Impediments of Our Existence Chapter 1: A Different Smile, a sleepy hollow fanfic

Title: Impediments of our Existence 06-09-2004

Author: Vianne Lee

Setting: Sleepy Hollow, NY 1802

Disclaimer: I do not own Ichabod Crane, Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman's skull or anything from the book, "The Headless Horseman," by Washington Irving. I do not own Ichabod Crane, Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman's skull or anything from the Paramount Picture film, "Sleepy Hollow." I do own, however, any new characters, ideas, exc. Any reproduction is unintentional.

The following novel is a sequel to the Paramount Picture film, "Sleepy Hollow," based on the book, "The Headless Horseman," by Washington Irving.

A Different Smile

I had just moved to a small village; a village where everybody knows everyone and not often does a secret go unheard. Every member of the community did as they were expected. No more, no less – each day, one after the other.

Newcomers, like myself, were neither wanted nor welcomed. Frowns and scowls came often, and therefore, I kept to myself…for a little while anyway.

I had been leasing a tiny, one-room cottage on the skirts of the village. I fared well there, but there was only one reason I adored the little shack; the two apple trees that grew just outside the northern window. I found myself looking particularly forward to autumn, when the couple of trees would bear delicious red fruit.

However, it was not autumn, but late summer and I frequently walked the two miles from my cottage to the small brook that lay on the edge of a small meadow. Hours would pass while I collected smooth stones, or the wild flowers that flourished there. I always referred to this place as my own, until one peaceful evening when I discovered an entirely new way to look at it.

I had been sitting in the meadow's soft grasses, humming softly a little tune I had learned as a child. While doing this, I had been gathering wild flowers. Freshly in their bloom, my bouquet was rapidly increasing its number and exploding with color every time a new blossom was added.

The sun had just begun to set, disappearing behind the rolling hills of the countryside. In the east, I noticed a vast blanket of dark rain clouds sneaking upon the vivid colors of dusk to the west. I had been comparing east from west, cloud from cloud, when my concentration broke from the rustling leaves and the snapping of twigs from the wooded brake to the west. I did not rise from the position I currently held, but just sat there as the sounds became more strident and clear. What, or who, was making such a racket? Or worse, what was approaching me? A wild animal? I looked around beside me and realized that I had no method of defense, if I would have to resort to it. Terrified, I froze and imagined the worse.

Abruptly, from the wood, the creator of the rumpus made an appearance. My heart leaped and I gasped, but not of fright. Standing before me was the most beautiful spectacle I had ever witnessed. It was not the wild animal that I had feared, but a man, mounted atop a stocky, grullo steed. He sat his saddle straight and proper, his attire black, few shades darker than that of his mount. He seemed to hold a dark demeanor, as his hair was also the same black as his clothing. It was neatly combed and gently framed his face. Because of this, his skin seemed to cast a fair complexion, yet surprisingly, it was extremely appealing. His hair accented the fine features of this face; the high cheekbones and pronounced jaw line. However, his most mystifying feature was, by far, the most breathtaking. His dark eyes were full of emotion, a life within itself. He silhouetted against the green of the trees and the setting sun's blaze reached and touched him, producing an orange glow that seemed to erupt from his body.

Bewildered, I rapidly rose to my feet, the mass of flowers that had accumulated in my skirt fluttered to the ground forming a nest around my bare ankles. I opened my mouth to say something, anything at all, but no words escaped my lips. I was speechless, for I had nothing to say to this stranger who had wondered into my meadow, interrupted my thoughts, and literally scared me out of my wits! I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and turn them a soft tint of crimson. I was frustrated and slightly embarrassed by my actions.

I couldn't just stand there; this moment was awkward enough. Slowly, I knelt down and began recollecting my scattered bouquet, keeping on eye on the stranger. From the far corner of my eye, I noticed a smile appear on the man's face as his dismounted his horse. The purpose of this smile I was unsure of. Perhaps it was of shyness. Nevertheless, the smile was charming, indeed. Probably the most stunning I had ever laid eyes on and certainly one of the first I had seen since my arrival to the village. I was pleased, relieved even, although I did not let the pleasure and excitement show in my expression.

Suddenly, the silence that had occupied the meadow was broken. It's effect on me was as if a roll of thunder bellowed, for the meadow was so quiet that you could easily hear a pinecone plummet from it's tree: "Apparently I'm not the only one who finds the peace in this meadow comforting." He spoke as if he were stating a fact; timid, and nearly sarcastic. But even with these traits, its deep purr was melody to my ears. From the sound of his voice, I could tell he was well educated and intelligent.

"Yes, I had found that the meadow was rather comforting," I replied clearly exposing the annoyance in my voice.

Picking up on this, he sighed. "I apologize about the flowers, miss. My intentions were not of those to startle you."

"Yes, well I..." but I could not complete my sentence, for the man knelt down beside me and began recollecting the fallen blossoms. I was truly shocked. I had not expected this, especially from a person, a stranger, I hardly knew. With every last one retained, he handed me his small compilation of wild flowers, and for a brief moment, our hands touched. I blushed, and quickly added the multi-colored bundle to the others. "Thank you." I politely expressed my gratitude, even though I felt that he had no right to assist me, without I asking him to do so. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated."

"May I inquire the name of the gentleman who is to receive this bouquet?" he asked innocently.

"What gives you the idea that they are for a gentleman and furthermore, what give you the right to pry?" I questioned him. He looked at loss for words at my shrewd remark, and seeing this, I continued. "If you must know, they are not intended for a gentleman, or a person, for that matter, but to add a decorative touch to my rather plain cottage."

"I…I see," he replied. "I did not mean to meddle." He then smiled, the same smile that took my breath away only moments after I first saw him. My heart melted for this amiable man and no longer was I irritated for his intrusion, but actually, rather thankful. He was the first of the villagers to treat me so kindly and with such an open heart. "What is your name?" I asked curiously. "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I met your acquaintance? I am fairly new to this town, and though small, some faces escape me."

"Ah, now who is the one prying?" he questioned slyly. I smiled guiltily. Apparently, my curiosity had gotten the best of me. He laughed at my reaction, "No, I do not believe we've met before. My name is Ichabod Crane."

He was the Ichabod Crane? The renowned character I had heard so many stories about? My mouth dropped open slightly, and when I realized what I was doing, I quickly snapped it shut. "I must have forgot my manners," I said embarrassed. "But one cannot help it. You are the Ichabod Crane? The one man that saved this town, Sleepy Hollow, from a headless terror not quite two years ago?"

"The one and only," he said still smiling. He rose to his feet and offered me a hand. I accepted, and when he grasped my hand, I trembled at his touch. His hand was warm and rough, yet ultimately perfect. "T-Thank you." I stuttered when I was once again at my feet. " I don't mean to bombard you with questions, but I find this very interesting." He nodded and I went on, "But this headless horseman- Was he real?" My eyes widened as I waited for a response.

"As real as I am standing here." He said. This was not exactly the answer I had been hoping for, because I still had my doubts that Ichabod Crane was real and standing right before me.

I looked into his face again, but this time the smile had disappeared and his face had a serious expression. I knew that what had occurred two years past was none of my concern, although fascinating, I should have considered this before I immediately began drowning the poor gentleman with my uncouth questioning. I began to realize how horrible it would have been to be one of the townspeople during the time when the headless horseman rode, and how vile and terrible it would have been to witness such a beheading.

Before I had a chance to make my apology for being coarse, he spoke. "A word of advice towards you, Miss; don't refer to anything that occurred during those ominous times. People here, are uh…a little… superstitious." It was not the pleasant voice that I heard prior, and there was a slight quiver to it, that raised goose bumps on my flesh. I desperately wanted to know more, but I did not dare inquire. There was something about his voice that frightened me. I looked down, as if I was a small child being scolded. I did not know what to think, nor say. His words, to me, were not those of advice or suggestion, but more like an order, as if I did not follow his 'word of advice,' the consequences would be dire.

I was beginning to understand why I hadn't been entirely welcome when I arrived. People here were afraid of the past repeating itself and any individual new to the plot could trigger another, or a series, of midnight rides and beheadings. A chill of terror shot down my spine just at the thought. "So that's the reason they're not entirely fond of seeing new faces?" I asked him in a cautious whisper.

"Precisely." He replied. The shakiness had vanished from his voice, hinting at the kindliness that was present in his fist words to me.

"And you?" I asked.

"What about me?" he raised an eyebrow. "I do not judge people on past occurrences with they have no connection with them." He took a deep breath and straightened his back. "Darkness sneaks upon fairly fast around here," he said noticing that the sun had completely disappeared behind the hills and now only a soft gray light surrounded us. "I'd better be continuing on my way." He mounted his horse with ease. "And you?" he asked concerned.

"Me? I know this meadow like the back of my hand. I come and go as I please."

"But have you been out here past the darkest hour?"

Well, no. I haven't." I admitted.

"Because," he continued, "Many people here would advise you to never venture out into these woods alone; especially at night. These woods, the western woods, hold many mysteries that shouldn't be uncovered."

I sauntered over to his mount and stroked his dappled neck. I felt the contrast between his warm pelt and the cool evening air. I lifted my head up so I could see the man's face and smiled. "And do I seem like the type who follows advise from others?"

"No. More like the type that purposely does the opposite of what people tell them."

I chuckled half-heartedly. "Is that what you predict Constable Crane?"

"Only if I was making a prediction."

I thought for a moment. "Well, then. I must be going." I could not think of anything else to say. "It was certainly a pleasure, Constable Crane." He grinned and before I knew it I reached up and handed him my bouquet of flowers, currently resembling shades of mauve from the diminutive amount of light.

He glanced at the flowers and then back at me. "Thank you." He said politely. "But I'm afraid I have no use for them."

"Neither do I," I said, turned around, and began walking towards the direction of my cabin. The misty mosses and grasses embraced my feet, turning them numb.