Annie Chapman
It was a cold night and of course I had failed to come up with four pence. I had been sick and my punishment is the cold, wet streets. My home for the coming days. I was roaming the streets around 5:30 a.m. trying to figure out where to rest my eyes when a handsome man started to approach me. He had a long, black trench coat protecting his body. I was jealous of this man for being warm when I was shivering in the cold. His walk was slow and his eyes were locked on mine with each step he took. His eyes did not falter. Neither did mine. Maybe I could convince him to lend me four pence. Or some alcohol. Either one would shield the cold from me, so at that point it did not truly matter.
He is right in front of me starting to engage in conversation. He is blabbering on about him being a priest. So no alcohol I thought to myself. But that must mean he has a soft spot for the poor. I ask for money, but it was a bad idea. He starts a rant.
“Why does every woman ask for money huh? Do you not know that God will send you straight to Hell for offering your body to a man you are not wedded to?” He begins telling me. His voice continues to grow louder and more stern with time. “I am tired of this world we live in. God, why did you put me down here to preach your word if I am tempted by the very sins you told me to avoid?” This mysterious man continues and I want to back away. In the corner of my eye I see my friend, Elizabeth, and try to make eye contact, but she fails to see. I am alone with him once again.
Suddenly, I feel a shooting pain in my stomach and fall to the floor. My mouth being covered a warm glove that belonged to this man. I was losing blood and all I remember hearing before I passed out were the words “I will now empty your physical body to match your empty soul.”
Postcards From London 