"Spirit of Sleepy Hollow on All Hallows Eve "(a short story) PART 2 of 4

Caitlyn stared out the vintage coach’s window afraid to believe what she was seeing.

She’d stepped into this coach in front of a pub, on a well lit, store-lined, street, but in the blink of an eye, the coach was rambling down a deserted, rutted, dirt path, that wound through a dark and spooky graveyard.

How was that possible?

Could the town of Sleepy Hollow have rigged up an elaborate projection system, to make it appear you were traveling through a graveyard? Was it like an amusement park ride for their Halloween celebration?

Caitlyn squinted in the dim light and focused on the old tombstones, aged by weather, with dates that made her uncomfortable.

They did look old and time worn. One headstone was close enough to read; it was Washington Irving's, and seeing it made her hair stand on end. It added to the graveyard's already eerie atmosphere of veiled mist and fog that hung over the entire cemetary. She wouldn't have been surprised if Washington Irving's ghost stepped out of that grave as the coach passed by it.

She shivered, pulling her jacket around her for warmth, praying they'd be out of this spooky graveyard soon.

The carriage lurched as it turned left and rocked precariously as it righted itself in the new direction. Caitlyn closed her eyes, sure they were going to turn over, but they didn’t. When she opened her eyes, she saw a church in the distance, and lamplights lined the road ahead.

It gave her hope they were heading out of the graveyard and soon would be arriving at the Sleepy Hollow Inn.

As they neared the church, Caitlyn noticed the lamplights appeared to be lit by gas but she couldn’t discern if it was just an illusion; all the Halloween trickery had messed with her sense of reality.

The coach drew near the old church and the doors were open.

Caitlyn could see inside of it and it appeared to be lit by the flickering of gas lamps too, on the walls and several hanging over the altar. She heard voices and caught a glimpse of parishioners sitting in the wooden pews, all of them were dressed in period costume.

She had to admire their commitment to the celebration, even if it did make her jittery. She couldn’t imagine being so invested in a town’s legend that every occupant would participate in this over the top way.

 

The coach neared a set of open, cast iron gates and Caitlyn knew it was the exit from the graveyard. She sighed with great relief as the coach passed through them, until she saw the covered bridge ahead.

Her heart beat doubled; she remembered enough of the legend of the headless horseman to know she didn’t relish the thought of travel through that covered bridge, especially in the dead of night, especially on Halloween.

The carriage hobbled up to the entrance of the bridge and Caitlyn gasped when she saw a smashed pumpkin near its entrance. She grew tense as the carriage entered the enclosure.

The carriage’s interior darkened as the horses trotted under the bridge's canopy; their hooves echoed as they trotted over the wooden flooring and the oil lamp on the side of the carriage swung wildly, casting eerie shadows within the coach’s interior. She tried to control her imagination, but the setting was too perfect for a horror movie. This was the part where the audience knew something sinister was about to happen, and Caitlyn knew it too. She was cold and clammy and felt every whisper of air on her skin; she drew few breaths as the darkness surrounded her .

When the carriage exited the bridge and came out on the other side, and nothing sinister had happened, or appeared, she took a deep breath and chuckled at her gullibility.

She had to give a well deserved nod to Washington Irving; she understood why he'd used this particular area for a ghost story; it was a dark and menacing place.

 

The road opened up and lamplights were plentiful along it; they still appeared to be gas lamps but Caitlyn was more encouraged by the sight of a large, illuminated building. It had a circular driveway and they were heading towards it.

The carriage rolled into the driveway and stopped by the entrance.

Caitlyn looked out and read the name of the hotel written on the canopy over the doorway, and she smiled. She’d arrived at the Sleepy Hollow Inn. Obviously, it did exist.

The coachman took her bag down from the carriage’s hold before opening the carriage door to help her descend from the coach.

A hotel employee, in a vintage looking bellhop cap and dark blue uniform took the bag from the coachman and told her to follow him.

Caitlyn followed the bellhop through the front doors into the lobby.

She stopped to take in the hotel's grand circular room; it had a long, mahogany reception desk that sat upon a highly, polished marble floor, and magnificent paintings hung on the walls. Her head lifted higher, to the towering ceiling, to see the artistic design imprinted on it.

“This way please,” the bellhop prompted her.

Caitlyn stepped around the plush seating arrangements in the lobby and stepped up to the reception desk where a clerk in vintage, hotel garb, waited for her to register.

“You must be Caitlyn Vanderende?” The clerk inquired, looking down at a guest registration book.

“Yes, I am.”

“Please sign in here,” he said, turning the book on its rotating wooden stand in her direction, and offering her a long tapered pen to use.

Caitlyn stared at the clerk’s impeccable costume feeling out of place in her non-costume blue jeans, thick wool sweater and short woolen coat. She gave the clerk a shy smile and accepted the pen.

She signed her name with a flourish in the leather bound registration book and handed him back the pen. Then she opened her designer purse and took out her wallet; she was about take out her credit card but the clerk stopped her.

“No need for payment now Miss Vanderende; you can settle your bill…whenever you leave.”

“That will be very early tomorrow; I’m only staying for the night. Are you sure I can’t pay now and avoid having to check out tomorrow?”

The clerk turned the book back around without answering her inquiry, informing her instead of the events planed for the evening. “You should join our guests gathering in the meeting room, there are refreshments set up for your pleasure before dinner is served.”

Caitlyn placed her wallet back in her bag and decided she could use a drink, now that she’d made it through that chilling graveyard.

She gave the clerk a bright smile. “That sounds like something I’d enjoy.”

“I am sure you will,” he replied and held out a skeleton key attached to a carved wooden disc with the number 13 burned into its center.

“What’s that?” She asked eying the strange looking key.

“It is your room key.”

“Wow, you guys sure know how to do Halloween,” she giggled nervously taking the heavy, iron key from his hand, but she was beginning to expect these quirky touches in this Halloween loving town. “Tell me, will I need a costume to attend dinner; I didn’t bring one?”

The clerk gave her an odd look and shook his head. “Of course not, all quests attend in their everyday attire.”

“Great, that’s a relief,” she said and turned to the bellhop who’d been standing there with her bag the whole time. “Do I follow you to my room?”

The bellhop nodded.

She followed him down a long corridor to a narrow set of steps that led up to the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked with age as they stepped on them and Caitlyn ran her hand over the walls that were covered with blue brocade. The hotel should have smelled musty with age, if it was in fact an old hotel, but it didn’t.  She knew it’d been designed to look old and it was masterfully replicated.

“How old is this Inn?” She asked the bellhop when they stepped onto the second floor landing.

He thought for a moment then said, “It is precisely one year old this month.”

“Well, they’ve done a wonderful job creating this vintage look; it’s impressive.”

“Vintage?” The bellhop repeated with a confused look.

“Yes, it looks exactly like the eighteen hundreds.”

“As it should; they’ve spared no expense for it to be of modern design,” the bellhop responded with pride.

Caitlyn chuckled; of course he’d have to stay in character.

“Of course they did,” she agreed with a smirk.

They arrived at room number thirteen and the bellhop took her key and inserted it in the lock, turning it and opening the door.

The door swung inward to reveal a room of antique wonder.

The bellhop waked into the room and placed her bag next to a dark wooded, poster bed and pointed out the amenities of the room for her.

“You will find towels have been laid out for you in the bath and behind that other door is the water closet. If you need anything further, you can pull the cord by the bed and a maid will answer and be of service to you. Is there anything more I can do for you?” he asked, waiting dutifully.

“Uh no, but what’s a water closet; is it a separate shower room?”

The bellhop's eyes widened with incredulity and his mouth froze in the open position, unsure of how to respond to the odd question.

“It is best you open the door for that explanation and if nothing further is needed; enjoy your stay,” he stated and, it appeared, couldn’t leave soon enough as he double stepped out of the room.

Curiosity made Caitlyn walk over to the dark wooden door he’d called the water closet and open it; now it was her eyes that opened wide.

“What the heck is that, an old fashioned, pull chain, toilet, in a closet? That was a little too much commitment to detail she thought and closed the door with a shake of her head.

She walked to the other door in the room and found a bathtub in a large room with a mirrored dresser and a side table piled high with fluffy cotton towels.

That bath would provide the perfect remedy for her stressed out self.

 

Caitlyn soaked for an hour in the tub, enjoying the flickering gas lit wall sconces and the odd romance of the room, before she toweled off and dressed in the other pair of jeans she’d packed. She threw on a soft, rose colored, silk shirt to offset the casual jeans and, since there was no hair dryer for her to use, she pulled her damp hair back with a scrunchie.

She assessed her modern appearance in the cheval glass in the bedroom and decided she looked clean and respectable, if not period accurate. Then she headed back downstairs to ask the desk clerk where she could get that drink.

 

Caitlyn wasn’t pleased when she stepped into the lobby, finding it filled with people in amazing, period formal wear. No costume needed huh? She snorted and gave the hotel clerk a harsh look before power walking over to the desk.

“I thought you said I didn’t need a costume.”

The clerk eyed her attire and her with a raised brow. “You need only wear what is comfortable to you.”

She frowned at his nimble answer.

“Fine; so where is the gathering with drinks being held?”

“Through the main doors to your right,” he said nodding in the direction of closed, dark wooded, double doors.

Caitlyn skirted past groups of people milling around in the lobby to make her way to those doors and felt many eyes had turned her way as she did.

Before she could open one of the doors, a hotel employee, in that now familiar blue uniform, opened it for her to reveal the room within.

 Caitlyn stood in awe at the threshold.

The room was massive. Candlelight glowed on linen covered tables and everyone in the room was dressed in finery, finery of a past century that is, and every pair of eyes had turned to her.

 

To be continued…

 

Here is the link to PART 1

https://www.abctales.com/story/penny4athought/spirt-sleepy-hollow-all-ha...