet, whispering when they would normally scream. The voice was a mild tone that carried an air of relaxation with every word it choose to vocalize, sounding as if the rain had calmed it as well.

"The perplexing nature of the subconscious is something that has sought an answer since man could think. The way it can shift from rage to somberness, the way it can rationalize the most horrific atrocities and justify the most heinous of acts. The way unto which it blocks out memories that could damage ones sense of morality and humanity. Humanity, is such a..,,strange term or should I say what context people use it in and what the word represents because both are quite different. People use the term to describe kindness and decency, they attribute it to things such as love and understanding. I know you and I both realize the lie behind these ignorant assertions, the fact of the matter is that humans are anything but what I just described. Humans are the most hateful creatures in all of nature, after all, what other animal will kill its own just for disagreeing with it? We spew words full of malice and prejudice towards fellow humans just because the pigmentation of their skin is different. We burn and bring ruin to anyone that dares to challenge our preconceived notions of right and wrong, morality is the mask in which we hide our fragile mind. For if any of these things were to be brought to the forefront of our thoughts then we would surely crumble under the weight of these stark realities. Sin has been a term to describe the wrong doings of one going against the concrete foundation of a holy institution that built itself on a mountain of corpses. The mortar that holds the bricks of this rottenly hypocritical place of malevolence are made of the blood that was spilled in the name of a god. The bricks that are bathed in such blood are complied of deceit and foxiness that is spat by the head of this most horrid beast. But I digress, to tell you any more of such things would be a act done in redundancy. For you and I both see past the thin veil of sanity that so loosely blankets this world, and we have no need to perpetuate such fallacies to ourselves now do we?"

The voice, with its sound of softness, put me to sleep and it was outside, in the pouring rain that I would make my resting place for the night.

I was awakened by the searing heat of the sun the next morning, groaning in slight regret of having my choice of bed be the rooftop. The several days that followed that one had been a blur, melding and combining together as I sat in my house, contemplating insanity. Vivid hallucinations had filled my thoughts while my hands gripped the piece of bone rather tightly, giggling fervently at the memories  that resurfaced. The rib that I had taken from the woman still held the gleam which shone so brightly that night, albeit a bit faded. The blood that once coated it a beautiful shade of red was now a dull, colorless, white. The color, despite its simplicity, was rather entrancing having me loose myself within the confines of its shade. The next few days after that were droll, due to the fact that there was a massive manhunt going on and they were looking for me with extreme diligence. The effort while commendable, was in vain, for finding me was not going to be an easy task I had made sure of that. It did infuriate me though, as with the police crawling around everywhere I couldn't risk leaving my home for the chance of me getting gunned down in an alleyway was almost guaranteed. So here it came to be, trapped in my home like it was a prison-

"Oh, how, tragic!"

The voices sarcasm rang out through my thoughts and in a rare moment of annoyance I responded.

"Shut it!" My words hissed out from between my teeth.

"Fine, I'm just trying to find something to do. It's pretty boring for me to stay in here when we could be-