What I did the following morning could only have been described as lunacy.
Of course seeing as I had been chased through Patriot Park by a headless
rider from the depths of hell, that hadn't killed me, and stayed up all
night in mental shock, I thought I was being pretty rational.
As soon as it was dawn and I could be sure the afore mentioned horseman was
a good six feet under, I went, ran really, to Becca's house.
Apparently she had had a rough night herself, because when she opened the
door I noticed circles under her eyes and her normally slightly frizzy hair
had turned into something resembling the ill fortuned Medusa. Her eyes
brightened when she saw me and she smiled widely.
"I'm so glad you made it Charlotte. We began to worry when you didn't come
back with Henry. Couldn't sleep a wink." Becca said pulling me inside.
She sat me down in the den and began a continuous stream of dialogue, during which she switched on the TV and surfed the channels. ".and Tom started this wild theory that the reason you never came back to the festival was that the Horseman got you." The mention of the horseman made me jump. Becca noticed and stopped, her thumb paused over the number 2. She gave me a sharp once over. I matched her emerald gaze with my cold blue gray one. The eyes faltered and I knew I had won. She recovered faster than I had hoped.
"Charlotte something did happen last night! I'm you friend please tell me what happened." She begged. I hesitated. I wasn't exactly sure as to how to put this. To tell Becca that I had yet another visitation from the infamous commander-in-chief of spirits in Sleepy Hollow was going to be quite a leap for me. Becca took the hesitation for fear and made a most brilliant assumption. "It was Henry, wasn't it? Did he hurt you? Take advantage of you? That low down scum. Oooh. I'll make him wish he never was born." She was pacing the room at this point. Waving her arms like a mad woman and throwing random curses into the speech on the abomination that was Henry. I finally just gave her a look of such loathing that it stopped her dead in her tracks. Then I settled on a look of intense aggravation. Becca gained some of the color back in her face. "It wasn't Henry?" "No." I glared at the lamp next to me, "It was the Horseman." "Mercy! What did he do?" I looked at my hands. "Well for starters he chased me and Henry across Patriot Park. Then he decided to go after me instead of Henry and pretty much chased me into my back yard." "That's all? Didn't he try to kill you?" "Of course he did!" I was up on my feet now. I shot looks of pure disgust out the window at the bright sunny world that knew nothing of this badgering. Becca understood exactly how I felt. "I think I've got something that might help." She ran to the kitchen and came back with a handful of small white bags. "They're devil bags. The old people used them to keep the spirits away." I took one and smelled it. It reminded me of Mrs. Mosley's homemade chili and garlic dill pickles.
Much, much, much later I went home after nearly gaining ten pounds on Blue bell homemade vanilla ice cream. There really is something therapeutic about guzzling two gallons of ice cream with your best friend. I felt great and I put the devil bag in an airtight zip lock freezer bag, for save and non lethal keeping.
I walked around down town enjoying the life giving sunshine and lack of all things tall dark and sinister. I decided to try out this devil bag thing on the most evil creature known to man that walked in daylight. Old Mrs. Grangers Doberman a.k.a. "Cuddles". I slowly made my way up the street and picked up a sizable limb from a neighbor's trash pile, just in case. I came up to Mrs. Granger's yard and whistled shrilly. Sure enough here come Cuddles, bounding around the corner of the house with thoroughbred speed. I whipped out the devil bag and held it out. Cuddles didn't get within three feet before he lit out howling. Poor fellow was in such a rush that he banged his head trying to get under the porch. Satisfied I went on home and hung the bag from one of the rafters.
That night there was a dreadful howling to be heard through out Sleepy Hollow. The wind started up and blew the trees around so that I thought we might have been having a tornado. In fact my Aunt and Uncle turned on the scanner for weather reports. Sometimes I could pick out the screeching of a horse or the sound of hoof beats over the wind. The wind storm, as Becca, Tom and I knew, was the Horseman's doing. From that little temper tantrum it was easy to discern his future intentions. He obviously didn't like the idea of being kept out of my house before he could even get in. I went to my window and watched as he frenzied about the yard, every now and then dashing off into the woods or Sleepy hollow proper only to return and repeat his previous actions. My mere presence at the window taunted him so that I would smile with glee at his every rage filled move. It was his turn to feel helpless and I liked it. It served him right too. He had no business in my house or chasing me around town for that matter. I, southern belle that I was, was a gracious winner and only teased him for five hours before I went to bed with the sweet smell of victory, that that vaguely reminded me of homemade chili dill pickles.
She sat me down in the den and began a continuous stream of dialogue, during which she switched on the TV and surfed the channels. ".and Tom started this wild theory that the reason you never came back to the festival was that the Horseman got you." The mention of the horseman made me jump. Becca noticed and stopped, her thumb paused over the number 2. She gave me a sharp once over. I matched her emerald gaze with my cold blue gray one. The eyes faltered and I knew I had won. She recovered faster than I had hoped.
"Charlotte something did happen last night! I'm you friend please tell me what happened." She begged. I hesitated. I wasn't exactly sure as to how to put this. To tell Becca that I had yet another visitation from the infamous commander-in-chief of spirits in Sleepy Hollow was going to be quite a leap for me. Becca took the hesitation for fear and made a most brilliant assumption. "It was Henry, wasn't it? Did he hurt you? Take advantage of you? That low down scum. Oooh. I'll make him wish he never was born." She was pacing the room at this point. Waving her arms like a mad woman and throwing random curses into the speech on the abomination that was Henry. I finally just gave her a look of such loathing that it stopped her dead in her tracks. Then I settled on a look of intense aggravation. Becca gained some of the color back in her face. "It wasn't Henry?" "No." I glared at the lamp next to me, "It was the Horseman." "Mercy! What did he do?" I looked at my hands. "Well for starters he chased me and Henry across Patriot Park. Then he decided to go after me instead of Henry and pretty much chased me into my back yard." "That's all? Didn't he try to kill you?" "Of course he did!" I was up on my feet now. I shot looks of pure disgust out the window at the bright sunny world that knew nothing of this badgering. Becca understood exactly how I felt. "I think I've got something that might help." She ran to the kitchen and came back with a handful of small white bags. "They're devil bags. The old people used them to keep the spirits away." I took one and smelled it. It reminded me of Mrs. Mosley's homemade chili and garlic dill pickles.
Much, much, much later I went home after nearly gaining ten pounds on Blue bell homemade vanilla ice cream. There really is something therapeutic about guzzling two gallons of ice cream with your best friend. I felt great and I put the devil bag in an airtight zip lock freezer bag, for save and non lethal keeping.
I walked around down town enjoying the life giving sunshine and lack of all things tall dark and sinister. I decided to try out this devil bag thing on the most evil creature known to man that walked in daylight. Old Mrs. Grangers Doberman a.k.a. "Cuddles". I slowly made my way up the street and picked up a sizable limb from a neighbor's trash pile, just in case. I came up to Mrs. Granger's yard and whistled shrilly. Sure enough here come Cuddles, bounding around the corner of the house with thoroughbred speed. I whipped out the devil bag and held it out. Cuddles didn't get within three feet before he lit out howling. Poor fellow was in such a rush that he banged his head trying to get under the porch. Satisfied I went on home and hung the bag from one of the rafters.
That night there was a dreadful howling to be heard through out Sleepy Hollow. The wind started up and blew the trees around so that I thought we might have been having a tornado. In fact my Aunt and Uncle turned on the scanner for weather reports. Sometimes I could pick out the screeching of a horse or the sound of hoof beats over the wind. The wind storm, as Becca, Tom and I knew, was the Horseman's doing. From that little temper tantrum it was easy to discern his future intentions. He obviously didn't like the idea of being kept out of my house before he could even get in. I went to my window and watched as he frenzied about the yard, every now and then dashing off into the woods or Sleepy hollow proper only to return and repeat his previous actions. My mere presence at the window taunted him so that I would smile with glee at his every rage filled move. It was his turn to feel helpless and I liked it. It served him right too. He had no business in my house or chasing me around town for that matter. I, southern belle that I was, was a gracious winner and only teased him for five hours before I went to bed with the sweet smell of victory, that that vaguely reminded me of homemade chili dill pickles.