Published 'The Equinox' 1994
As I ambled across the field by means of a fading footpath, the broken shadows shafting over the grass slightly out of tune with the clouds, I was surprised to see a solitary rider cantering around the outskirts.
I had no particular reason, of course, to rack my brains over the identity of the only other human being within sight. For the sake of convenience, I assumed the rider’s gender. He ignored me pointedly, turning his head away at every tight turn of his steed.
I was en route for the Woodman pub., not exactly to celebrate my original entrance to this wide world, but thinking back on it with benefit of the foresight I originally enjoyed before these events, to mark the occasion of my exit from it.
It is strange, perhaps, that nobody celebrates the anniversary of their own death. On the other hand, not strange at all.
The rider, eventually, after much reining in and snorting hooves, turned her skull’s head towards me.
