{First Case} Come What May
Ichabod snapped open his eyes and looked at his surroundings. Everything was amiss to him. The setting seemed too new and too modern to be the Van Tassel home where he was last remembered to be.
Slowly he sat up and was quickly met by the pain in his shoulder in which his right hand quickly shot up to cover it with a groan before he fell back on the pillows. The fresh scent of the linens caught his attention. Being used to smelling lye and perfumes, this scent was much cleaner and less stiff on his skin. "Where am I?" he choked out from his throat. After taking the potion that Katrina made for him back home, he swore he was in a dream. Everything felt real to him and his senses became hypersensitive.
His belongings sat neatly on a plain wooden desk with the only exception of his notes. The pages have been wiped clean. The Horseman did not exist here therefore neither did the notes. Of course, this meant that his memory of the Horseman would be viewed as insanity with little to go my other than his word and no proof to show for it.
He tried to sit up again and slowly moved to where his notes were seen. Slowly opening the cover, he noticed readily that all of pages that contained the Horseman and the crimes committed by the creature were completely gone as if a new book had taken its place. With a scowl, he looked around the room with his eyes in a suspicious manner. Quickly, his thoughts went back to the potion and inhaled with his eyes wide.
With sure steps he approaches the window and threw open the curtains in haste which shot another pain through his arm. The pain hardly mattered now. He was not where he once was and now he has to figure out where he is and why he is there.
To make matters even worse, he discovered the cross on the wall when he looked over his shoulder and scowled in protest. He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. There was no time to dwell on the pain. Something was terribly wrong and he needed to find an answer. He opened his door and walked out of the room and moved down the stairs, his hand on the highly polished wood of the banister. "Is anyone there?"
Slowly he sat up and was quickly met by the pain in his shoulder in which his right hand quickly shot up to cover it with a groan before he fell back on the pillows. The fresh scent of the linens caught his attention. Being used to smelling lye and perfumes, this scent was much cleaner and less stiff on his skin. "Where am I?" he choked out from his throat. After taking the potion that Katrina made for him back home, he swore he was in a dream. Everything felt real to him and his senses became hypersensitive.
His belongings sat neatly on a plain wooden desk with the only exception of his notes. The pages have been wiped clean. The Horseman did not exist here therefore neither did the notes. Of course, this meant that his memory of the Horseman would be viewed as insanity with little to go my other than his word and no proof to show for it.
He tried to sit up again and slowly moved to where his notes were seen. Slowly opening the cover, he noticed readily that all of pages that contained the Horseman and the crimes committed by the creature were completely gone as if a new book had taken its place. With a scowl, he looked around the room with his eyes in a suspicious manner. Quickly, his thoughts went back to the potion and inhaled with his eyes wide.
With sure steps he approaches the window and threw open the curtains in haste which shot another pain through his arm. The pain hardly mattered now. He was not where he once was and now he has to figure out where he is and why he is there.
To make matters even worse, he discovered the cross on the wall when he looked over his shoulder and scowled in protest. He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. There was no time to dwell on the pain. Something was terribly wrong and he needed to find an answer. He opened his door and walked out of the room and moved down the stairs, his hand on the highly polished wood of the banister. "Is anyone there?"