Page 7 of Headless Over You
“Lower your voice; people are starting to stare.” He looks to the few people who are hanging out at the tables on the sidewalk in his periphery and pulls me closer, but I push back from him.
“Then listen to me,” I plead, lowering my voice a fraction. “By all accounts, the Horseman should’ve murdered me, but he didn’t.”
“That’s just a coincidence.” Kurt pauses and looks off into the distance. “You need to be more careful.” This isn’t going how I thought it would, but then again, Kurt has proven to be very anti-Horseman.
“Then tell me what you know,” I retort, rage settling in the place of my discomfort for confiding in him. He’s been keeping secrets from me this entire time. What does he expect? I feel it in my bones that he’s withholding from me. Everyone here knows something they don’t want to share. He is no different than the rest of them.
“There’s a curse, okay? It’s tied to the tale of the Horseman, and that’s all I can say. I really can’t get involved in this further, Iris. You’d do well to do your research and leave while you still have your head.” He turns and walks toward the café. Still have my head? Was that a threat? A promise? Whatever it is, I decide then and there that I’m not leaving until I get every last detail on this curse. He can hide from me, but he can’t hide from the truth like he thinks.
“Walk with me,” I demand.
“I have to get to the school,” he tries to brush off unsuccessfully.
“Then I will walk with you.”
“Iris,” he pleads.
“I’m pushing, Kurt. I’m owed answers after last night, and you’ve been keeping secrets like everyone else in this little town.”
He starts down the sidewalk, and I rush after him, proving to him that I’m not leaving until I get the information I came for. Something tells me that what I’m about to uncover through Kurt is what was missing in those pages and that he knew all along. More lies. More deceit. Fuck him for treating me so kindly just to easily lie to me. I felt for him and the struggle of his family ties to the legend; he owes me.
“Tell me about the curse, Kurt.”
Brom
Iris, Iris, Iris. Her name is on repeat in my head. I want to hear it roll off my tongue. She is stunning and brilliant. Where she came from, I have no idea, but even as I watch her now, I know she’s not leaving Sleepy Hollow. I won’t let her. Van Tassel would do well to keep his distance from her and from me. My hand flexes around the handle of my blade. I won’t stand for any harm to come to Iris. She’s mine, after all. The one I’ve waited centuries for. I can feel it every night I watch her in that room. She holds the power to break my curse once and for all and free me from this hell.
I slink back into the shadows as the two pass by my bridge. She’s different in the daylight, more clothed for one, less frightened for the other. She didn’t seem scared of me after I ran her attacker through with my sword, but she did analyze my being.
I hope that when the night falls, she will watch for me again. I will continue to show up for her, watch over her. There are many here who would see her harmed, for it is in their bloodlines to do so. The thought angers me, and as they disappear from my sight, I go back to my haunted woods.
FIVE
Iris
In my room,I pour over the texts and notes as I try to make sense of the tales and legends. It all comes back to the Van Tassel family. As I do more research, I find that the closest, truest account is, in fact, the journal.
Abraham “Brom” Van Brunt was a former soldier charged with protecting the town. Until an illicit affair with Jacob Van Tassel’s daughter resulted in an uprising. Van Tassel called for Van Brunt’s execution. On the full moon, Brom was beheaded wearing a talisman and cursed the family. He swore he would rise again and seek his revenge. Paying no mind to his words, Van Tassel swung his sword and off went Brom’s head. His body was buried in the local cemetery, but his head was not, and the trail of where it’s located runs cold.
The missing pages?
I feel strongly that the journal not only once told of the curse, but recounted the burying of Brom’s head. Reading on informs me that the Horseman rides through the night, looking for his head. Anyone he encounters suffers his fate.
But I wasn’t beheaded and neither was the assailant that attacked me.
Returning the Horseman’s head and talisman breaks his curse to stalk the night. It’s simple in theory—but where to start? I make a note to check obituaries for headless deaths and cross-check them with feuds amongst the townspeople.
The Horseman was never a villain; he was just in love. He wasn’t a rampaging monster the town had to kill. He wanted to marry above his station. Was that truly a punishment befitting the crime? He was an honorable soldier, by all the accounts I’ve read. Sounds like corruption to me.
Darkness fallsand I waste no time running down to the bridge. I’ll get my truth from the only source left. I’m not sure if he appears every night, but I take my chances and stalk across the wooden planks. My steps are quiet, but the wood creaks and echoes surround me. I look at my watch as the church bells toll nine.
Fog rolls in, and he materializes at the end of the bridge. I don’t stop walking. I’m not afraid of him. I respect him, but I don’t fear him like the townspeople do. There’s more to the Horseman than this terrifying monster who terrorizes the town of Sleepy Hollow.
The jack-o'-lantern face glows in the mist, and I continue my approach.
“We’ve met before,” I start. “I’m Iris Crane.” Nerves fill my voice and I can’t help them. He’s magnificent and fearsome, but I believe he’s magnanimous, too. He rears back on his horse, like he understands what I’m saying to him. Nothing comes back in response. “I have some questions, and I was hoping you could answer them for me?”
He dismounts and walks toward me. He’s tall, towering even, and he moves with a soldier's grace. He reaches out and touches down my arm. He’s solid, not a mere apparition or a figment of my imagination. I reach out too, placing my hand softly on his chest. I run my fingers down his torso.
