I Was Merely Commutin’

(The Headless Horseman Would Like to Clarify Several Misunderstandings)

I was merely commutin’.

Everything after that has been exaggerated beyond all reasonableness.

The Situation

First of all, I would like to address the matter of my head.

It’s gone.

I am aware of this.

You’d be surprised how many people feel compelled to mention it.

As though I might have misplaced it and simply not noticed.

The Original Incident

Now, years ago, during circumstances that were both military and unfortunate, I became separated from my head.

Permanently.

These things happen.

Or at least they happened more frequently in my profession than one might prefer.

The Route

Afterward, I developed a routine.

A simple one.

Each evening, I traveled a familiar road.

Quiet.

Predictable.

Peaceful.

The dead, contrary to popular belief, appreciate consistency.

The Tourists

Then came the visitors.

Every autumn.

Without fail.

They arrive carrying:

lanterns
notebooks
theories
and an alarming lack of self-preservation

Every one of them is convinced they are about to solve a mystery.

Friend, if a mystery has remained unsolved for two centuries, perhaps it enjoys its privacy.

Ghost Hunters

The ghost hunters are the worst.

One fellow spent three nights shoutin’:

“Give us a sign!”

At two in the morning.

In a cemetery.

Now I ask you:

If someone stood outside your bedroom window yellin’ that at two in the mornin’…

Would you not eventually throw something?

The Pumpkin Allegation

Let us now address the pumpkin.

The famous pumpkin.

The one that appears in every illustration.

Do you know how difficult it is to become associated with produce?

I served in a war.

I endured tragedy.

I became folklore.

And somehow my legacy is autumnal decoration.

Ichabod Crane

Now we arrive at the matter of Mr. Crane.

Contrary to popular belief, I was not chasin’ him.

We simply happened to be travelin’ in the same direction.

He noticed me.

Panicked.

Accelerated.

I accelerated.

Mostly out of confusion.

And before I knew it, the entire event had acquired narrative momentum.

A Matter of Appearances

I will admit that bein’ headless occasionally complicates social interactions.

People tend to form conclusions.

Rapid conclusions.

Rarely favorable ones.

The Bridge

Everybody remembers the bridge.

The pursuit.

The excitement.

The climax.

What nobody remembers is that I had traveled that route hundreds of times without incident.

One schoolmaster loses composure, and suddenly I’m famous.

The Modern Era

Things have only worsened.

Now there are guided tours.

Commemorative mugs.

Seasonal festivals.

A fellow dressed as me once attempted to explain my motives to a crowd.

I stood nearby listenin’.

He was entirely wrong.

The Internet

And don’t get me started on the internet.

Apparently, I have become a “cryptid.”

I don’t even know what that means.

But I strongly suspect I would object if I knew what it was.

Closing Observation

The truth is considerably less dramatic than the legend.

I was not huntin’ anyone.

I was not seekin’ revenge.

I was not terrorizin’ the countryside.

I was merely tryin’ to get home.

Final Statement

So, if one evening you happen to glimpse a rider movin’ quietly through the mist…

There is absolutely no need to panic.

No need to run.

No need to scream.

Simply step aside and let the man pass.

He’s been tryin’ to finish the same commute for over two hundred years.

And frankly…

he’s runnin’ late.

About Ol' Big Jim

Jim L. Wright is a storyteller with a lifetime of experiences as colorful as the characters he creates. Born and raised in Piedmont, Alabama, Jim’s connection to the land, history, and people of the region runs deep. His debut novel New Yesterdays is set in his hometown, where he grew up listening to stories of the past—stories that sparked his imagination and curiosity for history. Today, Jim lives in Leeds, Alabama, with his husband Zeek, a tour operator who shares his passion for adventure and discovery. Known affectionately as “Ol’ Big Jim,” he has had a diverse career that includes time as a storekeeper, an embalmer, a hospital orderly, and a medical coder. There are even whispers—unconfirmed, of course—that he once played piano in a house of ill repute. No matter the job, one thing has remained constant: Jim is a teller of tales. His stories—sometimes humorous, sometimes thought-provoking—are often inspired by his unique life experiences. Many of these tales can be found on his popular blog, Ol’ Big Jim, where he continues to share his musings with a loyal readership. Jim’s adventures have taken him far beyond Alabama. For seven years, he lived in Amman, Jordan, the world’s oldest continuously inhabited city. His time there, spent in smoky coffee shops, enjoying a hookah and a cup of tea while scribbling in his ever-present notebook, deeply influenced his worldview and his writing. When Jim isn’t writing, he’s thinking about writing. His stories, whether tall tales from his past or imaginative reimagining is of historical events should read from his past or imaginative reimaginings of historical events, reflect a life lived fully and authentically. With New Yesterdays, Jim brings readers a rich tapestry of history, fantasy, and human connection. Visit his blog at www.olbigjim.com to read more of his stories, or follow him on social media to keep up with his latest musings and projects, one of which is a series that follows Bonita McCauley, an amateur detective who gets into some very sticky situations. His book, New Yesterdays, can be found at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble.

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