[Abishai100]

When I was a boy, things like baseball-cards filled my brain with energy for spending time. When I was a student, things of fantasy found in cool detective books and comics were the stuff of real intelligence. When I was a graduate, things of Rationalism comprised my work of intuition and everyday curiosities of the heart. When I moved into this new American Homeland suburbia to be a homeschool-teacher of linguistics, things of optimism were in my veins. It was the Horseman who changed all that, and maybe that's because I was (somehow) destined to become his only awful witness.

Sure, my darling Danica, courted library-lady, now fiancee, still had no-wish to become my accomplice or ally in this work for words to decode the Rationalism restorations magic worksheets to differentiate securities from accessible Hell created by this 'leviathan' of sightings and headless-malice. Sure, the Headless Horseman was still distant to me, having first become known through hearsay, and then through hideous encounter, and now through memory 'linked' furious journal-scribblings of an earnest quest to make sense of this all. I decided to confide all these 'jitters' feelings in a valiant policeman, as I had no-wish to mire lovely Danica in this bloody mess.

The policeman, Officer Charlie, was a respected man of work for the law in our cool suburbia in Jersey; and I thought he was the perfect angel to seek chat for sensibilities of how to make-sense of this accessible Hell in this Earthling town of everyday crossings and frills and foods and color. How would I have anticipated that the Horseman would hear me whispering words of paranoia of earnest patriotism to the law-man, drawing the very unfortunate cop to the blood-axe of this specter from the dark side of the unknown (damn). I said a prayer for Charlie at his funeral, now convinced my role as the only 'learned' witness of this 'Headless Horseman' would be as a ghost-writer...maybe for a pen and a lancet (for all).