The Legend of the Headless Torqueman
Many a tale and superstition have been told celebrating All Hallow's Eve, but perhaps none as menacing as that of the Headless Torqueman. You see, I warn you, by virtue of sharing these words I soberly pray that my spirit rest easy come nightfall. For no man dare speak of the monstrosity of this indelible phantom without ensuing some horrific detriment. T’is right my friends, for I risk my very soul so that you may know the truth.
I was but a boy when I first laid my weary eyes upon him. As if defying my sanity and reason, there stood this being. He possessed no mortal essence. Awestruck, fear plagued me. This could not be. If he is not of man, then ... what. I gawked in riddle and amazement. There, before me, no more than two pole, loomed a marriage of evil and machine.
Armored atop a beast with no flesh nor breath — an abomination of frozen iron and unearthly fire —
rode a sinister knight, whose head had since been transposed with that of a contemporary device.
I had heard of this creature before. His reputation spoken at a whisper — for he is said to be an apparition of great men of science who lost their souls amid their service.
Vulnerable and weathered by terror, I ran. For how long, I cannot say — though I was well into Lord Roderick’s estate come the time I turned my shoulder only to behold the terrifying reality that there be the Headless Torqueman himself. In that moment, sincere dread became me. My knees buckled and I gave way to the ground. Whether it be courage or stupidity, I lifted my head. He was gone. My soul spared. Why? I cannot be certain. But I profess to you, my friends, suppress any desire to cross paths with this phantom. It is under this caveat, I say to you godspeed and good luck.