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The Horseman (13) : Fog is not uncommon in the latter half of the year, so it’s no surprise that Destiny City has been plagued by it. Historically, it has never brought anything good. Walls of white so dense that a deep breath feels like drowning, the rolls across the city in the late hours of the night like a herd of stampeding horses. You can hear them, too–the gallop of hooves. You can’t see it, but you hear a single horse, massive. Trotting behind you. If you speed up, it speeds up. No matter where you go, it follows. Sometimes, you can feel an icy breath on the back of your neck. It’s uncomfortable and unnerving, and there’s the distinct feeling of being followed by some sort of predator. It’s worse, if you run. It chases you. If you look behind you, you’ll see nothing but a dark, swirling mass, and sometimes the glint of a large blade. It’s terrifying. There’s no way to fight it, but if you’re lucky you can hide. If it catches you, you feel a painful sensation around your neck before the horse and its dark rider disappears into the night. Your heart feels like a bomb in your chest, and when you are somewhere safe you may find a deep, red mark on your neck, as if someone attempted to lop it off. The injury will fade after a few hours, but unfortunates may find a strange mist lingering outside of their window, accompanied by the sound of hooves and horse whinnies. The horseman cannot be interacted with; he does not speak, he does not have any form. He is simply hunting.
Rubbing her arms as the cool, damp fog wrapped around her, Canary scowled up at the dim and hazy glow where a streetlight was just barely visible. She’d lived in this damned burg her whole life and the fog still managed to surprise her. Though, lately, it seemed like it got thicker every year. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her body and once more wished that she’d opted to bring her car to work this time. Not that it would have really saved much in the way of time or anything. But at least she wouldn’t be out in the cold and damp feeling like a damn ghost!
With a sigh, she took a deep breath, felt for a moment like she was breathing in cold soup and forced herself to think calming thoughts. She was, she would guess, about halfway home. She was as safe as any single lady could be walking around in the dark given that she could become Nacrite with a thought and beat any punk’s a**. Things were fine. Everything was fine. She’d done this walk thousands of times. There was no cause for alarm. After a moment of telling herself all these things, Canary felt her ruffled soul smooth out.
Nodding to herself, she resumed walking, noticing that the fog seemed to get thicker every moment until she could barely even see the street lights glowing. Okay, that was a little unnerving, but again. She knew this path. Unless a car came barreling out of the rolling white, she’d be fine. For a few minutes, she amused herself by listening to how her steps clicked and echoed. Sure, the stillness and quiet were a little creepy, but it was weirdly fun to listen to things that the fog managed to muffle and distort. Skipping a moment, she thought that her footfalls sounded almost like the coconut scene from Holy Grail. So that was fun. But the longer she went, the less it sounded like coconuts and more like actual stamping hooves. Then, she heard a decidedly equine sounding snort and for a moment, something in the fog seemed to loom.
Frowning, Canary forced herself to keep walking, but couldn’t keep from hurrying her steps just a little. Behind her, the horsey sounds seemed to increase and she had the distinct sensation that the horse was matching her pace. At one point, she could have sworn that she felt a puff of exhaled air on the back of her neck. But when she whirled around, nothing was there. Except for an increasingly creepy sense that she was being followed. And whatever or whoever was doing the following was hunting her. Which, she told herself, was silly! It was probably just a mounted cop!
(Except police horses didn’t sound that big or heavy and didn’t make her feel like a mouse staring down a hungry cat…)
Pausing again, Canary glanced behind, seeing nothing but swirling white and grey as the fog covered and obscured everything. Still, she could hear hoofbeats getting closer and something about them sounded impatient.
(Just like it’s tired of holding back and it wants to run you down, you dumb b***h…)
It had to just be a police horse. She was allowing her imagination to run a little too loose. Turning back, she brushed her hair out of her face and tried to even her breathing. But nope, her instincts were insisting that something Very ******** Bad was behind her and she needed to move. Now! She hesitated a breath longer, listening. A snort echoed out of the fog and she heard hooves striking the ground as the horse galloped towards her. Instinct took over and Canary ran, shamelessly. She didn’t want to, everyone knew that running from a predator would usually make it chase you more, but Canary didn’t care about that. She only knew she had to Get Away.
The size and weight of the horse and it’s rider bore down on her as she ran, panting and gasping for air. She’d risked a glance back and saw the fog… not break. Not exactly. But the fog and darkness swirled together into a dark mass that would occasionally show flickers and glints of what looked like a large sword. Gulping, Canary forced herself to run faster. If she could get home, she’d be safe. Or even if she could see her surroundings enough to find a hiding place. The hoofbeats were louder now. Closer. She could damn near feel the horse breathing down her neck.
One hand was already in her pocket as she sprinted, digging out her keys. Home was close. She put on one last burst of speed and aimed herself for her front door, tripping and stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. She didn’t go down, not fully, but the stumble was enough to give the horse time to rear up over her, darkness nearly cocooning her. She felt something hit her neck and howled in pain. Then, the heaviness and sense of danger faded back and she managed to get to her door and get it open, throwing herself inside before slamming the locks into place.
Sinking to the floor, she braced her back against the door and half-sobbed. She was home. She was safe. She needed to get up and try to figure out if she’d actually been hurt. Forcing herself to her feet, she tottered into the bathroom and flicked on the light, nearly screaming to see a lurid red mark across her neck. For a moment, she froze, then, tentatively pushed at the side of her head, needing to make sure that everything was still properly attached. It was, though she couldn’t imagine how.
Not wanting to look at the mark any longer, Canary slipped back into the living room and armed herself with a baseball bat before flopping on the couch and staring out the window. She could still hear a horse just outside, though all she saw was swirling fog.
At some point, she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, it was morning and the fog seemed to have burned away.
Word Count = 1027
