Ossie let out a loud sneeze, the noise barely escaping into the night. The rain insisted on muffling any sound that rivaled its own presence. He looked up as if to seek his answers in the sky but immediately regretting his decision, his eyes assaulted by the clouds mournful barrage. He shivered, pulling his arms in close across his chest, attempting to gather warmth in his own embrace. The rain was chilling, like frosted death. Still, it felt less cold than the place he had left his jacket. Back at the apartment, back where he left Faye, or was it where she chose to leave him? It didn't matter anymore.

Ossie stood up from the bench that over looked the railroad tracks. The night's rainy skies had left its mark on him. To say he was drenched would be an understatement. He retreated underneath the ledge that hungover the stations entrance, seeking refuge. He chanced a tug at the glass doors, which met him with stubborn resistance. It was locked, like everything else at this hour it was hopeless. Ossie glanced to the odd gypsie-like girl staring up into the sky. The rain showered down on her face as she danced beneath it, a display of grace, and lack of sanity. She had been that way for minutes now, Ossie just blinked at her having lost track of exactly how long it had been.

"Hey-" he yelled pushing his voice to compete with the rain. "-Why don't you come over here."

She was better equipped for the weather than himself, but he still worried that she might get sick. He inhaled deeply through his nose in an attempt to keep it from running. He felt a cold coming on.

"Thank you Mr., I'm staying right here." Her tone came across rather assertive. He had suspected she would react in such a way, and if that's what she insisted on than he was all but powerless to persuade her to listen. In his short time with her, Ossie had found the girl to be incredibly resilient. He discovered this on their way to the station. It seemed to him that she had a passive personality, yet a contradicting, and strong response to authority, he figured she had some kind of major superiority complex. Aside from noticing some of her psychological tendencies, he also noticed that she was shockingly fast. Quick enough that keeping up with her had become more than a hassle, especially with the injuries he had sustained. There were even a few unnerving moments when she seemingly disappeared. The rain swallowing her whole image. One of the occasions happening only a few feet in front of him. He felt as though he was chasing a phantom. An even bigger fright, grasping him only when she reappeared. He'd jump, and she'd laugh. She laughed a lot as she ran, but she could be dead silent as well. Now she just stood there. Gawking at the slivers of sky, that peeked out between the clouds that thundered by.

He worried about her. Finding himself feeling responsible in some way, like an under paid babysitter. What made him the most uneasy though was the question of where she came from. She seemed unreal, something was definitely off about her, and this whole situation. Ossie stood underneath the awning shivering as he contemplated this puzzle, the finished pieces presenting him with one solution. Whether this was real or not he had nowhere left to go, and nothing left to lose.

Lorn Mansion was real, that much he was sure of. However, the establishment always evaded him, outside of his professional jurisdiction. It had previously stayed under the rivaling company's contracts and control. It was also the one piece of property that they were never able to sell. He never looked into why that was but had always meant to, just never had the time. It was ironic. His rival's greatest curse was now his to bear. He sighed. He felt like he could do it, he never met a piece of property he couldn't sell, be it a house, duplex, parking lot, or swamp. He had sold land that nobody would've thought they wanted originally. Now though, he was jobless, unworthy of his father's employment. If the chosen few hadn't been able to sell it than how would he?

"Don't even start."

Ossie was woken from his daze, he blinked again. The young gypsy's features started to come into focus before him, her wild eyes staring very closely into his.

"Wh-"

"Don't start your whining." She must have been a master of nonverbal communication, again she pegged and drilled him based on facial expressions alone. Not giving him a chance to actually ask the question.

"You had that dumb sad look. Buck up your face, smile like a crocodile! Your free."

Ossie watched as she danced her way back into the rain. Free. Free from what? His job? Faye? His father? Yeah he was free alright. Free from everything he ever wanted.

"You're doing it again. And I'm cold and wet."

Ossie let out another sigh at her expense, as she crouched sitting down on the cold, soggy floor. Of course she was wet, what did she expect from masquerading in the storm. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, gazing silently into the rain. He looked at her as he thought, completely perplexed. She glanced at him grudgingly and pulled her hood up, then shuffled a foot farther from him. Ossie quickly withdrew his gaze. He didn't want to chance provoking her by staring. She was still unpredictable. so he pretended that he was admiring the iron workings above her instead. Tall arching bridges, control towers, and powerful, intricate structures, no matter where he went he couldn't escape his father's genius.

Curse his father. There was no where he could run that his influence could not find him, mocking him. He just simply wasn't good enough. Maybe he would do away with his new redemption plan at the forsaken Lorn Mansion. He could wait till dawn, buy some tickets to the countryside. There he could find a small house fix it up, and live far away from all of this. Ossie noticed his hand searching his pocket, looking for a treasure that wasn't there. Now it came back to Faye. That's what she would have wanted. That was her dream, to live a happy life. One with a family, away from all the noise and the chaos this city had to offer. A place like where they had their first picnic, on rolling hills with soft grass that ruffled in the wind. Yes, that was her dream. It didn't seem right to run to her sanctuary to escape his demons. Before he could come to a conclusive decision he heard it. An empty sound in the night, something was approaching him under the night's veil. The sound was followed by a quiet giggle. Ossie looked at the girl, she laughed to herself with a growing intensity. Becoming louder as the sound grew nearer. It was hollow, penetrating the rain like an arrow pierced the air.

Thud. Clack! Clip, clop. With each noise he could feel his heart throb.

"He's here. He's here!" she called, leaping up and rushing into the rain again, disappearing into the darkness.

Clip... clop... the sound came again beating down on the cobblestone path; eerie, echoing, discomforting. His skin crawled as a black stallion emerged through the rain, as though it was conjured out of the fog that now surrounded it. Ossie looked at it, his eyes wide, he was cold, and that had little to do with the goosebumps that now crawled over his skin. The nightmare pulled a black wagon that was almost as dark as itself, and looked as though it was retired from giving haunted hay bale rides. That or hiding corpses. The image of a dark reaper or Charon the mythological ferryman came to mind as the wooden spokes creaked to a stop. They groaned so terribly as if they were threatening to abandon their posts and retire. The river Styx reentered his mind as he looked up at the figure in command of this nineteenth century hearse.

The character wore a large black trench coat, that threatened to drown the wearer. His sleeves were rolled up several times to allow for skeletal like hands to gain a better grip on the reins. The man's collar was also overly large and turned upwards the circumference of it all swallowing his head. To complete the ensemble, he wore a large black top hat that seemed to float, resting on top of his collar.

The horse gave a blast of steam from its nostrils, as it gave its head a shake in an attempt to repel some water. Then he let go of the reins and leaned in towards Ossie. His hat brim drooped low, and shadows engulfed his face leaving no features to see, and everything to the imagination. Ossie glimpsed a pumpkin sitting next to him. It seemed random at first, but made complete sense to him if this wagon really was for hay rides. Something bothered him about this specter like man though, maybe even more so than the girl that had brought him here.

"The name's Jack Hollow." Ossie was surprised to hear the man talk. His voice sounded much younger than expected, and contained the hint of a bad English accent. That wasn't the problem though. What bothered him about it was the feeling it gave him. like the man was smiling at him behind all his obscurity. His tone contained a kind of "I know something you don't know" mystique, but friendly as well. Jack continued

"Not Hollow like Halloween, but like Hollow as in sleepy Hollow-"

That was it! That was what the ghostly carriage driver reminded Ossie of. The headless horseman from the ever popular literature of Washington Irving. The antagonist of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow".

"-Yep that's me all right, but Jack will do, and you are cap'n?"

As uneasy as he felt, Ossie had made his decision to continue on this path, even though he knew it would be a long ride, being that jack proved to be a talker despite no visible mouth.

"Ossie. Ossie Godwyn." He said it as he extended a hand upwards to shake his with Jacks. They were cold. Icy, the exact opposite of this man's warm voice.

"It seems a little birdie told me you need a ride."

Ossie could only assume he meant the girl dressed like a gypsie, the one who summoned him there to meet Jack. Where was she anyways, Ossie scanned the mist looking for her image, peering to his right where he last saw her run. To his surprise he found her with an opposite scan of his head. She stood there as if she had been present the whole time, simply petting he beast that was to labor over his ride. He stared curiously, unsure how she crept around unnoticed, unsure of how long she had been there.

"So where's it gonna be cap?"

"Lorn Mansion." Ossie replied through the thunder, the lightning that followed it failing to illuminate any light on Jacks void.

"Lorn Mansion! What business you got with them folk?"

"It seems I'm the one they called when they decided to sell." He tried a smile, an attempt to smooth over Jacks skepticism. The conductor ignored it, his shoulders bouncing with laughter.

"Woo! Pretty penny that one! Good luck tryin to sell it Cap'n."

"Well I'm the makeover man, I'll see the job done." He was a little offended, there wasn't a property he couldn't sell, at least that's what he told himself, and so far he had proven right.

"Really? You do that and I'll lose my bloody HEAD!" Ossie raised an eyebrow, it seemed to him to be an awfully odd choice of words.

"You really ain't heard the stories and all?" It came more as a jeer than a question.

"No I haven't."

"They say the place is haunted-"

"Shut up Jack! You talk too much." It was the gypsie, who decided she had finally had enough time with the horse, walking over to join Ossie. Underneath her arm she carried a small latch box with golden hinges, leaving him with no implication as to where it came from, or what was inside. She was a consistent mystery though, and he could waste forever trying to figure her out. Instead he needed to focus on gathering information about the mansion.

"Oh you found it! Gosh I bloody went and forgot where I put the darn thing. Tell ya, I'd forget my own HEAD if-" Jacks words were lost to thunder as it bellowed up above.

"If you forgot that I guess that'd make you the HEAD-less horseman." The girl laughed, giving more than her normal giggle.

She seemed to note Jack's unusual attire as well. Ossie admitted it bothered him more than it should have, but all of these phrases nagged at him, if he was going to be so shy and hide his face- no, head; than he should stop provoking his mind with such remarks.

"Well, I got places to be and activities to complete, good bye Jack." The girl turned and looked at Ossie. With a face of stone, and sternly added "And you Mister, have a job to do."

"Don't worry it's in good hands."

The girl flinched, her face twitching slightly, then cracked a week smile as she stared through him. "I-it better be. Thank you doctor- Mr. I mean!" she corrected herself quickly.

Ossie replied with a "welcome" as he turned to watch her leave. He wasn't sure if he could fathom this night, neither as a whole or even the pieces that made it up. It was all so surreal that he thought he may be sleeping.

"C'mon scamp, best we get a HEAD start."

Ossie sighed, shaking his head slightly and climbed into the back of Jacks carriage. It shouldn't have shocked him to find it was filled with straw.

"Well don't lose your HEAD over it. Makes things more comfy, I don't usually transport people, well not ones to be seen anyway know what I'm sayin?" He laughed.

"Jack! Go!" The girl called barely visible in the night's haze.

"Pushy pushy little lady. All right hold on to your hats, were HEADing out."

There was a crack as his reins snapped down on his stead, the black mare bucked upwards, then brought its hooves down into the cobblestone. The cart lurched forward, and Ossie retreated towards the back to keep the gypsie in view. Such a puzzling creature. What, was her story he wondered. Who was she?

"Hey what's your name?"

The girl gave a smile Ossie couldn't see, something halfway between a grin and a grimace. Her eyes grew wild. "That doesn't matter." She called back. "As far as anyone's concerned, I don't even exist."

Ossie wasn't sure if heard her right. He didn't even think her last words were directed at him; but most of all he wasn't sure if the girl actually faded before him, growing transparent. The condensation around her consuming her, leaving nothing but rain trickling where she stood.

Maybe the night, and the fog were playing tricks on him, he probably hit his head harder than he thought. He reached a hand touching a knob that he had incurred earlier. Or... did she really not exist. Than who was Jack? This apparition that ferried him off into the night? He couldn't have come for Ossie of his own free will, no the girl was real someone had to bring them together, right?

"What's the matter lad? You got that deer in the HEAD lights look."

"Just, thinking..."

Jack reached into his pumpkin finding the little box he had recovered earlier and unlatched it. His gloved hand scooped up some of its contents, then he turned to offer it to Ossie.

"Biscuit? Might calm your nerves, forest is a spooky place at night. Perfect for all kinds of grim things really... don't you worry though! You got o'l Jack here."

That was the part that worried him. He didn't know Jack, he seemed nice enough but he wasn't ready to lose his head yet, not anymore. The image of his father's incorporeal being floated in his head. Surely he was waiting for him. He died mysteriously, the police unsure of what to make of the case. Either way he didn't want to let his guard down with this shady character.

Ossie was growing tired of all this thinking, he chuckled to himself probably lost to much blood to support his current imagination. Yes, he was tired of thinking about his father, or Faye, he just wanted to run away. He would just have to trust that Jack would take him to a place where he could hide out from the world. What was important now was he found out more about this hideout he would renovate. Lorn Mansion.

What sort of place was it, and what kind of shape was it in? Ossie looked around at the wilderness, the cart creaked and moaned, as it climbed over stick and stone alike. When did they even enter this forest? He looked up, either the rain had finally ceased or the canopy above was just simply to thick. The result still adding up to be that the all too familiar sound of rain was only a memory now. It was behind him, and he thought his life was too. Ossie reached out and took the cookie from Jack.

"So what do you know about this Lorn Mansion?"

"You really think you can spiff the place up?"

"I do." He felt confident as he took a bite from his snack. It was good.

"I'll give you a HEADs up than Cap'n. Its gonna take a bit more to gussy it up than you think. You see, you can clean a house, an fix the beams and all, but a reputation is a much harder thing to clean once tarnished ya know?"

The horse brayed in the night. Shooting a blast of steamy breath from its nostrils. Jack patted it gently with his hand.

"Ya see, some dark things happened there on more than one occasion. But I'm getting a HEAD of myself. You don't want to hear all that hullaballoo before you HEAD there."

"The more I know about my objective and client the better. Anything you know would be appreciated." Ossie shifted to the front of the carriage, getting closer to hear Jack, and to the lantern he had lit, the now biggest source of heat in this cold night.

Ossie was normally pretty observant but there seemed to be a lot of little things slipping past his notice lately, like when Jack had lit the lantern, or where he was holding it to begin with. Yes, it was one little mystery after another but that wasn't the most important or confounding one, at the moment. What was important was finding out more about Lorn Mansion. He had always heard there was a tragedy there, or that it was haunted, one of the reasons the rival company hadn't been able to sell it. He shuddered.

His jacket was still back at the apartment he left behind. He propped himself up on a hay bale to get closer to the flickering flame that was casting empty shadows in Jack's hood.

"Well story goes something like this. A Man with last name Lorn of course, great brain surgeon that he was married a beautiful lady. Gorgeous that one. And smart too, she was HEAD of a law firm, owned the whole bloody thing."

A couple of tyrant types, Ossie thought to himself, nothing he wasn't used to. Oppressive successful father, and a walk out mother, no tragedy just life.

"She was a caring women bless her heart. They'd throw old nineteen twenty's parties all the time. Balls for all their rich friends and associates. Mansion was known for it. She used to wear this beautiful dress, some overseas model gave to her. That model thought she was the queen of England, she could flash some pounds though that one. Some say the dress was even woven with golden silk! Mistress Lorn died however, and things grew awfully dark. Just wasn't the same without her cheer around there. Master Lorn grew depressed. It was that last ball that did it though. Come the way hours of the night his own daughter murdered him."

"Really, please tell me it wasn't poison."

"No that'd be too easy, to peaceful for this tale Cap'n. No, his little girl slit her father's throat. First he loses his wife than her face on his dear baby girl sends him to be with her. Found the poor chap Sitting in his arm chair."

Ossie gripped his throat rubbing it, an uncomfortable feeling residing there.

"What happened to the girl?"

"Well she was trialed by her mom's own company, even at her young little age she was found guilty. After that she escaped that horrible place." A new tone crept over Jack as he said it. The cheer replaced by a sort of malice.

"She escaped the house or prison?"

"It was worse." He muttered, his fists tightening on his steed's reigns.

"Pardon?" Ossie was ignored, Jack simply continued in what he acted was a painful memory.

"So she ran. Free as bird she finally was. No one ever saw her again."

"So the Lorn murderer is still out there?" The horse reared kicking its front legs in the air, and the cart jolted to a stop. Ossie nearly lost his grip and fell over the edge bumping into Jack, who shot a hand out to steady the lantern before turning on him. His hood reflecting the dancing flames, his face appearing on fire. 

"Now I aint ever said that!" He yelled blood boiling, all his typical joy drained from him in one phrase. Replaced by anger with an unknown origin. For a moment Ossie felt fear but was unable to act. Not because he was paralyzed but because he was currently handy capped. He could run sure, but he had little doubt that Jack would catch him. At the very least he could run him down with the wagon. Jack simply just turned away however and snapped his reigns, the horse complied without hesitation; and they were on their way again.

"She was lost in these very woods. On the run that poor chap was. The old coppers tried trackin her scent with their hounds and such. But the trail went cold at a creek. You see the night she died it was cold and stormin, similar to tonight you might say. Authorities found her little foot prints. Poor thing must of slipped and tumbled right in. Drowned. Ya see after all that the place only continued to grow darker and darker, fell apart just like that family did. Now it's no rumor that the little girls ghost haunts the place, like some kinda eidolon. That's the pretty little penny you gotta fix up cap."

In an odd way Jack's story was about the most believable thing he had heard all night. He meant no harm in thinking it, but was relieved to hear about the problems of others, the focus of his own shifted. Something about it made it easier. Did he believe in ghosts was the question though, after tonight the answer had to be yes, though he didn't want to admit it. Cause that would mean accepting that he was letting this grim coach driver lead him right to the run down home of a murderous spirit.

"Well we still got awhile yet. I'd catch some winks if I were you. Ya look a little antsy, not light HEAD-ed are you?"

"No." Ossie answered rolling his eyes at yet another of these antagonizing phrases, they made him feel like he was losing his own head. Doubt creeping in the back of his mind that the way things seemed about Jacks missing appendage was true. He was right however, that some sleep would be a good thing. It had been a long night and his eyes were struggling to stay open. The lantern dimmed and his eyes waned, he welcomed the darkness. The evening seemed to last an eternity. He was ready for it to be over. Ossie laid back against some hay and let sleep take him.

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Hey everyone, I hate to intervene like this, but its that time. What'd ya think? Where did my grammar go? Why I type like this. Sorry its late as I add this part. Please comment, critique, and interact. As some kind of author your support means a lot, and most anything you say, can lead to improvement. So comment it up, talk to each other, and maybe tell me how you feel about Jack, and if your opinion of Ossie has changed.