Shadows of the Hollow: A Tale Reimgine

The Story

We smiled as we left the study. Baltius went off to join his guest by the fire while I went to find where Crane had slithered off to. I ventured into the main part of the house to grab a few more pieces of food and drink. Of course Crane was there, his plate high with food. Katrina was gossiping with some girls. Crane added one more piece of pie to his plate before calling for Katrina. I step in front of him.

"Where are you off to schoolmaster?"

"Nowhere that concerns you. I have a prompting question to ask a certain lady."

He tried to step aside, easily I blocked him.

"Your question will have to wait for now. It's time for the ladies to start their quilting while the men gather by the fire to tell stories. Surely a fine scholar such as yourself has a good story to share."

My hand gripped his shoulder tightly making sure the man got the message and effortlessly turned him away from the women. With that I led him away from Katrina and into the parlor where everyone else awaited. The men moved closer to the fire where stories were told of past wars and more importantly of all ghost stories were told. Once all the men were in the room bottles of ale were passed around as everyone found a place to sit by the fire. The fire light cast the room into a soft-amber glow all the evening at bay. Lord van tassell clapped twice drawing our attention to him.

"Now that it's time for some tales," he said, his pipe tucked in between his teeth. "Come and gather by me so that my old ears can hear."

A few soft giggles came but quickly died. I refused the ale but took a few puffs from my pipe as the old man told stories of the war. When they grew tired of war stories, the haunting stories began. Crane sat, eyes wide as he shoveled food into his neverending stomach. When it came time for Crane to tell his tale the senior man was eager to begin. The langy body was not the only abnormal size item the school master processed. He told a story of a witch strangely this witch who he called Abigail reminded me of a certain Abigail in Massachusetts some years prior. As he brought his story to a closer a few men clapped at his tail.

"Cotton Mathers must have been a busy man," I say. "Strange how your toe is closely related to his account in Salem."

The skinny whelp only smiled as he took a bite from his pie.

"My dear fellow, you have much to learn from those dark days. Witches ran amok in Salem."

"So did fools." I countered. "They ran amok as if they had their heads carried away by a cannonball. We have enough galloping hessians as is."

"The headless horseman is just a story." Crane said. "This land is old and such stories have been told in his town for years."

Annoyed with the feeble little man I said calmly.

"I met the headless horseman one night. I challenged the spectator to a race. His horse was powerful and fast. But he was no match for Daredevil."

Crane stared at me. The boys beside me knew what was needed to set the plan into motion. With a blunt smile I rise from the old chair, taking the center of the room I place the pipe down on the table. If this man wishes to do battle with me he has chosen the wrong foe. I don't need spells, weapons, or claws for him. All I need is to frighten him and this is the best way. I leaned closer to the fire, the flickering flames casting ominous shadows across my face. If Crane wants to have a battle of words and not fist I will gladly give it to him.

"It was a night cloaked in an unsettling silence, the kind that sends shivers racing down your spine," I began, my voice low and gravelly. "It is said that the spirit of the headless horseman roamed these dark paths, seeking his lost head but always finding only the terrified souls of unsuspecting travelers. I had been returning home from a late visit to the tavern. As my horse trotted along the path, the air grew heavy with an oppressive silence, pierced only by the sudden sound of galloping hooves echoing in the distance. Startled, I turn to see a shadowy figure, cloak in darkness emerge from the mists—saddled upon a midnight black steed, his menacing presence palpable, the monstrous horse mounted by a headless apparition, its spectral presence illuminated only by the faint glimmer of starlight.

Seeing is believing, my friends, but I wasn't going to be frightened by this spector. Not many men can say that they lived to tell of their encounter. In a bold move I challenged the horseman to a race to the old bridge where he cannot cross. Without a word the Horseman charged at me with a terrifying haste, wielding a bloody saber in his hand. Despite not having a head the chilling sound of the horseman's sinister laughter echoed through the trees. Spurring Daredevil forward we race through the dark hollow, his laughter echoing throughout the tree. I urged Daredevil to get to the bridge, the same he dared not cross before the hessian had a chance to take my head.

The chilling silhouette of the headless horseman loomed behind me, his horse's hooves thundering like a storm approaching. Fog clung to the ground, swirling like restless spirits, and the moon hung low, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. The sound of the horseman's galloping grew louder, a relentless pursuit that sent shivers down my spine. I dared not look back, focusing instead on the wooden archway ahead that promised sanctuary. As I reached the bridge, a wave of heat washed over me, contrasting sharply with the cold night air. Suddenly, the horseman surged forward, his spectral form illuminated by an otherworldly flame that flickered around him like a halo of bristone. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the fire swirling and crackling, casting chaotic shadows that danced across the stone. In an instant, the horseman reared back, and with a deafening roar, he vanished into a whirlwind of flames, leaving only a trail of scorched earth and the lingering scent of smoke in his wake. I stood at the edge of the bridge, breathless and wide-eyed, the echoes of his fury still resonating in the silence that followed."

To this day I refuse to venture out to that area at night. I'm not afraid of the spector but I'm no fool. So beware my friend when you ride home this evening. He's out there, waiting and watching, and remember any head will do. Even yours."