Crimson Prose

Cold. Cold and uncomfortable. Cardboard was just about the most uncomfortable thing to sleep on in the world. Even though it did help to insulate him from the ground, every joint and bone in his body was still aching horribly. He tried to pull the thin blanket tighter around himself and drift back into the realm of sleep where the cold could not bother him.

But it was not happening. Hatter groaned, slowly dragging himself to his hooves. His horn glowed to life beneath a battered black top hat and folded up the filthy blanket with practised motions. He then put it away inside one of the many pockets that lined the inside of his jacket. It was the only other scrap of clothing he owned, and without it he would have likely frozen to death. He was a hat maker, so had cobbled it together himself, with all the pockets he would ever need.

The issue was that other ponies did not need to sleep on the street, so therefore they did not normally need clothes unless it was for a special occasion. To buy fabric good enough to make clothes designed for that, he needed money, and to get money, he needed ponies to buy his clothes. And that paradox was the reason he was sleeping on the street.

Still, life could be worse. He stretched out his limbs, groaning happily as several of his bones popped and clicked. Right. Time to start the day. His emerald green eyes scanned quickly around the back alley he had chosen to sleep in, quickly finding the exit. His hooves clattered against the cold stone as he trotted off, ready to start his day.

Celestia had awoken before him, and the sun was beginning its ascent in the sky. He pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes and gave a grumble, begrudgingly beginning to trot past all the brightly coloured ponies that were also beginning to start their day, waving happily to each other and giving sickly sweet smiles. He hated their bright colours, the smiles, everything about them. His own ash gray coat was far easier on the eyes.

He tried to ignore them as he moved through the town, before settling on a spot that looked good. His horn glowed to life, setting out a simple cardboard sign with hat prices on it. He plonked himself down next to it with a huff, wondering if he would be earning enough to eat today. He just needed to wait now. So that is what he did. He waited.

And waited

And then he waited some more.

And then it was lunch time. He groaned, standing up and cursing as the sun got in his eyes. Another day of everything going wrong.
“Hello?” A voice suddenly sounded from next to him. Naturally, he jumped out of his skin with a spluttering of curses, turning as quickly as he could to the source of the voice. And he was instantly taken aback.

Before him was the most beautiful pony he had ever seen in all the many years of his life. Her hair was the lightest pink, her eyes the darkest crimson and her fur the purest white. He tried his best not to gawk openly at her, although he did get enough of a look at her flank to see her cutiemark. It was a crimson quill pen and a pool of crimson ink.

“Hello?” She repeated, sounding genuinely concerned about the state of his mental health with how he was gawking at her. He shook his head, blinking as his brain rapidly fumbled for a response.
“Yes. Hello. I what can for do you?” He spat.

Well, he had almost done it. He had got all the right words out, they had just got jumbled up on the way out. He blinked slowly, looking towards her as he waited for her response. She blinked back at him as her brain tried to put his words in the right order.
“I...I want to buy a hat?” The unicorn tried, hoping that she had translated him correctly.

Hatter made hats, he could help with that! He smacked himself with a hoof, readjusted his smile and nodded, floating out a notepad and a pen with his apple green magic. “What kind of hat do you want?” He asked, pulling out a measuring tape. He noticed that the end of her ear was damaged, slightly tattered. She gave a slight smirk that sent a shudder down his spine.
“Well, I quite like your hat...” She purred, leaning in close as she grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Was she coming on to him? Surely not! And then she turned, her pink tail brushing against his face. He had never blushed so hard in his life. She begin to trot off towards an alleyway and he quickly followed, his own face baring a grin like an open wound. He would not be hungry for much longer, and this mare looked delicious. He felt like a giddy school filly.

Once they where away from prying eyes, the mare leant against a wall, hiking up her tail as Hatter rushed up behind her. That would have been the end of it too, but because of the massive amount of arousal and excitement rushing through him, he slipped up. He pulled his straight razor from his jacket, flicking it to unfold the blade from the oaken handle. But he had fumbled, and as the blade closed in on her neck, she gave a laugh.

Instead of flesh, his razor found the steel of a knife. He internally winced, razors were very sharp but very brittle, and he was sure that had not done it any favours. He slowly looked up, staring at the mare. Her grin had turned sadistic, her horn was glowing a deep crimson and she was currently holding a kitchen knife in it, which had managed to block his own razor with ease.

They shared a few moments of staring once again, before Hatter broke the silence.
“Oh.. Oh fuck.”
And then she laughed, a sweet laugh for a sweet mare. But too much sweet stuff gave you diabetes, and as his heart sank in his chest, that felt exactly like what had happened.
“I recognised that look in your eyes instantly, you fool. You have the eyes of a killer,” She looked over to his razor, “From your weapon of choice, I guess you are the pony that has been carving up and eating all those innocent mares.”

The act was over. Hatter begin to give a psychotic titter, licking his lips before his head jolted forward, jaws snapping an inch from her face. She did not seem phased in the slightest, shoving his blade away. He went to bite her, and then the handle of her knife bit him, smacking with insane force into the side of his head..

With that, everything begin to go dark, and suddenly the floor was getting uncomfortably close to his face. Consciousness left him just as he sprawled out across the floor, the last sight he saw the mare leering down at him, and the last thought that went crashing through his head was of just how very fucked he was.