Horseman

Blue sky above, a black horse travels slowly across the plain sandy desert dragging a man behind with one hand holding the loose saddle rope and gasping for air.

"Stop..." the man says.

The Black Horse eventually comes to a halt.The man gathers his strength to get up on his feet and leans on his companion.

"I forgot my gun..." the man whispers.

Looking back, the house is now a way off from his current location. Still, the man decides at once to jump and lay his stomach onto the Black Horse's back while dangling his limbs on its sides.

"Go back... now..." the Horseman says.

The scorching heat and bright, dry ground only serve to make the journey back to the house needlessly tiresome. Yet, the Horseman doesn't complain. His mind is fixated on something else. Upon arriving at the wooden house, he stares at the open door for a few seconds motionless. Suddenly, he drops himself to the ground and lets out a slight groan. Standing up and patting the dust off of his clothes, he looks at the dark stains on his shirt for a moment with raised eyebrows and then at the open door again.

"Stay here," the Horseman commands.

The Black Horse glances at his master walking with a slight limp towards that door. Entering the house, the Horseman finds himself in the middle of a normal looking living room. It doesn't take long for him to scrunch up his nose, however. A smell of a molding something pours out from a nearby place. He stands there almost frozen in time, yet his instincts move him against his will. Approaching the room the horrid smell is coming from, he looks at the sign on the door. "Darlene" it says. Racing thoughts and a racing heartbeat take over the Horseman. He shakes his head and looks to the bedroom door's handle. Grabbing it, he pushes the door open. It's stopped by something before it's opened all the way.  Red. A pool of dark red liquid on the ground. Heavy breathing and and a lump in his throat prevents him from uttering anything. Taking his eyes away for a moment, a gleaning object catches his attention on the bed in the corner. He thinks he can see his gun. Yet, his attention is drawn back to the blood beneath him. The Horseman attempts to step inside through the door's gap when he accidentally bumps his shoulder into a bookshelf to his side almost knocking it over. A couple of books fall into the red pool splashing some of it around and on his pants. Careful not to step on it, the Horseman shifts his eyes from the fallen books towards the bed and slowly travels there. He looks at his gun, but something appears to be unusual. The gun is black. He wonders if it's supposed to have another color, yet remains unsure for it still bears the exact same design that he came to expect to see. Grabbing it, he looks at it for a little while reading the inscriptions with intense focus like he always did. Looking around him for a little bit, he sees some old children's toys next to the pillows. Without much care and satisfied with the gun, he turns around as it's time to leave. Dead. A body lays on the ground with limbs outstretched with the face disfigured as if by a gunshot. A racing heart and a racing mind. His eyes turn away and back towards the horrible sight in front of him almost as if there is a need to resist something. He wonders why he didn't see it when he stepped into the room. A voice breaks though the dreadful silence.

"Wh.. what happened here?" A strange yet friendly sounding voice blurts out.

He looks around almost afraid of someone nearby, but it seems no one else is around. He spoke. It must have been him. There's only him and the body. Questions overflow in his mind. At first, he tries to calm himself down. He shifts his focus to his senses. He thinks he sees a female's body, an old woman. White hair, wrinkles on her hands, a little heavy in the waist. By the stench, she's been there for a while. And the whole place is silent. So dead silent. The Horseman looks at his hand and wonders about the gun. This isn't his gun. It looks like it in almost every way, but the color... It isn't his. It can't be.  Where would his gun be then? The question keeps repeating in his mind over and over again. In his hazy memories, the image of a wicked smile peers through at him.

"That man... I remember now. He was the one I was chasing." The Horseman speaks to himself.

Reciting a prayer for the poor old woman, the Horseman takes his leave with newfound strength and returns to his loyal horse.

"Get ready now, we are going back to hunting down that criminal!" The Horseman yells.

He takes one last look at the oddly familiar house. Riding on the Black Horse's back, he bolts out away towards the direction he went to before and far beyond.


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Endlessly riding. Sweat slides down every part of the Horseman's body hurrying to cool it down. The house is now too far behind to be seen. Breathing with terrible difficulty, he looks ahead of him hoping to catch a glimpse of who he is after. He only sees a merciless horizon with pools of water covering the dry ground here and there that seem to dissipate as soon as he approaches near them. If only he fetched some water from the house, but there was no time in his mind. His target takes priority.

"Must find him... get justice for..." the Horseman utters with nothing but discomfort throughout his body.

The Black Horse takes slow steps. It seems to be out of energy as well. Looking at his faithful horse, he feels the need to talk to it to ease its suffering and maybe his as well.

"You've always been there... haven't you? My pride, my joy... y'know that?" The Horseman whispers to his friend's ear.

Too tired to keep hold of his position, the Horseman loses his balance and drops to the ground. Due to the loud thud and cruel conditions, the Black Horse scurries away from the Horseman and runs in a random direction as it appears to have gone into a panic.

"Hold it... hold up!" The Horseman shouts at his companion while on his knees.

Far away now, it seems to have lost any sense it has even as a horse. A fleeting feeling of pity took over the Horseman's mind for himself and his horse only to throw it away immediately as his current predicament is far more important. Feeling his head getting light and dizzy, a last attempt is made to find where his only friend went. He can barely see it, yet something seems off. The horse appears to be white. He rubs his eyes and upon opening them the horse is nowhere to be found. Overwhelmed by the scorching heat and the stinch of defeat, the Horseman falls on the sandy ground face first.


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Black sky above, the cool wind howls near and far. A crackling glow starts to wake the Horseman from his slumber. Opening his eyes, a fireplace and a pair of feet in ragged sandals appear in his line of sight. Picking himself from the ground and removing the sand from his face, he is greeted by a man in a white robe. Silent, he looks around and finds himself on top of a single high dune.

"So, how was it? Feeling better?" Asks the robed man with a light chuckle.

"Where.. am I?" Asks the Horseman.

"As you can see around you, my friend, we are still in the middle of nowhere. So, it is a little difficult to answer that particular question," says the man while laughing, "but before anything, take this and drink."

The Horseman looks at the hand of the Robed Man and soon takes the water filled canteen drinking from it like a thirsty toddler. Having had his fill, he remembers not to take too much from another man's offering and returns it.

"Thank you. I owe you one. I don't know what I would've done without this." Says the Horseman.

"Do not mention it, friend. I enjoy helping those in need, you see. So, I am the one who owes you," says the Robed Man with an awkward chuckle, "come now, stay near the fire and away from that cruel cold wind."

Sitting near the fire almost huddling together, the two men stretch their arms towards the comforting heat and only remove their hands to rub them every once in a while. The Horseman takes a peak at his savior every now and then wondering where he came from and why he's dressed so peculiarly like the courageous person he once read about in a story, yet he says nothing instead.

"The winds are brutal during the night time in this desert. They make my thin body shiver. I am afraid I might shake so much I will wake up one day even thinner than I already am," says the Robed Man, "and they are so loud I cannot hear my thoughts sometimes."

"You're used to it, aren't you?" Asks the Horseman while pointing and nodding at the fire.

"Oh yes, that I am. This desert is my home, you see. I cannot leave it even if it kills me."

"You live in the desert? Ah... I've never met a nomad before. Only read about them when I was little. Used to be an avid reader back in the day, y'see."

"And how long ago was that, friend?"

The Horseman pauses trying to remember. His face turns a little red as he seems to not be able to tell. The wind keeps howling.

"It is difficult to experience unpleasant things, is it not my friend? Every man would like to avoid them altogether, so I understand," says the Robed Man while playing with the fire, "So, forget my question. I would ask, however, if you could hand me the water next to you."

The Horseman looks besides him and sees the water canteen he drank from before. Staring at it for a moment, he grabs the canteen and hands it over with an unexplainable sense of familiarity.

"As you can see, without what is necessary you cannot survive in this desert of nothingness. It is within out nature to survive, you know, no matter what." says the Robed Man with stern eyebrows.

The Horseman keeps looking away whenever he sees the Robed Man drinking from the canteen. The water keeps spilling all over his robe. It's as if the Horseman is witnessing something awful happening.

"That is why I am here. I give guests of this desert of ours what they need," the Robed Man says while putting the canteen on the ground, "for who other than myself would keep the visitors from dying?"

The Horseman looks at the man with a puzzled face.

"Say, have you come across a man before me today?" Asks the Horseman.

"I have not." says the Robed Man

"You haven't asked me why I'm here, y'know. I guess I'll tell ya. I'm out to get a specific someone to face justice."

"Why, an ambitious and difficult task, I presume. So, what did he do? And what does he look like?"

"Murder. I'm chasing a cold-blooded murderer who delights in robbing people from the joy of life. He even smiles while doing it. That's all I remember to tell the truth."

"A smiling killer? What an absurd image. I know I would not want to meet him."

"A part of me doesn't want to either, to be honest. But, what makes you say that? Is it the killing or the smiling?"

"Well, both. Let us just say smiling and laughing while commiting such a heinous act is not a sign of a stable mind. Do you not agree, friend?"

The Horseman directs a lazy stare at the man as if full of resentment. Quietly, he lowers his head and starts to move his finger in the sand.

"Why would such a terrible crime happen to such an innocent person? Without much to go on, I cannot tell. You probably knew that, I suppose. What do you think is the reason, my friend?"

Though the darkness engulfs them both from all sides, the flickering flames occasionally reveal the Horseman's flustered cheeks and red face. He places his gaze out towards the far horizon.

"Y'know, when I was little my mother never did stop taking care of me. She'd always prepare me something to eat in the morning, pack some of the leftovers whenever I'd go out for my horse training with my father, and kept me fed before bedtime too," the Horseman says, "That's her way of taking care of me, I suppose. She always cared for me in that disgustingly superficial way, y'know?"

The Robed Man kept listening intently with a smile on his face, taking a sip from his canteen every now and then.

"Her and my uncle. He took over after Father died. Father used to scold me whenever I'd sneak out at night to ride my horse because he worried about me. Uncle scolded me whenever it pleased him. Her and Uncle. Whenever it pleased them. They made it their purpose in life to direct their sickly nature towards me for pleasure. That ain't right, y'know?"

"I know, yes. Is that why you did it?" Asks the Robed Man.

The Horseman keeps twirling and twisting his finger in the sand with a slight smirk on his face.

"Not even food mattered anymore. See? I'm quiet thin now. I guess I should thank her, shouldn't I?"

The wind picks up speed and the howling turns into roaring.

"You know, my only friend, though it is louder I can still hear you just fine. Ask your question." says the Robed Man as he stares at the Horseman with a smile.

"Who are you? And why did you do it? Asks the Horseman.

"At last, no further diversions. Still, you already know the answers to your questions, do you not?"

The Horseman stares into the distance with a dreamless smile as silent and still as the night is dark and unwelcoming. Tired and abused, he lays his head on the soft sand beneath with his arms hugging his own torso.


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Red-orange sky above, the Horseman wakes up from his deep slumber to a cool breeze. Looking around he sees no trace of the man who saved him except for the water canteen. Vanished. Sitting on that lonesome dune, he soon hears distant yet loud footsteps of running beasts. Horses.

"There he is!" someone shouts, "Don't let him get away!"

Standing up with his heart beating, the Horseman squints his eyes looking towards the group of men heading towards him. Hats and guns. He cannot tell if they are with the law. Suddenly, a gunshot is directed towards him. The sound spooks him and he steps back in a panic. His foot catches onto the end of his robe and he trips onto the sandy ground.


Hee-haw


The Horseman, in pain, turns his eyes from the strange attire he is wearing to where the noise came from. A malnourished white donkey climbs up hurriedly from the bottom of the dune. The Horseman notices the pursuers are coming closer by the second. He takes a pause wondering if he should talk with them to try and understand what it is they are after. Smiling, he thinks of the first thing he should say to calm them down. The sound of the second gunshot leads him to stand up in a frenzy knocking away any semblance of a desire to reason with them. It is only to get away now. Get far away from where that awful house, where he shall never return. Grabbing the rope of the saddle, he climbs almost lazily onto the donkey's back and scurries down the other side of the dune hoping to buy some time from his attackers.

"Go, go away! I didn't do anything wrong. He did it, can't they understand?!" The Horseman yells with a hand holding onto the silver gun he found, "She is the reason, not me!"

The donkey is barely able to run. The band of gunmen are now on top of the great dune with their proud horses ready. Soon, a blazing chaos of gunshots was heard and a silence befitting a desert fell on the wretched place.