The Nuckelavee

A sudden and unexpected scraping and clopping strikes up behind you as you walk upon the road at an unsettlingly late hour. You quickly turn to behold a shape, which at first is difficult to comprehend, but as you do you can feel your body tense and the sweat of dread begin to flow.

Walking toward you is what seems to be a horse, slowly and unsteadily moving with its head hung low. Upon its back is a rider, though something seems horribly wrong as this person shifts and flops about like a flimsy doll atop the mount. Their head rolls and snaps around like it's strung onto the body with a string-like broken neck. 

And then, as it gets closer, you see the skin, or lack thereof. The horse and rider both are completely barren of it, with muscles and organs and veins exposed to the air, glistening grotesquely under the meager lights of the road and the starlight above. What's more, there is no separation between rider and horse, for they are hideously fused.

Before it is upon you, you notice the face of the head of what you had believed to be a rider. It is no human face, for its mouth is wide and snout-like, and from it runs a stream of foul-smelling black, tar-like ichor. Only a single red eye sits within that head.

In what will be your last moments on Earth, you have just encountered the nuckelavee.