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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Thomas Smith was a tall man. He was lean and wiry, and walked with a hunch, not because of any injury or defect, but because of nearly thirty years of poor posture. He was missing several teeth and those that remained in his cruel, twisted grimace of a mouth were all varying shades of rotten yellow or brown. His face was covered with dirt and grime, and his fingernails caked with filth. His clothes were unwashed and tattered, except for his top hat, which he had stolen from a gentleman, and a string of pearls, which he had stolen from a lady, along with her life.

He was following a gentleman down the street, who obviously did not need the cane with which he walked, and whose pockets were undoubtedly heavy with coin. The gas street lamps flickered in the inky black night. Moths fluttered around them, occasionally flying too close to the flames, their own tiny lives extinguishing.

Thomas Smith's lips stretched into a ghastly grin as his prey turned down an alley. He pulled his hat lower over his face, brought up the collar of his coat, and licked his lips as he drew his knife. Smith looked around for witnesses, and finding none, entered the alley with knife held high. His whole body trembled with anticipation, but that that anticipation gave way to confusion when he realized that his prey was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did--?" Smith was cut short as something impacted the back of his head.
-----

Smith awoke in a dark room. It was dank and musty, and the drapes blocked out all light from the window. The only source of illumination came from a candle somewhere behind him. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, or where he was. As his vision cleared, Smith noticed for the first time the man standing over him. It was the gentleman from the alley. By the man's side was a small table, on top of which rested a tray filled with surgical instruments.

"Ah, you're awake," said the gentleman. "Now we may begin." He selected a knife from the tray and examined it lovingly in the candlelight. Smith tried to sit up, to stand, to escape, but his wrists and ankles were bound. The gentleman smiled. It was not at all like Smith's grin. It was a warm, wholesome, and genuine expression. "You won't escape, nor will anyone hear you scream, though you will do it very much and very loudly," he said. Smith struggled against his bonds once more, but it was futile. He whimpered helplessly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm in all the papers," replied the gentleman, with an air of bragging. "You may know me as Jack." Smith screamed as the gentleman plunged the knife into his stomach.
-----

THE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN!
Police found a man dead in a flat in Whitechapel this morning. He had vital organs missing from his abdomen and his throat was cut. His identity is still unknown. The murder matches the method used by rampant serial killer "Jack the Ripper."
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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Thomas Smith was a tall man. He was lean and wiry, and walked with a hunch, not because of any injury or defect, but because of nearly thirty years of poor posture. He was missing several teeth and those that remained in his cruel, twisted grimace of a mouth were all varying shades of rotten yellow or brown. His face was covered with dirt and grime, and his fingernails caked with filth. His clothes were unwashed and tattered, except for his top hat, which he had stolen from a gentleman, and a string of pearls, which he had stolen from a lady, along with her life.

He was following a gentleman down the street, who obviously did not need the cane with which he walked, and whose pockets were undoubtedly heavy with coin. The gas street lamps flickered in the inky black night. Moths fluttered around them, occasionally flying too close to the flames, their own tiny lives extinguishing.

Thomas Smith's lips stretched into a ghastly grin as his prey turned down an alley. He pulled his hat lower over his face, brought up the collar of his coat, and licked his lips as he drew his knife. Smith looked around for witnesses, and finding none, entered the alley with knife held high. His whole body trembled with anticipation, but that that anticipation gave way to confusion when he realized that his prey was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did--?" Smith was cut short as something impacted the back of his head.
-----

Smith awoke in a dark room. It was dank and musty, and the drapes blocked out all light from the window. The only source of illumination came from a candle somewhere behind him. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, or where he was. As his vision cleared, Smith noticed for the first time the man standing over him. It was the gentleman from the alley. By the man's side was a small table, on top of which rested a tray filled with surgical instruments.

"Ah, you're awake," said the gentleman. "Now we may begin." He selected a knife from the tray and examined it lovingly in the candlelight. Smith tried to sit up, to stand, to escape, but his wrists and ankles were bound. The gentleman smiled. It was not at all like Smith's grin. It was a warm, wholesome, and genuine expression. "You won't escape, nor will anyone hear you scream, though you will do it very much and very loudly," he said. Smith struggled against his bonds once more, but it was futile. He whimpered helplessly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm in all the papers," replied the gentleman, with an air of bragging. "You may know me as Jack." Smith screamed as the gentleman plunged the knife into his stomach.
-----

THE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN!
Police found a man dead in a flat in Whitechapel this morning. He had vital organs missing from his abdomen and his throat was cut. His identity is still unknown. The murder matches the method used by rampant serial killer "Jack the Ripper."
-----