The Rider
The town of Sunnyside lived in a state of numb bliss. Adults went missing sometimes, and children too, but no one worried. They were perfectly content; calm and limp in the jaws of death. The haze that shrouded Sunnyside never abated, but it didn’t matter. Because eventually they stopped missing the sun.
So the people only stared with blank, glassy eyes as a newcomer rode into town. Clad in a full metal suit to match their armor-clad steed, the rider led their mount through the oppressive smog with poise. They surveyed Sunnyside, as if in search of signs of life. Then they brought their horse to a stop in front of the Sunnyside Diner — the lone storefront with its lights still on, a neon purple sign blinking on and off in the window.
The rider stepped through the doorway and a bell rang. Something dashed across the floor behind the serving counter. The rider put a hand on the sheath at their belt, then relaxed as a boy stepped out. “Is that a real horse out there?” He said. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“It’s a kind of horse,” The rider said coolly. “Child, can you tell me what has happened here?”
The boy shook his head; fear in his eyes. So the rider knelt down on the tiled floor to meet the child face to face and removed their helmet. Long, straight locks of golden hair fell out first. The rider brushed it back and met the boy’s eyes with her own. “If I’m to help your people, you must answer me,” she said, her gunmetal eyes boring deep into his pupils.
The boy took a deep, shaking breath and explained (the best he could). He babbled about those who had gone missing — his family, his friends, even his dog — and how no one seemed to care as night after night more left their homes, all at once, trudging lifelessly up the hill to the Sunnyside Cemetery. The rider put the pieces together. She knew what she was dealing with. And she knew she needed you.
