The Lady From Sleepy Hollow

Ichabod

I pull her to me, hesitantly placing my hands on her waist. The proximity between us is small enough that I can feel her hot breath tickle my exposed neck and collarbone. If I ever felt any insecurities previously, they were immediately demolished by her profession.

She studies me, a pink flush flooding her cheeks. Her eyes glance between mine, as her hands rest between her chest and my own.

The next second blurs, and her lips crash into mine. My mind, wired by logic and reasoning, loses all control and sense of reality. This sensation of her leaning into me on her tiptoes, her hands holding my face as if I'd break in her grasp as she kisses me in a soft, hesitant way, makes my thoughts scatter like fall leaves in a strong gust of wind.

She pauses, and pulls her lips away from mine, lowering herself back to her normal height. Embarrassment floods her demeanor once more, a smile threatening to break her fragile collective manner.

She kissed me. The fair maiden of Sleepy Hollow whom I adore so deeply, kissed me.

Suddenly, she frowns, and glances at the door. Still in a state of pleasant shock, I ask in a distant tone, "What is it?"

She looks at me again, her confidence returning. She swiftly places a gentle kiss on my lips, and I close my eyes. I only open them again when she leaves my lips to be chilled by the air.

Her eyes are alight with an incomparable determination. Mary pulls away from me, grabbing my hand and placing a finger upon her lips in a hint to remain silent.

I don't ask her anything as she leads me toward my door. As quiet as a mouse, she opens the door and peeks out.

After a moment, she shuts the door and locks it, turning back to me. "Mary? What is—?"

She cuts me off with another kiss, far more passionate than the previous two. The very motion forces me backward, until my back thumps into the room's support beam. Her hand drops mine and find themselves gripping my sides. She trails her slender fingers up my sides to my chest, leaving a burning trail of heat everywhere they went.

The fiery sensation she's influencing me with is unimaginable. I haven't the faintest idea of where to put my hands in turn, immobilized with surprise and bliss. She drops her shawl on the ground, her bare shoulders exposed to me. Part of me wants to grab her by the shoulders to pull her closer, but also to stop her, afraid of any consequences should she desire to take this farther.

I gently do the latter, and she parts from me, confusion settling between us. She must've realized how she let go of control of her emotions, because she apologizes immediately. "I'm sorry... I-I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize. I am certain you know how I feel too," I respond in a soft murmur, a small smirk tugging at my lips. She blushes and runs a hand up and down her arm.

I look down at her shawl and pick it up, proceeding to wrap it around her shoulders for her. "Here, otherwise you'll catch a cold."

"Thank you, Ichabod," she whispers sheepishly. I smile again and lower my lips to hers in a gentle caress, feeling my own confidence surge through my being.

This time she's the one frozen in surprise as I plant the gentlest of kisses on her soft lips. She sighs against me in a state of joyful content, one hand rising to hold my cheek within it.

Seconds that I've only ever dreamt of happening tick by, and she parts from me, leaving my heart thrumming from her affections. She smiles softly, biting her bottom lip in her shy modest way, and murmurs once more, "Thank you."

I smirk back minutely, taking both her hands into mine, studying her delicate fingers in delighted curiosity. "Mary... As much as I've been told that I should leave this place, knowing your true feelings, I can't bear to be away from you."

I lift my gaze to hers, and shake my head subtly. "Not anymore."

A smile spreads across her face and she embraces me in a tight but comfortable hug. I in turn drape my arms around her small frame, burying my face into her hair and neck. My gaze falls to the floor, anxiety finding itself to loom over my head for tonight's meeting. Even if I don't want to leave... I fear they'll drive me away, and what'll come of Mary and her family when I do.

________ Baltus ________

A distant bell is tolling as I wait on my horse, watching my wife kneeling among the spaced trees and gathering arrowroot flowers. Her pale complexion glows in the little moonlight that is visible behind the overcast sky, in contrast to her dark dress that blends in with the earth.

​​"Come on, hurry up," I urge her, getting impatient. The meeting bell starts tolling in the distance, calling for us to come immediately.

She still doesn't budge, not at all fazed by my urgency. Thunder begins rolling across the sky, and a pit forms in my stomach. Anxiously, I glance toward the village, then back to the trees where, to my horror, I see him.

The Headless Horseman.

He moves slowly toward Lady Van Tassel, calmly unsheathing his sword. The metal scraping slices through the air.

My wife doesn't move at all, completely unaware of the fear that undoubtedly sweeps over my face.

Air escapes my lungs upon the utter terror I feel at the fast approaching danger, and upon instinct I find myself racing away from the very place I was moments ago.

Leaving my wife behind.