View Single Post
  #6  
Old 09-18-2025, 04:34 PM
Abishai100 Abishai100 is offline
Evil Dead
 
Join Date: Feb 2015
Posts: 125
Chapter 6: Origin of Blood

What could I do now but run? I had to think all these inquiries and investigations leading me to intimations of what made me a reality-witness to the presence of the dark Headless Horseman required me to immediately seek some semblance of sanity. So, I resolved to flee to Brussels (Belgium), to Europe, with my wife-to-be (Danica), whom I met/courted/loved in this otherwise quaint and idyllic suburbia in the Homeland-Jersey area of residential and modestly commercial amenity life. I resolved to distance myself forever from any question of the origin of 'consciousness' of what made this Horseman a messenger of blood.

Danica didn't want to go to Europe at first, content with her library-work in this lovely town, but after much talk and stir in-town about the Horseman, with me at the center but only as a conversational philosopher and campfire-maker, she admitted there was some breath of fresh-sanity to think a completely different life distanced from any 'deep' superstition seemed somewhat wise. I told her our new life in Belgium would be safer and saner than the one she imagined was overground securities life. After all, I already knew of multiple bloody deaths 'linked' to the spooky Horseman, headless and riding in shadows on his ghost-magic horse creature.

I wasn't concluding this omen-humanoid had driven any American Homeland life sensibility out of my brain; but I did resolve that securities-life required a cooler dream sought in far-away Belgium, with darling-Danica. I knew that the Headless Horseman had made me somehow wiser and therefore made me feel moved to 'transform' my ground-feet stamping consciousness to envision a newer dream-pursuit in a place, for school things, away from the eerie bloody reach of the Horseman's axe, which surely symbolized all the fears of Earth-realm kite fall (ok). Before Danica and I departed, I visited the grave of murdered Officer Charlie; and I whispered the farewell-prayer (Catholic/American), "Blood is rippled like water, Charlie...I will miss your knucklebones."
Reply With Quote