A whisper of wind is heard from the distant void.
Horses galloping over mossy, leaf-carpeted earth grow ever louder, the snapping of the twigs under thundering hooves a grim foreshadowing of the breaking of bones that is sure to follow.
Trees fade out of the blackness, hooking like gnarled claws over the pitch silhouette of the cloaked rider in the shadowy distance.
The Black Horseman closes the distance rapidly. Their pace increases with the fire of your stiffly-beating heart. They are close.
So are you. To demise, you are sure.
The Black Horseman is upon you in the blink of an eye. His hellsteed towers above you, so close, so close you can see the great billowing puffs of foggy breath coming from its snorting nostrils. So close, you can see your future and past in its glowing ember eyes.
The Black Horseman descends with the grace of a shadow. You cannot run. You cannot move. You are fated to watch as the Horseman moves slowly toward your ill-fated self, cape trailing grandly behind them.
The Black Horseman pitches forward face-first. You can hear the Black Horseman's terrifying yells, "FuckfuckfuckSHIT." The Black Horseman has tripped on its cape.
The Black Horseman has a nasty bruise. In retrospect, the Black Horseman knew that wearing a cape to scare the living shit out of someone was a bad idea. The Black Horseman feels dumb.
This is what the Black Horseman deserves for leaving their followers for months without so much as a how-do-you-do.
The Black Horseman is kind of a dick. .o.O.o.
Long time no speak, and the fault is entirely mine. Before I conduct business as usual, I have some amends and announcements to make. Then let us discuss my wild and wonderful adventures.
Ahem, yes, bidding hello to the 100 new followers I've gained in my absence. Real talk, you guys, that's some neat shit. I haven't posted a single little shitlet of a post in months, and look at you beautiful people, following on faith. That's like setting up camp in a mausoleum waiting for the crypt to open, because you heard the long-dead guy makes some wicked crepes. I applaud you, brave souls. Welcome aboard, but let me tell you, I don't know where going.
Next, and even more importantly, my sources say there are a whole lot of people deserving of cupcakes, a personal striptease by Mila Kunis, and a human sacrifice in their honor. Seriously, guys? You all kept following me even after the coroner rolled over my pallid body and declared the cats can eat me? I was gone so long, relatively, I transcended death, hell, I transcended zombie. I was a zombie's prison bitch. I left you guys with a blog post filled with baby animals that had long since died and shriveled up into dried puppy husks because there was no one around to feed them. That's love, yo. You guys didn't just wait by a crypt, you waited by a skeleton you WATCHED turn from flesh to bone. That's some metal business there, and for that, I lovingly dub you "zombie chasers" and want you all to know I'm truly touched. You go, Zombie Chasers, you go, my wonderful wayward sons.
Lastly, I have some giant apologies to make. I made a lot of promises, and I broke a lot of promises. For everyone who wrote me something and never got anything back, I am so, so sorry. For those lucky ones that did, I am also sorry, because chances are, the story sucked, because I literally wrote myself to appendicitis. No, not really, but I did get appendicitis, and I did write more than a human should. I am very, very sorry to everyone who I double-crossed, I didn't intend to, and I want everyone to know I enjoyed every single story written for me. They were incredible, you guys are incredible.
I'll make it up to you, somehow. I'll send you each a piece of me, and I don't mean heartfelt stories, I mean bits of my disembodied appendix. Nothing says "I'm sorry," more than dead, shriveling organ flesh, amiright, ladies? Girls always ARE talking about wanted a boy's heart, those bloodthirsty supernatural bitches.
Other less-than-lovely things happened to me in my absence as well, but you don't want to hear about those, it's a drag. Fact is, I'm back, I'm all good, and I missed you wonderful word wizards.
And this time, to prevent another unexpected disappearance, I'm going to wear protection. That is, in a manner of speaking, if anyone wants to find me on another site in case I don't show up here for a while, let me know. You give me a social network, I'll give you my user, if I have it. Hit me up any time, I only bite when the moon is full.
Or if I run out of Nutella, but if that's the case you better fuckin' run mate, because I will be needing human flesh to substitute that godly hazelnut chocolate goodness.
Also, I've been deliberating linking my fanfiction.net account on here too, but that's only for those brave folks who really, REALLY don't mind intense, vengeful sex. Worse than what I have on here. Yeah. Think about that. Let me know, kitties.
That's all for now, methinks. Also, this just in: I can't send bits of my appendix, quite sure there's a law against that sort of shenanigans. Also, I owe Satan my body and soul, and I'm pretty sure he's going to want all he can get, cheap bastard.