There was a knock at the door. Then the room resumed in silence. The petite woman crept quietly to the front door still clad in her dress and apron. Fore she had been expecting the knock. She left her kerosene lantern by her bed, it was vital to her plan. She opened the front door to find a large, plump pumpkin. But not just any pumpkin. It was about to be used in her plan. It had been charmed just for this occasion.
She kneeled down and picked the pumpkin up effortlessly. She shut the door behind her and tiptoed back to the dark kitchen, the floor boards creaking faintly under her weight. She set the plump pumpkin on the table and crept slyly to the cupboards. She went thru each vial, and then found the one necessary. She grabbed it, holding it carefully in her nimble hands as she walked back to the counter. She opened the vial with a soft ‘pop’ and the putrid smell filled the room. She poured a generous amount into her hands.
She rubbed the oily substance on the pumpkin covering it with the warm oil. The pumpkin started to glow, illuminating the small kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out a large, sharp kitchen knife. It gleamed in the faint glow of the pumpkin and and she smiled smugly. As her knife grew closer to the pumpkin it grew even brighter, lighting up a room in such a way that it could illuminate brighter than ten kerosene lamps.
She stared at the pumpkin, her deep brown eyes as sharp as daggers. She cut two small triangles in the middle of the pumpkin like eyes and then carved a mouth in the pumpkin. It looked almost as threatening as her. The pumpkin became brighter, its light so blinding she had to shield her eyes, and then it disappeared just as fast as it lit. She turned the knob on the lamp nearby and the kerosene lit, its dim light flickering.
She crept to the closet a couple yards away and opened it to reveal a young man with wide, panicked eyes. His mouth was covered with a gag and his slurs and curses broke the silence barely understandable, or even audible. She smiled and grabbed his arm, pulling him up to his feet but he couldn’t fight back. His arms were tied together with rope at the wrist, behind his body.
She pulled him across the kitchen and out the door, almost dragging him. She was small, but had the strength of an ox. She continued dragging him until they were outside and she placed the lamp on a short tree stump nearby and picked up her ax. The man screamed for help, but little did he know there wasn’t another living soul for miles.
Just like that, his head was gone. The woman dropped the ax and walked back to the kitchen, returning with the pumpkin. She sat the man up against the house and placed the pumpkin on his shoulders where the head should be. The pumpkin lit up again brighter than before. She cackled as the man stood up.
She ran to the barn, climbing onto a black horse and with a kick and some whinnying, the horse took off, fleeing into the misty forest.
The man now haunts these woods on one of the horses he stole from the woman. The horse is also beheaded but not from the woman, but from the man. The horses were charmed, for the woman was a witch. Even today, the man haunts the forest at night, beheading every unlucky victim that crosses the bridge to the forest where he rides. Searching for the perfect one. They call him: the Headless Horseman.