I was walking down a road I'd walked before lost in my thoughts when a heard the sound of hooves, I turned and saw a horse that was black as night the horse looked at me with eyes of spit fire red, I walked up to it and stared it stared back I placed my hand upon the horse's head, the horse made a sound and nudged it a faint smile drifted across my face as the horse turned and ran. I walked the road again the next night the stars were bright and not a cloud in sight, familiar hooves pounded behind me the horse had returned to me again, it whinned and snorted as I ran my hand over its snout it's fur was soft like that of downy yet corse like spines, the horse's red eyes glowed still like fire mist settled over the road and vanished leaving me alone again. A man saw me and the horse hidden in the brush his eyes were clouded I knew he was blind, his hand trembled as they took mine he gasped I didn't know that my hands were cold but the man knew, he told me about the horse of Death lost it was the horse came to those it found worthy but would bring Death with it, I turned from the man and walked back home some looked at me in shock for no one saw the horse and lived. The next night a mist hovered over the road I walked something was different the air was cold, I had seen the horse twice and lived to see a new day this night I held a black rose in my hand knowing the tale, Death came to those who'd stood before the horse three times after that they vanished as if they were never there, still I walk my road not knowing what to behold the air was cold like winter ice the night shrouded in shadow. The sound of hooves came this time before me as proof that this time was different, I watched the mist part as the horse came with it's rider Death had come with his scythe on his back and his face hidden, the horse stoped before meas I held out my hand for it it rubbed against my hand as Death watched, I looked up with certain eyes that I would die with an uncertain hand I held out the rose for Death unafraid. His hand reached out for the rose with gental motions I wasn't afraid of him and stood still, Death took the rose from my hand and inhaled the scent the horse reared up and whinned before settling down again, I looked at Death as he offered his hand no one had mentioned this but with a calm hand and clear mind I took his hand, soon I was sitting upon the horse with Death at my back we road into the night never looking back. I had ventured past the gates of life and death a new unlife took hold as I traveled with Death, often I would return to the place I was raised listening to a new tale told by all of Death and I, the one who stood before the horse and never ran I who saw the blind man and listened, but it was also I who stood before Death unafraid to travel at his side untill the end of time.