This time of year people ARE always fascinated with
the classic story written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, THE
LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. Disney did a fun cartoon version
of it, Johnny Depp starred as Ichabod Crane and now there is a new TV show
Sleepy Hollow, starring the sexy Tom Mison on Fox. It’s an autumnal favorite,
and no Halloween is complete without it.
Over the years there have been many retellings of The
Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and many are not
familiar with the original version. In the original story Ichabod Crane is a stuffy, arrogant and stern
schoolmaster living in the Colonial American town of Tarrytown, New York. He
has a rival named Brom Bones, a big, strapping prankster who rides around on a
giant black horse named Daredevil. Both men are vying for the hand of the beautiful
Katrina Van Tassel, the prettiest and richest girl in town. Though the two men
are rivals for Katrina’s attention, it's very apparent that Ichabod is more
interested in her orchards and properties than any other “fruits” that she has to
offer. Brom Bones does his best to humiliate Ichabod and embarrassed him at
every turn, which isn't that difficult considering Ichabod offers him a lot of
material to work with. The poor sod has no chance of winning Katrina’s hand,
but Brom is determined to make sure that never happens.
Now the Headless Horseman is a local legend about a
Hession soldier whose head got chopped off during the American Revolutionary War
and he haunts the area known as Sleepy Hollow. On the night of a quilting
frolic at the Van Tassel Estate, Ichabod is not only bested with wits and
storytelling by Brom Bones, but he is also rejected by Katrina. Dejected,
Ichabod returns home only to lose control of his bedraggled horse, Gunpowder.
The horse leads him into the ghostly Sleepy Hollow, a place Ichabod is
terrified of. Here he is chased by the Headless Horseman in the exciting chase
we all know and love.
The catch is that there was never a ghost chasing
Ichabod Crane!
All the while, the specter was Brom Bones. He dressed
up as the Headless Horseman to scare Ichabod Crane so much that the other man
would disappear, and he could have Katrina Van Tassel all to himself—a plan
which works out perfectly because Brom and Katrina do get married and no one
hears from the poor schoolmaster again.
When the idea originally came to me to turn this
classic American story into an erotic tale, my first thought was a ménage
between Brom, Ichabod and Katrina where I would follow a version of the same ending and Ichabod would
be run out of town and humiliated. But then I thought it would be very unfair to
do that to poor Icky, and frankly the ménage idea seemed the most obvious.
So I
decided that Brom Bones had a different
reason for tormenting and teasing Ichabod Crane than vying for the hand of some
girl. Maybe Brom masqueraded as the Headless Horseman because he had something naughtier
up his sleeve involving the uptight schoolmaster. I don’t think Mr. Hawthorne
intended anyone to be doing the nasty in his tale, but what I came up with
doesn’t deviate too much from the original narrative.....well that is until
somebody wakes up naked and tied to a bed!!!
Please
enjoy this exclusive excerpt from my version of THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. I don't think you'll ever think
of Ichabod Crane the same again :-)
EXCERPT:
Brom
was mounted on his favorite steed, Daredevil, a creature like himself, full of
spit and vinegar, and no one could ride but him. He was known to prefer vicious
animals, which kept the rider in constant risk of breaking their neck. “Tell
me, Ichabod, did you receive a personal invitation from the young Miss Van
Tassel or the one the little houseboy delivered?”
Ichabod
shifted in the saddle, for he had received a visit from the houseboy, and if
one were to judge by the self-satisfied grin Brom wore, he had received the
former of the two invitations. Ichabod fussed irritably with the reins and
Gunpowder lurched as if given instruction to run. Ichabod may have done
something to confuse the horse, but he was seeing far too much red to accept
such a possibility. He was convinced the horse was friends with Brom Bones and
the two conspirators only wished to make him a fool.
After
containing the beast and reseating himself in a wholly ungraceful fashion,
Ichabod replied, “And of what business is that of yours?”
“I
shall take that to mean Katrina did not call on you?” the dark haired man
deduced, and his wretched companions laughed again. The man seemed to find a
perverse joy in tormenting Ichabod. His black gaze skimmed him from head to
foot in a very unsettling manner and his cocksure grin slanted to the left when
he smiled. “Surely, she would have paid you a call had you been wearing this,
your best rusty black suit. You make quite the impression.”
Ichabod
longed to make an impression of his fist on Brom’s unusually clean-shaven face.
Ichabod hated himself for even noting such a detail or that his rival was
dressed in his finest, his white shirt roguishly open at the collar and
indecently exposing his throat and a hint of chest hairs. Brom was striking
atop his devilish steed. Meanwhile, Ichabod imagined he must look like a tall,
skinny clown atop a squat, haggard gelding with a rusted bridle.
Oh, should
Death come swift to save me now, he
thought wildly.
“I
see you have even combed and styled your pretty hair, as well,” Brom went on as
if with genuine approval of Ichabod’s appearance.
There
was a resounding rumble of laughter and Ichabod wished he could disappear like
the ghosts which haunted the hollow that vanished at the first sign of
daybreak. However, now that his vicious mount had chosen to peacefully munch on
the grass littering the side of the road, Ichabod felt dignified enough to
rejoin with, “And I see you must have had your annual bath.”
Brom
threw back his head and roared with laughter at Ichabod’s impertinent reply.
“Aye,” he agreed with a wink, which discombobulated Ichabod as always. “Many
thanks for noticing.”
Ichabod
could not think of a reply. He usually prepared witty rejoinders and clever
recitals to flaunt his vastly superior intellect over Brom. However, none of
his practiced retorts were applicable at the moment, which might be for the
best. For after those, albeit rare, moments when Ichabod bested his opponent, Brom
Bones would retaliate the only way he could. With practical jokes.
This
endless battle, which to the casual observer was carried out in pursuit of
Katrina’s hand, had quickly become a fight to discover which man could come out
on top. For the more Brom Bones made Ichabod the focus of his energies, the
more, in turn, the schoolmaster became obsessed with besting him. The burly man
consumed all his waking thoughts and also occupied a foremost place in
Ichabod’s dreams. But he cared not to dwell upon that.
“Do
you ever let your hair down, Schoolmaster?” Brom asked suddenly.
As
always, Ichabod’s blond locks were tied at his nape by a leather thong. Such a
bizarre question baffled him. “What are you asking, Brom Bones?”
He
often called him that, as schoolteachers enjoyed calling students by two names.
“Do
you know how to have fun,” he clarified. “You are always so dignified and
reserved. I often wonder if you can drop such a façade and actually have fun.
You know? Run about and howl into the night.”
At
this, several of his companions proceeded to howl like wild wolves.
Ichabod
made a huffing sound. “Really, Brom Bones,” he said, “only one such as yourself
would find gentlemanly behavior offensive. Perhaps you should try not behaving
like a wild hooligan.”
Brom
laughed. The sound resonated inside Ichabod’s bones and somewhere else he
wished it did not. “Spoken like the stern schoolmaster that you are.”
Ichabod
firmly believed in the notion “spare the rod and spoil the child,” and his
students were seldom spoiled. If only he were given a chance to use that same
rod on Brom Bones. See if he liked that! But immediately upon that notion,
Ichabod was assaulted with the reverse image, of being bent over Brom’s knee
and paddled repeatedly. Blood and heat suffused his groin and he covered it up
with much fussing with his jacket.
“Tell
me, Schoolmaster,” Brom began, his dark brows low over eyes as black as his
heart. “If I were one of your students, would you dare to take me over your
knee until I behaved in a manner pleasing to you?”
“There
is doubtless nothing in existence which could render one such as yourself pleasing
to me,” Ichabod rejoined, hating how the other man seemed to be able to read
him as if he were a book.
Once
more, Brom threw back his head with a mighty laugh, his black curls bobbing and
his eyes dancing mischievously. “Oh, we shall have to disagree on that for now,
Schoolmaster.”
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