I had heard the legend from the mouths of my grandparents, but then, who is the real bearer of the curse? He or me?

One shot story, open to interpretation. Rated M for language and mature content

Heritage

The small town was deserted. Few years had passed since the last resident moved to New York and now the houses appeared abandoned and dingy. At the end of the main street a sad three-story building stood. The paint was rotten and most windowpanes were broken. It was almost five o'clock and as I looked around hoping to see Mr. Dickens, September's icy wind suddenly hit my face. I could go back to the car and stay there waiting but the musty smell and the dark interior of the house invited me to enter. The gray wooden door gave a squeal that reminded me of my childhood. Tender years in which I played with my grandfather in the woods, when I sat down on his lap and I heard his stories while munching on my PB&J.

The twilight fell and the house had no lighting whatsoever. Three steps gave entrance to the main hall. Silence, crickets, the flapping and squawking from some distant crow. I was standing there, among the few remains of what was once furniture. Dust and mold prevented me from breathing freely. Through the window the last crepuscular rays filtered. I turned my gaze toward the stairs and I went up frightened that a misstep could cause them to break; moving to what it was once my bedroom.

Before I could reach the door my heart jumped. Sitting on a rickety armchair was him. Deathly pale, with eyes wide open staring into space, so limpid and blue that gave the impression to be glass orbs. Unlike me, he was breathing slowly and calmly and there were no signs that he had noticed my presence. For a second I had the terrifying feeling that the man was just a puppet, a dead body forgotten there for centuries.

Second by second the light disappeared and everything was confusing. Among the shadows only his diaphanous eyes were visible. I dared to take a step towards him and the creaking of the wooden boards beneath my feet resounded in the room. The man came out of his reverie and stretched out a languid arm towards me.

-"Come, Katrina."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end when I heard his voice. It was strangely familiar. I had heard the legend from the mouths of my grandparents. That ghost horseman frightened anyone who dared to wander in the forest at dark. Something embedded in me made me recognize his features. A pale hard face, sunken cheeks, thin lips that framed two rows of sharp teeth. I noticed the weapons propped against the wall in the corner, a sheathed sword, a sharp ax. His cloak lay crumpled beside them on the floor.

-"Katrina."

I lifted my gaze, holding my breath for a moment and took a step. It was enough for him to get up. He was at least 7 inches taller than me. Suddenly I felt a heat spread across my face. My legs were frozen for several seconds and I was unable to move a muscle. I swallowed hard when the man put a gloved hand on my cheek, his lips close to mine whispered:

-"Don't you remember me?"

I looked deep into his eyes trying to find any clue, any hint that could lead me to at least understand what I was doing inside an old house with a man that more than a man looked like a specter. Incredibly I did not feel fear; I did not feel anything at all, just a dull sense of belonging, like watching an old picture of a forgotten cousin. I was hallucinating of course, the haste I suffered while driving to Sleepy Hollow thinking I was going to be late for the appointment, the undeniable invasion of mold in the beloved house of my childhood… Nonetheless he was so real, the touch in my cheek so physical. Trembling a little I moved his hand away.

-"I have no idea…" – I said. – "I have to go."

I was sure Mr. Dickens was not going to be outside and very much probably that I was not going to see him today but I wanted to run away from his presence. His slow breathing started to be unnerving.

-"I do remember you, every single second. I remember this house. Your parents. Your grandparents."

I turned to face him and I opened my mouth to speak but a flash of memories came to me: A full moon night, the little stream that surrounded the woods, me falling and hurting my knees with the rocks, a dark and gigantic horse, a gloved hand picking me up, blue eyes staring at the trail of blood staining my favorite bunny socks …

-"I don't. You…"

-"I waited…"

He seemed not to want to wait much longer. He took me from the hips elevating me from the floor and brought me with him to the armchair. His wild scent awoke an instinct that I had never felt before. I left any logic or reason behind. Eagerly I wanted to caress every inch of his skin. I was so busy trying to open the clasps of his armor that I did not realize the moment his soft tongue began to draw spirals in my neck, moving down slowly until he reached the zipper of my hoodie, with a quick, firm movement he opened it and threw it away, a hand squeezing one of my breasts while kissing the nipple of the other. The tenderness that he was showing me took me almost by surprise. I kissed him so intently, feeling his warm breath and his teeth tickling my lips. Finally I could catch a breath and asked:

-"Who are you?"

An almost imperceptible twitch in his eyebrows indicate me some sort of sorrow but it was gone in an instant. Instead of an answer he simply took off his armor and shirt leaving his broad chest exposed. My face fit itself into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smell of the wood attached to his salty skin. "Who are you?" The question still lingering in the back of my mind was not impediment for the sudden rush of endorphins that blinded me the moment he worked his hands down my pants running them daintily under my underwear cupping my buttocks. I was not holding back anymore, with a hasty movement I unbuttoned my pants trying to keep the balance while continuing kissing him. He helped me to get rid of my boots and all went to the hump of clothes in the corner. Surprisingly the cold of the season didn't affect me. I gasped for air once again, bending, ready to lick the navel in his toned abdomen but he stopped me. His fingers frolicking around my waist going slowly until my hips and there, on my right hip bone his eyes fixed on the small tattoo, an old protection charm, not bigger than a half dollar coin, the emblem of my family. I dared to move, my hands moving slowly behind his head, stroking his hair, lips moving through his shoulder and chest. He reached a hand between my legs and the other one towards his belt. I instinctively arched my back at the maddening way his fingers were prodding around to find my clit. Now completely naked I was able to see the real man, not the ethereal and unreachable figure of my darkest dreams but the uncanny soulmate. He was part of me as I was totally tied to him.

I crooked my knees, my pelvis moving slowly against his length. He pulled my thighs around himself grabbing me firmly. When he pushed inside of me I rocked in time to a frantic rhythm. My vision was blurred, the whole room vanished in the darkness of the night and I could just register his smell and the strong heat coming up from my entrails up to my spine. I closed my eyes allowing his increasing thrusts to turn into electric shocks going through my whole body. The spasms came and I moaned quietly, his arms slithering under my back and making me arch my chest towards his mouth. I fumbled along his back and pulled him against me claiming each and every space of our connected body. His thrusts pace was slower but deeper. Skin sweating, he breathed out a low moan into my mouth.

He gathered me in his strong arms; no one had held me that close in so long. I buried my face on his collar bone, hugging him tightly he kissed my head. I closed my eyes. Then a distant sound made my head snap. My phone… my phone is ringing.

Bit by bit reality was falling into place. I opened my eyes to stare right at the lamp hanging from the ceiling. The phone alarm was making a diabolic noise on my bedside table.

-"Fuck."- Not the best word to start the day but anyway I stood up from my bed and walked to the bathroom. I washed my face trying to clear my head. A helluva of a dream, that was all. I pulled my t-shirt up to stare at my tattoo. The evil eye was still there, looking as new as the first day. I smiled and continued with my routine, the dream would be forgotten in a few hours.

Five o'clock. I was parked in front of the old house of my grandfather. The house in which I was born, in which I was raised, the house I dreamed about. I looked at my watch. 17:03 I grew impatient watching the orange leaves dancing around the SUV. I turned my gaze to the empty darkness of the windows. "What if…?" I chuckled thinking about the ridiculous idea I had grabbing the wheel and moving my fingers hastily. "There is nothing there; nobody has been there for more than 10 years." I repeated the same sentence a couple times. Getting out of the car I walked towards that old wooden door.

-"Miss Crane!"

Mr. Dickens an old and bald business man wave a hand from the distance, his young secretary with him holding a stack of documents. I let out a sigh of resignation and went running to their side.

Six past 10, the negotiation was short, clean. The Crane estate was finally sold. In my hand was the same stack of documents Mr. Dickens' secretary was holding. I was sitting in my car, reviewing the terms and conditions, looking at the flourished calligraphy of my sign… Katrina Crane. I could not believe I finally did it. Letting go of my last bond to the beloved Sleepy Hollow, the place where my family had lived for centuries. I played with the papers; it was the last house to be purchase by the Dickens' Conglomerate soon they will turn the ghost town into some sort of Disneyland, some fancy place where rich families would come to spend their dollars. I let out a muffled sigh burying my head between my arms. It was done. It was necessary. It is time to go back home.

A chill went down my spine when I heard the neigh of a horse coming from the woods. I really didn't want to lift my head. I kept my eyes closed hoping I could wake up in bed once again. The hoofbeats sound was getting closer. I finally looked up to the darkness of the town, the only source of light being the car headlights illuminating a few trees. I breathed deeply; I had to finish with whatever was messing with my mind.

I walked straight towards the trees determined to find out if there was something real there or if I definitely was in need of some psychiatric help.

Suddenly the gallop stopped, I squinted my eyes trying to distinguish any figure among the shadow of the trees. There it was, the hoofbeats again but this time slower a second later I could discern the shape of a steed walking calmly towards me with its full saddle on but we no human form on top of it. The horse shook his head and snorted when I put a hand on its mane.

-"You certainly are more of a Van Tassel than of a Crane."

Startled I turned to see him leaning against the car, his arms crossed against his chest, his face showing an indifferent grin.

-"Your grandfather surely had fainted immediately."

-"What are you doing here?" – I said pushing aside the memory of last night dream.

-"I certainly thought your family explained you the situation but now I see they did everything to protect you." – He said pushing himself away of the car staring down at me. –"Long, long time ago, your ancestor, a man called Ichabod Crane broke a curse that fell on my dead body. A curse done by some desperate bitch in an attempt so seek revenge…"

-"I know the story." –I interrupted. –"What I want to know is what you are doing here."

He grumbled impatient: -"Well then you should know! Once he lifted the hex another one occurred, though this time we were not sure which party was the damage one. That wicked witch is burning in hell now but I remained tied to the Crane family. The Constable got use to my presence after few months. He had to anyway; his wife was reluctant to live in the big city."

-"You are expecting me to believe you?"

-"Seeing is believing."

I simply snorted at him; I grabbed the car keys from my pocket and marched to my car. Whatever it was going on I simply didn't want to understand. There was no sense or reason in all this. I learned the shadowy history of my family but those were just Halloween stories to frighten small kids.

-"Katrina, please. You are the last one."

I stopped on my tracks, my mind working at light speed trying to comprehend the heavy burden that I felt in my heart. The same burden that eight generations before me had to carry. He is right. I thought I was finally letting go of my bound to Sleepy Hollow, without realizing there was another one, another one that surpassed this world. One embedded in my blood and now he returned to reclaim his position.

-"All right, Hessian."

I hold his hand and I allowed him to take me inside the darkest part of the woods.