The Diary of Wretched Lolita Lalonde



written in 2002
The foggy evening air was cool as I proceeded to walk down the dark street. I could not place where I was and there was someone pacing me quickly in the dark shadows. I shook as I picked up my skirt and ran as fast as I could.  Unknown cold hands forcefully grabbed my neck and pulled me down to the ground.

I prayed that someone would deliver me from this cloaked devil and only thoughts of my Mother flowed through my mind. In the space of five lonely seconds I tried to sanctify my emotions and asked myself if my life had meant anything. With one fell swoop he kissed me hard on the lips. I have never had my feelings more tried by any other event. He then took my hand and kissed it while his eyes pierced my soul. Sparing my misery and secret delight he vanished as quickly as he came.

For many a night after that I would sit on the veranda and await the phantom that had stalked me. On the third night he came to me and gave me an insight to who he was. He told me he had gone to Cambridge to study to become a doctor but it had not worked out and he now he performed his duties as a constable.  Whispers of 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 Jack the Ripper. I caressed the child that I carried in my stomach and now feared for my unborn’s  life.

I awoke with a start covered in sweat, and that is all I remember.

For many years I have been told that I am a master soul put here on this earth to get it right one last time. After many a dream about the Victorian era I do believe it to be true as I have had dreams of Jack the Ripper for years. One dream paced itself out into reality years ago and it stopped as soon as I had it all figured out.

For months I had been having recurring dreams of drowning and seeing green roof shingles in the distance. We had been looking for a home in Carleton Place, Ontario for months and had found nothing. One day I took a wrong turn and came upon an old stone home built in 1867 that was for sale. I called the real estate office only to find out that it had 5 offers on it so there was no chance of us putting a bid on it.

Exactly 48 hours passed and I got a call saying we could view the house as the bids had fallen through. The roads were slick and the freezing rain continued to pour down making driving treacherous that day. I walked in the house and placed my hands on the study fireplace mantel and tried to contact anything that still lived in the bowels of the house. Nothing happened but as we drove back to the city we spun around three times on the Queensway and missed a light pole by inches. We had narrowly escaped death.

Angelo turned to me and looked me straight in the eyes and asked me if I still wanted the house. I was shaken and the car looked like a can opener had attacked the front of the car but I said yes. One month later found us moving into the house.

Two weeks later at the local library tracking down the history of the house I found out that in the early 1900’s the mayor of the town Mr. Cram had lived there. He had a young daughter that had mysteriously drowned down in the river and died.
Coincidence or not?

To make things even stranger after the rotting shingles of the roof were removed the original shingles were green. For weeks on end I pieced everything together and finally the dreams stopped.

Had I been that little girl?

Was I Jack the Ripper’s wife?

May 3rd, 1888.

Lolita’s lawyer looked at her and cleared his throat. Slowly he spoke in what seemed soft careful sentences.

“Lolita, my time is very precious, so please tell me quickly why you feel the need to send your son away.”

Lolita’s eyes turned black as she began to recount the story. She once had a brother, sister and cousin who worked long hours in the same household under terrible conditions. It was common knowledge that her sister was being abused by the master and his drunken friends. Barely 16, she was brought in to “entertain” during monthly poker games and quickly became with child. Not one word was spoken around the household while she proceeded to get larger every week. Lolita’s mother tried to hide her as best she could, but there was only so much time her sister could spend in the laundry room.

A great sickness fell over the city and Lolita who still lived with her Grandmother heard a story that was so horrible it possibly couldn’t be true. Her cousin and brother became so ill with the plague they were now a danger to the family that employed them. Quickly they were escorted along with her pregnant sister to the shed of a livery business and locked in. Assured that food and water would come shortly, someone set fire to the building so they would be disposed of quickly and efficiently. The three of them never had a chance.

Her Grandmother also caught the sickness, and when she died Lolita was brought to the great house to work. She had roamed the streets during the day until the cook came from the main house to take her under her wing. Brought to where her mother worked Lolita became employed to bring in the coal with the younger boys.

Lolita was becoming of age and the master had soft words for her until his sickly son took a great interest in her. John, knew what his father was up to and decided to protect her from his father’s evil ways. Through the years John fell in love with her and she viewed it as a way out. When her mother was severely beaten one day for breaking a crystal vase Lolita contemplated what she would do. As she nursed her mother’s wounds her mother pleaded with her to somehow make them all pay one for what they had done to her family.  Infatuated, John came to speak to her every single day, and finally through her tears she agree to marry him.  When Lolita was eighteen years old she married John and finally became a woman of wealth and power.

By the time her mother died she no longer loved her husband. John had been ill since he was a child, and now was eternally confined to a wheelchair. Each day she thought and hoped he would draw his last breath but he didn’t. It was only a matter of time now she thought.

Her white cat calmly swished his wet paw over his head and blinked his eyes at Lolita. He had seen that smile before and knew what she was thinking. As soon as they married it was apparent that Lolita had planned her strategy years ago. Once they were officially a couple, the cat watched her become a woman of greed and not substance. He heard the door open and watched John being wheeled in by the driver. Such a sad state of affairs  not to be loved by his wife. The cat thought he was lucky still being in her favour. John shot Lolita a look of helplessness and said,

“Are you happy my dear?”

Lolita said nothing as she took her hat off and marched upstairs. The cat followed stopping once to glance back at John. The feline knew which way was up and chose to stand on the side of the one who was soon going to be in charge. Cats are not stupid you know. He jumped on the bed, sat next to her, and listened to what Lolita was mumbling to herself,

“One day this is all going to be mine,” she said.

The cat heard a crash downstairs and knew that her desires were about to come true. If he knew his mistress like he thought he did, she would have her own way soon. The driver ran up the stairs and told Lolita the physician had been summoned because her husband had collapsed in his wheelchair. Lolita smiled and wondered if there might be a chance that he might perish. If anyone knew what she was thinking they might insist she should be thrown inside some insane asylum. Of course she had felt hatred throughout the years after what her family had endured. She had encountered the Devil many times and would now live under his umbrella of hell for the rest of her life.

Lolita heard the physician’s voice downstairs and patted her hair down as she went to join him. Her husband was barely breathing on the lounge and the physician shook his head as he looked at her. She took out her large handkerchief, slowly let out a loud sob, and began to pace the floor in anticipation of his death. Dabbing at her eyes, she hoped the staff would sense she was beside herself with grief.

Thirty minutes later it was over and she was now free of her husband. After his body was taken away by the mortician, she went upstairs quietly and asked the maid to repair her only black dress.  Lolita figured she must endure nine months of severe black clothing and three of slight mourning. She could deal with wearing black serge cotton for a year and would go to the dressmakers in the morning for two more dresses. Later in the year it would be time to come full circle and the mourning would belong to someone else.

Weeks after her husband died the doctor had to be summoned for Lolita. She had contracted a case of the measles and her home had to be quarantined. Dr. De la Déchirure had been offered a great deal of money to remain as her caregiver. Everyone thought that Lolita would follow suit to her death, but she fought like the dickens. There was no way she had come this far to lose to life now. For weeks she had run a very high fever and was in and out of sleep.

Dr. De la Dechirure tended her delicately like she was his very own wife. It had been no secret to his friends how much he loved Lolita when he came daily to see her late husband. The good doctor hoped they might marry after her mourning period. Through the sickness De la Dechirure had suggested it to her many times, and she scoffed at his advances. Her future plans had no room for another interfering husband.

After a month had passed Lolita began to get better. A toll had been taken on her home and three of the staff had died. It was now common knowledge Dr. De la Dechirure was passionately in love with her. When she would sleep he would steal a kiss and place his hands under her gown. He had an idea of how to make her permanently his, and promised himself he would continue those plans in the name of love.

Each day he became more forward with Lolita and her body and one night he gave her an extra dose of his potion so she would sleep more soundly. While Lolita slept Dr. De la Dechirure had his way with her. Not once, not twice, but three times. He was positive once their child started growing in her belly she would be forced to marry him.

Two weeks later Lolita was better but De la Dechirure was sent home because he had contacted a bad dose of the measles. Later that week he died and Lolita had no idea what he had done to her without her consent. When she found her belly expanding she realized that evil was growing within her.

She told whomever would listen that she had found herself with child when her husband had died.  Lolita had gone through a lot when she married the young master of the house so nothing could be worse. Each day she begged the Devil to help her and in gratitude she would give him her first born child.

A midwife was summoned one dark night and after hours of painful labour she bore a son. She called him Jean Louis Jacques because she could not think of another name and just didn’t care. Lolita looked at the baby and with dark eyes, handed him to her new governess and said,

“Take him and raise him as your own as I have no passion for him.”

With that she rolled on her side with tears in her eyes. No one, not even a child was going to stop her. She summoned her lawyer and when he walked in she said to him,

“My son is to be taken care of even though he is in someone else’s care.”

“What is his name Madame?”

“I called him Jean Louis Jacques De la Dechirure,” she said. “He is to carry on in England, so translate his name into English.”
The lawyer scratched his head and said, “Very well–Your child from now on shall be called Jack, Jack Ripper”.
“Depart from me,” she said. “I never knew you.”
“One day men will look back and say I gave birth to the twentieth century.”

 Quote from Jack the Ripper
“Depart from me, I never knew you.”
“One day men will look back and say I gave birth to the twentieth century.”

About lindaseccaspina

Before she laid her fingers to a keyboard, Linda was a fashion designer, and then owned the eclectic store Flash Cadilac and Savannah Devilles in Ottawa on Rideau Street from 1976-1996. She also did clothing for various media and worked on “You Can’t do that on Television”. After writing for years about things that she cared about or pissed her off on American media she finally found her calling. She is a weekly columnist for the Sherbrooke Record and documents history every single day and has over 6500 blogs about Lanark County and Ottawa and an enormous weekly readership. Linda has published six books and is in her 4th year as a town councillor for Carleton Place. She believes in community and promoting business owners because she believes she can, so she does.

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