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The Secret Journal of Ichabod Crane: Ichabod’s First Entry

The Secret Journal of Ichabod Crane: Ichabod’s First Entry

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“I am Ichabod Crane, born in the year 1747. It seems this is the year 2013 Anno Domini, and I have been given new life—how, I know not; why, I know not. I will discern the truth—if, that is, I can keep my head.”

In "Sleepy Hollow," a supernatural twist on Washington Irving's classic short story, Ichabod Crane has been pulled two-and-a-half centuries through time to find that he and detective Abbie Mills are humanity's last hope in the war against evil. Passionate, intelligent, and wryly funny, Crane has always used journals to collect thoughts and documents that may prove useful later, and The Secret Journal of Ichabod Crane offers an unprecedented look at the battle also raging inside his fascinating mind.

On the pages within, Crane shares new memories of the American Revolution; more amusing reflections on modern-day phenomena, from the Internet to Election Day; and private thoughts about Abbie, Katrina, and others. He also includes hidden case files; secret Freemason puzzles; selections from George Washington's mysterious Bible; and photos, letters, and drawings he has collected along the way. Filled with detail about past battles and vanquished monsters, as well as clues about those he and Abbie have yet to face, this journal is not just the ultimate repository for fans, but the key to Sleepy Hollow’s future—and the world’s.
“I am Ichabod Crane, born in the year 1747. It seems this is the year 2013 Anno Domini, and I have been given new life—how, I know not; why, I know not. I will discern the truth—if, that is, I can keep my head.”

In "Sleepy Hollow," a supernatural twist on Washington Irving's classic short story, Ichabod Crane has been pulled two-and-a-half centuries through time to find that he and detective Abbie Mills are humanity's last hope in the war against evil. Passionate, intelligent, and wryly funny, Crane has always used journals to collect thoughts and documents that may prove useful later, and The Secret Journal of Ichabod Crane offers an unprecedented look at the battle also raging inside his fascinating mind.

On the pages within, Crane shares new memories of the American Revolution; more amusing reflections on modern-day phenomena, from the Internet to Election Day; and private thoughts about Abbie, Katrina, and others. He also includes hidden case files; secret Freemason puzzles; selections from George Washington's mysterious Bible; and photos, letters, and drawings he has collected along the way. Filled with detail about past battles and vanquished monsters, as well as clues about those he and Abbie have yet to face, this journal is not just the ultimate repository for fans, but the key to Sleepy Hollow’s future—and the world’s.

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Published by: Crown Publishing Group on Jul 22, 2014
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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02/26/2015

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 [October 4] 
One scarcely knows where to start. To commit the facts to writ-ing—if facts indeed they are, and not the last failing sparks of a soul being freed from its mortal confines—is to begin to believe them. Dare I? I must. I am Ichabod Crane, born in the year 1749 in the city of Lon-don in England. I came to the New World in 1770 and followed the dictates of my conscience to the side of the colonial rebels in 1771.It seems this is the year 2013 Anno Domini, and I have been given new life—how, I know not; why, I know not. I am in a cell, lit harshly by lamps that appear to be hidden behind glass panels set in the ceiling. The table is made of an unusual stonelike sub-stance; so too the chair. There is little wood in evidence and some of the furniture appears to have steel legs. What people are these, who can spare steel for the legs of chairs? They believe me a murderer and are not reticent with their ac-cusations. Yet they have treated me humanely, in marked contrast to the few interrogations I experienced at the hands of the British over the past year—or the past two hundred thirty-two years? Surely it is still 1781 and this is a dream? Or I have died, and the afterlife is far different than any man might have supposed . . . cold, as if all the natural odors and moistures of the air have been removed. Like the air a machine might breathe. It has been some hours how. The sounds of the language here are quite strange. Vowels are flat, phrasings staccato and very fast. This is not the language of angels. Therefore I live—unless this be the infernal realms! Surely not. My life has had a full complement of ordinary sins, but I have endeavored always to do what was
© 2014 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.
 
• 8 •
right. Also, I cannot credit the idea that hell itself would be so cold and impersonal.Well, I am no revenant. Rather than the scent of decay, my nostrils are full of some damnable perfume worn by one of the constabulary. Frightful. All that remains is to believe I am alive. Alive again! Yet how?I am accused of horrific crimes, and I have refused to admit anything. The men I have killed knew the side they had chosen. I appealed to these authorities to contact General Washington, and they responded with astonishment, some with open ridicule. They even dared question my name—as if they had never heard of a man named Ichabod!Gather your head, Crane. You have been in unusual circum-stances before, and you survived by keeping your wits . . .I will discern the truth—if, that is, I can keep my head.At least they have permitted me to write, though if they take this journal from me it will do nothing to alter their belief that I am in-sane. Yet I will hold nothing back. I have always used my journals to collect private thoughts that have yet to take their full shape; reminiscences, drawings, and documents that may prove useful later; and any other bits of flotsam that wish to escape my mind onto their pages. The act of writing, through its peculiar alchemy whereby the fruits of the mind are transformed into symbols intelligible to all literate minds—this is the greatest magic, perhaps. It is without doubt the greatest tonic for the sanity of a man such as myself, dis-placed two centuries and given the dark gift of life after death. I am a revenant in a time not my own, and also it seems a soldier in a war of whose many fronts I had no inkling—before today.
© 2014 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All rights reserved.

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