It was mid-winter. After staying late at school for dance rehearsal, I decided to walk home despite offers of a ride. By 7:30 PM, it was pitch dark.
Twenty minutes into my walk, I reached a notoriously dangerous alley leading to my house. Street lamps were on as I entered. About a quarter of the way down, a paranoid urge made me look back. I saw a tall, strangely familiar figure in a top hat and a fanned-out coat. Fear gripped me when I spotted what looked like a long knife in his hand. I quickened my pace, careful not to run. When I looked back again, he was gone.
Relieved, I thought it was my imagination. But as I turned back, the same figure stood right in front of me, much closer. I could see the details of his clothes and knife clearly. A chilling realization hit me: it was the infamous Jack the Ripper. But he died long ago, didn't he? I tried to run, but my body froze. Someone grabbed my arm. Slowly turning my head, I was startled by a horrifying face: grey, bloodshot eyes with huge dark circles, burnt-looking skin, and yellow teeth with red-stained cracks.
I screamed and struggled, but he pushed me to the ground. Kneeling over me, he brought the knife close to my stomach. I felt a sharp pain as it cut my skin. Fighting back, I bit the hand over my mouth and wriggled free. I ran towards home, forgetting my dropped schoolbag. I tripped, smacking my head on the pavement. As everything faded to black, I saw his boots stop beside me. A tear fell, but I smiled, thinking I wouldn't feel the pain of mutilation.
To my surprise, I woke up in my bed the next morning. Thinking it was a dream, I sat up, only to feel a sharp pain in my stomach. Lifting my top, I saw a knife-shaped wound. My mother entered and showed me a newspaper article about a man dressed as Jack the Ripper, claiming to be his grandson, who had been attacking girls. She explained that a passerby saw me fall and scared the attacker away.
I asked if we could thank the rescuer with a card. My mother said it wasn't necessary—he was in the sitting room. I went downstairs to thank him. He was very tall. My father recounted how the man had felt seeing the attacker flee. I went to shake his hand but froze in fear when he smiled, revealing yellow teeth with red-stained cracks...