Page 5 of Headless Over You
“As an historian and a Van Tassel, do you know what’s missing?” This question gives him pause. Pride and regret wash over him.
“The Van Tassels were one of the founding families of Sleepy Hollow, and we’ve been here for generations. What I think would be best is if you visit the historical society. The pages could easily be there.”
“Could you take me?”
“I have to be at school soon, but we can go when my last class lets out.”
“Thank you, Kurt. You’ve been a big help.” Though it feels like a lie slipping from my tongue with the nonanswers I’ve been given, he’s at least trying. And that’s more than most have done during my visit.
THREE
Iris
The historical societyis in a decently sized, old Victorian home. There’s a plaque on the front door, but I would’ve missed it just driving by. Come to think of it, I did drive past it on my way to the inn. Inside, each room is dedicated to a piece of history regarding the town. As we move through the rooms and read the placards, I take notes that feel necessary about the Headless Horseman’s history. There are relics on display, and I snap a few photos with my phone.
“You’ll be very interested in this,” Kurt says as he leads me down a hallway. Inside the next room, there’s a large painting on the wall. He’s a handsome man. The little placard saysAbraham “Brom” Van Brunt.The pull in my chest is the same I felt the night on the bridge.
The Headless Horseman.
I look up at the painting again. He’s stunning, and I turn to Kurt to see him standing in front of a suit of armor. He looks pained and conflicted. I walk over to him.
“Everything okay?” He gives me a curt nod, and I read the information before me. The armor belonged to a Van Tassel,but the helmet is missing. I take more photos, moving my way around the room. Kurt turns to me, and I face him, noticing a broadsword on display behind him.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.
“If you got enough, I think it’s best we leave.” He turns to walk out of the room, but I catch a glimpse of an answer. That was the sword that beheaded the Horseman.
And it belonged to the Van Tassel ancestor that killed him.
My heart aches for Kurt and what he must be feeling having the legend of the Headless Horseman so ingrained into his history, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more he’s unwilling to tell me.
I follow him out in silence. We traipse through the town, and unease settles into me. Did Kurt not want me to know a Van Tassel dispatched the Horseman? He said they had a long history here, so it’s not really surprising when you think about it. Not to mention with enough research, I would’ve discovered that fact anyways. Dark clouds start to roll in with a vicious wind. The church bells sound, but it isn't the top of the hour yet.
“Why are the bells going off like that?”
“It’s just the wind,” Kurt dismisses, hurrying me toward the inn. The rest of the way is tense as we race to beat the storm rolling in. He stops at the steps and waits for me to reach the door, but that’s all the interaction there is. No goodbye, warning, or plans for tomorrow. He turns on his heel and walks back down Main Street, and I watch until he’s out of sight, past the historical center we just left.
Curiouser and curiouser, this town irks me.
Sitting in my room,I think over the day. It was long and mentally taxing, but what really sticks with me is Kurt’s shiftingmood. The secrets. The lies. Or not really outright lies, but definitely the omission of information.
I have no doubt in my mind that the mystery surrounding Sleepy Hollow will lead me back to the Van Tassels. It’s more than a scary ghost story people tell their children at night. From the way the locals behave, this is a very real phenomenon that occurs and it strikes terror into their very beings.
I push back from my desk, having transcribed my notes for the day, when a knock sounds at my door. I pause, waiting for something, anything. But nothing comes. There’s no follow-up or voice calling for me on the other side.
I walk over and open the door cautiously just in case, but no one is there. Just a lone note on the mat. I’m on edge as I quickly bend to retrieve it. Taking a step back inside, I open the letter and read an eerie line.
Beware the past,he watches over you.
I slam the door closed,not caring about other guests or politeness. Fuck that. I lock the door and check it twice over. None of this is funny, and I rack my brain about who might have done this. Only Kurt comes to mind, but surely he wouldn’t be so foolish and cryptic. And when I think about it more, I never told him what room I was staying in. What comes to mind next is the lady at the front desk who checked me in, and while she seemed suspicious, she didn’t give off malicious like this.
The bells toll, and I turn to the window, rattled. Nine in total. I look out as the mist and fog set in. The bridge is concealed almost completely. A thrill rushes through me.
Will I see him tonight?
I move closer, my breath nearly fogging the glass pane enough to blur my view. There in the distance, a man with a jack-o'-lantern for a head on horseback appears.He’s real,I convince myself. Whether he’s just an apparition or not doesn’t bother me. I don’t look away, not that I think I could even if I wanted to. My hand rises to rest on the cold glass, and I get the sense that he does see me. A smile breaks out over my face as he charges the bridge before vanishing into the night. Fire burns deep in my belly.
“Let him watch me.”
