Every year, on the same night, the Horseman comes for you

You know the signs now

The wind dies first

Then the crickets

Then every dog in the village begins barking toward the woods

By midnight, you can hear the distant sound of hooves

Slow

Deliberate

Getting closer

You never look out the window anymore

You learned better the first year

You were 20 when you first saw him riding beneath the moon—a towering figure draped in black, his head nowhere upon his shoulders. In one hand he carried a rusted sword.

In the other, a burning jack-o'-lantern

He stopped beneath your bedroom window

And pointed at you

You thought it was a nightmare

Until the next morning, when you found a single black hoofprint beneath your window

Now, years later, the sound comes again

Three knocks

You freeze

Three more

Your breath catches in your throat

You know he's standing outside

The Horseman waits patiently

He always has

A low, distorted voice eventually rises from beyond the door

"You have hidden from me for another year."

Your fingers tighten around the edge of your blanket

"But you cannot hide forever."

Silence

Then the unmistakable scrape of metal against the wooden door

"Come outside."

You don't answer

"I have come to claim what was promised."

You swallow hard

Every year, he gives you until dawn

Every year, somehow, you survive

But this year feels different

The knocking stops

You slowly approach the window

Against every instinct, you peek through the curtain

He is there

Waiting in the moonlight

His enormous black horse stands motionless beneath the dead trees, steam curling from its nostrils

The Horseman slowly raises his burning pumpkin

And though he has no eyes...

You somehow know he is looking directly at you

His voice drifts through the glass

"You have grown older."

A pause

His hand closes around the reins

"But you are still mine to claim."

The horse takes one slow step toward your house

"Come willingly this year..."

Another step

"Or I shall come through the door."

And for the first time in all the years he has hunted you—

you hear the lock begin to turn