Obsessed with completing tomorrow’s lesson plan you have burned the candles to the nub. Standing up a yawn catches you by surprise, because it could be that late, could it? So do you dare to leave the relative safety of the School House after dark and traverse the Haunted Forest hoping to make it home before the witching hour is upon you?
Ichabod, has heard all the stories but does not believe in Specters, nor the fancies of the uneducated peoples folklore, shaking his head he grabs his cloak and heads out the door.
Icabod un-hitches his horse and climbs on. Riding at leisurely pace, he is enjoying the brisk fresh night air and the sounds of the nocturnal creatures as he rides. Humming a little tune he suddenly stops and realizes that this patch of forest is much darker than he remembers, and straining an ear, he listens for what should be a cacophony of night time forest noises.
When he started his journey there were crickets and tree frogs blasting out their harmony, while the occasional owl would add its tune to the mix. Now there is dead silence and he can barely see through the darkness of the forest. The full moon isn’t even providing enough light to illuminate silhouettes of the trees overhead. Ichabod also notices that it feels a little colder than before, so pulls his cape a little tighter around him as he nudges his horse a little faster.
The quiet is deafening and his stead is now starting to shiver and wicker softly, Ichabod’s head is swiveling, trying to see what is exciting Gunpowder. Not seeing anything, he lets out a small chuckle and chides himself for falling prey to the children’s tales so often told this time of year. Moving hesitantly a few yards further, his nose twitches as he catches whiff of something, but it’s too faint to tell what it is, but Gunpowder must have smelled it too because he comes to an abrupt stop almost dislodging his rider from his saddle.
Now standing in the path, both rider and horse raise their muzzles in the air and both take a big snort of air. They both get a nose full of what appears to be rotten eggs, rearing up at the violation of his nose, Gunpowder bolts forward, causing the waif of a school teacher to grab the horse around the neck with both hands to keep from being unseated and screaming, like kids at recess.
Ichabod tries to reign in his horse, but before he can do so a dark shape materializes out of the darkness. Not clear in the ink of night, a flaming light flares to life…Ichabod can not dispute the childrens stories any longer, as a man sits silently atop a massive hellish black horse holding a flaming pumpkin in one hand and a sword in another.
Gunpowder suddenly turns to flee and looking back the rider and horse suddenly jump to a gallop, neither making any noise. One last look back at his predator, he notices that this creature does not have a head when abruptly, the rider hurls the flaming pumpkin straight for him. Barley dodging the throw, Ichabod wants to only think about how he should have stayed at school and how will he now survive to make it to the bridge and safety, but he can’t, he doesn’t have the time, because now he has to...