I was looking through my Google documents and found a one and a half page excerpt on Jack the Ripper. It’s obviously fictional and looks like it was written by a twelve year old, but I DON’T REMEMBER WRITING THIS STORY. EVER. How…? It’s mine, that much I can tell, I know my own writing, but… WTF? Where did it come from? 

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Jack the Ripper

As I traveled through the filth and squalor of England’s streets, I was almost jumping with excitement. The Stones had invited me to their famous party at their own estate. Their parties were the talk of the entire town. Almost everyone was invited. I turned the corner, and the wind tore at my chocolate hair that intricately wove in and out of itself, forming tight balls of beautiful curls that wound around my pale, angular face. My bodice still clung to my mid-section, and the hoop skirt underneath my many skirts dug into my hips with the force of the wind. I leaned in, squinting and struggling against its’ strength.
All of a sudden the wind stopped. I peered up and looked straight into the amber eyes of a dashingly handsome man. His eyes melted as I gazed into their never-ending liquid irises. His black hair swirled around his perfectly chiseled features in a way that made my stomach churn. He smiled warmly back, seeming oblivious to deportment and asked in an oh-so irresistible voice where I was heading and what my name was. I told him in a little too curt a manner that I was on my way to a festivity and didn’t need any assistance. I also told him my maiden name with a sigh of resentment at his wondrous complexion. He listened politely and let me by without any further remarks. I turned inconspicuously and caught him staring intently at my backside.
I spun the rest of the way and watched him back. He unexpectedly grinned wickedly back at me with an exquisiteness that knocked me breathless. Walking forward, he bent forward into a crouch. It was then I realized what his motive was. My heart stopped briefly, and then started up again quicker than ever before. He started sprinting towards me, still beaming. I tried to turn, but my heel caught on one of the holes in my hoop skirt and fell, scraping my palms on the rough, hard ground. The gorgeous man laughed evilly. A laugh that sent shivers down my spine and my stomach did frightened little flips as I tried to work up an audible scream. All I could manage was a squeak of defeat. Grabbing my arm, he yanked me to my feet and chuckled at my gasp of breath.

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