Ah, the sweet memories of my past endeavors. The thrill of the hunt, the rush of taking a life. Each victim was chosen with care, their demise meticulously planned and executed with precision. Their screams still echo in the corridors of my mind, a symphony of terror that brings me great joy.
I remember each one vividly - their pleading eyes, their futile attempts to escape my grasp. Some were clever and put up a good fight, while others succumbed easily to their fate. But all met the same end at my hands.
There was Mary Anne Nichols, a prostitute whose life I snuffed out without hesitation. Her blood stained the walls of Room 64 forevermore. And then there was Elizabeth Short, known as the Black Dahlia - her mutilated body left on display for all to see.
But it wasn't just women who fell victim to me; men too felt my wrath. Albert Fish met his match when he crossed paths with me at last - his flesh consumed by hunger and madness alike.
Oh how I miss those days gone by! The Hotel Cortez may be empty now but its halls are filled with memories that will never fade away...nor should they ever be forgotten.
For in death we are truly immortal – our deeds living on long after we have departed this world for good...
Memento Mori: Remembering My Victims
The ghosts of those I've slain haunt me still, Their voices whisper in silence's chill. Each face etched deep within my soul, A reminder that death takes its toll.
No remorse do I feel for what has transpired, For each kill only fueled my dark desires. To bring pain and suffering upon those lost souls, Was always part of achieving greater goals.
They say evil lurks within us all, But mine consumes like an eternal thrall. My legacy is one steeped in bloodshed and fear And yet no amount can satisfy these urges so severe.
So here I stand alone amidst shadows deep Embracing every sin before drifting off into sleep. Knowing full well that when morning light breaks anew Another soul shall meet its gruesome due...