A mirror contains a tear stained face which otherwise would be quite pretty. A long gown of white, supported by the youngness of a well-proportioned body, hung loosely to the scrubbed marble. A tarnished brass cross was locked inside the protection of a fearful clutch of five fingers. A tattered brown bible lies open on an unmade bed. An ancient document sits ominously, yellowed with age and signed in blood. The scrawling on the paper seems to jump vividly around the page. One clump of figures stands solemnly near the bottom of the page. It is a date in accordance with the day at hand. Midnight approachs swiftly as the white figure turns and approaches the balcony doors. A blood chilling sound leaks through the lace curtains. Rapidly pounding hooves ring fear into the night.

Silence.

The woman in white flings aside the balcony doors and steps out into the crispness of early winter. Two stories below stands the lone horseman and his grin. From the grin oozes a trail of blood. His eyes catch hers as she edges toward the railing. His grasp remains invincible and yet she persists. She comes closer and closer until she reaches the rail.

Her resistance ends as he clenches his fist, closing off her mind, and obliging her body to topple over the rail and smash to the cold earth.

A hideous laugh reigns over the countryside as the document bursts into flames.