pale horse

I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, a figure cloaked in shadow, exuding an aura of foreboding. The horse, an eerie shade of pale, almost translucent, seemed to embody the essence of mortality itself. Its eyes, dark and hollow, bore into the souls of those who dared to meet its gaze. Death’s skeletal hands clutched the reins with a grip that spoke of inevitability and finality. As the horse moved forward, the very air seemed to chill, the ground beneath its hooves blackening as though scorched by an unseen fire.