The Devil in Whitechapel

chap 1The innocent are usually blamed as guilty if it's easier to comprehend

Chapter 1

"It wasn't my fault; I'm not accepting the blame for this!" The pointless shouting for mercy continued as the man had tears down his broken face struggling as two guards held him down with a vice grip. 'How pathetic' I thought to myself as I sat on the support beam inside the courthouse invisible to human eyes. I held my scythe with a tight grip, not impressed and barely any sympathy in my eyes.

I may have felt pity a few years ago but I could not anymore; it is a problem of living forever. I saw this too often, people crying and begging for freedom like a bird in a cage. The only reason I felt pity was that this was not his fault, he was not the killer. He was just being blamed for the crimes committed by the one and only Jack the Ripper. Jack the Ripper, famous as a serial killer in Whitechapel London cutting up hookers and then disappearing, never found.

I closed my eyes remembering just a few hours before when the Ripper was in the highlight of his life and I had to collect another girl's soul taken from this world by that man.

The maniac laughter did not stop as he slashed into the poor girl's body as blood covered the floor like the red sea. The woman lay on the cold lifeless floor of the alleyway. As her eyes were dead, with all the life drained out, she had been dead for minutes but the Ripper did not want to stop his "fun". The figure looked as the stories and newspapers said; a black coat, top hat, and a brief case to hide the evidence. When I observed the man I noticed he was giving off a non-human vibe I sensed darkness but knew today was not the time to find out. I would have to wait for tomorrow.

When the man had left the corpse, some body parts took with him. I went towards the girl seeing a small glowing coming from her light a light blue steam, I blew on it slowly seeing it go into my scythe as her thoughts whispered in my ear as I tried to block them out. I would have to take her soul to Heaven soon where God would judge her fate condemning her to Hell.

The man was dragged off crying and begging for a fair trial as he was sent off to be executed. Even though his soul was, innocent and it would be my job to collect the soul and take him to Heaven. His name was Francis Tumblety born in 1833 and sadly, his life would end tonight. He was just another man paying for the Jack the Ripper crimes, again. It was strange that everyone in the courthouse looked happy to see this man's life end. Humans really are cruel clinging to any sign of safety even at the misfortune of others.

My name was Lily and I used to be human. Now I was what most humans would call an Angel, but instead of working for God, I worked for the Devil. My title was the Angel of death, it was my job to collect the souls and take them to Heaven to be judged if they could go Hell or Heaven, but I also wanted to help them go to Heaven but they cannot enter Heaven until their name was cleared and the Ripper was gone for good. God only judged people on the bad things they do and sends anyone with even a glimpse of evil to Hell making sure his Heaven stays pure and in his control.

Luckily, in this time era, I had been giving an identity that allowed me information from the police study cases as the queen "appointed" me on the case like a detective that only would come in on a Friday to get the information and was never remembered. It let me inside but the humans never remembered me they would just remember someone stopping by like a part of their memory but could not place the person's name or face.

I came out the courthouse standing on the roof invisible to the humans. It was 1890 and I was in Victorian London as all over England people were talking about the Jack the Ripper case. I could hear the whispers about his bloody murders, to theories and even the suppose letter written in blood. I observed seeing people living their lives. Children played together laughing enjoying their innocence, mothers gossiped about their friends and husbands at work. None of them even cared about the people who died. In a bubble full of only the things around them.

I had been given the job of finding the Ripper and bringing him or her to justice and saving the next victim from his blood knife which I was so happy to be doing; note I am being sarcastic. The eleventh killing would be tonight. I was not sure where, yet but I know all I have to do is listen to the cries of terror as the next victim takes her final breath and realises she had made a fatal mistake going to work tonight.