The horseman - part 9

The church was the first to go as Death roared past, wrapped in a whirlwind of dust and flame. One minute it was there, silhouetted against the dying light, the next it was flying splinters, its huge iron cross hurtling down the street to bury itself in the brothel wall. The rest of the town was blasted asunder as he bore down on me in fury, but I met that onslaught with icy calm and the ground shook as his blow fell aside.

Then we were locked in a desperate struggle, each one seeking the other’s weakness. Sweeping across the plains, we collided with the mountain peaks beyond, tearing out landslides, cracking glaciers, ripping up forests until we tumbled down again into strange, twisted deserts.

He stood above me in the moonlight and I shook my head, exhausted, waiting for the end. But then with a sound like falling sand, I found myself surrounded by the ghosts that had gathered in my wake, all those he had snatched before their time. He did not stand a chance.

His pale horse bowed its head as I mounted. Wrapping the storm around me, I rode off into the darkness, trailing Hell behind.