The horseman had vanished sometime early that morning leaving behind a very
hectic looking cemetery. The sod around the churchyard had been torn up and
a few of the gravestones had been vandalized.
The air held an unnatural chill as I was awakened by the minister. A thick
mist surrounded the church and the whole of old Sleepy Hollow.
Lieutenant Barry Moore, of fifteen years on the police force, slowly drove through the early morning fog. The weather had been quite unusual as of late he had to agree. The abnormally thick fog that gripped the small town did not appear until the late winter. And stranger still was that the conflicting cold fronts that caused such horrible conditions were absent from the charts. The lieutenant turned his squad car onto the old highway that ran on the edge of town. He glanced to either side of the road, trying with all of his mortal might to pierce through the obtrusive mist. He came upon the great curve in the highway that straitened and ran parallel the biggest graveyard in Sleepy Hollow. The Old Sleepy Hollow cemetery ran at just over eighteen acres and the many paths and trees made it seen all the more huge. Nobody ever went there. Only families who hadn't already filled their burial plots entered its wrought iron gates. Barry hated to look at it on his rounds. The trees sat large and threatening with black twisted limbs and the ancient granite wall seemed like the rusted bob wire fences at POW camps. As he hastily drove by he glanced up at the church. It was surrounded by fog but was not covered in it like the other buildings in town. Barry looked closer to see to his shock that the power pole to the church had been chopped down and lay in a ruin of splinters on the pavement. He immediately called for back up. Ten minuets later the Sleepy Hollow Chief of Police strode about the church yard examining the vandalized markers. He did all of this calmly as if he already knew the cause and the criminal of the damage. I looked on in grim silence at his efforts. Aunt Lorain and Uncle Richard had run to my side when the police had called them and told them I was safe. They never went more than three feet from me and Aunt Lorain kept her arms tightly around my shoulders. I have to admit I was in a sort of mental shock from the whole fiasco. First it was running from the horseman in the graveyard then it was ultimate wrestling 101 and finally a jolly little sprint through the woods to the fragile safety of a church. Yep. My kind of night. The Chief walked over to us and tried to question me. I had, unfortunately, assumed the identity of the deaf and dumb. My eyes were fixed on the ground at a spot only a few yards away where a concrete angel miniature's smashed pieces lay strewn across the ground. I knew that angel's fate had been meant for me. This realization turned my insides cold. My uncle, the noble hound that he was, scolded the chief on questioning me and instead asked after the chief's advice on my well being and safety regarding the events of late. The chief apologized and then gave my uncle his professional opinion, which was that I should remain at home and never be without a chaperone at school or in public. Let me tell you, I was not very keen on the whole chaperone idea but rules are rules.
My aunt and uncle took me home and kept me inside for a week. They even sent out for a doctor to give me a physical. Now there was an adventure. He checked me everywhere from head to toe, and I mean everywhere. The following week when I had passed inspection I was allowed to go back to school. The first day back I ran into the cutest guy on the football team, Henry. He immediately took an interest in me which was more than I could say for him. The other girls around school were all terribly jealous. After biology Henry offered to give me a ride home. I told him that I would love it if he would be so kind. At three o' clock I met him in the parking lot by his 2002 F-150. He helped me with my backpack and asked me where I lived. I gave him directions as we passed through town and he kept up a constant conversation that turned out to be quite humorous. He smiled at me when I told him about the night when I escaped from the Horseman. "Boy, you southern girls sure know how to handle guys!" he laughed running a hand threw his sandy blonde curls. His eyes were a happy blue and his face was nothing but good humored. Like I said, he was the cutest guy on the football team. When we got to my house he introduced himself to my uncle and volunteered as my official chaperone. Uncle Richard was so happy that he let Henry stay for dinner. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Oh my! Henry was the star of the dinner table. His boyish charm delighted my aunt and uncle and with his perfect smile completely won them over. Finally the time for goodbyes rolled around at about nine thirty. Henry shook hands with Uncle Richard and I walked with him to his truck. When my aunt and uncle went inside he turned to me with another charming smile. "Well good night, Miss Charlotte." He swiftly bent down to my demure five foot four and pecked me affectionately on the cheek. I was too stunned to do much of anything accept gape after him as he pulled out of the drive. For a moment I stood in the front yard and contemplated my situation. I was not ignorant of the book by Washington Irving. And to me this seemed stunningly close to Katrina Van Tassel's relationship with Brom Van Brunt. The only question was where was Ichabod? I stood a moment longer in the peaceful silence of the trees that surrounded the century old house. Then reluctantly I went back into the warm glow of the living room and kitchen to help with the dishes. I never knew that my little scene of affection with Henry had been watched from the shadows of the trees by unearthly eyes.
The following days seemed a little more exciting than the previous weeks. I had pretty much gotten caught up with all of my school work. My teachers soon gave me respect in the terms of above average student. Just because I was southern did not mean I was in anyway inferior to the others at school. Some were even curious about my hometown and asked me if I lived on a plantation and grew cotton for a living. To these I gave polite but firm answers in the negatory. Florida had its oranges; Alabama had its peanuts and general helter skelter agriculture; Georgia had its peaches simple as that. Good ol' Georgia how I missed it. In early September the temperature would still be in the upper eighties. Here in upstate New York the trees changed earlier and with more decisiveness than in the Deep South, where the main sources of shade came from the sacred southern pine. The colors that began to form in the little Hudson Valley were beyond my powers of description. I continued to see Henry every day at school and when I wasn't with my friends Becca and Tom on weekends which was rare but did happen. Sightings of the horseman grew more frequent as the days passed. The dark knight began to pull pranks almost nightly as evidence of his tirade. The police still believed in the cause as local pranksters warming up for the Halloween season only two months away. It was only when the late night activities became more violent in nature did they look into more gruesome options, such as it all being gang related. The so called violent actions were when an elderly woman found her nine cats strung up in a tree in her front yard, their name tags in alphabetical order. Another was when all of the cars on Greystone St. had all of their tires popped, windows smashed in and hoods and tops demolished. The police department discounted the hoof prints found on lawns and nearby flower beds as part of a hoax. Becca, Tom and I were all the more convinced of the headless horseman's factual existence, my late night first hand encounter aside. We often sat together at lunch and discussed the possibilities and motives of the Headless Rider. Tom analyzed the physical evidence while Becca swore to a huge psychic disturbance in the energies in and around the Hollow. I took both views and harmonized them into a somewhat accurate Picasso of what was going on. What I saw was not good. We still had no idea as to the why of the Hessian's return. I never went out by myself except into my own yard. My aunt and uncle had calmed down somewhat and let me stay with friends till after dark. Which was good since the fall festival was coming up soon. In three days to be exact. It was to be my first all nighter in about a month, so I was very excited. Henry had promised to meet me there. Becca Tom and I agreed to meet three hours earlier so that we all could get some down time.
Lieutenant Barry Moore, of fifteen years on the police force, slowly drove through the early morning fog. The weather had been quite unusual as of late he had to agree. The abnormally thick fog that gripped the small town did not appear until the late winter. And stranger still was that the conflicting cold fronts that caused such horrible conditions were absent from the charts. The lieutenant turned his squad car onto the old highway that ran on the edge of town. He glanced to either side of the road, trying with all of his mortal might to pierce through the obtrusive mist. He came upon the great curve in the highway that straitened and ran parallel the biggest graveyard in Sleepy Hollow. The Old Sleepy Hollow cemetery ran at just over eighteen acres and the many paths and trees made it seen all the more huge. Nobody ever went there. Only families who hadn't already filled their burial plots entered its wrought iron gates. Barry hated to look at it on his rounds. The trees sat large and threatening with black twisted limbs and the ancient granite wall seemed like the rusted bob wire fences at POW camps. As he hastily drove by he glanced up at the church. It was surrounded by fog but was not covered in it like the other buildings in town. Barry looked closer to see to his shock that the power pole to the church had been chopped down and lay in a ruin of splinters on the pavement. He immediately called for back up. Ten minuets later the Sleepy Hollow Chief of Police strode about the church yard examining the vandalized markers. He did all of this calmly as if he already knew the cause and the criminal of the damage. I looked on in grim silence at his efforts. Aunt Lorain and Uncle Richard had run to my side when the police had called them and told them I was safe. They never went more than three feet from me and Aunt Lorain kept her arms tightly around my shoulders. I have to admit I was in a sort of mental shock from the whole fiasco. First it was running from the horseman in the graveyard then it was ultimate wrestling 101 and finally a jolly little sprint through the woods to the fragile safety of a church. Yep. My kind of night. The Chief walked over to us and tried to question me. I had, unfortunately, assumed the identity of the deaf and dumb. My eyes were fixed on the ground at a spot only a few yards away where a concrete angel miniature's smashed pieces lay strewn across the ground. I knew that angel's fate had been meant for me. This realization turned my insides cold. My uncle, the noble hound that he was, scolded the chief on questioning me and instead asked after the chief's advice on my well being and safety regarding the events of late. The chief apologized and then gave my uncle his professional opinion, which was that I should remain at home and never be without a chaperone at school or in public. Let me tell you, I was not very keen on the whole chaperone idea but rules are rules.
My aunt and uncle took me home and kept me inside for a week. They even sent out for a doctor to give me a physical. Now there was an adventure. He checked me everywhere from head to toe, and I mean everywhere. The following week when I had passed inspection I was allowed to go back to school. The first day back I ran into the cutest guy on the football team, Henry. He immediately took an interest in me which was more than I could say for him. The other girls around school were all terribly jealous. After biology Henry offered to give me a ride home. I told him that I would love it if he would be so kind. At three o' clock I met him in the parking lot by his 2002 F-150. He helped me with my backpack and asked me where I lived. I gave him directions as we passed through town and he kept up a constant conversation that turned out to be quite humorous. He smiled at me when I told him about the night when I escaped from the Horseman. "Boy, you southern girls sure know how to handle guys!" he laughed running a hand threw his sandy blonde curls. His eyes were a happy blue and his face was nothing but good humored. Like I said, he was the cutest guy on the football team. When we got to my house he introduced himself to my uncle and volunteered as my official chaperone. Uncle Richard was so happy that he let Henry stay for dinner. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Oh my! Henry was the star of the dinner table. His boyish charm delighted my aunt and uncle and with his perfect smile completely won them over. Finally the time for goodbyes rolled around at about nine thirty. Henry shook hands with Uncle Richard and I walked with him to his truck. When my aunt and uncle went inside he turned to me with another charming smile. "Well good night, Miss Charlotte." He swiftly bent down to my demure five foot four and pecked me affectionately on the cheek. I was too stunned to do much of anything accept gape after him as he pulled out of the drive. For a moment I stood in the front yard and contemplated my situation. I was not ignorant of the book by Washington Irving. And to me this seemed stunningly close to Katrina Van Tassel's relationship with Brom Van Brunt. The only question was where was Ichabod? I stood a moment longer in the peaceful silence of the trees that surrounded the century old house. Then reluctantly I went back into the warm glow of the living room and kitchen to help with the dishes. I never knew that my little scene of affection with Henry had been watched from the shadows of the trees by unearthly eyes.
The following days seemed a little more exciting than the previous weeks. I had pretty much gotten caught up with all of my school work. My teachers soon gave me respect in the terms of above average student. Just because I was southern did not mean I was in anyway inferior to the others at school. Some were even curious about my hometown and asked me if I lived on a plantation and grew cotton for a living. To these I gave polite but firm answers in the negatory. Florida had its oranges; Alabama had its peanuts and general helter skelter agriculture; Georgia had its peaches simple as that. Good ol' Georgia how I missed it. In early September the temperature would still be in the upper eighties. Here in upstate New York the trees changed earlier and with more decisiveness than in the Deep South, where the main sources of shade came from the sacred southern pine. The colors that began to form in the little Hudson Valley were beyond my powers of description. I continued to see Henry every day at school and when I wasn't with my friends Becca and Tom on weekends which was rare but did happen. Sightings of the horseman grew more frequent as the days passed. The dark knight began to pull pranks almost nightly as evidence of his tirade. The police still believed in the cause as local pranksters warming up for the Halloween season only two months away. It was only when the late night activities became more violent in nature did they look into more gruesome options, such as it all being gang related. The so called violent actions were when an elderly woman found her nine cats strung up in a tree in her front yard, their name tags in alphabetical order. Another was when all of the cars on Greystone St. had all of their tires popped, windows smashed in and hoods and tops demolished. The police department discounted the hoof prints found on lawns and nearby flower beds as part of a hoax. Becca, Tom and I were all the more convinced of the headless horseman's factual existence, my late night first hand encounter aside. We often sat together at lunch and discussed the possibilities and motives of the Headless Rider. Tom analyzed the physical evidence while Becca swore to a huge psychic disturbance in the energies in and around the Hollow. I took both views and harmonized them into a somewhat accurate Picasso of what was going on. What I saw was not good. We still had no idea as to the why of the Hessian's return. I never went out by myself except into my own yard. My aunt and uncle had calmed down somewhat and let me stay with friends till after dark. Which was good since the fall festival was coming up soon. In three days to be exact. It was to be my first all nighter in about a month, so I was very excited. Henry had promised to meet me there. Becca Tom and I agreed to meet three hours earlier so that we all could get some down time.