Challenge #02124-E295: Hello DarknesssteemCreated with Sketch.

in #fiction3 years ago (edited)

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I did this. I don't remember doing it, but it cannot be otherwise.
I have committed sins in my life before. I even killed a man once who didn't deserve it.
But this is different. I am changed.
These murders were not my choice. A Beast lives inside of me.
I will be hunted and shunned. I need to hide. Run. Bury the bodies.
I start to walk outside when I realize what truly bothers me...
...I feel no guilt. -- Anon Guest

Dear Boss,

Call me... Jack. I am a monster.

In times past, I was known for violent and bloody deaths of the ignorable in Whitechapel. The unsolvable and horrific ones. I'm sure you've already connected the dots, you clever bugger. Not clever enough to know who I really am. No, sir. Let's just say that the last famous one in Whitechapel knocked some sense into the old brain casing. I learned how to do it better.

I don't discriminate much, any more. There's those who deserve it and those who never did and honestly, I don't care about the difference. See, blood keeps me immortal. Vampires have to eat you know, and the last thing a vampire needs in this world is more vampires. That's why I used to cut their throats. Kill them before they turn, see? Keeps 'em all dead.

A vampire only needs to eat once a month, but I do like killing. I feel bad about it, but I like it. Call it... an addiction.

I should say, I used to feel bad about it. This is a recent development for jolly old Jack. You see, the world is changing. It's creeping closer to the filth of old London town, and the depravity of the third reich.

I fought them once, just so you know. Volunteered independently, you might say. Got pretty close to the man himself before he hid in a bunker and took the cowards' way out. Never mind him. I got plenty of the others. I did my duty, and I always felt that little bit of guilt.

This time is different. This time the people destroying people for no reason whatsoever are doing it for the market share. It's more profitable to shit in the drinking water, so to speak, and have the prisons turned into poorhouses. Every evil that I thought mankind was walking away from has come back with a vengeance.

Humanity was so close to wiping out every variety of the pox, and some idiot with a patent brings us right back to kiddies in their death beds.

Humanity was so close to eliminating garbage, and a bunch of idiots invent disposable society.

Humanity was so close to an actual golden age, and then they voted in a bunch of xenophobic idiots who give the power back to those who never had it in the first place.

Did you know, by the way, there's a list of one hundred people who would make the world a better place just by being dead? I found it. I read it. I copied it down.

I know where they live.

Getting to them's a problem. Nobody guards their arse tighter than a rich man who knows the proles are out after their blood. They never look twice at the cleaners though. Half the time, they don't even expect them to speak the lingo. Just be there, clean up the messes, and keep their nice, big houses spotless for whenever they choose to come there.

I'm good at waiting, by now. Jolly old Jack knows how to bide his time. Jolly old Jack knows how to make certain he's hungry.

That's why, this morning, there's a huge mess in the bedroom of one of those names on that list. I was too hungry. I lost control. I'm no fool. I used a swatch of their hair and not my fingers to paint the words on the cleanest wall in their own blood. Three words. Simple enough for even idiots like them to get the message.

Clean the world.

I used to feel guilty. I could rationalise the guilt away, eventually. This time? This time, your dear friend Jack was totally calm. This time, I was at peace.

A vampire needs to eat. These people were making me sick by sickening the greater populace en masse. These people had the potential to kill everyone in the world and leave your mate Jack starving and destitute. These people didn't care about anyone but themselves. These people were the real monsters.

One down.

Ninety-nine to go.

Maybe I should see to that chap in Washington. You know the one. He opens his house to tourists. That's better than an invitation for a vampire. Might be better for the world if he's gone too. Him and his monster friends. He's easy to get close to. Pay him a compliment and you're his best friend.

Perhaps my next letter won't be...
From Hell.

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / AlanCotton]

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