Sleepy Hollow Page #4

ICHABOD:

Are you so superstitious?

KATRINA:

To call a person superstitious is to

imply they fear magic, but not all

magic is black.

ICHABOD:

There is no such thing as magic.

KATRINA:

Really? Then... what is your

rebuttal to those romantic poets

claiming proof of magic in a rose at

full bloom, or even in a teardrop?

ICHABOD:

Poets have silly notions about

plants and bodily secretions.

KATRINA:

(laughs)

You are funny.

Ichabod doesn't get what's so funny about that. The DISTANT

TOLL of a BELL is HEARD. Katrina looks fearful.

She goes to open a window. The BELL TOLLS...

EXT. SLEEPY HOLLOW, OVERVIEW -- NIGHT

... TOLLS mournfully over farms and forests...

EXT. FARM -- NIGHT

... TOLLS as a MAN comes from his barn, listening, then

sprinting towards his home.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE -- NIGHT

... TOLLS across the deserted square. Windows go dark.

Shutters are slammed shut.

EXT. VAN TASSEL HOUSE -- NIGHT

... TOLLS. Ichabod bounds out to the lawn, halting to

listen. Katrina and Baltus come out on the porch.

BALTUS:

Constable, where are you going!?

... TOLLS... TOLLS... then, SILENCE. Ichabod chases away.

BALTUS:

Come back, sir...

(watches him go)

Madness.

Baltus ushers Katrina back in. The door slams.

EXT. BELLTOWER FIELD -- NIGHT

Ichabod charges across the rocky field. He slows, awed...

The Belltower is down, its mast is splintered. The horse is

gone. Ichabod moves to where the crow's nest lies smashed.

No sign of Jonathan.

EXT. SLEEPY HOLLOW FOREST -- NIGHT

Jonathan runs past, gripping his bow. It's QUIET... till

HOOFBEATS are HEARD in pursuit.

Trees are silhouetted against the sky. As HOOFBEATS get

LOUDER, branches bend like arms and fingers yearning to

touch. As HOOFBEATS ROAR PAST, the trees relax.

FURTHER ON, Jonathan runs. WIND begins to BLOW.

BEHIND, in motion, WE SEE Daredevil's snorting visage; eyes

lizard-like, with vertical slits literally aglow.

The Horseman's hand yanks a wooden WAR HAMMER from a saddle

mount. (No clear view of the Horseman.)

HORSEMAN'S P.O.V.: closing in on Jonathan.

Jonathan is overtaken. The Horseman swings the hammer WHOOMP

-- sends Jonathan sprawling.

HOOFBEATS FADE. Jonathan tries to get up, but pain shoots

through him. He crawls to retrieve his bow.

Against a tree, he takes an arrow from his shoulder quiver

and readies it. Waiting. A metal TAPPING is HEARD O.S.

CLINK... CLINK... CLINK. A HORSE SNORTS.

Jonathan pulls the bow taut, pained, lips bloody.

Elsewhere, Daredevil approaches slow. The Horseman taps his

sword on his spur, CLINK... CLINK... CLINK...

Foliage moves as the Horseman's form pushes through.

Jonathan releases -- the arrow WHISTLES...

THWACK! -- imbeds in the Horseman's chest.

CLINK... CLINK... CLINK... continues -- Jonathan readies a

second arrow. Pulls and releases -- O.S. THWACK!

CLINK... CLINK... CLINK... Jonathan cries out, crawling away

desperately. Crawling through underbrush, over roots and

rocks. CLINK... CLINK... CLINK... Jonathan gives up, spent,

face to the dirt. He closes his eyes.

CLINKING STOPS. Daredevil halts astride Jonathan; two legs

on each side of Jonathan's body.

EXT. SLEEPY HOLLOW FARMLAND -- MORNING

Baltus and a large, DULLARDLY MAN ride. Behind, Ichabod

rides with Magistrate Philipse.

Ichabod is not adept at riding his old nag, Gunpowder.

ICHABOD:

The Van Garretts died first; a man

and his son, survived by a wife and

two infants. And the Widow Windsor

was next...

PHILIPSE:

And now Jonathan Masbath.

ICHABOD:

(looks back, ponders)

Why would he flee this direction,

with so much open ground to cross

before he reached cover?

PHILIPSE:

He would not have gone into the

Western Woods. No sane man would.

Philipse drinks from a whiskey flask, sees Ichabod watching

and offers some. Ichabod declines.

PHILIPSE:

Van Ripper there...

Ahead, the dullard, VAN RIPPER, sloppily spits tobacco.

PHILIPSE:

... found the body this morning.

(pause)

You do believe now, don't you?

ICHABOD:

Believe?

LADY VAN TASSEL:

You said yourself. What mere man

could have downed the Belltower?

ICHABOD:

It is a prime tenet of science,

Philipse, that because one thing

appears improbable does not mean

you embrace the utterly fantastical.

PHILIPSE:

You need less big words, and more

common sense.

Philipse fingers an IRON KEY talisman he wears on a cord.

ICHABOD:

What is that you wear?

PHILIPSE:

My talisman. It will, protect

against the Horseman if I show a

brave face. But, I cannot run. If

I run in fear, it is worthless.

ICHABOD:

Well... so much for common sense.

EXT. SLEEPY HOLLOW FORESTS, FURTHER ON -- MORNING

Brom and Baltus stand at a HORSE'S CORPSE amongst jagged

boulders. The flesh has been stripped, guts exposed.

Philipse and Ichabod arrive and dismount.

BALTUS:

Was this Jonathan's?

BROM:

Yes. Seems he panicked across here

and broke two legs.

ICHABOD:

Who took the meat?

BALTUS:

Must have been the Redman. A Lenape

Indian lives in the Western Woods.

ICHABOD:

These woods of yours sound a bit

crowded, what with all the witches,

ghouls and Indians living there.

Brom climbs up onto his own horse, a black beauty.

BROM:

There's only one Lenape. He eats

small animals and lost children...

and the occasional constable when he

can get it.

Brom rides. Ichabod goes to the dead horse, digs in his

satchel for a thin iron tool, which he uses it to pry off one

HORSESHOE. A WHISTLE is HEARD O.S.

Everyone looks far ahead to where Van Ripper has ridden. The

doctor and others are there. Van Ripper waves.

INT. FOREST, MASBATH MURDER SITE -- MORNING

Doctor Lancaster stands with SEVERAL ARMED MEN. A coffin on

a cart is covered by a blanket. Ichabod is crouched nearby.

ICHABOD:

Why did you move the body, Doctor?

DOCTOR LANCASTER

To place it inside its coffin.

Ichabod, nods, vaguely annoyed. He puts the horseshoe into a

hoofprint in the dirt. It fits.

Ichabod rises, walks, studying the ground, kicking up leaves.

Brom, Van Ripper, Baltus and Philipse watch.

Ichabod finds a deep hoofprint. Huge. He compares the

horseshoe. The hoofprint is much larger.

Ichabod pulls his satchel off his shoulder, takes out a bowl,

bottle of water and bag of brown powder; begins mixing water

and powder with a fork to make plaster.

The others watch, finding this bizarre, whispering. Brom

comes up to stand over Ichabod, irritated.

BROM:

What the hell are you doing?

ICHABOD:

(ignoring pause)

You are the blacksmith. Ever shod

a horse with a hoof this large?

BROM:

Never. A shoe that size I would

have remembered.

Ichabod starts to fill the print with plaster.

ICHABOD:

Van Ripper. Can you show where the

body lay?

VAN RIPPER:

I can show exactly.

Van Ripper dismounts, wiping tobacco drool. Ichabod rises to

follow with his satchel.

VAN RIPPER:

Here... in front of this oak, facing

north. Horrible...

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