The Five Horsemen

• Olivia Brown , Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

Behind every show there is a puppet master pulling the strings. His devious hands moving the figures across the stage in some grotesque dance; bringing life to the hollow. That's Death's role in life; he ties strings to the limbs of souls and allows them to dance. Yet all great shows must come to an end. Their strings must be cut.
Death knows no haste. He walks calmly down the streets, his hands tucked neatly into his suit pockets. The air is harsh against his chilled skin, yet his body remains rigid. His heart decayed long ago, along with his hope for humanity. They don't notice but Death does. Beneath the chill there is another harshness. For today was the day- Armageddon
For centuries his brothers had worked to plant the seeds of their decay, imbedding themselves into this fickle nation. Death can feel their presence among the mortals.
A man behind him erupts into a violent coughing fit, hands outstretched as he gasps for breath. Pestilence has finally reemerged. Since the beginning of history, he has plagued civilisations, burdening households with his final sickness. Neither weapons of steel nor the chemicals that humanity depend on can truly defeat him, and he's returned stronger than ever. Snip snip.
And where Pestilence goes Famine lingers. A woman, weakened by hunger, begs for food. Death stops and places a coin in her hand — a final act of kindness. Famine may not be as swift as his brothers, but he's just as menacing. He can bring ruin upon the strongest of men. Nothing can quench his hunger for pain. Snip snip.
A man roughly shoves past Death, nearly knocking him down. Overcome, he clenches his fist and turns around, but the man only smiles at him and continues walking. Death reflects on the strange encounter, but it isn't until he passes yet another street brawl does he realise exactly who the man was; War had always had a flair for the theatrics. War revels in inciting malice in the hearts of the good. Snip snip.
The hour is growing late and there's still one brother Death hasn't encountered yet. He's always been coy, doing his depraved work in the dark; in the shadows of leaders' offices, or between the pages of history books. Yet he's shed more blood than his brothers combined. Death begins to doubt that he will show until he passes man dressed similarly. They nod to each other. The man is no mere mortal, but humanity's fatal flaw — Ignorance. Humanity acknowledges the others, but Ignorance has no odes to his name - no man would praise their own mistakes. Snip snip.
Finally doomsday can begin. Yet the most painful truth is that humanity could have avoided all their woe if they did one simple thing - acknowledge Ignorance. To fight against his power and admit their own weaknesses.
Behind Death, a man falls — as if he was elevated by strings that had now been cut — and he doesn't rise.