-Ritritus- Short Story 1 M2

-Ritritus-

-Short Story 1-

(Inspired by the 4 horseman of the apocalypse)

The sky wept with tears as it was slowly suffocated by a black cloud ash and soot. The usual dusk light that extended its grasp across the land was know unknown to anyone in Ditridand. That town now only knew of one light, and that was from its own burning buildings.The smell of burning hay and wood found its way into Ritritus' nostrils and encased itself there, forever marking his mind with his major accomplishment. His eyes gleamed with a sick kind of happiness that some would consider mad. His hair was unkempt and revolting in every way possible because of its very rough touch, its fading color, and the fact that it was practically decaying didn't help his case either.

The screams of men, women, and children could be heard miles and miles away. The surrounding areas evacuated for their own safety. The closer you get to the city determined how much you could hear; as one would get closer the clash of steel against steel would be heard roaring over everything, and only half a mile away could you see a flood of people scrambling madly, as if they were not human, for their lives out of the city.

As the day went to night, the city went from being a stronghold of darkness and disturbance, to the illuminating bastion of silence. The city was assaulted in the day, and by night it was killed, or so it was thought. Ritritus stood in the courtyard just before the main gate and looked around with a small smirk on his face and a fierce proud-ness in his eyes. The wind whispered through the city, predicting of the man's fate who stood in the courtyard. Suddenly, everything seemed to stop, the wind stopped whispering, the few fires that remained died to mere embers and everything went quiet. The only sound heard was the echoing tap of hooves against pavement that come from the farthest street on the left side from the courtyard.Ritritus turned to the street, and he was instantly grasped with fear's ice cold hand and all movement of his body stopped. A pale horse stood calmly as his rider gently pulled on its reins. The rider worse a black cloak, his face was unseen, void of all light. His hands were the only part of him visible, and they were pale and decayed; human in nature but too pale and skinny to be a normal human's hand. His Head shifted it's gaze sharply and look at Ritritus, who was still grasped in fear's tight hold. The wind whispered once more, and this time it only said one thing before going quiet again "Death...." The rider snapped his reins and extended his right arm, and a ringing of steel was echoed as a long scythe appeared in the rider's right hand. The horse came full charge, and Ritritus came to his wits as the opponent manifested a scythe, and he drew his two long iron sabres that were lined with silver straight down the middle. Ritritus' hands shook slightly as the scythe he watched intently drew closer; the scythe was roughly six feet  in length, and it's blade curved from a total of a foot and 3 inches in length that drew to a very fine point. The steel of the blade did not shine, but it's purity was seen from anyone ranging from the common peasant to a lead blacksmith.At the point of impact Ritritus jumped and spun bring his blades to the side to try and use the spin to give him more power in his attack, but this did not help him in any way. When Ritritus jumped all the rider did was pull on his horse's reins and he launched his scythe into the air onto the opponent and when his horse landed. All that could be seen was a cloaked rider on a pale horse looking over his shoulder at a man laying face down on the ground. Ritritus' body lay lifeless; it was already cold and any trace of life was long gone, but no signs of external injury were seen. 

Some few survivors crouched behind crates and witnessed the whole thing, and they were in awe. The rider of the Pale Horse trotted out of the city and disappeared quickly into the calm night. Once any sign of trouble was gone, the survivors got up quietly and ran for the exit. Their eyes widened and their feet pulled them forward from the sight of Ritritus' body. The body had already decayed a great amount, and it seemed like the man died from a disease instead of a blade. When the survivors had gone, the city was left with no life. The only thing left after the survivors had was the many bodies of the dead, and a hollow city.

When the survivors came the next day to gather some things they forget, they were surprised to find that the city had crumbled as if it were decades old. Ditridand became myth after that day, for no one ever believed the survivors story, after myth it became legend, and after legend it was almost forgotten; but one person kept it alive.