The Ripper

I

I

Far above Emma Quance's head, the gaslight menacingly flickered. Eerily, the lamplighter's booted footsteps echoed against the cobbled pavement. The clop-clop of his steps constantly moved further away. The fifteen-year-old girl stood alone in the swirling fog. Trembling, she pressed her back against the wall behind her. She longed to disappear into the brick-and-mortar.

During the year 1888, the Whitechapel district of London was a dangerous place. No one in their right mind would wish to appear there. However, Emma Quance knew the area well. She was born and raised there.

"Harlot," a voice hissed from the depths of the fog. The word echoed around the frightened girl. Her spine tightened and pressed deeper into the unyielding wall.

Was it a man's voice? Or perhaps a woman's? Was it the Ripper's voice? Without waiting to find out, Emma ran heedlessly into the fog. Her footsteps, calling and recalling behind her, scared her out of her wits.

Emma dashed into a blind alley. Stumbling, she practically fell down the steps leading to her mother's basement apartment. Bracing her shoulder against the dark door, she burst inside the one-room dwelling.

"Mama," the girl shrieked. In her fright, she nearly collided with the heavyset disheveled woman.

"What brings you crashing through my door, missy?" demanded the ragged hulk of human flesh. "I sent you out to earn your living. Get out!"

"The Ripper, Mama," Emma whimpered, cowering.

Kitty Quance loomed menacingly above her terrified daughter. Advancing upon Emma, she forced her to walk backward.

"He's out there, Mama. I...I think I her..her...heard him," the child stuttered, her teeth chattering. "Don't make me go out there, please." Falling on her knees, Emma clasped her hands together. She begged as though her life depended upon it.

"Get out! Get out!" Mama screamed and staggered forward. "Don't come back until you've earned your keep!"

Crawling on her hands and knees, Emma mounted the cracked basement steps. The door behind her slammed shut. The bolt sliding into place announced her exclusion from home. Whether she liked it or not, a night on the streets beckoned her. The sooty fog enveloped her petite form. She pressed her back against the filthy wall and enfolded her knees with her arms. Becoming a harlot was not her choice. Mama forced the regrettable lifestyle upon her.