Jack the Zipper

Prompt Day #97: Play “eyes, ears, nose, and throat”; put one of these organs in a place where it doesn’t belong (on a mutant character’s body is easiest, of course) and write.

This is a day late because in my other life I deliver babies. One thing I have discovered about the newborn traversing the womb into this world is this: They don’t give a flying fuck about your plans. But know what else? They are so damn cute it doesn’t even matter. I like to think that I am on this earth to deliver a full spectrum of things to others.; a morbid Santa Claus kind of. My calling if you will indulge my ego for a moment is to bring into this world the most precious, pure, and love filled magic and then, go home and summon forth the darkest, sickest most twisted voodoo you could imagine. It’s what I do and what I love and if there is any sense of meaning behind my belief in destiny then you, my precious reader, will receive those gifts with satisfaction and fulfillment.


Jack the Zipper


“Another one, eh?” The young officer asked peeking over the detective’s shoulder. The body lying on the floor was as clean and sterile as a patient straight out of the operating room. A young woman lie naked on the floor, her hands together peacefully on her abdomen. Her left and right eye lids were flattened, their eyelashes missing and the lids attached seamlessly to their lower half. The eye balls themselves had been embedded into her breasts. The tissue on the breast folded perfectly around it to resemble the lids. False eyelashes had been glued onto the skin. It was surreal to see the eyes looking out of the woman’s breast.

“Yup, I’d venture to say so. Gotta be the same guy” The detective said, jotting in his little notebook. “This is number three. No question now, we gotta call it the work of a serial killer.” He said shaking his head.

“Wonder what the press will call him” the younger man said “The Picasso Killer”

“Please don’t give them any ideas” The detective said. But the kid had a good head on his shoulders. The detective had been thinking about it himself. What exactly was this guy trying to say with these murders? The first one was a middle aged soccer mom. Her nose removed completely, her facial skin brought together in the center and stitched expertly so when you looked, the nose appeared to have never been there in the first place. The nose sat on the side of her face turned 90 degrees from its original location. Looking at the woman, if you ignored her right eye, you could imagine you were looking at her profile. It reminded Jack Denton—the lead detective on the case—of the face card from a deck of playing cards. But Picasso was more accurate. The second victim had been a man. The CEO of the local hospital. His lips had been removed, the center of his mouth stitched shut. Both ears cut and moved from the sides of his head to the mouth and attached there. If one looked into the ear canals of the newly placed ears, the man’s mouth could be visualized. The bare areas left by the ear removal had been closed over with scalp skin so again, you’d never know there was even an organ there to begin with.

The male victim’s rearrangement suggested that perhaps the killer was sending a message; he wanted to be heard. This took them back to the first vic, where they tried to puzzle out what the killer was saying with the nose. They were stumped. The press, at this point, only knew the bodies had been “mutilated” but were not told any specifics. Maybe it was time to let them in on it. See what the general public thought. Jack had found that since he gave in and embraced social media, he got more ideas and leads just reading civilian theories.

Three days after his interview with the local news channel, he received a letter addressed to “The Boss-Man”


I am saddened by the lack of progress the police have made in finding the link in my artistic endeavors as I am first and foremost an artist. I spent my life in the pursuit of perfection. I have always fancied flesh as the ultimate canvas. The media imagines me as a twisted version of Picasso and perhaps that is the end result but it is the means which interests me. Everyone strives for perfection but what is perfection? To look a clone of the general public? How tiresome life would be. Should it not instead be a more perfected version of one’s self? I always thought so. For that I was ridiculed and misunderstood. Now, I am free to practice as I see fit, to find perfection not in the imitation of reality but in the idea that there could be a new reality which is just as perfect.

I will continue to take apart the broken and put it back together in new and beautiful ways. Can you stop me? Perhaps, eventually. But ask yourselves this: should you stop me? That is the question.

Yours Respectfully,

Jack the Zipper

The killer licked the envelope lovingly and pressed it closed with perfectly manicured fingers. He tasted the glue on his tongue and wet his lips. Lips. Lips were the next organ to replace. He turned around and looked at the beauty tied to the pole in his basement. He stared at her lips straining around the gag he’d tied behind her head. He remembered injecting the silicone into those lips when she first came to his office. He remembered each and every one of them. Not just because theirs were the only files he’d managed to secret out before his license had been revoked, but because he remembered and despised the vanity in their souls. The beautiful woman with perfect breasts who wanted them bigger because (and this he knew without being told) she was cheating on her husband with a younger man. Because he made her feel young and she wanted to look young even though she was aging beautifully. So he made them bigger. The new CEO who had succeeded his entire life by talking his way into his position, not by his intellect but by his rumor mongering and back stabbing and lies. Who now, at the age of 53 felt that his ears sat too high on his head and stuck out too far and wanted them lowered and flattened. And then of course, there was his first, the woman who refused to accept the end of her marriage. Who rather than look at herself to see how hateful and critical she’d become, she blamed her failed relationship on an imaginary relationship she’d decided her husband was having with his much younger and thinner secretary. So she wanted a nose job, one that would give her an entirely different face. He gave it to her and she was still the spiteful, nasty person she’d been before. When her life didn’t immediately correct itself, it was his fault. He’d done a bad job. So she vilified him. She accused him of all kinds of indiscretions. And miss old body, new boobs followed suit hoping to get out of her remaining bill, and then miss hot lips too because he was not interested in being financially captured by fathering a child. The three lying witches went to his higher ups. The hospital CEO was all ears. They all had a hand in ruining his life.

Now each and every one was getting what they really wanted. All eyes on the cougar’s breasts, A CEO able to allow what he hears to speak for him, the spiteful wife able to turn the other cheek and now…

“Now, I will put those lips right where you wanted them to work. You wanted to use them to trap a man into pregnancy so let me put them right where you want them to work.” He said approaching her with an ether soaked rag. She whimpered and drooled through the gag but he was beyond reason.

Her lips were removed and replaced on her abdomen. He opened a tunnel into her womb just as she wanted. He knew what they all really wanted. That was his art. He understood that he had the ability to take someone’s innermost desires and show them to the world. This was his calling and he wouldn’t stop. Once he had finished with his files, he’d move on. After all, part of his talent was seeing beneath the mask people wore in public and displaying their innermost feelings as art. He unzipped their outer shell, pulled out the insides and zipped it all back up nice and neat. He could even do a self-portrait. His mask was that of a talented surgeon, but beneath and now unzipped and released he was an artistic murderer. He was Jack the Zipper.