""Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates-the darkest and most evil of thoughts.""
-Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Knight of Logan Hollow

                           by T.K.Millin
Death is but a patient slumber . . . 
Summer of 1012 . . . Scotland

Through the cast of the full moon he saw the ripples of her gold spun tresses flowing delicately across her blood stained tunic and her glazed emerald eyes which used to stop his beating heart. He knelt down and kissed the blood from her lips, for even in death, her beauty astounded him. 

He stood and watched the last of his people of Logan Hollow take their final breath, clinching his fists he raised them to the heavens and shouted, “Thou shall never forgive.” 

Placing the final stone on top of the freshly dug mound, he dropped to the ground and wept. The approach of pounding hoofs gave him the strength to rise, “Who enters?” He said drawing his sword.
A thousand years later . . .

The Senior Class from Texas, more interested in finding a pub than sightseeing, gathers around their History Professor in front of the marble pillared structure protected only by a small weather-beaten chain. “Gather round ya’ all, gather round.” The Professor says.

“It was exactly a thousand years ago tonight somewhere close to this spot Sir William returned from battle to find his beloved wife and all his people of Logan Hollow slaughtered by the invading Vikings that King Sweyn Haraldsson of Denmark had sent to defeat the Scots. In the end, the Scots prevailed, but unfortunately for Sir William he never saw the victory. Because-” 
“That’s all cool Profess, but can we go now, I’m really thirsty.” Bob interrupted.

“Shhh, be quiet I want to know what happened next!” Dorothy says.

The professor glares at Bob, “Because, that same night Sir William was visited by a strange horseman who offered him a choice between living in agony over the death of his beloved and giving his life in exchange for the promise of one day rising as a victorious Knight. He chose death. Today he is called, Knight of Logan Hollow, and it's told he will one day come back riding a black stallion with eyes the color of blood and breath as powerful as a steam engine, bringing to life his beloved and all those who perished that fateful day.” 

“Come on Professor, it’s been a thousand years, people around here can’t still believe in that crap.” Andy says.

The professor looks around at the undeveloped land, “What do ya’ all think?”  
After downing enough Guinness to drown a fish, Bob and Andy sneak out of the hotel and stumble their way down a side street.  Through the dimness of the street lamp they see bellowing smoke from the idling taxi.

The car pulls to the side of the darkened road with the squealing of railway wheels, “I’ve gone far enough.”  The driver says.

“Hey man, there must be a mile or more left.”  Bob slurs.

“Aye, but I never enter Logan Hollow at night for when the Knight of Logan Hollow comes I assure you he will not go away empty handed.”  He says, eyeing the full moon through the windshield.

“You said you’d take us, well you’re not getting your fair!”  Bob says, stumbling out of the car.

“Thanks dude, we’ll be fine.”  Andy says, handing him the fair and then some.

Bob and Andy weave their way along the moonlit road toward Logan Hollow, the singing frogs filling the night and their crunching footsteps announcing their approach.

Ahead in the distance, the pounding of hoofs echo below the ground, bringing sweet music to their hollowed ears. Their waiting had cost them muscle, skin, hair and beauty, but they never lost hope; for one day they knew their Knight would come, for death is but a patient slumber.

“Wait till the Professor hears what we did tonight.” Andy says.

“Yeah, hey man stop a minute.” Bob pauses, “did you hear that?”
“Dude, not you too, you can’t honestly believe in that crap.”

“Nah man, I was just joking.” Bob says throwing his arm around Andy’s neck and giving him a knuckle rub on the head.

Through the cast of the full moon they saw the ripples of spine through the tattered strands of the once flowing tunic and the sunken sockets that once held eyes of emerald, stopping their beating hearts.

Pulling on the reigns, the Knight of Logan Hollow leans back and raises his sword, “Come, tonight we take back what is ours!”          

Word count: 735


  1. Woo, hoo! Another Viking story! I love this tale: black horse with red eyes, a warrior seeking revenge, and his lady love. The bone-chilling ride reminds me of "The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow."

    I love this story!


  2. It is funny to make the jump from bygone melodrama to modern prattling. Always up for ghostly stories!

  3. Blaze, thank you for the pawsome comments! I enjoyed writing this one since my family tree branches back into the MacMillan Clan!

    John, thank you for stopping by and commenting, and for the compliment, I think.

  4. T.k. this is fabulous.
    It's in the tradition of Sleepy Hollow yet it's totally your own style!

    Vikings yes, poor Blaze, is blood will be boiling!

    this is excellent, very special and seasonal! please do something like this again!

  5. Thank you Carole, I am most humbled by comments from such a classy writer, and lady, such as yourself. I was inspired by the invasion of Cruden Bay, Scotland in 1012 and the Celtic folklore of Ankou, a personification of death in Breton mythology so I had fun mixing a little fact with fiction. Thanks for stopping by and saying hello!

  6. Oh I really like ghost stories. This is good!

  7. Thank you storytreasury for stopping by and visiting. I'm glad you enjoyed! :)

  8. It's inevitable the college students with a little drink would wander into Logan's Hollow. Maybe they'll believe now ;)