Waiting in Whitechapel

Jack the RipperManiacal desire surged through his heart—pulse racing, fingers trembling, palms sweating. The taste of impending satiety metallic on his tongue, making him salivate.

He swallowed and licked chapped lips, then wiped his hands on his trousers before tugging on his gloves. Panic licked the fringes of his thoughts when his damp digits wouldn’t slide into the soft leather, but he finally managed. His sigh of relief drifted away with the mist of his breath in the cold November air.

Slipping deeper into the shadows of Whitechapel, he carefully unsheathed his blade, the cold steel glinting—almost winking at him—in the moonlight.

A prostitute stumbled onto the cobblestone street, nearly falling into the detritus along the curb. No one accompanied her, and as she headed home, she hummed a ribald tune matching that still being sung in the brothel she’d just vacated.

If he crept down the alley and stayed in the shadows, she’d never hear him coming.

Closer… closer.

She turned down Dorset Street, teetered on her heels, then giggled and burst into song, the lyrics unbefitting even a woman of her disgusting station. Her warbling voice offered the perfect camouflage for his footsteps. It was fortuitous. Almost too easy. But still exhilarating.

She reached the entrance of a small flat and opened the door with a flourish, performing a small dance as she sung. When her mouth opened wide for a high note, he raised his blade and slashed—encountered almost no resistance in her soft, tainted flesh. No retaliatory strike at his body, no scream ripped from her lungs. Her only responses were wide eyes, gaping mouth, and the sweet sound of burbling blood.

Quivering with excitement, he dragged her into her room and closed the door to outside interference. Only then did he begin his labor of love.


This take on the Jack the Ripper story was inspired by the WordPress daily prompt: Triumph.

Published by Staci Troilo

A writer fascinated with interpersonal relationships, the importance of family, and the relevance of heritage. Learn more at https://stacitroilo.com.

18 thoughts on “Waiting in Whitechapel

    1. Thanks, Teri. I’m finding that as I’m wrapping up my second series, my long work is taking a darker turn. My shorter work has always been a little darker, although sometimes I’ve let people talk me into HEAs when I didn’t really want them. But I’m having fun exploring the dark side. (Maybe I’m secretly a Sith?)

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Well, I haven’t read The Playground yet, but I say you have to write the story you want to write. If it’s dark, then appeal to a darker audience. I like a twisted tale, so that wouldn’t have bothered me. (I can’t wait to read it, BTW. It’s the next one of yours I’ll be looking at. I just have a few others ahead of you.)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. No worries. It’s my example for our conversation. The published chapter is less gritty than what I originally wrote. I just wanted to spell out the stakes in a way that would carry through the book.

        Liked by 1 person

Your turn...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: