Death

Beyond the horizon a cloaked figure rode on a jet black mare, harsh light glistening off the sweat beading on the horse’s lush coat, forming minute globules of light which upon refracting caused intricate patterns to illuminate the surroundings in strange flickering light. The rider’s outline suffused in an indistinct, hazy light shimmering, hinting to unearthly origins. Then darkness, heavy and oppressing, accompanied by an eerie silence as if all sound had been trapped and silenced.

The hooded figure withdrew his leather clad arms from within the folds of his cloak and thrust his hand forward, palm tilted upward toward the sky. His stance exerted his absolute authority over the earth upon which he stood. Then began an almost inaudible chant, at first low and mournful, slowly increasing in volume, in tempo, in pitch, reverberating everywhere. Crescendoing waves of sound beat upon my eardrums, tattooing a rhythm deep into my skull. A primal fear overtook me, urging me to retreat, to run, to flee from this awful noise. Yet no matter how hard my instinct urged me to run I remained rooted to the spot, paralysed in fear.

A force gripped me around my waist, invisible bands tightened, crushing my lungs in a deathly hold, my breathing becoming shallower, more laboured. I was on the verge of passing out, my oxygen-starved lungs burning, yearning for the sweet taste of air; when the murmured, frenzied chant ceased, the bands relinquishing their hold. I was left gasping, sucking in deep breaths of air. The figure lifted his head upwards, glowing red eyes gazed out at me from beneath his hood, locking me in their piercing gaze. He sat forward in his saddle and with a fluid motion flicked his reins and set his horse cantering in my direction.

I recognised his slow, inexorable approach for what it truly was, death on his black mare; an inevitable death. I fled, running from the encounter. Oxygen fuelled lungs sending air throughout my body, my fiercely pounding heart sending blood coursing through my veins, my arteries. In desperation I ran endlessly, inhibited only by the bitter cold, and the thick mist that enveloped all. Terror: sheer, blind fear sharpened my mind, giving it a purpose, a path ahead. I forged onward, never stopping, always fearing.

However, escape was futile, no matter where I went, with what speed I distanced myself from him, death barred my way. Only instinct and a sheer will for survival allowed me to continue, for without them I would be long gone. But I sensed my time was drawing to a close, my story as all stories do, about to end; to surrender to death. The inevitable confrontation was going to take place — if not now then soon, for all life must come to an end, for such is the way of life. With this last thought weighing heavily upon me, I stopped running, I stopped trying to delay the inevitable. My life had come to an end.