Disclaimer; Sadly, I do not own Ichabod or any other characters that might occur. They belong to the incredibly talented Washington Irving and, in the movie's case, Tim Burton. :)
x-x-x
"Ichabod..." the melodic voice lingered in the wind as it blew through the opened window. Constable Ichabod Crane stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. "Ichabod..." the voice sang once again, this time closer to his ear. Ichabod's eyes slowly surveyed his dark room and listened intently for another whisper. "Ichabod!" The voice was ten times closer, definitely female, and definitely frightening. Ichabod jumped up, bringing the blankets with him and let out a short squeal.
"Who's there?" he called, looking around frantically for an intruder. He received no reply. "Hello?" he asked more quietly. The voice made no more sound the rest of the night, but Ichabod would not sleep. He lit the candle next to his bed and quickly covered himself in the blankets once again, somehow thinking they would serve as protection.
As soon as the sun rose that morning, Ichabod was dressed and leaving his home. He needed to get out for a while to calm his nerves, although, he couldn't remember the last time his nerves had actually been settled.
He walked slowly along the side of a vacant road just outside of town where he knew he wouldn't be bothered. Of course, if he were to get into trouble, there would be no one to call to for help. Fortunately, that thought hadn't crossed his mind as he continued strolling, his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and his head bowed as his eyes watched his feet take their steps.
Footsteps were heard from behind and Ichabod's head shot up, his eyes widening and switching from left to right. He kept walking, picking up his pace a little, hoping not to provoke his follower.
"Ichabod..." a familiar voice presented itself. Ichabod stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes got bigger. Could the person following be the voice he hears at night? He was afraid to find out, but curiosity gets the best of most people, especially Ichabod. He slowly turned around and prepared himself to be angered, horrified even, but he was none of those. He was taken aback, yes, but because of the sheer beauty of the woman standing before him.
This woman was considerably shorter than Ichabod with black hair that was quite long and stringy. Her eyes were a very piercing bright blue that seemed to shoot directly through Ichabod. Her skin was pale such as his own and her lips were a soft pink. Her thin eyebrows were arched in a way suggesting interest, but Ichabod thought himself to be uninteresting, so what was it she could be wondering about?
"Who are you?" Ichabod asked.
"Who are you?" the woman replied, the words rolling off her tongue and floating into the air like music.
"I should suspect you know who I am already," Ichabod said.
"Why would you suspect that?" the woman wondered.
"Is it not your voice I hear at night?" Her lips curled into a smile and Ichabod seemed to be drawn in by it.
"Is it?" she questioned.
"Yes," Ichabod whispered, his voice reaching an octave higher than normal. She laughed this time.
"Are you frightened of me, Ichabod Crane?" she asked, her expressions changing to complete innocence.
"How do you know my name?" Ichabod demanded.
"Don't be silly, Mr. Crane, everyone knows your name," she said. "Ever since your encounter with the Horseman..." Ichabod shuddered at the memory. "That was you?"
"Yes," he replied quietly, his eyes falling to the ground. When they returned to her face he asked, "who are you?"
"Is that what you really want to know?" she inquired, walking closer to him. Confusion was noticeable on Ichabod's face. "Maybe you should not be asking who I am," she continued, her steps making a circle around him, "but of what am I." Ichabod swallowed a large lump in his throat. He'd had his fair share of the supernatural; he feared what her answer would be should he ask the question she wanted to hear.
"Do not fear me, Ichabod," she whispered in his ear, standing on her tiptoes. "Not yet." Ichabod quickly spun around, mentally cursing himself for doing so, and stared into the woman's mystifying eyes, which had been blue, but were now a chilling green.
"Ask," she repeated. "Ask the question." Ichabod took a deep breath.
"Alright," he breathed, "what... are you?" She smiled wickedly.
"I'm hungry," she replied.
Ichabod's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he had no time to react before the surprisingly powerful woman threw him to the ground. She was on top of him immediately after and a hand was strategically placed on the left of his neck as she suddenly sank her large, sharp teeth into his soft flesh. Ichabod gasped and grabbed at her silky black cloak, but nothing fazed the monstrous woman. She calmly sucked the life out of the man under her until her stomach could ingest no more. Her teeth lifted from the small wounds on the neck and she looked into Ichabod's eyes, which were mere slits and his eyeballs were floating around almost as if he were unable to see.
"You, Ichabod, are the most filling ever I have had," she told him, running a nail along his jaw line. Ichabod's breathing was erratic and painful moans managed to escape his throat as his hands slowly lost their grip on her clothing. "You are a very beautiful creature," she continued. "But also mere food. You matter not to me." She quickly came to her feet and started on her way.
"Please..." Ichabod whispered. The woman halted unexpectedly after hearing the word, the simple plead. "Do not leave me here." She turned to him and towered of him.
"You're dying," she informed him, but of course he knew that. "Is there a more suitable place you wish to die?" she asked rhetorically.
"I wish not to die," Ichabod breathed, finding it was becoming harder and harder to do so. The woman's eyebrow arched as she looked down upon the dying heap of human before her.
She'd known pity once when she had been human, but could she be feeling it now? Ichabod Crane was beautiful, there was no denying, but feeling sorry for him had never been issue in all the time she'd been watching and following him. Would it be possible for him to join her? Would he even want to? He obviously wanted something other than death, but did she have the nerve and strength to bestow this upon him?
"You wish not to die?" she asked softly. Somewhere Ichabod found the strength to nod, producing painful jolts in his neck. "And you would do anything to live?"
"Yes," he groaned. He was dying quickly, she had to think fast. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as she knelt down next to him. She lifted her thumbnail to her neck and made a small incision deep enough to produce a small river of blood that trickled down her pale skin. She pulled Ichabod up by his clothes so that he was in a sitting position.
"Drink," she said almost sadly. Ichabod saw the red color flowing from an originating point in her neck. His vision was blurred, but common sense told him what it was and he refused. "Do you wish to live or do you wish to die?" she pointed out. Ichabod swallowed, which caused him more pain, before brushing her black hair away, licking his lips, and settling his mouth over the seeping hole.
This blood tasted not sour and nauseating, but like sweet syrup. It was thick and easy to swallow; all traits that made Ichabod desire more. Letting the liquid drop into his mouth no longer, he began to suck on the wound, hoping for more and at a quicker pace. He received just that.
Ichabod felt the woman breathing heavily against his skin and her hand tangled in his hair. Could it be that she was getting physical pleasure out of this? It was definitely possible to Ichabod after all he'd been through. He continued to devour the woman's blood as fast as he could. She began to moan at the pleasure she was receiving, but she knew it would end soon and the pain would start to set in.
"Ichabod..." she breathed, running her tongue over her lips, which still tasted of his blood, making her want to let him drink her longer. She felt his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him and she felt the heat that was once radiating from his body start to disappear. He was becoming what she was, he was becoming immortal.
Finally she found the will power to push Ichabod away and he looked into her eyes, which had another color change to brown. Their foreheads pressed together as they breathed heavily and the woman's hand brushed through his hair to his neck.
"What do you see?" she whispered, her lips brushing against his. Ichabod's eyes burned into hers.
"I see Hell," he replied. She smiled the one and only menacing smile that would have frightened Ichabod, but he'd gone through a change. A change for the better or a change for the worse.
x-x-x
"Ichabod..." the melodic voice lingered in the wind as it blew through the opened window. Constable Ichabod Crane stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. "Ichabod..." the voice sang once again, this time closer to his ear. Ichabod's eyes slowly surveyed his dark room and listened intently for another whisper. "Ichabod!" The voice was ten times closer, definitely female, and definitely frightening. Ichabod jumped up, bringing the blankets with him and let out a short squeal.
"Who's there?" he called, looking around frantically for an intruder. He received no reply. "Hello?" he asked more quietly. The voice made no more sound the rest of the night, but Ichabod would not sleep. He lit the candle next to his bed and quickly covered himself in the blankets once again, somehow thinking they would serve as protection.
As soon as the sun rose that morning, Ichabod was dressed and leaving his home. He needed to get out for a while to calm his nerves, although, he couldn't remember the last time his nerves had actually been settled.
He walked slowly along the side of a vacant road just outside of town where he knew he wouldn't be bothered. Of course, if he were to get into trouble, there would be no one to call to for help. Fortunately, that thought hadn't crossed his mind as he continued strolling, his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and his head bowed as his eyes watched his feet take their steps.
Footsteps were heard from behind and Ichabod's head shot up, his eyes widening and switching from left to right. He kept walking, picking up his pace a little, hoping not to provoke his follower.
"Ichabod..." a familiar voice presented itself. Ichabod stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes got bigger. Could the person following be the voice he hears at night? He was afraid to find out, but curiosity gets the best of most people, especially Ichabod. He slowly turned around and prepared himself to be angered, horrified even, but he was none of those. He was taken aback, yes, but because of the sheer beauty of the woman standing before him.
This woman was considerably shorter than Ichabod with black hair that was quite long and stringy. Her eyes were a very piercing bright blue that seemed to shoot directly through Ichabod. Her skin was pale such as his own and her lips were a soft pink. Her thin eyebrows were arched in a way suggesting interest, but Ichabod thought himself to be uninteresting, so what was it she could be wondering about?
"Who are you?" Ichabod asked.
"Who are you?" the woman replied, the words rolling off her tongue and floating into the air like music.
"I should suspect you know who I am already," Ichabod said.
"Why would you suspect that?" the woman wondered.
"Is it not your voice I hear at night?" Her lips curled into a smile and Ichabod seemed to be drawn in by it.
"Is it?" she questioned.
"Yes," Ichabod whispered, his voice reaching an octave higher than normal. She laughed this time.
"Are you frightened of me, Ichabod Crane?" she asked, her expressions changing to complete innocence.
"How do you know my name?" Ichabod demanded.
"Don't be silly, Mr. Crane, everyone knows your name," she said. "Ever since your encounter with the Horseman..." Ichabod shuddered at the memory. "That was you?"
"Yes," he replied quietly, his eyes falling to the ground. When they returned to her face he asked, "who are you?"
"Is that what you really want to know?" she inquired, walking closer to him. Confusion was noticeable on Ichabod's face. "Maybe you should not be asking who I am," she continued, her steps making a circle around him, "but of what am I." Ichabod swallowed a large lump in his throat. He'd had his fair share of the supernatural; he feared what her answer would be should he ask the question she wanted to hear.
"Do not fear me, Ichabod," she whispered in his ear, standing on her tiptoes. "Not yet." Ichabod quickly spun around, mentally cursing himself for doing so, and stared into the woman's mystifying eyes, which had been blue, but were now a chilling green.
"Ask," she repeated. "Ask the question." Ichabod took a deep breath.
"Alright," he breathed, "what... are you?" She smiled wickedly.
"I'm hungry," she replied.
Ichabod's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he had no time to react before the surprisingly powerful woman threw him to the ground. She was on top of him immediately after and a hand was strategically placed on the left of his neck as she suddenly sank her large, sharp teeth into his soft flesh. Ichabod gasped and grabbed at her silky black cloak, but nothing fazed the monstrous woman. She calmly sucked the life out of the man under her until her stomach could ingest no more. Her teeth lifted from the small wounds on the neck and she looked into Ichabod's eyes, which were mere slits and his eyeballs were floating around almost as if he were unable to see.
"You, Ichabod, are the most filling ever I have had," she told him, running a nail along his jaw line. Ichabod's breathing was erratic and painful moans managed to escape his throat as his hands slowly lost their grip on her clothing. "You are a very beautiful creature," she continued. "But also mere food. You matter not to me." She quickly came to her feet and started on her way.
"Please..." Ichabod whispered. The woman halted unexpectedly after hearing the word, the simple plead. "Do not leave me here." She turned to him and towered of him.
"You're dying," she informed him, but of course he knew that. "Is there a more suitable place you wish to die?" she asked rhetorically.
"I wish not to die," Ichabod breathed, finding it was becoming harder and harder to do so. The woman's eyebrow arched as she looked down upon the dying heap of human before her.
She'd known pity once when she had been human, but could she be feeling it now? Ichabod Crane was beautiful, there was no denying, but feeling sorry for him had never been issue in all the time she'd been watching and following him. Would it be possible for him to join her? Would he even want to? He obviously wanted something other than death, but did she have the nerve and strength to bestow this upon him?
"You wish not to die?" she asked softly. Somewhere Ichabod found the strength to nod, producing painful jolts in his neck. "And you would do anything to live?"
"Yes," he groaned. He was dying quickly, she had to think fast. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as she knelt down next to him. She lifted her thumbnail to her neck and made a small incision deep enough to produce a small river of blood that trickled down her pale skin. She pulled Ichabod up by his clothes so that he was in a sitting position.
"Drink," she said almost sadly. Ichabod saw the red color flowing from an originating point in her neck. His vision was blurred, but common sense told him what it was and he refused. "Do you wish to live or do you wish to die?" she pointed out. Ichabod swallowed, which caused him more pain, before brushing her black hair away, licking his lips, and settling his mouth over the seeping hole.
This blood tasted not sour and nauseating, but like sweet syrup. It was thick and easy to swallow; all traits that made Ichabod desire more. Letting the liquid drop into his mouth no longer, he began to suck on the wound, hoping for more and at a quicker pace. He received just that.
Ichabod felt the woman breathing heavily against his skin and her hand tangled in his hair. Could it be that she was getting physical pleasure out of this? It was definitely possible to Ichabod after all he'd been through. He continued to devour the woman's blood as fast as he could. She began to moan at the pleasure she was receiving, but she knew it would end soon and the pain would start to set in.
"Ichabod..." she breathed, running her tongue over her lips, which still tasted of his blood, making her want to let him drink her longer. She felt his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him and she felt the heat that was once radiating from his body start to disappear. He was becoming what she was, he was becoming immortal.
Finally she found the will power to push Ichabod away and he looked into her eyes, which had another color change to brown. Their foreheads pressed together as they breathed heavily and the woman's hand brushed through his hair to his neck.
"What do you see?" she whispered, her lips brushing against his. Ichabod's eyes burned into hers.
"I see Hell," he replied. She smiled the one and only menacing smile that would have frightened Ichabod, but he'd gone through a change. A change for the better or a change for the worse.