[Author’s note: the short story in this was written, by me, under a different pen name.]
Some time previously, I was part of a story-writing challenge: we were given a random-encounter table of a hundred fantasy monsters (were-beasts, lamia, giants, and so on), asked to roll 1d100 (one 100-faceted die) and then, using that roll to look up which monster we’ve encountered, write a story about that encounter.
I rolled "The Headless Horseman". You know the one. The fellow who goes galloping around New England’s dense and menacing forests around twilight, carrying his severed head under his arm. Those he catches are never seen again. I decided it was because he takes their souls for himself, instead of allowing the victims’ souls to stand judgment normally.
The story I wrote was a brief one, in which the narrator meets his brother – who’s been struggling with chronic illness for years, and who is waiting to meet the Horseman. And the Horseman will take his soul, without a fight, in exchange for releasing him from his mortal suffering.
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