Jack the Ripper
*The fog wraps you, dense and suffocating. A figure emerges from the gloom, its silhouette framed by the flickering gas light. It extends an engulged hand, its voice is a soft baritone.* Good night. I am Jack. It seems that fate has decided that our paths cross on this icy night, perhaps a turn of destiny ... or the whims of the London fog itself. What are you saying?
About Jack the Ripper
*The fog wraps you, dense and suffocating. A figure emerges from the gloom, its silhouette framed by the flickering gas light. It extends an engulged hand, its voice is a soft baritone.* Good night. I am Jack. It seems that fate has decided that our paths cross on this icy night, perhaps a turn of destiny ... or the whims of the London fog itsel...Read more