With the murders that had taken place in the last few weeks, the people of Sleepy Hollow were living in fear. All of the homicides had been the same; a clean decapitation of the victim’s head. Some governing locals wanted to bring in help, but the townspeople decided to keep it under wraps, so as to not bring attention to their residents, hoping that the killer would move on to another place if they did not give him the attention he sought. However, the Mayor of this tiny community was certain that the killings had to do with a devil-worshiping cult, which he had recently read about in one of his fantasy papers. Since the murderer took the heads as possible souvenirs of his kills, he was sure that an evil religious group was at the source.

As for the others, they believed it was one of the 'Four Horsemen’--the one known as Death himself. Some had made statements saying that they had seen a headless figure sitting upon a black stallion, dressed in a long dark cloak that fell past the animal’s sides. This was a description similar to a biblical character, one who rode with three others, said to be bringing doom unto the world.

Finally, with the graveyards completely full, the people of Sleepy Hallow had no other choice. This once silent town reached to the outside, looking for help before there was no one left. They found this help in the form of a young, but rather unorthodox, scientist cult investigator, by the name of Doctor Ichabod Crane. He agreed to travel from the ‘City’ and investigate this killing spree.

Once he arrived in Sleepy Hollow, the Mayor was pessimistic at his first glance of the man who would hopefully be the savior of their town. Ichabod was not, in appearance, what was expected. Instead of being a young, strapping fellow, Dr. Crane was a tall and sickly looking person, what with his ghastly white skin and the deep, purple lines the hung beneath his eyes from lack of sleep. His attire was no better an indicator of the skills he might possess, as it seemed his clothes were made for someone half his size, and being held together by a pair of long suspenders. How could it be that someone who looked himself to be knocking on death’s door, could find the needed answers and rid them of this ghostly killer?

"Doctor Crane?" he asked.

"Yes, but please, my friends call me Ichabod."

"Indeed. Doctor Crane, there have been thirty-two murders to date. All of them the same, having their heads cut clean off," the Mayor told him.

"What sex where they?" Ichabod asked, as they started to walk up the broad stone steps that lead into City Hall.

"Mostly men. There have been a few women, but mainly men," he replied.

"Were the women…umm, at all masculine in appearance?"

"Doctor Crane! What on Earth would that have to do with this dilemma?" the Mayor exclaimed.

"Ah, but it has a great deal to do with it."