Warp by R. Michael
The droning melody of crickets filled the crisp autumn air in the small hours of the night. Marlene walked along a cobblestone road nestled within a verdant forest. Above, the moon and stars glinted, unobscured by clouds. She basked in the heavenly splendor, gawking at the constellations as she ambled without a care.
A wood sign three paces to the right snagged her eye. Painted in faded white letters, it read, “Pemberton 1 Mile.” Not much further. Minutes later, the insects ceased their song, and a tumultuous gale whipped through the towering pines. Marlene’s skin puckered, and she rubbed her hands together.
Thunderheads marched in from the west, darkening the sky save for the periodic flash of lightning in the distance. As the storm moved closer, the subtle inclination of eyes watching from afar intruded upon Marlene’s mind. She peered into the wilderness but saw no one.
She quickened her pace, but the unsettling feeling of being observed grew. A crack of thunder boomed, startling her. Lightning flickered, unveiling a figure on a horse. She came to a sudden halt and gasped. Two luminous, gray eyes bore into her soul, yet when the dark returned, they vanished.
Marlene squinted. My eyes must be more tired than I thought. Once the thought formed, hooves echoed. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw nothing. The sound stopped, but as soon as she faced forward, the noise returned, louder than before.
She peeked again. A silent, empty road looked back, and she furrowed her brow. The sky unleashed a flurry of lightning and cannonade of thunder. The horseman materialized before her, now less than two hundred feet away. The figure withdrew a pocket watch and glanced down at it, his half-decayed lips curling into a toothy sneer. A worn, gray cloak draped over his dirty, ragged suit.
Beneath the mount, ice spiderwebbed outward along the road. The temperature plummeted, then with a clap of thunder, the figure disappeared. Fat snowflakes fell from the sky, and an acrid smell of rotten flesh wafted into Marlene’s nostrils.
Her heart lurched. She bolted down the road until at last she saw faint lights in the distance. “Pemberton at last,” she muttered. The remnants of the storm passed by the time she set foot on the outskirts of town, and the demon horseman felt like nothing more than a nightmare.
Despite the late hour, a couple wagons drove through the streets while liquored townsfolk huddled outside the tavern. The commotion alleviated Marlene’s remaining anxiety. Within moments, the quaint hovel she called home met her eye.
Before she could reach for the doorknob, horse hooves clomped behind her. A surge of fear welled within. When she looked back, the ghastly figure glowered at her from his mount. Marlene’s stomach flipped. The village melted away, and she stood in the middle of the woodland road once more, staring at the same signpost with faded lettering.
Marlene combed her fingers through her hair. “No, no, I was just in Pemberton!” She whispered. An unseen horse whinnied, then the demonic figure and his steed took shape on the road before her. This time his mount looked gaunt with oozing red sores on its side. The rider pulled out his time piece then clapped it shut and charged his horse toward her.
She ran for the trees, but an icy hand snatched her collar, jerking her into the horse’s festering hide. Marlene wormed in the grip as they bounced along. The rider readjusted, coiling his fingers around the back of her neck, which sent chills into the rest of her body. The woman continued to squirm until she noticed everything around her had changed. A forest still enveloped the countryside, but the trees glowed with a dull, amethyst light, and the stars shone crimson.
The world felt crisp; she could sense a pair of deer twenty yards to her left, an owl watching a vole near the top of a pine, and a rat rustling in some leaves. Far off down the road, white, misty shades glided by.
Looking down, she saw age spots marring her newly wrinkled skin. Her joints stiffened, and arthritis curled her fingers inward. It’s draining my life and pulling me into the spirit realm. The realization horrified her, but fatigue eclipsed any ounce of fight left within. Marlene had no doubt she too would soon be a shade wandering the realm.
Then to her surprise, the creature uttered a gurgling shriek and released her. Like a gust of wind, her vitality returned. Marlene swiveled her neck back and forth but saw no sign of the horseman. Thin rays of sunlight disrupted the gloom on the eastern horizon. She scrambled to her feet and hastened to town. A couple times she could have sworn she heard a horse trailing her, but every time Marlene checked, nothing was there.
Back in town, she kept her head low until she made it to her front door. Once inside, she flopped onto her bed and let exhaustion take hold. The dreams that followed displayed garish figures until at some point her psyche conjured the image of the rider that stalked her, his disgusting lips spread wide into an inhuman grin. He unleashed a croaking cackle that made every one of her hairs stand on end.
The monster stared into her soul. His gray tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. In her dream, she stood rooted, and every thought was laid bare before the demon. The horrid pong of death came back stronger than the first time, then her eyes snapped open. Birds sang, and the noonday sun made her shield her eyes. It took Marlene a minute to get her bearings, then she realized she had awoken in the middle of the road. To her right, a splintered sign read, “Pemberton 1 Mile”.
Marlene stared up at it for several seconds, trying to decide if she was still dreaming or not. Slowly she rose and surveyed her surroundings. Clenching her jaw, Marlene pivoted toward Pemberton then stopped. The smell grew stronger, but she didn’t see or hear any signs of the rider. Deciding it best to not go back to the village, she turned around, praying it would make a difference.
As she walked, the temperature steadily increased, and Marlene removed her cloak. Perspiration ran from her forehead into her eyes and, within an hour, soaked through her dress. She slowed to a shuffle, hanging her head and wishing for water. To the right, she spied an old man with a wide brimmed hat leaning against a tree, whittling something with an old, dented knife.
“Afternoon young lady!” He waved.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“What brings you out this way?”
Marlene scowled, unsure how to answer.
The man straightened and tucked his project into his pocket. “The name’s Benjamin.” He jutted out his hand.
“Marlene,” she clasped his hand.
“You’re being hunted, ain’t ya?” His voice dropped, then he shifted uncomfortably and leaned closer. “The horseman patrols here.”
“You’ve seen him?”
Benjamin nodded. “My brother saw him first then vanished. Three days later, I spotted the rider in the distance, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“What do I do?”
“It feeds off your life and fear. There is no logic behind his motives, at least none that I have found.”
Marlene’s face twisted with disappointment.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you, just help you understand. He does what he does because he can.” Benjamin unfastened a chain around his neck and handed it to Marlene. “Take this. My wife made it for me years ago. She swore it kept me safe, and I never believed her, but who knows.” He shrugged. “It’s made of silver and carries a bit of sage and salt in the pendant.”
“Don’t you need it?”
“Nah, I’ve lived a good life. At my age, death is more like waiting on an old friend to show up. If this offers some sort of comfort or protection to you, it’ll be worth it.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
Benjamin raised his hand. “Once you’ve seen him, you can feel him. I figured someone would come along, and I wanted to offer help if I could.”
“How can I ever repay you?” Marlene draped the pendant around her neck.
“Just live a long fruitful life.” He smiled, tipped his hat, then walked off into the trees.
Marlene turned back toward Pemberton, praying the charm would keep the horseman at bay.
—
R. Michael lives in rural Minnesota with his family. His works have appeared in “365 Tomorrows,” “Theme of Absence,” “Land Beyond the World Magazine,” and other publications. He enjoys reading, gaming, and walking with his border collie.
