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 master's 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 column of figures stands solemnly near the bottom of the page. It is a date in accordance with the day at hand. Midnight approaches swiftly as the white figure turns and approaches the balcony doors. A blood chilling sound leaks through the lace curtains as 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. His eyes catch hers as she edges toward the railing. His grasp remains invincible, yet she resists. 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.