Posted by Ripper X on July 23, 1999 at 06:18:51:
In Reply to: Re: Thieves of Light (A Story) part 2 posted by Ripper X on July 23, 1999 at 06:02:23:
He collapsed on top of her. His face resting against her motionless breast.
He pulled her into his arms and clung to her. He had killed so many women, yet none like her. He
had always been in control, total control. It felt good to have someone else try to fight for it. He sat
up and pulled his penis out of her.
Petra lied there, motionless, her eyes wide and glossy. He had cut her nice and deep, she should've
died without pain.
The razor was buried half way through her beautiful, thin neck. The blood slowly oozing from the
wound. Most of her blood came as she died, a virtual red fountain of life until her heart ceased to
beat. Petra's beautiful blood was soaking into the sheets, forming sensuous contrasts between the
crimson and the white. He stumbled to his feet and admired her before walking into the living room
and grabbing a clean vial from his coat pocket.
He needed to get some of her blood so that he could write a disturbing letter to the police. He
flipped her over onto her stomach and tugged his blade from her throat. The bottle under her neck,
slowly filled with blood.
He went into her bathroom and wiped of the excess blood from the glass and stopped it with a cork.
Her body, stretched out on her bed, so beautiful, so enticing. Her flesh seemed so soft and pliable,
her rump looking so inviting, but he didn't have much time to play with her. He looked at the clock
and noticed that it was only an hour till the sun would be rising.
He sighed in displeasure as he sat next to her on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down her back,
feeling the contours of her back and bottom.
"I am sorry that I don't have enough time." He told her, touching the back of her legs, "You were my
favorite."
He stood up and rolled her onto her back. He watched her breasts fall right into place, and her
tummy sink flat.
He strongly believed that god intended to have women lying flat on their backs. That is when they
were the most beautiful. The way that their best features just tumbled right into place.
He kissed her stomach as he grabbed his blade. He ran his hand over her firm tummy as he readied
the blade of his razor, he couldn't wait to open her up, to see what she hid within.
He put the blade right above her left hip bone and pushed the sharp razor deep into her skin and
muscle, ripping her stomach open across her midsection until he reached her right hip. The wound
bled a little, but not much. He reached inside of her belly and latched onto a section of her intestines,
feeling the slickness, and the warmth of her innards slip and squish within his hands as he pulled them
out of the gash in her tummy. He pulled them up and tossed them onto her breasts. Some stayed put,
others slipped to the side. He grabbed inside of her and pulled out another hand full out of her,
draping them over her bloody breasts. He admired her for a while, the way that her innards seemed
to just hug her dead body with warmth.
He went over to her window and opened it wide, letting the cold air blow against her corpse, the
organs steamed as he washed himself off in her shower and put on his cloths.
He should've drunk the brandy a bit faster, if it wasn't for how entertaining that she was to talk to
then he could still be with her. He buttoned up his shirt and kissed her lips good night.
Her flesh was already freezing cold. He pulled a blanket out of her closet and draped it on top of
her. He had to leave her some dignity when the cops finally broke down her door to view her body.
He would go ahead and take the blame for the cop, and the girl as well. It was the least that he could
do. He pulled the blanket up to her neck and tucked it in. Kissing her forehead softly, and tenderly.
"I could never forget you." He whispered into her ear before closing her door and putting his coat
on.
He laughed to himself. He was stalking the wrong end of town. He would have to leave pretty soon,
else the cops would actually catch him. He thought about going to America. Those girls seemed to
be a bit more trusting, a bit more gullible, a bit stronger in the heart.
The ripper buttoned his coat and walked over to her desk, opening a drawer.
He grabbed a sheet of paper to compose a note with when he noticed a post card fall out.
It was post marked from yesterday, with a lovely picture of the Eiffel Tower, he turned it around to
read the note, written in black ink on the back.
Dear Petra,
France is great. You wouldn't believe how many guys that a girl can play with over here. They
all just seem to bend over backwards for women like us. I wish that you could've come, you
really have to slow down sometime before you have a heart attack.
I mean it. I should see you in about a month.
Yes I decided to stay for a while longer, if you do decide to come and stop being a hermit, then
you can find me at the ABOTEL Bel Air. Until next month.
Take care.
Wish you were here,
Barbara
"Looks like I'll be going to Paris." The ripper smiled lovingly, "Thanks again Petra."
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