JACK THE RIPPER IN EQUESTRIA
Deeper in the slums, that’s where I’ve got to hide. That was the only thought to consume my head. Killing that prostitute had been… wonderful. The Adrenaline was still fresh in my body; her blood still… well… you know. Scotland Yard was close on my trail. Barking dogs were only alleys behind me. My coat flapped while I ran, feet stepping in puddles, ruining my otherwise pristine clothes.
I was deeper into the slums than I ever had been before. Never before had I seen such alleys like this. Rain poured horrendously onto the cobblestones, washing the proof of my sins away.
Listening back, a realization hits me. I’ve been running but the chasers are gone. Only the cacophony of rain flooded my ears. But where am I? The alleys don’t seem like London. Wooden houses, not brick. A key difference. Soft clopping comes from an adjacent alley. I peer around and then see her, or it. A tiny, pink pony walking in the rain. She was unaware of my presence.
Oh what a strange thing I’ve fallen upon, so innocent. The rain masks my steps as I creep up, knife in my hand. The blade still red with the memories of Mary Jane. A misstep gives me away only a few feet to it.
“Hiya, I’m Pinkie Pie,” it starts. I lunge at it, knife bent to plunge into the creatures pink…
“Nope,” I say. “I can’t write it.” I open fimfiction slowly, aware of my requesters soon to be displeasure. I hit submit, and it’s over.
“No, we can’t accept this,” says the team of moderators of fimfiction as they looked over a Jack the ripper fiction.
“You’re right, this will destroy the standards by which we hold ourselves,” said another moderator as he made another clopfic top story.