The Skin Ripper

By The Shadows

Horror

Warning, this story will contain graphic and horrid descriptions about the deaths that take place. This was a mind made story, that has never happened in time. This story started on March 21st 2025 by a 17 year-old person.

In the beginning of the story, it’ll jump around time and may seem confusing at first but it’s just for context and Information.

Chapter One

Family history?

Static from the radio: Dear listeners, on May 9th, 1920, news struck the town, a body was

found in the river on Old Mills Street. The police were interviewed and questioned on what kind of case this was. The statement that the police department gave to the reporters was that the Skin Ripper was back. The reporters on scene were unable to describe the horrors that they had seen at the scene of the crime, or what people believe to be the scene of the crime. To my best judgement, dear viewers, the scene of the crime was somewhere else, and the body was moved to the waters where the body was found. The evidence is there, and the evidence points to only one killer that is supposedly dead. The killer that I'm referring to is the Skin Ripper. The Skin Ripper was the only killer that was feared over the lands and seas. This Killer was a traveler but decided to stay in the oldest town in the country, which, to this day, remains disconnected from the world. The town that I'm talking about is our own town dear listeners. The Western Bone Hills, our town has seen so many losses, for instance the Andre F—

“MARINA! Turn that damn shit off NOW! I don't need to hear that crap right this instant. Get down here and help me plan your father’s welcome home party. He hasn't been home in three years, so please come and help. Honey I'm sorry for yelling at you, it's just that you know, I lost most of my friends and family to that killer, so please.” (Marina’s Mom)

“Mom, I know, I'm sorry for listening to that news, it's just that I want to become an investigator like Grampa. The whole family has been investigators, and I want to be one like the rest of our family. Ever since Great-Great-Uncle Servy was the first investigator in the family, I’ve wanted to follow in the same path as our family.” (Marina)

“Marina, you know that I don't want you to become an investigator for one reason. All who followed in Servy’s footsteps had fallen into a deep pit of no return that led to their death before the age of 29. That's why I never went down that path, I always wanted a family of my own and I have it because I didn't go down that horrible path like you grandfather. Ever since Servy’s path, I'm the only Andre that has lived past age 29. I'm now 42 and I wouldn’t have been able to take care of you. Do you understand now, Marina?” (Marina’s Mom)

“Yes Mom, I understand but I still want to become an investigator. Perhaps I'll look for a different career that I want to go into.” (Marina)

“Marina, I understand that you want to go into investigation and I’m ok with it, but I only have one rule, do you understand? The rule is to only become an investigator at the age of 30. Now let's stop moping around and fix up the house for dad, ok. Go get the food ready.” (Marina’s Mom)

Chapter Two

The Past - 1890 Reports

Brant, please check the newspaper, tell me what it says. (Brant’s Mom)

MOM!! There was another body found, the police stated that the Skin Ripper claimed another victim late last night. The body was found to have cuts, gashes, and damage to the internal organs from some sort of spiked weapon. They still don't know what the weapon is. (Brant)

Brant get inside now, I'm not letting you go outside until the Skin Ripper is caught, it's for your safety. (brant’s Mom)

Mom, mom, where are you? You told me to come inside, but where are you?

MOM! (Brant)

You shouldn’t have come inside little one. At least you'll see your mom again. (Skin Ripper)

Early Next morning

5/24/1890

Double Homicide Shocks Community: Mother and Son found Murdered in Own Home, Along with Missing 2-Year-Old Daughter

By Spencer Carter

In the town of Clives Vill, state of Sageington, May 23, 1890, a horrifying crime scene was uncovered late last night as a distress call from a side-hall houses home, only to discover the brutal murder of a mother and her young son. Even more chilling-her 2-year-old daughter is missing.

The victims, identified as Jullie hars, 38, and her son, Max hars, 8, were found slain inside their residence after a neighbor reported hearing screams from the child, thinking that he was just having fun. The bodies, authorities say, displayed disturbing similarities to previous murders attributed to the unidentified murderer known only as the Skin Ripper.

However, this case introduces terrifying new elements including the disappearance of Anna Hars, the victim’s 2-year-old daughter. There was no sign of forced entry, and no ransom note was found. Investigators are now racing against time, fearing she may have been abducted by the killer.

“This is an urgent situation,” said Detective Willson, the lead investigator on the case. “If anyone has seen or heard anything, we need them to come forward immediately. A child’s life may depend on it.”

Neighbors described the family as quiet and kind, making the crime even more unsettling. “She was such a loving mother,” said Nancie, a close friend, “and the little girl… Oh God, I just hope she’s okay.”

Police are now urging the public to be on higher alert and to report any sightings of the missing child. Meanwhile, fear grips the town as the killer’s reign of terror escalates.

Will authorities find Anna Hars in time? Or has the Skin Ripper just raised the stakes?

For now, the town waits… and watches the shadows. (Everyone In the Town Reads)

Small report form 1890’s

The town was in a panic, looking for the lost daughter and trying to find any news or clues. The child was never found; the townspeople slowly forgot about her and the two who died in that home. Eventually a new family moved in, and it was like no one died in that suburban home. It's been years since anyone's thought of the family and the case has gone cold.

Folk tale (started in 1900’s)

The people say that the ghosts of the dead have risen to find the lost child and will not rest until they find her. It's said that if any two-year-old is left unattended at any point in time, they'll come during the night and return with the soul of the young toddler “in hand”. The only way to stop the ghost from collecting the young souls of the children is to keep a bar that's the same size as the young child, so the ghost can take the bar instead of the child. It's known that the ghosts only visit the homes once. There is no possible way to know if your little one is the next one to be visited during the night. The only way to know that you've been visited is if the bar or your child’s soul is gone.

Chapter Three - the Party and the Whisper

(Mostly Narrator)

The house was glowing with warm light, the kind that felt borrowed—fragile, like a memory too beautiful to be real. Strings of faded decorations hung across the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft that whispered through the house like someone exhaling from the walls. Music from the old record player crackled through the air, its tune warping now and then like it too was struggling to stay intact. The smell of baked ham and cinnamon coated the kitchen like ghosts of holidays past, sweet and suffocating. Marina sat at the window, biting the same corner of her fingernail she had chewed since she was little. Her eyes were fixed on the road beyond the gate. Her father was late.

"He's just running behind,” her mother said again, trying too hard to sound calm. “You know your dad—always gets lost in nostalgia driving through Bone Hills." But something in the air felt wrong. Like the silence between thunder and the strike. The dog, Pepper, whimpered at the base of the stairs and wouldn’t stop staring up at the attic door. At 8:46 PM, the front door creaked open. "DAD!" Marina bolted forward and wrapped her arms around the man who stepped inside. But he didn’t return the embrace. His skin was cold.

His eyes weren’t looking at her, but through her—like he’d left a part of himself somewhere he couldn’t come back from. “I—I’m home,” he whispered, as if unsure of it himself. In his trembling hands, he held a yellowed envelope, the paper brittle and bruised by time. “I found this... under a floorboard. In the old inn near the Hollow Tree. It had our family name on it... Andre.” Marina took it with shaking fingers.

Inside, folded neatly like someone had meant for her to find it, was a black-and-white photograph. Old. Cracked. The kind of photo that seemed to hold its breath. It showed a group of children, all posed stiffly on a schoolhouse porch. Most smiled.

But one little girl near the center didn't. Her face was pale and blurred. Her eyes were darker than the photo should have allowed—two hollow smudges in an otherwise frozen world. Someone had circled her in red ink.

On the back, scrawled in sharp, almost carved handwriting:

"The girl they never found still walks. She is neither alive nor dead. Blood calls to blood. Marina, do not follow the path. He waits for you."

That night, Marina lay awake staring at the ceiling, the photo on the nightstand beside her, facedown like it could look back. The silence of the house pressed in on her chest like a weight. Then, at 3:33 AM, the attic radio turned on. No one had touched it in years. The sharp hiss of static slashed through the silence, followed by a voice—cracked and echoing like it came from a thousand miles below the house.

"She cries from under the floor, Marina... She’s cold... She remembers you.”

The voice shattered the stillness of the night.

Marina screamed.

Her parents came rushing down the hallway, her mother clutching a fireplace poker, her father white as a sheet. The dog howled—a raw, animal sound of fear. Dishes in the kitchen rattled on their shelves. The hallway light flickered. Then the living room lamp. Then the streetlights outside—off, on, off again.

Then darkness.

Not just night. A suffocating, complete absence of light—as if the town itself had blinked.

“Wh-what’s going on?” her mother breathed, her voice cracking under the weight of something she couldn’t name.

“I’ll check the fuse box—” her father said, but even he didn’t move. He was staring toward the attic, as though the voice had frozen his legs.

Marina couldn’t explain why, but her feet carried her to the front window. And what she saw outside would be carved into her memory forever. Standing under the flickering streetlight, beyond the iron gate, was a figure. No features. Just a long, thin shadow. But it wasn’t just looking at her. It was inside her. Staring through the glass with black, endless eyes—eyes that held a pain so deep it made her stomach twist. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she wasn’t in her home anymore. She was beneath the floorboards. Cold. Screaming. Forgotten.

She stumbled back, breath caught in her throat. Her mother grabbed her, shaking her gently. “What did you see?” Marina’s lips quivered. “It looked like... like it was watching me. Like it knew who I was... before I did.” She didn’t tell them about the last thing she heard before the lights came back on—just for a second, whispered in a child’s voice:

"You were supposed to find me..."