I was walking up my driveway when I heard it.

Or, to be more specific, when I stopped hearing it. The complete silence was palpable. It was a warm summer night and the crickets and other nocturnal fauna were in full symphony.

But it stopped.

Everything stopped.

It was silent to the point that I could hear my heart beating. I reached for the door but found myself unable to go through the door. Something was drawing me towards the street. I turned around on my porch taking a step towards the street.

Then I heard it.

I wasn’t sure at first, but I swear it sounded like horse hooves. It couldn’t be. This was the suburbs. There wasn’t a horse for miles.

But it was all I could hear. It was the only sound in the world. There was no traffic, no dogs barking, no neighbors talking in the distant.

Just horse hooves.

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

And I saw it.

I saw him. I saw a dark robed figure on a pale horse riding down the middle of the street.

Suddenly, I could see my breath. It was freezing. All I wanted to do was to turn around and go back inside and hide under the covers. But I couldn’t move.

The rider paused just he was about to pass by.

The whole world stopped for a moment, and the figure turned towards me.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and I saw a single white, bony, inhumanly long finger raise to the rider’s mouth, as if to tell me to stay quiet.

It was the easiest thing to do as no matter how much I tried, I could not scream.

The rider turned and continued on his way riding the pale horse past me.

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

Click. Clack.

As soon as I could I raced into the house and locked the door and didn’t leave the house for a week.

And that was the night I saw Death riding a pale horse. I never found out who he was there for.