The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: Twas a dark and Stormy Night...

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(Before reading this post, just so everyone knows when I say The Legend of Sleepy Hollow I do not mean the horror movie, I am talking about The Novella by Washington Irving, this story I am posting is not a horror story.)
Hi everyone,
(If you haven't read the other parts, here is: Part 1 and Part 2)
Here is the next part of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: The New School Master? that I promised...
I added in some historical things into it as well.
Anyway here is the story:

Staying with the farmer was a very interesting experience, I have to say. Though it was a rather odd one at times (and no I am not talking about the farmer, I am merely talking about the room I was staying in). The event, which I am going to tell you about, happened on a rainy night. The farmer’s family and I huddled around the fire. One of the windows had broken in the middle of the storm, and was letting the rain and cold air from the storm into the house (though the farmer was telling me that a ghost broke the window). The fire’s light flickered now and then, like it could go out at any minute. 

Isabella turned around to us and said, “How about we tell ghost stories!” 

I looked around the room, it was cloaked in total darkness except for the light of the fire. “I really don’t know—“ I began. but was interrupted by the farmer, 

“That sounds like an excellent idea…” he said, grinning. 

At that moment there was a sound of thunder, and then a flash of lightning, which brightened the room for a minute. Then the room went black again, except for the light in the fire. 

“Do you by any chance need more firewood?” I asked, trying to stand up, but the farmer’s wife told me to sit down again. 

“You're not going to get firewood in this weather, Mr.Robertson!” she said. “You should have some common sense.” 

I sat down again, on the hard wooden chair.  

“Anyway…” said Isabella “Who would like to begin?” 

The farmer sat up, “I would definitely like to.” 

“Alright then,” said Isabella. “Tell us your story.” 

“Well..I am sure most of the people here have either met or heard of Ichabod Crane. He was the school master before Mr. Robertson. Well, one night he simply vanished! It was after he borrowed my best Sunday saddle to go to a party…Now most of us believe, that he was spirited away by the Headless Horseman. And most of us know that the Headless Horseman was searching for his head, which he lost many, many years ago…“ 

I listened to the farmer tell his version of what happened to Ichabod Crane, and the whole story of the Headless Horseman, which I may add I have memorized every word of. When the farmer was done telling his story, there was an applause around the room… 

“Who would like to tell a story next?” he asked. 

Isabella stood up and said, “I would like to, because I have a story about the ghost in one of our rooms…” 

I had feeling that the room she was talking about was the one I was staying in…Of course, this wasn’t the first time, anyone had mentioned the room in which I was staying being haunted by a ghost (or rather one of the past school masters). 

Isabella continued, “So…one dark and stormy night, rather like this one.” then she paused, “I went to go to get an extra blanket, because my room was freezing. As I walked down the stairs, and into the extra room (which we kept for guests or for school masters staying with us) the door creaked open….” She paused, to be dramatic, then continued, “I walked into the room. As I walked I couldn’t help but feel as if someone were watching me. When I came to the bed, I carefully picked up the blanket and folded it, then began to walk out of the room…As I did, I heard the sound of a chair moving as if someone was going to sit down in it. I turned around and to my surprise, I saw a quill pen float in mid-air! And dip itself in the ink pot! And begin to write! Quickly I ran back to my room…and that is the end of my story, thank you, thank you!” she said, then sat down again. 

“Marvelous story, Isabella” said the farmer’s wife. 

“Yes, excellent indeed!” the farmer said. 

I sighed then said, “Quite excellent!” Though I was thinking, How am I ever going to get to sleep, now? 

Suddenly, there was a sound of thunder, it echoed through the whole house… 

“Who would like to tell a story next?” asked Isabella. Just then lightning flashed, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a figure standing next to the doorway. The next moment it was gone, and I was rubbing my eyes to make sure that I had not been dreaming. “Mr. Robertson, are you alright?” asked Isabella, staring at me. “You look as if you have seen a ghost!” 

“No…I’m fine. I must be really tired…” I said, but at the same time I was thinking, Did I really see a ghost?  

“Anyway,” said the farmer’s wife. “I shall tell my story now, unless Mr. Robertson would like to tell a ghost story.” she said. 

“No I’m fine!” I said, though I rather wish now that i had told a ghost story… 

“Well…I knew that would be the answer. Anyway here is my story. This is a story I never experienced myself, or even met the person who experienced it…But this story revolves around a village not to far from Sleepy Hollow. I, myself, do not know if this story is true, or not But I know that it happened in October around the time of 1778. The Revolution was still being fought, but the story took place in a town far, far away from the fighting. There was something else going on, a letter had been received by a young lady telling her that her husband, had died fighting in the war for independence…” she paused, “The very next day he was buried. A few months after that event some odd things started happening…” she described the story in so much detail, every scene, every movement of the characters, that it seemed so real. Even the ghost part of the story was so hair-raising, that for once I felt like I was in the story she was telling. And for once I actually fully listened to a ghost story, though I cannot put it onto paper. But I add in her last line in the story (as best as I can)...

“The windows opened with a rush of cold air, blowing out all of the candles. The room was so cold, that you could hardly feel your toes. A tall figure walked into the room. He was wearing a uniform that looked tattered from time. When he spoke, it sounded almost like a rusty hinge. He walked up to the girl, and took her by the hand. And almost as soon as he had appeared, he vanished into the night…The party resumed as it had before, but the guests were all shaken at the disappearance of their hostess…” 

The story ended and there were applause around the room. I couldn’t keep it in, “That is the best ghost story I have ever heard” I said, 

everyone stared at me… 

“But, I thought you didn’t like ghost stories,” said Isabella. 

“Uh…that’s because I don’t,” I said. “How could you possibly think I would like ghost stories?” 

Everyone shrugged…and then there was a silence, which was interrupted by the farmer’s wife, 

”Thank you, Mr. Robertson, I’m going to go get some blankets, so we can sleep here…” She sighed, then she left the room… 

Isabella and the farmer talked to each other. I myself went to go get some un-ghost related books. As I walked to the bookshelf, I thought I saw a shadow go by. It looked almost like a cat, but it was completely black. It turned a corner, then disappeared into the darkness. I walked back to the room with the books I wanted to read, then sat back down again. Isabella and her father had finished their conversation… “Um, I was wondering do you have a cat?” I asked. 

They both turned around, “No!” said the farmer, “We don’t have a cat. Where did you get that idea?!” 

“Um…I thought I saw a cat—“ I began. 

“Must have been your imagination!” he said, and the conversation was brought to an abrupt end.  

Later that night, I could not sleep a wink. I was constantly woken up by moans and groans, which echoed through the whole house. And at times I was woken up by shadows, and what I thought was the sound of foot-steps… 

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I hope you have a Happy Halloween!:)
Did you like the story? Do you have any favorite stories (or ghost stories)? 

Love, 
-Quinley

P.S. I will probably continue this next October, but since I am going to write a novel version of it (sometime) I decided I will post a few experimental stories (along with my normal stories) throughout the year (just not maybe in chronological order).