A Dark Rider

people were screaming, as they have when he got on his horse moments earlier, as they will when he leaves. he rode through town. it was nightfall. he knew, that before he left town, more people would find the bodies there, broken and lifeless, and even more chaos would ensue. but he wouldn't worry abotu theat. he would be out of the town before anyone could ask who had done this, before anyone could place him at the scene, at the place this had happened.
he was outside the town now. as he had predicted, more people were screaming. smirking, he rode faster into the night, moving to the next town.
dark as night, his black cape whipping behind him, he rode with the protection of the night. his horse was as dark as his cape, the mane darker, if that were possible. they flew fast and hard down the trail to the next town.
the town came into view as the first of the sun's rays peeked over the horizon. quickly he rode his steed into town. tithering the horse to a stake near a turough of water, the dark rider walked into an inn in search of some food.
at a table in the farthest corner, the rider ate his meal of gruel and hardbread. whispers of some dark rider reached his ear. he looked at the room from under his dark hood, his hands breaking his bread before he ate it. he kept at this until he couldn't stand it anymore.
"what do they say about this night rider, as you so call him?" he asked in a gravelly voice. silence ensued. "what, exactly, do they say?" he asked again.
murmurs rippled around the room, for their storied rider was amoung them.
"answer me," he growled.
"he rides at night," one brave man answered, "on the finest dark-black steed. when he come, Death is certain to follow. The dark rider come, Death is near."
"surely. some say his horse is Death. still others say the rider is Death, hisself," another added.
the dark rider turned to the men who answered. he told them, "consider yersel's warned. ye who answered, Death will surely let you alone, you and yer families. ye be marked with protection 'till sunup - Death will pass."
the rest were hesitant.
"sir... wh-what of the rest of us?" one man asked.
"Death will come surely as the sun sets," the rider answered. "he takes who he wants, then leave. prepare yersel's. when Death is here, there is nothing to save yer souls."
as the rider finished speaking, his hooded cloak became a hooded gown. his hands turned to bony fingers and palms, his face to a skill. he swooped down on those souls. like the evening before, he took his share of souls, let some live and allowed chaos and fear ensue.