The Horseman

I was riding along at the twilight of the day, pedaling steadily on my bicycle. Cars passed me; I passed the occasional pedestrian, although on this country road, it wasn't that common to see anyone on foot.

I continued and continued until I saw a pedestrian standing under a bridge. He looked familiar somehow... I slowed as I passed, and realized it was my brother. I braked hard, skidded, turned around and headed back.

"John! John, what are you doing out here?"

"Hi, Joseph, I'm just waiting for someone. Want to sit and talk for a bit?"

I shrugged. My brother has had a habit of meeting strange people who, let's face it, make me uncomfortable. But by and large he hasn't come to harm, so I shouldn't really worry, should I?

We sat and we talked for a time, he periodically rolling up and lighting a new cigarette, and I sipping from my canteen. And time passed.

I looked up, around the bottom edge of the bridge, to see the stars were coming out. And that was when I heard hooves.

See, this road I was on, you're not allowed to walk or bike along it - it's not like anyone enforces that law, but it isn't exactly safe either, you know? And hearing a horse, right, a man on a horse is a lot bigger than a bicyclist, and a lot more likely to damage any car that hits him. So this was unusual. I turned to look in the direction of the sound, clicked on the headlight on my bike. The beam flickered slightly and then turned a dull yellow - the battery was dying - but I saw a horse there, in the darkness, its eyes reflecting a deep red glow, and a bit of a way behind them, another pair of glowing eyes. Smoldering, burning eyes, that had their own light.

I think I swore. I began to back away. Not fast enough for my peace of mind - the rider entered my field of view, as he came closer and finally stopped.

He was headless - no, not headless, but his head wasn't where it was supposed to be. His neck just... ended, in a ragged shred of flesh and bone. His head, though, was carried under his arm. He guided the horse with the reins in his other hand.

He spoke. I heard his voice, but I didn't understand a word he said - it didn't even sound like language, just noise. I can't describe his voice either, except to say that it's what the void would sound like, if it could make any sound.

My brother stepped forward, and made as though to mount the horse. I rushed toward him and tried to pull him away. The rider dropped the reins and grabbed me by the shoulder; it was like being chained to the spot - I could not have moved if you'd pulled at me will a steamroller.

And my brother shook his head. "Look, Joe," he said. "I've been here for forty years. And what do I have? No wife, no kids, no life, no future. I've been ill for so long, dying slowly from the inside out... I'm tired, bro. I'm tired."

I gaped. I couldn't say a word. I had no words to explain my thoughts. I was stunned. I knew he'd been ill, but no idea how severely, or how much he must have suffered.

He saw me staring blankly at him, and shrugged. "I made a deal. He gets my soul, in exchange for taking it from me now."

I made a sound, and it was something of a groan and something of a scream, as he climbed up into the saddle in front of the rider. I tried to pull him off, but the rider struck at me with his boot and I fell hard. My head bounced off the pavement.

I was too dizzy to get up. I could only see the horse's legs as they began to move, and then in a moment they were gone.