Come
gentle reader and listen to this story of sadness and
horror, as told to me in my
childhood. Wallow in your
fear as I subject you to...
The Tale of the Horseless Headmaster!!!
I was a young boy growing up in the town of Waking Solid. It was a
peaceful village in northern
New Hampshire where children could play in the streets and everyone had a digital watch of their very own. I had just turned twelve and been given my very own
digital watch, may father was a watchmaker at the local
factory and had been able to purchase the watch
wholesale. He'd got home late that evening and presented it to me still in the manufacturer's packaging, with a small red bow adorning the top. Although it was late, I was so filled with excitement that I begged my mother to let me run down to Billy Huston's house to show him my new digital watch. I didn't like Billy, but he was poor and could never afford such
luxury and I wanted to rub it in.
It was a warn autumn evening, the dried leaves of the Henderson's old
maple rustled down the street and crunched beneath my feet. As I neared Billy's house I saw a dark figure standing in the center of the
road. I tried to keep running, to make it to the
sanctuary that the Huston' house now represented but my feet refused to move. I watched, frozen, as the dark figure approached me.
As it neared I noticed that the figure was garbed in an
archaic fashion, it's turn of the
century hat was cocked, just so, to the right, and on it's
arm gleamed the face of an old wind-up wristwatch. The hands of the watch ticked away the menacing seconds as, what was now recognizable as a
man, shambled toward me. A calloused hand raised and tilted the brim of his hat up revealing to me eyes which were hard and
bitter. It's right hand gripped a long wooden ruler which it began to rap against it's left
palm, with each tap it's
wrist turned slightly, causing the light of a nearby streetlamp to be reflected off the face of the
ancient timepeice and into my
youthful eyes. The
figure opened it's mouth as if to
speak, suddenly I regained control of my legs, I
kicked myself around and fled towards
home.
Up the
porch stairs and through the front door. I slammed the door behind me and panted with lack of
breath. My mother and father rushed to see what had happened. I told them of the figure, of the ruler and of the deviant timepeice. My
mother wrapped her comforting arms around me and tried to relieve my fears. My
father, however, turned a
ghostly
white and had to sit down. After a few
calming moments my father called me over.
"I know who it was that you saw my son", his tone was gravely
serious," indeed it was the Horseless
headmaster."
I stared in wonder at my father as he revealed the dark secret that his family had kept hidden all these years. "You great
grandfather", he started, "was a
student at The
Quaint Village School for Boys. This school was run by a
grim old
codger named Mr. Fooderman. This headmaster was a stern disciplinarian, who ran the school on a strict schedule, all tracked by a wind-up wristwatch, as was the fashion of the day. You see
son, they had not the benefit of digital
quartz accuracy in those days. Well one evening the old Headmaster had
forgotten to wind his wristwatch and when he awoke he believed it was 9 AM. The headmaster got dressed hurredly and rushed to the classrooms, which he found empty because it was actually 6 AM, an hour before classes started. Upon finding the classrooms empty the Headmaster was outraged and punished the entire
student body for being late to class. Each student got five raps on the knuckles with a wooden
ruler, and the dining hall that night served only fresh baked
halibut steaks with a single peice of foie gras, instead of the
foie gras and
truffle sauce which normally adorned such an evening meal. It was soon after the evening meal that the headmaster realized his mistake and re-set his watch to the correct time, however, he would not admit his
mistake and amends with the students. That night the student body, as a protest, kidnapped the headmaster's prized
stallion and hid him, in the next stall over. Upon rising the next morning the headmaster went to check on his horse and found it missing. Due to the
shock of having such a fine
animal dissappear the headmaster died. And now to this day he wanders the streets of Waking
Solid, generally accosting people and asking them if they've seen his horse anywhere and generally being a
nuisance about the whole situation, muttering "when
I catch those young whipper-snappers they're going to recieve the thrashing of a
lifetime."
Thus grows the
legend of the Horseless
Headmaster!