6. Eleanor

6

ELEANOR

E leanor walked down the corridor of the town hall, arms linked with her uncle.

There were no whispered words of love or kindness between them.

Rather than the excitement he had displayed earlier, he seemed to be agitated.

Chancing a smile as she looked up at him, she noted his jaw was hard set, and his back was so stiff she thought he could be mistaken for a wall. “Is something the matter, Uncle?”

When he peered down at her, his firm expression tightened. “It’s that fool of a baker you chose. He is late. We simply cannot start a wedding until we have the cake here. What shall people think?”

“Should you ask for someone to help?”

She was met with a scoff. “And hand them something to gossip about? Absolutely not.”

“Then…” she paused as they came to a stop outside the doors that would soon open to reveal all the townspeople. “Oh, never mind,” she said, swatting her hand in front of her face as if dismissing the notion.

“What? Out with it.”

“Well,” she said, glancing up at him once more, “what if you went to help the baker bring the cake over? No one would find out and you would be back just in time for the vows.”

He shook his head as if she were a fool. “And who, would you suggest, would walk you down the aisle?”

“Oh yes, you’re right, Uncle. It is okay. We do not need a cake to celebrate.”

As if on cue, the organist began the music, the opening notes of his piece echoing through the town hall.

His eyes darted between her and the door for a few seconds before he finally sighed and dropped her arm.

Eleanor had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.

“Alright,” he relented, “I will be back in a few moments. Walk slowly ,” he warned through gritted teeth, his words drenched in a seething, quiet burning, rage.

Eleanor nodded her head as he spun on his heel and practically dashed away in the direction they had just come from.

She held her breath as she waited, watching him turn the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, she picked up her dress and ran. Dashing down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her.

She did not look back.

She did not stop.

Her heart pounded wildly against her chest as she picked up pace, nearly slipping as she rounded the corner towards the back doors.

She didn’t slow to open them with any form of care. Instead, slamming into them with full force, the doors were sent flying back.

Rounding another corner, she came to a dead stop behind the building where someone had tethered the horses, startling the animals with her sudden appearance.

“Woah,Woah,” she said, steadying her voice. “It’s okay, hush,” she cooed.

Eleanor carefully walked up to one of the white mares. Lifting her hand to gently caress the long face of the horse, she asked “See? I just need a little bit of help.”

Carefully, she untied the rope from the post, and led it away from the building.

“I just need some help, okay?” she repeated as she moved to the mare’s flank. With great caution, Eleanor placed a foot in the stirrup, jumping up, and grabbing the edge of the saddle as she hoisted herself onto the horse.

She looked back to where she could still hear the sounds of the organist playing her wedding song. How much time before they knew?

She looked up at the sun that was setting.

They would all be going home soon to avoid the Headless Horseman.

She didn’t want to give any truth to their tales because, of course, that is all they were. Stories.

Yet even as she reminded herself of this, she couldn’t ignore the hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stand, sending a chill down her spine as she clutched the reins tighter.

Swallowing her nerves, she clicked her tongue and gave the mare a swift kick to the side. The horse jerked forward, causing Eleanor to lean back slightly as they set off.

Eleanor wanted to ignore her growing unease, but questions were racing through her mind.

What if they caught her before she had left town?

Would anyone come looking for her?

Though, one question, one fear, screamed in her mind like a warning, louder than all the rest.

What if she was wrong? What if the Headless Horseman was real?

Applying more pressure to the horse’s side, the pair sped up as they raced through the field, leaving the town boundaries. As they increasingly picked up pace, they were soon running fast enough that if she were to close her eyes, she could almost imagine herself flying.Instead, she looked ahead at the nearing forest.

Just a bit more, and I’m free.

The forest grew closer and closer, and with it, her excitement began to sing louder than her fear.

No more cruel uncle.

No more town curfews.

She would truly be free.

As they galloped forward, she could see a narrow trail form in the distance.

Find Barkers Trail.

She called on Mr. Halton’s instructions as she pulled on the reins, turning the horse to enter the forest through the opening.

Follow Barkers trail until you reach the other side. Do not turn. Do not stray from the path. And please, escape before the sun sets.

Eleanor looked up as they raced through forest.

Through the canopy, she could see the sun beginning to disappear beyond the horizon, darkness slowly swallowing all in its wake.

“Faster!” she pleaded.

The trees around her blended with the flora, everything melding into blurs of green and brown.

She was close.

Step five.

Like a bad omen, Mrs. Pencrook’s voice was the only thing she could hear as a black figure darted onto the path. Her mare blew out a deep puff of air as she stood on her hind legs, sending Eleanor flying off her back.

Her body slammed full force into a large boulder before hitting the ground.

Limbs screaming in pain, the world around her seemed to spin. She blinked her eyes once. Then again.

The pounding in her head was disorienting.

Eleanor tried to keep her eyes open as a dark figure approached, footsteps growing closer, one after another.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of her horse galloping away, leaving Eleanor to her fate.

She closed her eyes for a full breath before opening them again.

The figure stopped in front of her, and as it knelt down, a dark, gloved hand was the last thing she saw as her body gave in to the exhaustion that was pulling her deeper into its depths.?

Never leave the house on Hallows Eve.