The Legend of Sleepy Hollow: Katrina Vantassel

The story I’m about to share with you, tells the story of a man that unfortunately, passed away after being followed by the headless horseman. Before I go into any details of who this man was, let me tell you about the headless horseman.

            Even though I was the daughter of Baltus Vantassel, the owner of many farms in Tarry Town, I grew up with this tale, told by all my friends. To be honest with you, my father never really cared about what I did, unless it had to do with an accomplishment due to my so called profound knowledge. However, according to all my firends, the headless horseman was a Hessian soldier that lost his head thanks to an American cannonball.  He was buried in a churchyard near our town so he rides his horse every night, haunting the church, searching for his head.

            This dreadful story started when Ichabod Crane came to town. Ichabod Crane was a school teacher that came to our town so that kids could get a chance to learn. Not only was he tall, but extremely thin, even though he ate all he could whenever he got the opportunity. Something I found very irascible about a man his age was his superstition. He believed in every tale, every myth and every scary story people would tell him about.

            My wealthy father was the first one to hire him as my singing teacher and even though I knew what a great singer he was, he scared me. However, as our classes went by, I started to like him. Flirting with him and being part of Ichabod’s life felt right and somehow made him like me back. Time went by and every time I was near Ichabod, I realized how amiss people in town where. Brom Bones would always tell me how he abhorred that professor, his explanation and arguments usually becoming an interminable tirade. To me, Ichabod was an affable man, unlike what everyone else thought of him.

            Even though people in town, especially men see me as a prize, as something precious no one can have, I don’t feel that way. My father is one of the wealthiest men in Tarry Town, and my attributes as well as my wealth interest men like Ichabod and Abraham. Abraham, also known as Brom Bones because of his strength, was the young man I just talked to you about. His broad shoulders and brusque figure look amazing with his short, curly black hair and he is definitely a person I like to be around. After I met Ichabod, I couldn’t make my mind as to which man I should love, and that autumn night didn’t help.

            After I desperately entreated night after night, my parents agreed to be the hosts of the festival. Everyone in town was invited, including Ichabod and Brom Bones. I remember the night before, when everyone asked about the festival I said I couldn’t wait. Ichabod and Abraham in the same place. What was I thinking?

            My tremulous hands were now sweaty but as the party started, everyone minded their own business and apparently, where having fun. After everyone was gone, and the only thing left were empty cups and crumpled napkins, Ichabod Crane waited for me. When we where by ourselves, only the moon and the starts watching, he asked me if I wanted to marry him. I couldn’t believe him! He was my teacher! Yes, I liked him, but not enough to marry him. When I said no, his despondent attitude made me feel guilty and he left. As I saw him leave on his horse, my first thought was Brom Bones. What would he say when he found out?

            This is the last thing I can say about that dreadful night because what follows is just a group of stories I heard from people around town. Ichabod Crane left my house, and was followed by the headless horseman. He was not the best rider and all he wanted to do was go past the bridge were people said the headless horseman would stop following you. I can see him, tremulous hands, clasping the horse’s mane, trying to look calm while his fear pervaded his soul. The next day, after I found out about this, I ran to the bridge, and all I saw was a pumpkin, smashed on the floor.

            It’s been two months since I saw that, and my first thought is still Brom Bones. Maybe I wasn’t madly in love with Ichabod, but one thing I know for sure. Abraham is no one to be joking around with. He is determined, and even though he is now my husband, I still wonder what he was up to, on that dreadful autumn night.

           

           

The Truth About Forever

Book Reflection

The Truth About Forever

By: Sarah Dessen

            The minute I found out Sarah Dessen had written more than one book, I wanted to read them all. So many people suggested The Truth About Forever and now, I will suggest it to many other girls.

            This book, like all of the books Sarah Dessen writes is about love. About girls that confront personal issues and along the way, find true love. Not the perfect guy, not the jock, not the rock star but the guy that completes you. The guy that makes you smile. Your true love.

            The protagonists that Sarah Dessen writes about are extremely similar. Remy, (This Lullaby) and Macy (The Truth About Forever) have tons of things in common. Attitudes that along the way make them sisters. Girls that share so many issues and so many responsibilities, so many choices to make.

            Macy is a teenage girl that has already delt with so many obstacles, obstacles like her father’s death. She has a sister, Caroline the “rebel”. Caroline is the girl that sneaks out, the million boyfriend-girl, the lets-talk-now kind of girl. Yet she has grown up to be a successful business woman, with a house, and a husband of her own. A life. When Macy’s father died, all Macy wanted to do was cry her eyes out like Caroline. She wanted to bury her head in her mother’s arms and cry. But all she got was silence. Grief that was bottle up by her mom. No crying. No remembering.

            Without Caroline’s craziness around, Macy is left with her mother. a woman that stopped laughing out loud when her husband’s heart stopped beating. She hides her very emotion and now depends on her job. She uses all the work to cover up the deep wounds that get worse every time she stays quiet. Macy’s life is surrounded by flawless people. Her so-called boyfriend Jason is equivalent to = total perfection. Perfection that Macy strives to have. Perfection that she has to live without when Wish Catering comes in the way.

            When Macy’s relationship goes from “restricted” to “on-hold” she feels devastated. The pieces on her perfect life are falling, and when there seems to be no more hope, Wish Catering falls from the sky. This catering service that her mom hires turns out to be the right place for Macy. And for some strange reason, Macy starts working with them.

            She meets the wish crew, people that unlike her, love the messy, spontaneous side of life. They all think outside the box. But most importantly, she meets Wes.

            Even though Macy keeps pushing the risks and the “dangerous changes” away, she learns that sometimes, working around the wrong, messy and risky things is better. Her life has been surrounded by neat –freaks, perfect people (mom and Jason). So now that she meets the crazy improvising-lovers side of life, she starts to change.

            Wes, unlike Jason IS the perfect guy. He lets Macy be who she wants to be, he takes every step without thinking about what-ifs. He doesn’t care if Macy is not perfect, he likes her for what she says, what she loves, who she is. And there’s something about him that makes Macy’s world spin every time she sees him. She completely opens up and tells Wes things and feelings she’s been avoiding for years.

            However, I think Delia really taught Macy the meaning of life. Not only is she the head of Wish Catering but she teaches Macy many life lessons. She explains how a boring-perfect and smooth life is nice, but can later become too normal, boring. There has to be holes, obstacles and to make it fun, we walk around them. Macy and her mom try to fill the “gaps” with school, work and perfection. Macy runs away from the hole her father left and seems to trip over it too often.

            Macy slowly realizes how “perfect” and risk-free she used to be. She realizes how sometimes, it’s better to be sorry than safe and not the other way around. Forever was never tomorrow, it was now. It was a joke, a smile, a moment, a kiss (370).

“Okay” he [Wes] said.

He took a breath.

“What would you do if you could do anything?”

 I took a step toward him, closing the space between us.

“This” I said.

 And then,

I kissed him”.

            This was not only my favorite part but the turning point. The point where Macy starts to see all of her mistakes and what she could do to solve them.

            I learned so many life lessons after reading this book. Forever is not yesterday, its not tomorrow. It’s any moment actually. A moment that I wish could go on and on. A hug maybe. Or even a smile. But a moment that you never let go, a person you never forget. Or a book you will always remember.

One of a Kind

July 18th, 1946. Thomas. I can see his smile, every teeth in its place, everything were it should be. Until he got sick. But what I really want to talk about is his baseball mitt. A normal player would have had a normal, worn out, simple mitt. Oh! But not Tommy. He just loved his mitt. It was like his life.

Before I get really off topic, Tommy is my brother. Or was. Unlike most brothers, he was amazing. Not only was he smart, nice, and funny, but he was also patient. He never got mad at anyone, despite his fiery red hair. All the teachers kept telling my parents what a great kid he was. Oh! And he loved baseball. He was only a little kid when his friend took him to a baseball fair. The baseball fair had all kinds of activities, including a huge raffle at the end. With all sorts of “extremely special and unique” prizes. In order to win, you had to choose a number from 1 to 800. Tommy chose number 7. It was not the winning number but some of the other tickets won small prizes. Tommy won a baseball glove. While we drove home, I kept thinking it was the most ordinary, normal looking mitt I’d ever seen but he loved it and according to him, it was special. I remember how excited he was, how he yelled across the living room, how he bragged about his baseball mitt when he got the chance.

But unlike anything else, his mitt requires a deep, thorough description. First of all, Tommy was a lefty. So the glove had its own, unique quality that most of the other guys in his team didn’t have. Every day, before practice, he would look for his glove. It would be safe and sound, hidden somewhere in his perfectly organized room. Probably next to his other perfect stuff. When he found it, he would carry it with such care! Even though it was all tattered on the sides, some parts around the fingers and pockets completely worn out and the perfect dark brown color it used to have was all faded away, Tommy took care of it as if it were the newest mitt. When he got home from practice, he would again put it in his perfect room, next to his perfect things, somewhere in his neatly organized room.

As time went by, I started to see some words in the mitt. I know. That’s the kind of brother he was. Tommy would come up with the most strange, yet original ideas I’ve ever heard of. So it turns out that Tommy wrote poems. He copied all kinds of poems and wrote them all over his mitt. With green ink. I know. But I respected him. He was so unique. He was different from the rest of kids his age. And he was crazy about his mitt full of poems. I was so curious, and when I finally asked him why he wrote poems in his mitt, he told me it kept him busy in the field when no one was up at bat. At that time, I really thought he was crazy, but now that I think about it, it is pretty interesting.

Unfortunately, he was only 11 years old when he got leukemia. It was pretty bad, and that July 18^th, is a day I still recall. I felt so sad, and confused and furious; I punched all the windows in the garage. I really don’t know why I did it, let alone knew how I felt. But that July 18^th was the day when Tommy left me. All his pureness and innocence left me behind. Left me without his laugh, without his fiery red head. Only a collection of memories to never forget. Only a beaten up baseball mitt with poems written in green ink. But if you really think about it, both Tommy and his baseball mitt, were and will always be one of a kind.

Back in Time

Jamestown

September 10th, 1607

Dear Abigail,

            I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss the way you gingerly kissed our daughters good night. I miss everyone. I know this trip is for our own good and I know I said I wanted to come, but why do I catch myself grimacing every night?  Why do I see Jamestown as a despicable place now? I have to make this work. Whenever I remember your spontaneous laugh, your resilient attitude and your avidness to make me feel better, I remember. This is the right choice.

            How are you doing? Is Elizabeth ok? How about Emily? Please tell my father how much I think about him, how bad I feel about what happened to my mother. Tell him.

            Everything is perfect here. Well, was perfect. An explorer is causing problems. His name is John Smith. He feels like the proprietor of the Virginia Colony. I surmise he is a captain of some sort because he feels he has the power over people like me. Men who come from the most important families in England. His imperative comments and ideas modified many of the rules we had already established here. His newest idea is “He who does not work, does not eat”. And of course it affects me.

            Previously, I was careless with not a worry nor duty. Now, I must work in order to feed myself! Like servants! John Smith’s so called “fair” disposition is making my days in Jamestown miserable. Although it has helped our colony and we are no longer starving or suffering from the prevalent diseases, my friends and I dislike the idea.

            Remember Alexander? Well he, like many others, is a cheater. They extricate themselves from this duty. The men’s guile towards our colony is unacceptable. This new idea, this new colony, this new start is for our good. And guess what they do. They pay people to do the work for them. While I work, they eat.

            Despite all my complaining I must say John Smith is clever, original and I know he will be of great help for our colony. And I just hope the House of Burgesses and all the other establishments in Jamestown foreshadow a series of success and events that hopefully will make my days here better.

            Now that the story of my life is over and I was selfish enough to only tell you about life here, I think about you. Always. And I want you to know that no matter how long it takes for me to finally see you again; I love you as much as I do now.

Yours truly,

Benjamin

Missing Puzzle Piece

                9:00pm. The abrasions on my legs where killing me. The doctor had said something about age but I never listened to him. Not anymore. It seemed that lately, everything was about my age. The dehydration at night, the pain on my legs, my dead and useless eye.

                For some reason that same night, I inventoried my belongings. Stuff I cherished, things full of memories I would never forget. And one by one, I placed them in a box. And on my agenda, I wrote everything I could think of about my treasures, and all the memories behind them.

                I felt different, distant. I heard a buzzing sound, deep in my head, deep in my heart. The way I felt when my own, blue and bright eye succumbed. The way I felt when my wife passed away. Such a strange feeling I could not decipher.

                As I gingerly applied soothing lotion on my legs, I thought. As I grimaced every time my cold, bony fingers touched the abrasions, I thought. I decided to sleep on it, to let the knots in my heart untangle by themselves. And clad in my blanket, I quietly drifted off to sleep.

                I blinked. Not once, but many times, so quickly I couldn’t really see anything. It was dark. Very dark. It was all so blurry, and something felt wrong. Like if someone was watching me. Nonsense, I thought. It’s probably the wind or something. And even thought I knew it was not the wind, I tried to put my fears away, to get the rest I needed. Just as I closed my eyes, a minuscule object hit the ground, creating a boisterous sound in the pitch black and silent room. I surmised once again it was nothing but a mouse crossing the floor, maybe a cricket that had made a single chirp. Until I saw a set of eyes.

                I rubbed my face in a cursory manner again and again. I was electrified. Not in my darkest, most sinister thoughts did I imagine that young lad could have such evil eyes. The same man that had shared this house with me for the past 20 years. The same man that had helped me so many times, that had cheered me up so many nights.

                Oh yes. He was a little odd. He was a bit unhinged. But why was his gruesome face expression so unfamiliar? So out of place?

                Even though I simulated a deep, profound sleep, I shifted every minute. Knowing that all he wanted to see was my eye. That would sure set him off wouldn’t it? I knew the minute I opened my eye, yes, my long ago dead eye, he would endeavor to kill it. So that he would no longer feel uneasy around me.

                I observed him. I saw how he looked at the eye. I felt how his eagerness and happiness ceased when he saw the eye. I knew how anxious and despicable he would become when he saw the eye. So as I laid on my bed, I derived the answer to all my dilemmas.

The buzzing in my heart became louder, yet the knots in my heart slowly untangled. Like unraveling thread, my worries, the sadness hidden inside me, disappeared. And as I pondered about my decision, I smiled. I knew nothing would corroborate it was the lad. No one will suspect anything; no one would see the evil eyes that where now waiting for me. The evil eyes that in my dreams, hidden in some secret place, where waiting for me. For me to approve. So when the smile reached my heart, I opened the eye.

                I felt the abrupt movements, I heard his chuckles, I sensed my end. The end I had been waiting for. And right before the weight of my own bed fell on my weak chest, I caught a glimpse of his smile. And right before I closed my eyes for the last time, I smiled back. For it was the first time since I had my eye, since the love of my life was next to me that, I felt happy.  I felt thankful. And as the bed swallowed my life, my fears and my despair, I finally felt in peace.

Day 1

Today was like any other Wednesday.
I really wanted to go to music but 8th graders had P.E. So, after what seemed like years, school was finally over. I'm really tired and after a gazillion attempts to create a name for my blog, I can finally start working on my other homework - _ -