E
very Halloween night for a decade, a lost soul hunted for revenge, thirsty for a kill. You may have heard the story --- or one like it.
What you might not know is that it’s not just a story. The reason it has lapsed into lore is because ten years after it began, a witch and her coven sought and found a way to stop the annual carnage. Her coven is responsible for some very important spells that keep things normal to the degree that the average person can afford to be a skeptic. Though, her coven was also partly responsible for the violence in this particular case, it was not via nefarious intentions.
Sometimes, things just go wrong just as sometimes they go inexplicably right.
This particular legend’s genesis was over 200 years ago, and for generations, descendants of that coven have continued to protect the area around Drowsy Hollow, a tiny town that’s barely on the map.
Locals let the truth about what used to happen each Halloween night fade from truth to legend, wanting to forget about the fear. Needing to forget about the carnage. It was
that
brutal.
It transcended from being a visceral fear of everyone in the small village, to lapsing into local lore that became innocuous to the point that stories are told each Halloween that closely mirror the truth.
Children even go so far as to dress as the source of the legend, as the hollow husk of that former soul, in a dark cloak that covers their face, carrying a menacing-looking jack-o-lantern stating they’ll do so until coming across a soul that they will take, so they can trade the pumpkin for a head.
But, October 30
th
, when the last remaining local witch from that coven perished unexpectedly, things went awry.
Her niece, who was supposed to come quickly and cast the annual protection spell, was delayed through a series of unusual and inexplicable hurdles that amounted to very bad luck at the worst possible time.
The niece needed to be on site just outside the town of Drowsy Hollow near a specific tree, the oldest in the area, to cast the trusted annual protection spell. Since she could not get there in time, she cast a different spell remotely, to give her the opportunity to whisper commands to the horseman as he hunted, hoping it would be enough to ensure he took no lives that year.
Instead, not only did the new spell alter the course of events for the evening, it also changed the fabric of life for Isabella Krane, a young schoolteacher who happened to be traveling home alone during the witching hour.
Incidentally, she is a direct descendent of the man responsible for the horseman’s death.
Maybe it was the case of a perfect storm.
Or, perhaps, it’s fate, happening the way it is supposed to happen.
The coven was not prepared for what happened that night. No one was.
