Sweeney Crane looked up from polishing his razors as the tiny bell on the door rang, a middle-aged man with blond hair entering with an air of authority. After a covert glance around the room to assure himself that there was no blood visible, the barber walked towards the customer, noting the look of uncertainty that flashed in his eyes. The bloodthirsty portion in him began to rear its ugly head, but he tramped the urge to slash with the deadly blade, smiling instead to attempt to calm the man. "Relax, my good sir. Many people have been satisfied by my handiwork. I take it this is your first time getting a shave?"
"Y-yes," the man staid, clearing his throat, letting Sweeney guide him to the intimidating chair that dominated the center of the shop. Gingerly sitting, he removed his wool jacket, suddenly having serious doubts. Tensing as the sound of stropping reached his ears, he panicked, imagining the sensation of that steel across his exposed neck...."F-forgive me, but I c-can't do this. Accept my deepest apol---Unhand me this instant!" Powerful hands shoved the man back into the chair, the barber tilting the razor that glinted despite the lack of light. "No, please!" Catching the downward swing, he strained to disarm the insane barber, muscles protesting.
Snarling, Sweeney bore down with his entire weight, inching the blade closer to the customer's throat. Jerking his arm, he split the man's skin, hot blood fanning in the air, drenching his shirt. Despite the fact that his lifeforce was rapidly draining from him, the customer hit the barber hard, sending him flying into the wall. Baring his teeth, Sweeney threw the razor, his aim true as the steel impacted the man's chest and struck his heart, handle quivering. "Enjoy your eternity in Hell, pathetic fool!"
An abrupt neigh rent the air, hooves pounding the ground while lightning flashed ominously. Crashing through the wall near the door, a large black horse galloped up to the prone form of the man, its rider illuminated by a bolt of light. Ebony eyes glared out of a thin pale face, a guttural growl rising from his throat. Unsheathing a broadsword, he swung it, smoothly cleaving off the dead man's head, spilling no additional blood. Hefting his unsightly prize, the demonic-looking rider rounded on Sweeney, studying him critically. "Well, if it isn't Ichabod Crane's offspring. So, young Crane, where is your sister, Nellie Van Tassel?" The barber remained silent, too stunned to answer right away. Narrowing his eyes, the phantom dismounted, gliding toward Sweeney threateningly. "Do you have any idea who and what I am, boy?"
"You're the fiend who murdered my father when I was five years old," Sweeney snapped, finding his voice, part of his brain telling him to run. "The Hessian Horseman, a demon straight from Hell. But, I was always told that ever since my father gave you back your head, you would leave Sleepy Hollow alone." Laughing, the Horseman continued his advance, gaze blazing. "Why are you here, monster?"
Halting before Sweeney, the Hessian slammed him into the wall, his bulky form dwarfing his victim's. "As Ichabod was dying, I told him that his male kin would bear my mark so that I might prove their skills to see if they could truly defeat me." Removing the glove from his right hand, the Horseman displayed two-inch talons which he suddenly raked across the barber's chest, creating five furrows. "When the full moon hangs in the sky, we will face each other. Until then, I'll be watching you closely." Expertly climbing onto his horse's back, the Hessian wheeled the animal around and exited via the gaping hole in the shattered wall.
Vision swimming, Sweeney staggered to the decapitated body in the chair, lungs demanding more air. Coughing blood, he sprawled on the floor, too weak to even yank his razor from the deceased man. Losing consciousness, the barber failed to hear the heavy footsteps coming in his direction nor felt the hands dragging him along the rough ground.
A/N: Prologue's very short, but the other chapters will be longer, I promise.
