Ichabod-Crane

A Story by Abishai100

Narrated portrait-tale of Ichabod Crane, in a spun retelling of Irving's classic of incomplete-distances in 'inventions' for American Homeland dye.

A rich adaptation of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (Washington Irving), which, incidentally, is adapted into a very-cool film (Tim Burton). Happy Saturday all,

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My name's Ichabod Crane and I wandered into a small idyllic classic American town called Sleepy-Hollow in the autumn of a very-special year, a year that marked my final examination closures for teaching-training/certification, vaunting me right into the world of employed education-work and eager to serve as this town's singular employed teacher of youngsters aged 10-14, and I was prepared nicely for the image-rich and text-literate presentations in the subjects of math, history, art, and psychology. However I'd never anticipated that I'd someday/somehow come into full-contact with a stranger demonic-character, the ominous Headless-Horseman who (no doubt) was some decapitated early-Americas soldier who was wandering around Halloweentime with a pumpkin on horse and without a head. This would (no doubt) create a future-world self-image fantasy idealization of the exercises any 'normal' citizen may make for commentary regarding incomplete-distances readings to Earthling 'confidence' for life's bread/fruit.

MAYOR: So excited to welcome you to our wonder-town of Sleepy Hollow.

CRANE (Me): I'd been so eager to take-up the reins of the school and reign!

MAYOR: Our one-teacher is now retired, and we're happy to have a younger!

CRANE: Very good, Mister Mayor; I shall ingest this town's image as mine.

MAYOR: Perchance you find education 'premonition' for future's end(s), sir?

CRANE: Without doubt(s), Mister Mayor; Sleepy-Hollow's (all) design (ha).

MAYOR: You must verse yourself in the local superstitions of the Horseman.

CRANE: The girl-on-the-train told me...some Headless specter, no?

MAYOR: Good luck, Mr. Crane...we shall make you celebrity, Ichabod (ha).

CRANE: Photo-synthesis.

It was late that autumn when I'd been walking home from the schoolhouse of Sleepy Hollow, having fully-developed into a respected/energized town singular-teacher, and I had everything I wanted to have actually in that small American idyllic town; I even met a lovely girl who worked as the town librarian (Esmerelda) whom (ironically) I met on the train and who told me (originally) of the haunted-tale superstition of the Headless Horseman. That post-school work-day in Sleepy Hollow, I carried in my backpack my notes and supplies and was ready to either walk straight-home or make a single-stop at the town library to visit and greet my lady (Esmerelda). I was fully feeling self-collected and actually spiritually-satisfied when I beheld the specter-vision of that dreadful Horseman (headless!).

HORSEMAN: Throw pumpkin at you, and it implodes, with your soul!

ICHABOD (Me): Goodness me, Horseman; I shall flee from your leviathans.

HORSEMAN: Aaaarrrrggghhhh!

ESMERELDA: This is the most unbelievable conversation you've offered yet!

ICHABOD (Me): I assure you, Ezzy; I speak the dark truth here (I escaped!).

ESMERELDA: You ran-away (successfully) from the Horseman, Ichabod?

ICHABOD: Surely I have, as you see me in your library well, alive.

ESMERELDA: Sounds like a Western/Earthling bank story for the books, love.

ICHABOD: I shall adapt this 'escape' from Hell into a book (with you in it!).

ESMERELDA: That's good photo-synthesis, for art's designer.

Friends, I honestly think my personal odyssey of micro-miracle spirituality-infusing and life-affirming escape from the Horseman (headless!) will afford a future-world culture a special self-idealization commentary of lifestyle-drawn confidence for immortality, and perhaps a future-world educator (teacher?) shall consider me a 'celebrity' in the annals/traffic of American/Earthling dodecahedrons, if only for a short-lesson. Thanks for following this faerie-tale of incomplete-lines to complete dialysis (for all!).