The Lady From Sleepy Hollow

Ichabod

I am in the empty white church once again, hiding behind a pew as my small, child self. My eyes are locked on the red door at the end of the aisle.

Ahead, across the church, the red door opens... my father enters the church, the door shutting behind him. He is emotionless as he almost glides past. I blink and, if I am mistaken, he seems to appear headless.

I duck down in fear as haunting chains jangle with each swaggered step the man takes, and my eyes travel to the red door he left from.

I am beyond lucky to have not been seen by my father. Or by that headless figure.

I rise, beginning to move out from behind the pew, and forward towards the door my father had left from. As I approach the red door, it creaks open in the most eerie way, revealing a room filled with horrible contraptions and torturous inventions.

I swallow down my fear, taking close observation. The room contains iron cuffs, thumb screws, knives, and needles of all kinds. Although, the one that has captured my attention was a spiked chair. It is fitted with many inch-thick spikes, adorned with leather straps for holding down the "accused."

I back away, terrified, then see a shaft of light cut across a large, sarcophagus-like shape of a device in front of a spiked chair.

The Iron Maiden.

I look up to the slit of space in the Iron Maiden's face where I can see someone's eyes. My name is sung out by my mother's voice, and immediately, I know where my mother lies. She stares at me with wide eyes.

Open eyes. Dead eyes.

I let out a strangled cry, and run to the Iron Maiden, trying to pull it open, clawing at the lock to no avail.

Finally, I back away, choking on misery. I look around in despair, staggering back. I fall onto the spiked chair, my hands being pierced by the spikes, pressing deep into my palms.

I pull my hands away from the chair as I sob, glancing at the fresh stinging wounds. Blood runs down from my hands. I look down and sees the cat is there, looking up at him. The cat reaches up to rub its head against my tear-stained face.

The Iron Maiden creaks, and I look up at it, a shiver shooting down my spine. It slowly opened, and my mother, who was held in by a large pole stuck right in her, came out along with a massive pool of blood. Her dead eyes stayed on mine.

________ Mary ________

I sit at the edge of Ichabod's bed, my hand resting on his. I rub my thumb gently over his smooth skin, hoping he is feeling okay. I notice tears just beneath his eye lashes, which leave me to believe he is dreaming of something horrible.

I intake a quick, short, surprised breath when Ichabod gasps awake, his eyes filled with fright. He has been sobbing in his sleep, and has jerked up out of his dream straight into my awaiting embrace.

"Ichabod, everything is all right," I murmur as his arms tighten around me. "I am here."

As we sit on the bed, I hold him, calming him with the gentility a mother would with her child. As he breathes in heavily, Ichabod slowly wraps his arm around me, burying his face into my hair.

"Shh... you were dreaming," I murmur to him, stroking his raven hair with my fingers.

​​He trembles, whispering, "Yes. Things I had forgotten... And would not like to remember."