The moon showed palely through the darkest clouds of English land, sleeping, was the Yorks village in chilling silence, which was frequently disturbed by the growling of the lightning strokes.
A wind started blowing waking the sleeping cornfields. The Geogen trees lept their bough and
touched the wet grassy land. From nowhere came, he riding on his horrible dark horse hanging
a blood-wet sack, carrying his bloody one, the headless horseman.
He rode through the waken fields, chasing the wind, towards, the ministers bunglow”, where
Sir John Roui lives. Sleeping was Roui on his bed beside the fireplace, in his bedroom.
Shattered the window panes waking sir Roui and rode into his room the horribly dark horse
followed by the chilling wind. A thought of fear plucked his throat, Swetting was Roui trying to
scream, in front of the raised axe of the horseman A ‘swish’ and off Roui’s head from his fatty
throat to the bloody-wet sack of the headless horseman. Blood dashed out from the headless
body as if water from a pumping fountain. The night faded out slowly and went back the
horseman to the mysteries of his own….
“This can’t go on” said the ‘Prince’ of the civilized York, “this is the seventh, the seventh
minister of my senate, coming beforeth justice without a head”.
“Appoint a detective”! ordered he to the servants of the York.
And so came he, a young detective named John Zachevoos to chisell out the mystery clouds
of the headless slumberer.
First decided he to wake up the headless bodies of the ministers sleeping in the cemetary.
He found that all of them had a scar on their chest. He, then ripped open the bodies and found that it was an axe cutting from left to right slicing the vocal cord concluded, he that the killer was a left hander. On the fifth day of his investigation called him the prince to his chapel “What did you find ?” asked he to the detetctive.”Many, your Majesty ! So many ! said he. Unfurled, his findings, the detective before the Prince of York. Surprised was he, the prince of york, gave John a shake hand and blende him for the best. Days shed very slowly and ran, the Detective , closer and closer towards the truth.
The horseman came back to this villa after every slumbering found out the detective, standing in front of a horrible little bunglow. Entered he,to the ‘horseman’s castle’, found out that it was the prince’s villa. The daylight was dawning and searching was he for the head of the dead. Found he, a locked out room by following the blood stains on the floor. Took an axe, he broke the lock, open the door, looked in and closed his eyes!! Hanging, was there the minister’s heads. Dripping down blood. A cold wind drew in through the bedside window panes behind the detective.
Rode in the horribly dark horse of the headless slumber. Turned around he, the detective, saw
the axe dripping with blood. A ‘Swish’ and off his head from his young little neck and blood fizzled out littering the floor.
Came down the horsemen from the horse showed his face to the ‘head’ of the detective and spoke. “You are clever, I know it. But sorry, B’coz you found my mystery. Don’t worry I’ll announce another order to appoint another detective to solve my mysteries”.