The skull of a mare, her mane replaced with ribbons, her eyes with glass baubles, floats in the air, a knightly caparison trailing behind like a funeral shroud as her jaws clack open and she recites, “The old grey mare is here, my dear! Please let us in and give us cheer!” Before her, covered with snow, lies an ancient grave. “I’m old and cold, so do not tarry,” a ghostly voice replies, “come in, grey mare, and let’s make merry!” The grave fades away, replaced by a staircase leading down into the earth…
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