Haunted Village, Haunted Lives

“Why don’t you wait in line here with Sonny while I go see if the lines are shorter at other houses?” I say to my husband, Del. “This haunted village is more popular than I thought it would be.”

I get a nod from him. He’s shivering slightly from the dark, cold night. I’d just like to get inside and get warm. Our young son in his Halloween costume is toasty and excited to see scary stuff. Waiting in a long line could put an end to that.

“If I’m not back in 10 minutes, look for me,” I say to Del.

Del says, “Don’t worry; I’ll know you by your perfume. Went a little heavy handed tonight, Dorie.”

“By accident. My finger pressed the spritz too hard. Besides, I like to be surrounded with a good smell.  In this breeze it will wear off,” I say. I walk away from the house’s light and into the darkness towards the path we came from.

“Are you sure you’ll be OK?” he calls. “You don’t usually like to walk alone.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a little way from here,” I answer.  I love him but sometimes he worries too much about me. “I’m a big girl.”

In the dim light I can barely see the path that runs from building to building. I turn right and walk the dirt path.  At least I think it’s dirt, hard to see.  I want to get to the lights of the next building. The only light in this historical village turned haunted village for the season, comes from porch lights and lamps near   windows inside the buildings.  Those lights don’t illuminate the yards or pathways in between.

I look at the sky. It’s a cloudy somewhat breezy night. Faint outlines of grey clouds move across the sky. No moon, no stars. The path seems clear but narrow. Barely enough room for two people to walk side by side. Tall weeds by the path graze my right pants leg.

In a moment, a large body, quiet snort of air, squeak of leather is next to me! Horse! Rider sitting in a saddle!  Both pass by so close to me that my left arm brushes the rider’s leg. My stomach lurches. Something’s wrong.  No head on the rider. It’s held under the rider’s left arm – near me!  Too dark to see the face. Is this the headless horseman?

No time for “sorry.”  The horse disappears behind me into the dark. I shiver. I didn’t even hear horse hooves hit the ground.  I guess people don’t get stepped on by the horse. Wow great costume. Good scare! Glad we came to this haunted village. I talk myself out of fright. Reassure myself it is all part of the haunting.

I keep walking to the next building and find it’s less crowded with a short line to get in. I go back to the path and house where my husband and son are waiting. Should be waiting. I don’t see them, but I’m probably too far away. Once I get closer…

Again, large body, loud snort, squeak of leather, some metal tinkling. I hear the hooves stomping on the ground this time. Horse and rider are in front of me, blocking my path.

“Oh! Oh! Hi!” I manage to say.

Horse snorts some more. Silence from the rider. I look for the head I saw earlier and sure enough I see the shape of it under the rider’s arm. 

“Um, I’m just trying to get back to that house there.” I point in the dark to my now too-far destination.

The horse nickers a little – the only one to respond to me. What’s with this rider? Can’t he hear me? I wave my arms and shout “hey, hey” but all I do is scare the horse who shakes its head, gives a little whinny.

“Bad smell here,” says the rider. And then…

The rider throws the head at me!  I move aside, stepping in weeds up to my knees. Not necessary.  The rider has poor aim. Maybe it’s the dim light. I see the head land on the other side of the path.  I run to pick it up.  Eeeeuuuww, it’s cold, clammy and the cheeks squish in where I grab it. I can’t throw it back fast enough.  It hits the rider in the chest and falls into whooshing grass. This makes the rider mad.

Mad enough to move the horse forward while bending over, swinging a fist around trying to hit me. I’m sweating now; the scent of my perfume seems stronger. Not a comfort in this moment. I turn and run down the trail back towards light and people and safety. Horse hooves pound lightly and I look behind, making out the shadow of horse and rider coming toward me.

I’m running as fast as I can and there it is: the memory of a man trying to grab me as a young girl. It’s happening again. It’s me running as fast as I can down a sidewalk trying to get away, screaming. Why didn’t I ask Del and Sonny to come with me? Del was right. Ever since the day a stranger tried to get me, I’ve walked with someone - family or friends.  I never walk alone.

The horse’s hooves and snorts are so close. “Bad smell,” says the rider.

My breath is out.  My lungs hurt.  I dash into the weeds, trip and fall. My right knee hits a rock. The pain is so awful, I’m not sure I can get up and run.  I cry, trying to catch my breath in between sobs.  I get a mouthful of weeds. The scent of my perfume fills my runny nose.

Bad smell? The rider thinks my perfume smells bad. Well it smells good to me. It’s my scent. Me!

I push myself up so I stand on my left leg, my aching right leg leans against my left. With one hand I wipe away weeds and tears. The other is in a fist. He can’t see me, but if he gets close enough I can see him. I’ll knock him off his horse. Where’s that rock I hit my knee on? I swipe my hand over dry weedy ground until I find it. It just fits into my palm. I’ll pound him into the ground.  He can’t hurt me. I listen for horse hooves. Nothing but snorts. A little further away. Then moving back my way.

The rider can’t seem to see or hear me. But he can smell my perfume.  Should I stay here or try to run so he can’t smell me?  I think one second too long.  I hear and now I see the horse coming through the weeds right at me.  I’m ready, still trying to get air, but I’m ready.  I wait until horse and rider are close enough. I can feel the horse’s breath.  I see its head and I see the rider.  I lift my arm and fling that rock as hard as I can at the rider’s chest.  It hits just above – maybe the neck?

The rider screams.  I back up as the horse turns away from me and moves quickly through the weeds. Away.  I made them go away. I’m drained.  My leg hurts.  I feel my tears rolling down my face.

Del’s shout carries over the air to wherever I am. “Dorie, Dorie! I hear you. Where are you?”

Sonny’s young voice shouts, “Mom! Mom! Mom!”

“I’m here, over here.” I’m not sure I said that very loud. They call again and this time I shout louder.  And there they are, right next to me holding me close while I cry.

Later, after my husband and son guide me out of the weeds and the dark into the light of the house where we began, the park ranger talks to us.

“This evening was a little too exciting for some of us here. The man on the horse was the brother of the actor who was supposed to be on the horse.  He was playing the part of the headless horseman. He’s in a lot of trouble, I can tell you.”

All I can do is nod. Del asks, “Why was the brother on the horse?”

The ranger sighs. “Well the actor let his brother ride the horse. Dressed him in the costume, wrapped up his head so it looks like just a neck and got him on the horse.  Apparently this brother had a head injury some years back.  Didn’t fully recover – sight is poor and his hearing is gone from what I’m told. His sense of smell is still good. Riding horses is therapeutic for him. He’s good with horses, which is fine.  Unfortunately sometimes his bad memories return and that’s what happened tonight. The thing is, he wasn’t hired to do this job.”

“Smell still good? You don’t think my perfume…” I start to say.

The ranger gives a little laugh. “Don’t know but the bottom line is, this brother shouldn’t have been on the horse for this job. Good thing the horse is calm and knows its way around this village. The actor is fired. Also his brother is complaining about getting hit with a rock and that fake head he was carrying around.  Know anything about these?”

I tell him my side of the story. I leave out the part about the return of my own bad memory. While I don’t like what I just went through, I understand the rider now. We have something in common. I’m glad I fought back though.  I’m glad neither of us hurt the horse. I’ve also had one too many scares for the night. Del and Sonny agree to go home.

No, I’m not filing charges. I’m satisfied that the actor has lost his job. No need for court hearings. The rider and I have been through enough.