The Runaway

[Guest]

Nothing moved or made a sound.
The moon and stars were hidden between thick black clouds,
And it seemed impossible for anything to be able to move and destroy the silence of the night.

But something did move,
A white figure streaking through the cobbled streets.

His mane and tail the darkest shade of ebony,
His body the ivory of a ghost's.
His legs faded to black, before brightening again to white.

His shod feet clacked against the cobbled street,
And he fell more than once.

The image of his long dead rider sat on his back,
Nothing more than a billowing coat and a dark hat.

The horse frothed and panted,
Struggling to catch his breath.

And when he could no longer stand it, he fell to his kness,
Rolling to his side.

He welcomed the blackness that enveloped his mind,
And gave way to the peaceful abyss,

And so came the ghost
Of the Runaway Horse.