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Y/n's. Point. Of. View.
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Mr Eglantine was frankly dumbfounded when he realized that there was no aspect of this particular problem, but which he could directly blame to the town council. And he merely snapped.
"Why can't you just understand it, Lady L/n. I mean, why do you tolerate such things that aren't even actually yours? Well, the town councillors are not even bothered of the conditions of the people living in Sleepy Hollow. Instead of protecting it; the victims of the headless horseman is growing each week. Or perhaps, even each days. Even the authorities didn't bother to-"
I paid no attention to what he was saying; it was all too vague and round-about and irrelevant to the present case; the idea of me being a sort-of assistant with Mr Crane on the cases of the headless horseman provoked Eglantine into incoherent, unpredictable statements. I left him alone; And after all, it was me only who had started the topic over the unexpected visit of Mr Crane in my house last night.
Though, I was flabbergasted when I recieved a letter from Mr Crane this morning; he had written about his sudden worsening health and could barely leave his bed after returning back from my house. Probably, in my own view, it was because Mr Crane was mentally disturbed by the death of Mr Philipse. Or rather I could say; Mr Crane had seen the headless horseman chopping off the older man's head infront of his own eyes.
And my first doubt was actually the truth; he was really, very sensitive in these types of critical situations. I still could barely understand the fact that he was still working as a detective? Even though I realized that he actually didn't liked his profession.
But that was not as more important as this new problem risen upon me, and even though regarded by Mr Crane himself.
McLeod; my Lawyer, was also in these connections with the Van Garrett's? Sure that he was the first victim of these all series of decapitations.
But, how? I'am definitely not sure of this whole circumstances!
He couldn't betray us!
Even if he did, then there was something for a reason after all.
I shrugged my shoulders with exhaustion, and entered inside my cabin from the parlour. I briefly made my way towards the desk and started to reorganise the half done paperworks from the table, and carefully kept it back on the cupboard. Though it was still the most busy hours of the usual schedule of my work. I kept on thinking about the murder of Magistrate Samuel Philipse.
His dead body . . .
And as said by Mr Crane in the letters: Philipse was about to actually reveal the unknown father of the widow, Emily Winship. But all of a sudden the headless horseman appeared and decapitated Philipse, before absconding with his head. Even though, I wasn't as surprised when a few moments back, Eglantine had came running inside my cabin, saying that Philipse was also the new victim, and there was no clue of his chopped up head.
I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose with disapproval. When I heard more about the informations from Eglantine. And even without taking any mere precautions of this new brutal decapitation by the councillors. They did was, nothing.
There was so much to understand about this completely difficult case.
No,
Sir McLeod was not a type of person who would keep such a pathetic secrets from us! He would surely informed me at least. I slowly tried to massage the temples of my head, trying to rethink the past thoughts, but my mind wasn't giving me anything to do atleast; and as it was ready to burst out anytime with the severe pain and stress, and also because of the lack of sleep I couldn't get for few days.
I just wanted to uncover all these dark mysteries, I just wanted to understand who was the bastard that had stolen the deadly Hessain horseman's head! (Why should anyone steal such an odd things like it?) I just wanted to reveal every sectres and unknown notions to prove it to everyone that I wasn't as weak, or cunning, or evil, as many people thought that my family members actually were. But yet I couldn't.
Mr Crane was not in a good state of returning back to restart the investigation of it. And, that was what I should do. It was only me, who could at least uncover some secrets of this confusing case in the behalf of Mr Crane!
Yes. Yes, that I am not of any help of him, yes that I am useless! I accept it that I just, am merely a woman. But . . . But I can do anything for God's sake at least! I mean, if headless horseman's spirit kills people, then there must be his own dead body . . . Buried somewhere . . .
My eyes flickered at the thought of it and as I straightened up. Without thinking much, I made my way towards the door. I believe, that Eglantine would think me as an insane . . . Everyone would think me that I have gone insane! And after all it is a work for people to judge me.
I know that I am just trying to fit in the group of narrow minded, control freak men. But I won't care for any of these spectators, and their useless comments or statements in my work.
I just know what I have to do!
***
After coming out of my rather disturbing daydreams, I rushed straight towards the library and spent over two hours in the place to find a certian book. I plucked over every relevant books I could find from the bookshelves and checked each one of them out.
Just the one I need. Just the one!
I repeated the same mantra inside my head. As I was scouring through the nearest bookshelf, running my fingures across the spines of it and reading the titles of every books with anxiety and nervousness.
It should be here! Somewhere in this section of the library. But where is that bloody book?!
My eyes suddenly glistened when I finally reached a book at the end of the shelf. I quickly walked over it, and found out that it was printed in some black cover. I sighed a breathe of relief and turned around to face it.
Ah! There it is!
My eyes widened as I reached over it. The book. And which I was finding for over two hours; It had always gone unnoticed by numerous people who visited the library. The old dusty book. Just like it hadn't been moved in for over ages; just like I had found it the very first time in this familiar place. I quickly draw my hand and reached it out.
Blowing the dust from the book cover, I coughed twice when it permeated the air. I again brushed the cover clean by the help of my sleeve, and then I read through the title : Ghostly kisses.
It was as written in the same big cursive letters, and was carved in golden. As it contrasted the black colour of the book itself.
Unknowingly, a small smile crept my lips.
The certian book which I had read million of times when I was a small kid. And it was me, who had found this strange, old book. True, that I had always hided the secret of the power of this book from everyone, even my mother. I had always kept the secret that I had founded a precious treasure by precise.
I slowly, but tenderly caressed the cover of it, I had always loved the name of this title. Ghostly kisses. It reminded me of the old witch who gaurded our Mansion from the evils, by remembering it my eyes buldged up at the thoughts of my mind and taking a deep breathe. I opened the first page of the book.
It was blank.
I furrowed my eyebrows with disappointment. There was nothing but a white sheet of paper and nothing was written in it. I pushed myself back at the chair, and waited for sometimes more, but nothing happened.
I flipped over some pages. But everything was blank.
How odd!
I let out a feeble breathe, not knowing what to do. Must be the power of the book had been faded long time back? Or someone has stolen the power of it.
I pinched the bridge of my nose with disapproval.
No, no it can't be! I had no assumptions that the whole thing would end up like this. I had wasted my two hours for finding this bloody book! But nothing happened. Not a single thing was written in it!
I cursed my ill fate, as I started to quickly collect my stuff from the tabletop and was about to leave when-
I noticed some words were appearing itself from the white paper. I paused for a while, hoping that it has still it's power. Was it still working? I merely thought as I sat down back at my chair, leaning in front. I picked up the book.
There was a paragraph written in cursive handwriting. I immediately read through it. And it read:
'If you want to understand the mystery, go back to the place were your father was born . . . Take a different route . . . And then you will find an old woman who is actually related to you . . . Do not waste a single time. Let yourself accompanied by someone whom you can trust the most . . . Do not waste time dear . . . Do not waste . . .'
"What?" I yell wishpered to myself while reading the line.
Father's birth place?! An old woman related to me?! Different route?! Someone whom I can trust?!
I pushed myself back at the chair with confusion. What should I do next? My eyes flickered with frustration and tiredness and my headache was going to be the reason of my death. I tried to massage my temple, and used my eyes to concentrate.
If nothing is happening right, then just listen to your heart rather than your mind.
Now what was this?!
***
Ichabod's. Point. Of. View.
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Pain is terrifying, but seeing a loved one in pain was the worst.
That night, that darkest night!
It was so much fearful! So much frightening!
That night has taken not only one life, but also his own. One soul escaped forever, but the other was dying every day. Ichabod curled himself further into a messy ball in the bed as the hours passed by; he was clenching his fist and his eyes were shut. The voices within him could not allow to live him a normal life like anyone else after his mother's death.
The darkening thoughts were consuming himself, and he couldn't find a way to run out from them.
His mother:
The painful screams that had escaped her mouth whenever her husband would mentally and physically torture her; and was abusing her, killing her.
He had seen everything from his tender eyes, and that was the reason why he was so scared of him; his father's abusive nature. The way his father had treated his mother was still fresh and clear in his mind like it had occurred just yesterday.
His mother wasn't evil! She was a kind hearted and a lovely woman, and his father . . . was a stern, preoccupied priest of the church, who gave him little attention, and expected great things of him. And with whom Ichabod was feared the most.
From a very tender age he had thought that all his brightness he found life a little grey and dull; and he thought that it still was now.
Just then there was a vision infront of his eyes.
His mother; the fragaile woman was dying in front of his eyes, infront of that torture chamber. Pleading eyes, and tears escaping from it. She was whimpering for help and was trying herself to crawl up and run away.
"Help . . ."
That was what she could utter, when an unknown man appeared from thin air, and in the blink of his eyes. Chopped the head of her mother.
*
"NO!!"
Ichabod shouted.
There was tears in his eyes, sweat was covered in his body and he was breathless.
Just a dream, he thought; but what a dream!
Ichabod tried to confirm himself that it was just a bad dream, and as it was only the side effect of the frustration of the overworks. Ichabod immediately casted a look around to see the surrodings; he was still in his room. Safe. A deep breathe of relief escaped from his mouth unknowingly, and he rubbed his face with his palm to calm him down.
But how could he stay silent for all these past years?
Yes, he was scared. He was frustrated of his past, of his present and his future. There was so many things that was going to happen to him, or will happen now.
The more he thought about it, the more he was swallowed by the fear and terror. Thoughts consumed him again, and there was no turning back . He just could not expect from the beginning that the headless horseman was real, but now he believed; it festered inside him when he remembered the time when the headless horseman had chopped off Mr Philipse head infront of his eyes.
He was so much scared, that he had ran away from the place. Luckily, he had bumped over young Masbath; who had taken him to the nearest shelter from the area, and had unknowingly stumbled over Y/n's house that night.
How strange. She had given them to rest in her house.
No, Ichabod had never expected that she would ever allowed him to enter inside her house; hence, he had often heard about Y/n's family history from the people; that they were cunning, selfish and unkind.
But after knowing some more about Y/n, he understood how wrong the people of the town were.
She was kind.
Ichabod swiftly pulled himself from the blanket, and then there was a knock on his door.
He was startled at first, but cleared his throat. Composing himself in the bed.
It must be Katrina.
He thought of the beautiful young girl; a small smile played his lips. The first day he had laid his eyes over her, he had instantly liked her. She seemed so innocent, so much beautiful. That he could not resist and have taken his eyes over her.
"Come in." He said instantly.
And as expected, the door opened and a beautiful Katrina stepped inside with her evergreen smile. Ichabod smiled back admiringly as he always did. But then Ichabod's smile was faded away and his eyes instantly lingered over the other figure walking beside her.
He arched his eyebrows with confusion, but suddenly a red blush crept his cheeks as he recognised the person.
"Miss L/n wants to talk to you." He heard Katrina's sweet voice echoing inside his ears, as his eyes were focused over Y/n.
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