I prayed that someone would deliver me from this cloaked devil and my only thoughts were of my Mother and what she would do without my weekly shillings. In the space of five lonely seconds I tried to sanctify my emotions and asked myself if life had meant anything. The man was no congeniator, and with one fell swoop he kissed me hard on the lips. Never in my brief life had I experienced feelings more tried by any other single event. Taking my hand, he kissed it while his eyes pierced my soul. Deciding to spare my misery combined with a secret delight; he vanished as quickly as he came.
For many a night after that I would sit on the veranda and await a glimpse of the phantom that had stalked me. On the third night he came and gave me an insight to who he was. The stranger told me he had studied in Cambridge to become a doctor but now he performed his duties as a constable. Whispers of inner excuses told me I should not be surprised if he did not come post haste every night.
On the 32nd evening he presented me with a silk shawl in exchange for my hand in marriage. We married a fortnight later and I became his wife not knowing of what his comings and goings were about to reveal. One evening I awoke to see him covered in blood and he told me that he was called Jack the Ripper. I caressed the child that I carried in my stomach and now feared for my unborn’s life.
In the dark of night of reality I awoke with a start covered in sweat, and to this day that is all I remember.
Had I been Jack the Ripper’s wife or just a chrononaut passing through time?
Images and text: Linda Seccaspina
Thanks to Fawn and Erin of Laci’s for being the nicest people in the world.