Chapter Two. #2
“Ann Thomas created her to honour her husband, General Samuel Thomas. She didn’t think his mausoleum was grand enough.
She hired Andrew O’Connor to create something fitting.
He fashioned a lady sitting on a bench who looked mournful.
The legend is that Ann hated it and ordered a happier-looking head.
O’Connor made it, but when Ann showed approval, he smashed it and berated her for trying to force him to destroy his work.
“The statue was placed between two pine trees and has a variety of myths surrounding it. Some say if you sit in her lap, you’ll be cursed; others say sitting in her lap breaks the curse.
People have witnessed her crying, and some have seen orbs.
Others report that if you treat the statue with respect, she’ll bless you with good luck,” I explained.
“Lots of urban legends,” Callum surmised.
“Indeed. And some we can no doubt debunk,” Connor agreed.
“Can you disprove that?” Phil asked and pointed.
To my surprise, I saw a figure wearing an old-fashioned lavender dress standing between two graves. She was in her early twenties, with long, flowing hair. She had a slender figure and gazed at us as we stared at her.
“Are we near the Bronze Lady?” Hugo whispered.
“No.” Connor shook his head as I moved forward.
The young woman watched me and then slowly faded away.
“I don’t think we’ve ever captured a sudden appearance so clearly,” Phil muttered as she checked his camera.
“Tell me you have that!” I demanded, spinning on him.
Phil glanced up, grinning, and nodded. “Clear as day,” he exclaimed.
“Fantastic. I want to check whose grave she was standing by,” I said and wandered over. I frowned as I stared at the headstone.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Connor murmured.
“No,” I agreed. The inscription read, ‘Unknown soldier.’
“What?” Hugo muttered, surprised. “She most certainly wasn’t the figure of a soldier.”
“His wife?” Callum suggested.
“He’s unknown, so how would she have found him?” I drawled, trying to puzzle this out.
“It would be great to know if she wanders the cemetery,” Phil said, and I nodded.
“We’ll head over to the Bronze Lady,” I said half an hour later. I’d used the voice recorder to engage her, but all we got was silence.
“Yeah,” Connor agreed.
We found the Bronze Lady fairly easily and set up some temperature-change monitors and Rem-Pods around her.
We tried everything to get a reaction, but there was nothing.
Of course, we didn’t treat her with disrespect; that went against everything we believed in.
Finally, before dawn, we agreed to return to base.
“Let’s check it out,” I said to Connor.
He didn’t ask what, but sent me a sideways look and shook his head. “Really?”
“Come on, we have to,” I pushed.
Everyone swapped glances.
“We’ve got half an hour till sunrise,” Phil stated and grinned.
“Let’s head out,” Connor said.
“Children, we’re working with children,” Callum complained, raising his eyes to the heavens.
Jack
“I thought it would be bigger,” I grumbled.
“Are you for real? With that mist rising, it’s spooky enough,” Connor replied.
“The Headless Horseman Bridge. Famous worldwide,” I murmured. “The original was wooden. This is a concrete replacement.”
“What about the Old Dutch Church? When was that built?” Callum inquired, peering around.
Harry’s voice crackled over the radio. “Sixteen ninety-seven to sixteen ninety-nine was the construction period.”
“Still getting our live feed?” I teased, and Harry responded with a snort.
“When was Sleepy Hollow written?” Hugo inquired.
“Eighteen twenty was the publishing date,” Harry replied.
“A hundred and twenty years, roughly, between them,” Connor mused.
“Where was the real-life body buried?” Callum asked.
“In the Old Dutch Church graveyard. You have to wonder if the church has its own stories?” Connor drawled.
“We’ve not got permission for that. But we do this,” I said and nodded towards the bridge.
It stood above the creek, with early morning mist rising from it. The sloped sides of the bank were covered in leaves, which moved gently in the wind. The rustling noises added to the eerie atmosphere.
We parked a little way away and stood staring at it. It was just before dawn, and the sky was that bruised purple colour.
“What the fuck!” Connor exclaimed, raising a shaking hand.
We were stunned as a huge black stallion galloped in our direction. A tall man sat in his saddle—minus his head!
“No way, no fuckin’ way,” I gasped as it reached the bridge and began crossing.
“Tell me you’re getting this,” Hugo whispered.
“Hell yeah,” Phil replied.
The spectre cantered towards us, and a cackle came from the body. In one hand, he held a lantern while his other hand held the reins of the horse. Sitting in front of him was a severed head.
“Holy cow!” I exclaimed.
We stood as it reached the end of the bridge facing us. The stallion reared up, and then it disappeared.
Callie
“Are you sure it was the Headless Horseman?” I demanded over the radio.
“Yes. We searched for a projector and found nothing,” Connor replied.
“The Horseman wasn’t real, which leaves one of three things. A thought-form, a Tulpa, or a demon,” Jack mused.
“I agree. If it is, he’s strong,” Callum added.
“Very, if he can assume the appearance of a legend like the Headless Horseman. You might need Michelle as well to banish him,” I said, considering the logistics.
“We might be jumping the gun here; maybe wait to see what the investigation throws up? The apparition could still be a thought-form or Tulpa,” Hugo suggested.
“Let’s hope so. Because I don’t want to be facing two demons,” Sunny quipped, and my stomach sank.
He’d probably just jinxed us.