Sleepy Hollow
The Old Crone holds the bat, using a knife to cut off its head. She soaks the straw with blood, SPEAKING IN TONGUES, guttural. Using a wick, she lights the straw.
She grasps two METAL CUFFS with chains attached, slides these onto her bony wrists, then bends to inhale smoke.
OLD CRONE He comes now.
Ichabod would like to leave now.
EXT. CAVE HOME-DAY
Young Masbath, waiting by the horses, looks up. Through the trees, black clouds billow and block the sun.
INT. CAVE HOME, LOWER CAVE-DAY
The old Crone slumps, still with her back to Ichabod. She does not move. Wind howls through a hole/window. Rain.
Candles blow out. Ichabod stands, worried.
ICHABOD Excuse me… um…
She remains motionless. The STORM outside intensifies.
WE SEE the skin of the Crone’s wrists transform; swelling in the cuffs, hardening, cracking and bleeding.
Some thing Ichabod cannot see. He inches closer.
ICHABOD Are you alright… ?
The Crone turns, hideous, leaping erect-a half-human, half-demon CREATURE. Its black clawed hands reaching.
Ichabod recoils, crying out.
Chains on restraining cuffs yank the creature back.
Ichabod hits the floor, knocking over a table of bones. The creature is chained, but still wants Ichabod. It SCREECHES.
The Old Crone’s face seethes from transformation, eyes blood red, nostrils dripping, teeth now jagged.
CREATURE/OLD CRONE You seek the warrior bathed in blood… the Headless Horseman.
Ichabod slides back as far as possible while the creature claws the rock floor, yearning.
CREATURE/OLD CRONE Follow the Indian trail to where the sun dies. Follow to the tree of the dead.
The creature pulls, testing the chains. Behind, the BOLT holding the chains to the wall slips. The wall cracks.
CREATURE/OLD CRONE Climb down to the Horseman’s soulless place and let loose his silent shrieking. Do you hear? Do you hear?!
Ichabod nods, quaking, aghast. He glances to the exit.
The chain bolt gives more… coming loose…
CREATURE/OLD CRONE He who holds fast the Horseman’s desire will guide his reaping hand. Catch hold of his desire.
Ichabod bolts for the door. The creature HOWLS, leaping…
The chain bolt breaks…
Ichabod cries out, tackled to the floor…
It is the Old Crone who landed on him. She has returned to human form, semi-conscious. Ichabod shoves her off.
EXT. CAVE HOME-DAY
Ichabod runs out into the howling storm, past Masbath.
ICHABOD We are leaving.
YOUNG MASBATH What happened?
Ichabod scrambles onto Gunpowder, heading further into the woods, glancing back. Young Masbath follows.
EXT. WESTERN WOODS, FURTHER ON-EARLY EVENING
No rain. Dark. A lantern’s glow creates shifting shadows as Ichabod and Young Masbath ride.
YOUNG MASBATH Follow the Indian trail to where the sun dies. To the tree of the dead. (looking back) Maybe we passed it by.
ICHABOD How could something named “the tree of the dead” fail to draw attention?
A BIRD CRIES OUT. Ichabod’s startled, looking up. The BIRD is HEARD ALIGHTING. Leaves float downwards.
ICHABOD We should not go much further in this murk.
YOUNG MASBATH Should we go back?
ICHABOD We are far from the Hollow. (dismounts, troubled) Loath to say it… better to get our backs against a tree and stay till morning.
EXT. WESTERN WOODS (TIME CUT)-NIGHT
Horses are tied. Ichabod is seated against a tree. A campfire burns. Young Masbath lies on a blanket, rifle cross his chest, staring to treetops.
Leaves and branches shift in the wind. Bats fly wildly.
YOUNG MASBATH What does it mean… climb down to the Horseman’s soulless place?
ICHABOD “Let loose his silent shrieking.” Who knows, till we work at it? I admit not being anxious to find out. (pause) “He who holds the Horseman’s desire will guide his reaping hand.” Whatever the Horseman’s desire is, other than extinguishing lives.
A SNAPPING BRANCH. Ichabod raises his pistol.
ICHABOD (to Young Masbath) Do not move.
Ichabod rises. He creeps forward, pistol and lantern forward. Foliage is thick. CRUNCHING LEAVES are HEARD.
Ichabod crouches, puts down the lantern and picks up a branch. He tosses the branch to the foliage…
SOME ANIMAL darts away, a running blur.
Ichabod rises, following with his pistol.
ANOTHER ANGLE, MOVING P.O.V.: low to the ground, moving swiftly at Ichabod…
Ichabod spins, blindsided.
Young Masbath fires his rifle-CRACK!!
The ANIMAL is KNOCKED DOWN mid-leap, yelping…
The beast lands, a mass of grey fur.
Ichabod comes to stare down. Young Masbath arrives. They both look to the beast, horrified.
The creature lies helplessly spastic; a TWO-HEADED WOLF, with one head blown open to brain and gore. Its living head lifts, MEWING sadly, eyes pleading.
Ichabod step up with pistol. FIRES. MEWING STOPS.
ICHABOD What God-forsaken hell is this?
Ichabod swallows back sickness, looking away. Something catches his eye.
ICHABOD Christ…
Through the forest: the SKY’S LIT UP. Distant fire.
EXT. WESTERN WOODS, CAVE HOME-EARLY EVENING
Ichabod and Masbath ride up, confronted by the Crone’s cave vomiting flame out all orifices.
Ichabod approaches. Embers swirl everywhere. The Old Crone’s body lies amongst bloodied leaves. Headless.
EXT. TOWN SQUARE, DOCTOR’S RESIDENCE-NIGHT
Much commotion. A MOB in front of the home marked “LANCASTER, PHYSICIAN.” Steenwyck addresses the rabble.
FATHER STEENWYCK You all stand idle, while this man goes about with a book of secrets and a bag filled with magic. You all stand idle, while the shadow of the Devil falls over our town.
Baltus, Lady Van Tassel and Katrina watch at safe distance.
FATHER STEENWYCK I say, if you do nothing, you share in the blasphemy of Ichabod Crane!
Killian, on horseback beside his wife, BETH, and son, Thomas, rides to one side of the shouting crowd.
KILLIAN Listen to me! Do you want to save your crops? Or would you rather see your farms go to ruin?
FATHER STEENWYCK How is he saving our farms? How? Ichabod Crane has brought into our midst the soulless, moldering corpse of a heretic!
INT. DOCTOR’S RESIDENCE, MEDICAL ROOM-NIGHT
Ichabod examines the Crone’s neck wound with magnification spectacles. Young Masbath is seated, ledger in his lap.
ICHABOD The wound is neither smooth nor cauterized, but jagged. She bleeds like a fountain.
Ichabod lifts her dead hand to show bruises and cuts.
ICHABOD She did not go quietly.
INT. DOCTOR’S RESIDENCE, PARLOR-NIGHT
Doctor Lancaster wrings his hands. His WIFE rocks nervously in a rocking chair. The CROWD outside ROARS as a bonfire lights up the curtained windows.
The front door is POUNDED open. ANGRY MEN enter. Lancaster stands, lips quivering. He points insistently to a door.
INT. DOCTOR’S RESIDENCE, MEDICAL ROOM-NIGHT
Angry men break in. Ichabod looks up.
ANGRY MAN Step aside, Constable. Step aside…
Ichabod is shoved aside, spectacles knocked off.
