4. Iris
FOUR
Iris
Without a second thought, I dash from my room in nothing but my tank top and sleep shorts.
I don’t stop for pleasantries or to give an explanation at the desk.
Flashlight in hand, I run through the night along the sidewalk to the path I discovered earlier.
There’s no sign of the Horseman this way, but that doesn’t stop me.
Wherever he’s lurking, he’s sure to come back if someone comes during his witching hour.
I move past overgrown bushes and onto the path. The twigs, rocks, and leaves poke at my feet, and I regret not slipping on my shoes at the very least. The scent of fresh dirt fills my nostrils as the cold finally starts to creep in.
“Hello?” I call out to nothing. I walk to the bridge and trepidation settles in. This is stupid, I tell myself as I sweep my flashlight back and forth. There’s a rustling of leaves and I turn. “Who’s there?” Maybe what’s there is the appropriate question to ask.
I walk backward onto the bridge, and the wood groans beneath me. But it also settles behind me. I don’t dare turn around. My bravado is gone and fear takes over. This is incredibly stupid and impulsive, and I’m not one to take risks like this, but the need to know is too strong.
Braving what I might face, I turn. Nothing. I walk across the bridge slowly.
“Hello, is someone there?” As I near the halfway point, something rustles. A man jumps out from around the corner and chases me down.
“Leave and don’t return,” he yells at me. His face is covered, and I fight my way out of his grip, kicking and screaming. I claw at anything I can get to on his person. If his intent is to kill me, I’ll take his DNA with me at the very least.
“Help! Help! Let me go!” I push and push. He has me on the rail’s edge. The wind picks up.
“You’re meddling in shit you don’t understand,” he barks at me. I swing my flashlight back, trying to hit him and knock him off me, or at the very least create an escape as he’s stunned, but that doesn’t work. He still has me and is forcing me over the edge.
“Let me go!” I scream as he nearly throws me over the bridge. “Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Anyone, anything, I’m desperate at this point. The wind calms. The birds go quiet. Everything stops. The silence is as palpable as the dread befalling us. The man freezes and looks around.
Hooves sound in the distance, but even hearing that, my captor is hesitant to release me.
The Horseman appears at the end of the bridge as he unsheathes his sword. It’s broad, long, and reflects the moonlight on its sharp edge.
The Horseman charges, the eyes and mouth of his jack-o'-lantern face glowing brighter as he heads straight for us. The man lets me go and dashes for the pathway. I tumble down onto the bridge flooring and scramble to my knees to watch. That doesn’t stop the Horseman as he hunts him down and runs the blade of his sword right through him.
Screams and gurgles fill the air and the man falls to the ground, unmoving.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my flashlight on his mutilated body. Blood gushes from the wound and he tries to stand, but he can’t gather the strength to pull himself up. There’s a groaning and gurgling noise coming from his bloody mouth, and I’m frozen as I watch.
The Horseman’s posture is poised and calm as he turns the horse around and stalks toward me. I swallow thickly but I don’t move. He sheathes his blade and pulls out a dagger.
He was my savior, but now it looks like I’ll meet my end.
His horse trots toward me, and I kneel there, waiting.
The cold kiss of the blade is all I feel before the sound of tearing fabric hits my ears.
Then there’s cold. I look down. He’s cut the strap of my tank top, exposing my chest a little more.
I want to shout something, anything, but I can’t.
I just watch those glowing holes carved into the pumpkin.
He says nothing, and I doubt that he can.
I reach out and stroke the horse. He feels solid beneath my touch.
My hand glides farther until I brush the Horseman’s knee. It, too, is solid. Not a ghost.
His horse neighs and rears back before exploding down the bridge. I step out into the middle in their aftermath.
“Thank you!” I shout after him.
Confused and conflicted, I turn and run. I pass the gutted man whose entrails discolor the dirt path and keep going until I reach the inn and ultimately my room.
All the tales portrayed him as a ruthless killer, and I guess that’s true. But . . .
He rescued me tonight. I was nearly thrown off that bridge, and he killed my attacker instead. I walk over to my desk and take out a notebook, journaling everything that happened. The bells chime ten times, and I figure that nine o’clock is the witching hour for the Headless Horseman.
Satisfied with the entry, I look out the window and back to my torn shirt. I want to see him again. Regardless of how that will look or what will happen, his ferocity and magnetism are too strong to resist.
I hurry down the street, rushing past the morning pedestrians, hoping that Kurt is a creature of habit before his classes. Sure enough, there in the café, he’s in line ordering coffee. I rush inside and up to the counter.
“Kurt,” I breathe out, struggling after the impromptu run. “I need to speak to you outside please.”
“Iris, what’s wrong?”
I tug on his hand and lead him out. When no one is around, I tell him about the night before, leaving out how the Horseman nearly undressed me. His eyes are horrified as the tale plays out piece by piece. I’m nearly foaming at the mouth with excitement as I relieve those perilous moments.
“You did what? Are you insane?” he asks, pulling me closer and dropping his voice. “You got a man killed!” I tug my arm out of his grasp.
“No, a man attacked me for no reason!”
“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.