Shadows of the Hollow: A Tale Reimgine

Schoolmaster Arrival

In the spring of 1790 my trouble arrived in the form of a man. The former school master had decided to move to Terrytown to be closer to his children and grandchildren. Leaving Sleepy Hollow without a teacher for the children. After several messages had been sent to the neighboring towns, a replacement was found. Though well verse, the calling for being a school master wasnt worth my time. I made more as a blacksmith plus I have the freedom to do as I please once my tasks are completed. News of a man willing to make the journey through the countryside spread fast among the town. He arrived early that morning with only a bag in his hand. I never saw the man, having nursed a hangover from the previous night, I failed to get a glimpse of him. The folks describe him as a scarecrow that had managed to escape the field. He was tall with long arms and legs. His feet were as big as shovels and his nose was long as a woodcock's beak. Stories of his massive appetite quickly spread through the tavern when the men would come for a drink. He was kind to the children and helped their parents with the light work around the family. Others mention that he had a fine singing voice and instructed those in church on sundays. Many of the folks know that I don't come to church for it is my day of rest from the hot coals of the fire.

For several days I never crossed the school master. My job and meetings with Katrina kept me busy. It didn't help that the man arrived during the week of the full moon. I had three good friends, all were preternatural by nature, each having to hide their true self from the people and their families. To avoid being seen we ventured deep into the woods late at night. Our so-called pranks keep the locals from asking too many questions. A few nights out of the month we would go hunting, only to avoid crossing paths with any humans. Over the years my small pranks that myself and a few local boys would do have earned us a small reputation.

It was one of those evenings that I learned of the schoolmasters' advancements on Katrina. Josiah Grant, a fellow friend, told me about Crane's advancement over a bottle of rum. At first I shrugged off the rumor. The town is small and likes to talk. This is one of the reasons why Sleepy Hollow has so many ghost stories. People love to sit by the fire and talk. Kat likes to flirt but she wouldn't be interested in an old fellow like Crane. The man is twice her age. It wasn't until Elias Marshall entered with Levi Jones that they too had noticed the preagone late visit to the Van Tassel farm. Levi told me that he was passing the farm when he saw Crane knock on the door. Baltus let Ichabod inside. The piece of paper I had tucked into my vest suddenly felt heavy. A messenger boy delivered it to me while I was working. Katrina had asked for us to skip our usual ride. Instead we will meet tomorrow. For many years now we have met every Sunday evening. I would often take her on a ride. Sometimes we would return to the farmhouse to visit and to play chess. I didn't think of anything but now.

After that night my trips to the farmhouse lessened. The school master seems to know when I wish to see Katrina. One sunday evening as I rode up to the house I beheld him standing at the door in his sunday's best clothing. He had a bundle of flowers in his hand. He knocked twice and the maid opened the door for him. Hoping it would be a short visit I waited until the sun had set before riding off for home. I'm sure Kat has found another man to tease. Or so I thought.

To make things worse the man had a penchant for spreading gossip from house to house. The women were eager to hear what he had to say. What made me wary of the man was knowledge in the occult and lore of many preternaturals. He had a passion for ghost stories, folklore, supernatural, and his favorite witchcraft. He had Cotton Matther Witchcraft memorized. He would spend hours reading by the riverside reading from the yellow pages only to whistle loudly psalms on his way home. When the old dutch wives told me of his arrival at their house to hear ghost stories I knew that the man wasn't here just to be a school master. He was looking for something. No man is simply fascinated with preternatural unless he himself was one or was looking for one.

He told stories to entertain the woman but deep down he was afraid of the unknown. They said that he sat like an eager school child, stuffing his face with food as they told their tales. He was interested in the stories of witches, ghosts, devils, and the famous spector on horseback. When I inquired as to why they believed he was interested in such things they said that he is a scholarly pupil even after earning his mastership. The elder claimed that the stories keep a man young at heart. Another thought it was peculiar for a schoolmaster to have such a vast interest in old wise tales. Crane is eager to hear stories. The darker the more the man is kin to listen.

 With dark drawing near I finish bringing in the last of the wood. These women, having lost their husband to war, illness, or never married, act as sort of elders to the community. The whole town comes to their aid should they need it. For tasks such as this I usually do for them out of kindness. One of the old wives, Anneilse Verstappen is a perternatual. An elder witch, she has delivered many babies in her time. The town comes to her with their ailments. I have even had to come here a few times.

With her knowledge, she is regarded throughout the town as a healer of the old ways. Her silver hair, tied back in a loose bun, danced gently in the soft afternoon breeze. Yet, those who dared to look into her enchanting green eyes found themselves drawn into a realm of stories and wisdom. They sparkled with the vitality of youth, betraying the age of her weathered skin. Anneilse knows that I side with neither species. The other women living here don't speak of magic. If they know they are silent about it. Leaving the pile of wood close to the fire to keep them warm from the coming nights I took their payment of fresh baked bread and sweets. Anneliese followed me out to where Daredevil was tied. With the baked good tuck safely inside of a bag I tied it onto the saddle.

"Brom," she called, her voice soft and angelic even in her years. "One of the Betterson children became ill last week. The child is bedridden."

"What ails him?" I asked.

"I do not know but this sickness is strange to me. My herbal remedies are not helping. He appears to be growing weaker."

"Possibly he had bad water or sour bread. The crops are struggling this year." I say turning around to face her.

She stared at me, stained glass green eyes looking at me so intensely I nearly shuttered from her gaze. Even with her age, she is still powerful. Her magic is old, far older than any I have seen in his new land.

"The boy grows weaker each time Crane visits the home."

"Do you think Crane is doing something?"

"I wouldn't know but if my power cant help the boy he will die."

A grim subject to even mention. There are several personalities this new land shares with its twin across the sea. Death lingers here. Silent, it stalks looking for its next soul to claim. To help ease her troubled mind I told her I would visit the family to see if I can help in any way. As I turned to mount I heard her approach.

"I know who you really are and I know that you are more powerful than me." she whispered. "You may change your name and your appearance but you cannot change your past. I ask for the great Ashenrye to help the boy before he dies."

I refrain from flinching. It's been years since I've heard that name. I almost forgot it and what I did to earn that horrible name.

"That man died a long time ago. I have changed and wish to be left in peace." I said, foot placing into the stupid and climbing atop Daredevil's back. "Leave those memories alone. I will see if the family needs my help."