This one got grim

"Why am I here?" I thought, walking through the old "haunted" house at the end of the neighborhood. The last time I was here I was only a small lad, no older than 7, so why am I feeling an urge to suddenly come here to investigate this place again? Were the ghosts taking me here?

Turns out, they were. I was dragged by figures covered in bedsheets, who for some reason were carrying torches. I thought ghosts were afraid of light? And it opened to the foyer of the mansion, with a noose hanging from the chandelier. The “ghosts” cheered as the noose tightened.

Suddenly I heard a neighing and clattering of hooves on the terrazzo. “Begone you ignorant fools! Even the afterlife can’t make you bigoted shades any smarter!” The rider slashed at my assailants with a silvery sword.

Blow came at him from left and right, and mounted riders charged and attempted to flank his steed. All were downed by the flashing blade, cling! cling! clang! The sword took care of all, through limb and torso and head.

The air was filled with screams and the blood painted the ground. Soon the bloody faces had all eyes shut. No body moved on the ground - only the grass was affected by the wind. The riders stood there, silent, smiling, for a small while, before getting down from their steeds.

They walked around inspecting the scene to insure their job was done. One of the riders stopped his job suddenly. He removed himself from the bloody scene and began scanning the surrounding area. It was clear he knew someone else was there, watching the horrific scene.

Standing in that corner yonder, who could be that shady figure, as we’re left to sit and ponder, out he came and caught a ni— “Cut it out, Narrator!” Alright, fine. The rider stared at the corner. “I always feel like, somebody’s watching me” “I’ll be watching you” came the reply.

"Through bigoted shades?" the rider cried. "I got rid of those," said the hangman, "I got these Oakleys instead." The rider came close. "These aren't Oakley," he noted soberly. "Look, the brand is Orkney." The hangman threw the sunglasses to the ground. "That Bulgarian swindler!"

“Look,” the rider said. “Let’s forget about this whole hanging thing. I can show you where to find real Oakleys.” The hangman paused. “Deal!” He freed the rider. As they rode off into the sunset he said, “But I’m bringing the noose. You never know, we might still have some fun.”