Haunt of the Horseman - Campfire Story

HAUNT
OF THE
HORSEMAN

HELLO FRIENDS OF THE ORANGE MOON

With the moon full and bright, I, Autumn Rose, your dearest of friends and hostess, with great pleasure, do welcome you on this night of nights for Halloween is here long last!

Y’all are cordially invited, right now as a matter of fact, to join me ’round the campfire for another story in celebration of this most auspicious of days. Before we begin, I would like to thank each and everyone of you, the true believers who never gave up on Halloween despite the naysayers.

It is to y’all this next story is affectionately dedicated. This year thus far we’ve ventured into the unknown encountering ghoulish pumpkin surprises, haunted wells, gremlins and even braved the dreadful “hidebehind.”" But for our trip to be truly complete there is yet another extra special specter we have left to encounter. For it is this Halloween, we welcome the “headless horseman.”

* * *

❦ Headless horseman? It used to sound funny to me. See, I grew up hearin’ the story, watch’ the cartoon and all, way back when I was little. Y’know, I didn’t think twice about it. Seein’ how I didn’t know then what I know now.

I never believed in ghosts, let alone headless ones. To me, they were just things people joked about to try and scare you, to tease you. That’s how it all got started.

It was in late fall sometime when I followed some tracks up into the old hills. It was on a dare, and, after all, what was the worst that could happen?

My cousin Drew dared me to get up into the old cemetery just at the end of the trail off Red Dog Road. I had heard a lot about Red Dog Road. In fact, I heard everything. But I wasn’t scared. I was ready as I ever was going to be to do the thing. The thing I would regret for the rest of my life.

So, I came around a hook in the trail just in sight of where the graveyard was supposed to be. It was later in the evenin’ but wasn’t any much further to go plus I knew I’d be back before dark. Eventually, I come to the graveyard, what musta been a hundred year old. The tombstones, more like bricks really, were worn and couldn’t hardly nobody read what was on them any more. Weeds were everywhere and it looked more like a briar patch than a cemetery. But sure nuff, I come across this big pillar bout near seven foot tall.

This is what I had come for. It was an odd sight to look at for sure and right near the top there was a long red stain. Now, Drew, he, told me this stain wasn’t there when the marker was put up, oh no. He says a man was murdered, head cut clean off. Robbed with the body left right up against the marker, as if he would know, am I right?

Anyway, I weren’t no chicken. I stood there, reached my hand out, placed it directly over the spot. A sigh of relief and a feelin’ of calm came over me. I was done. “Gotta get back home now,” I thought.

But as I slid my hand off. I noticed it felt wet. And hardly had there been a drop of rain that week. So, I look at my hand. It sounds crazy and I swear to you I could never make this up but my hand it was just like it was covered in somethin’, why it looked like, somethin’ red like—blood.

Second I saw it I felt real cold in the chest, didn’t know how I knew but knew it weren’t mine. I lean down to wiped my hand on some of the tall grass to try and shake it off. Before I could, got a feelin’ like, like a cold dead hand just grabbed my shoulder.

I turned around about as fast as I could but ain’t nobody was there. I look back at my hand and the blood that was gone too.

And that was when I knew I had to get outta of there. So, I just start runnin’ as hard as fast as I knew how. Whenabouts, I could heard whatever it was commin’ up behind me. It was the sound of a horse, clear as day. And then that’s when I really bolted.

It grew louder and louder. And a smell like gunpowder filled the air. As it grew closer I could hear the sound of my name like on a whisper almost like it was right by my ear. But I never looked back I-I just couldn’t look back. I thought that if I did, well, I be dead. I was almost off the trail back around to Red Dog Road. I was tellin’ myself, “Almost, almost, almost,” over and over again. I could feel myself shakin’ and...

And then I fell.

I knew that was it. I fell fast and hard. Scrapped my elbow and tore my jeans on some rocks. My sight started to get blurry. The air grew thin, like the breath was being drawn outta me. I must have feel asleep ’cause I remember dreaming that I was lookin’ down at my body just layin’ there on the ground.

But the worst part of it looked like my guts, they were out. And just ’cross from me, a tall man in black, with shadow or smoke just where the head should be, stood there still with his hands clenchin’ a whip of bones.

When I woke up, I tell you, I wasn’t nowhere near where I just had been. In fact, I was walking back home just a hundred feet or so from the house.

Maybe, maybe I thought it was just a dream. In my head, my imagination maybe. But my jeans were still ripped, and my elbow still scuffed up.

As much as I wanted to deny it, as much as I couldn’t believe it, as much as I wanted to forget it all. I couldn’t. But I kept quiet.

When Drew, he asked me if I had done the thing.

“Naw,” I says, “Guess, I just don’t got the guts.” ☙

* * *

Sakes alive! That gave me the chills! In fact, ya might could say it is enough to make somebody lose their head.

Anyway, it has been right good fun having y’all over for our season of storytelling. We would like to thank you kindly for stopping in and many well wishes on your Halloween with family and loved ones. Be careful to stay safe and take any needed precautions durin’ this extra special time of year.

And as always, I’m your host Autumn Rose. ’Til we meet again—stay together... keep nigh unto the fire.

CHECK OUT OUR
OTHER STORIES:

❦ GRANDMA’S GRUESOME GARDEN SPECIAL ☙

❦ GREMLIN IN THE GULF ☙

❦ GHOST IN THE WELL ☙

❦ FACELESS HORROR FROM WICKHAM CORNER ☙

❦ HAUNT OF THE HORSEMAN ☙