If only I had known what the consequences of my actions would be, then perhaps my brother John would still be here. It all happened a month ago in October, the trees were turning from green to orange, the warm summer heat was drifting away bringing the cool fall breeze, and everyone was anticipating the coming of Halloween. Here in Sleepy Hollow Halloween is a cherished holiday since we are the hometown of what people used to think was just a silly story, the frightful tale of the Headless Horseman.
Our town’s tale as long as I could remember, has attracted tourists in search of truth to the terrifying tale. Having grown up in Sleepy Hollow, I have always believed it was just a scary story to keep children from going outside after midnight. But then one day I discovered my family’s dark secret. I had found truth to the tale.
I had found a chest that appeared to be from the 1700’s, locked away in the attic. The chest was made of a deep dark oak; it had beautiful Victorian-era engravings of the moon and a horse. Inscribed on the front read the words “He who unleashes it shall be the one who kills it”. Overcome in curiosity I start to wipe off all the dust of the old chest to find more clues to what is inside the chest. As I cleaned the lid of the chest I found another inscription, it was the name of a man who I have heard of many times in this town, his name was Ichabod Crane.
Now I am really overwhelmed with curiosity, I begin asking myself questions that I do not have the answers to. Why is this here? Was there really an Ichabod Crane? How would my family know him if he was? But I did have one answer, the answer to what’s inside. I quickly make my way back to the chest and pry at it to open it. “Crap it’s locked” I said. “I got to find the key to open it”. Then all sudden I remember that my brother inherited an old key when my parents passed. I call him up and ask if he still had it, luckily he did. “You might want to come over to Mom and Dad’s, there’s something here you might take an interest to” I told him.
“What is it?” my brother John asked. “I think it’s a chest from the 1700’s, the weird part is that the nameIchabod Crane is inscribed on it”. “You mean the guy who was killed by the Headless Horseman in Sleepy Hollow?” he asked. I told him to let me see the key, as I put the key into the lock I felt a shiver rundown my spine as if there was something warning me what was to come next.
As I turned the key and heard the click I slowly raised the lid and inside we found a blanket wrapped around something. On top of the blanket was a letter. The letter was from Ichabod Crane, who was a school teacher like the story showed him as; he is also my Great-Great-Grandfather. Shocked to learn this new information I continued to read the letter.
The story had been wrong about Crane’s encounter with the Horseman; it wasn’t by chance that he ran into him on that late evening. He had been trying to put an end to the reign of terror caused by the Horseman. Ichabod researched the death of the horseman in the town’s records of the war and found out where the Horseman had died. He went forth to the scene of battle where the Horseman goes in nightly quest of his head; Ichabod searched the area during the day for weeks. After three weeks of searching and making calculations, he finally found the spot where the head should’ve landed. Beneath four feet of earth was what remained of the Horseman’s skull. He stated that to end the curse of the Horseman he had to be in control of the head, to do this he had locked it away inside the chest which was made of an old oak tree enchanted by a Wiccan in the town. The chest would contain the horseman’s spirit stopping him from terrorizing anymore people and be passed down through his kin.But if it were to be opened his soul would reclaim is body unleashing the nightmare upon the town.
After reading that line that’s when I realized the chest was starting to release a black fog. I screamed at my brother to run but he was to frozen in fear to move. The fog engulfed him leaving nothing of him behind as it evaporated through the ceiling of the attic. The spirit of the Horseman was gone and was headed towards the Horseman’s grave to reclaim his body.
I went back to the chest to look for anything that could help me; I looked inside the blanket that was still unopened inside the trunk. Inside was like the letter had said the shattered remains of the Horseman’s skull. I looked around the chest in hopes to find anything else that could help stop the ghost of the Horseman from coming back, nothing. I grabbed the blanket with its delicate contents, and ran to the kitchen to grab a knife for a weapon. I hopped inside my car and sped out of the driveway, racing towards the church graveyard.
As I reached the graveyard there was a black cloud hovering over it. Then all a sudden the cloud started to form a spiral going into the ground. I frantically rushed over to where the cloud had spiraled into. I felt the ground start to shake, it was moving out from under my feet. Slowly through the ground rose the hessian’s dead body, his horse vaporized out of nowhere. He reached for his sword and swiftly pulled it out pointing the tip of the sharp blade towards my chest. I began sprinting with fear when I remembered what the inscription on the chest had said, “He who unleashes it shall be the one who kills it”. I thought to myself “If I’m going to die, then I might as well die trying to stop this ghost”.
I stopped dead in my tracks with the Horseman charging at me, I turned around and held up the skull for him to see. The Headless horseman quickly stopped his horse, dismounted from it and slowly walked towards my way with his long sword still in his hands. “I have your head” I shouted “and you can have it in return for going away forever”. What was I doing, I’m trying to bargain with a ghost known for killing people. I kept my ground as he approached me, he was within feet of me and I was trembling in terror. He slowly reached for the skull and quickly snatched it away from my hand.
He placed his head where his neck should be, his muscles and tendons slowly crawled unto his face, eyes grew into his empty sockets, hair started to sprout from the top of his head, and in a matter of seconds his transformation was complete. His skin was pale as snow, his blue eyes glistened in the retreating afternoon light, and his hair was as brown as the dirt he was raised from. He then started to speak to me, “You are much like him, willing to fight but not brave enough to do anything”. “I said you could have your head back if you would leave forever” I told him. He replied “I never agreed to those terms”, he laughed and raised his sword ready to strike me. But I took out the knife that I had brought with me and plunged it into his chest, he screamed in demonic agony. His body started to breakaway and turn into gray dust,his sword fell to the ground as he crumbled and the ashes scattered in the fall breeze.
Through this frightful experience I learned that Ichabod Crane is my Great-Great-Grandfather, the headless Horseman was real, and that human curiosity is a killer. I lost my brother because of it. I locked the sword in the chest and buried the key in the backyard of my parent’s house. I never told anyone about that day and I don’t plan on ever telling anyone. My tale of the Headless Horseman is one that I’ll keep until my dying day.