Welcome to Day 5 of the October Frights Blog Hop!
Today I you bring a flash fiction story, a little homage to a sleepy hollow...
The Horseman
The ancient oak tree stood at the top of
the hill, all gnarled and bare, its fallen autumn leaves a crumpled shroud over
lifeless grass. A few ebony crows roosted in its branches; dark solemn
harbingers of death, awaiting the coming of the midnight hours.
Still air breathed an unnatural silence,
while the rising moon bathed the sky in a nebulous pale glow. The night dripped
an ambience, an expectation that held suspense and terror in its sway. As if it
knew. As if it rejoiced.
The
Horseman was coming.
A tinge of sulphur slithered from the loam
beneath the leafy rot, the breath of Hell released by untrodden footsteps. The
limbs of the oak quivered in the breezeless sky, while the crows screeched a
raucous caw and twitched their wings in restless flapping. In the distance the
drumming rhythmic thud of hoofbeats sounded their harbinger echo. A fog of
sepia dust and ash grey unfurled along the hillside cloaking its vista and
shrinking the world to misty obscurity.
The
Horseman was riding.
A stygian nightmare emerged from the fog,
an onyx wraith atop a ghostly sable steed. The creature’s long coat flailed in a
cloud of malodorous smoke as it rode, its beast’s hoofprints leaving burning
impressions in their wake. Petrified skin pulled taunt over its bones, as bony
hands gripped the reins, and crimson eyes glared at the world. A tattered
uniform of coal cloth and stained brass buttons, along with scuffed black
boots, clothed the spectre, a remnant of a persistent but forgotten past. It
ran long dead fingers through thin wisps of ebon hair and drew its mount to a
halt beneath the oak tree. High in the branches the crows stayed silent and
still.
The
Horseman had arrived.
The fog parted, in whirl of choking grime
and fetid rot, leaving a clear view of the land beyond. Below the hill, nestled
a village in a tranquil hollow, dark and sleeping. The fearsome apparition
looked down upon the quaint houses and exhaled, the crackle of fire in its eyes
and the whiff brimstone on its breath. It nudged its horse forward and began
the canter down the hill. High in the oak tree the crows cawed a futile warning.
And
the Horseman laughed.
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved
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12 comments:
Love the Sleepy Hollow legend, and love this story!
Loved it!!
Thanks, I'm a fan of the Sleepy Hollow tale myself.
Thanks, Debbie.
Great spin on an old legend, though I think this is a different spectre than the sleepy hollow version. He has his head, and no mention of sword exists. Maybe he uses more malign powers to hunt victims down (hellfire perhaps?) or merely tramples people in a vicious strategy employed by military riders, as was hinted by his uniform? I think this is a preface to an even greater story that could expand beyond simple sleepy hollow mimicry. Love the fact that the crows were involved in an unheeded warning despite their lack of fear of him. As "harbingers of death", they would have little to fear with this reaper. The fact that he is silent save for laughter may explain the crows presence: they serve as his voice to the world at large when he appears. The imagery was evocative and the story begs to be continued. Nicely done!
Thanks, Nicholas. And yes, the story was more of an homage then a strict retelling of the Sleepy Hollow tale, plus I threw a bit of flavour from British legends like the Wild Hunt into the mix.
Great story! I love all your word choices
Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Very descriptive and creepy. I could picture this perfectly... and hear that chilling laughter ;)
Thanks, Scott.
Delightfully haunting! I love Sleepy Hallow and love what you did here.
Thank you, Wendy.
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