Iron pounds on stone as a rider-less horse clambers up the steep
incline of a silent walk. Shrouded by lingering fog, the beast
races feverishly onward, guided by the shrill sound of a human
whistle. Reaching the source of the beacon, the stallion cringes
under the powerful gaze of a tall gaunt figure. A silent brow
flinches and the servant instantly responds by kneeling and
allowing the master to become the rider. As one, they gallop
fiercely upon a maze of cobblestone arteries. Cold moonlight
highlights the sharpness of the masters face as a thin
smile penetrates the obliqueness of his visage. They ride on
as the moon continues westward.
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.
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.