The day was fast fading into night when a drunk farmer wandered home on the moors. He had just left the tavern at Onecote, walking back to his farm outside of Leek, when he saw someone riding their horse towards Leek. Thinking that it was one of his neighbours, the farmer called out, asking for a ride home. But no response came back from the shadowy horseman, who kept riding slowly forward. The farmer presumed he had not heard him, and so called out again, but this time louder. Almost instantly, the horseman sped up, sprinting at full speed down the track. Perhaps it was the pure fear and terror or it the alcohol in his system, but the farmer was unable to move. The figure grabbed him, pulling him off the track and onto the moors. The rider crossed fields, ran through hedges and jumped over fences, all with the poor farmer hanging on for dear life. After what felt like hours, the rider slowed down and dumped the farmer onto the floor. Just before he passed out, he caught a glimpse of his attacker. The farmer could barely believe it: the ghostly silhouette was missing a head.
The next morning, the wife of the farmer found her husband lying on the ground, brutally injured and beat up. She took him home and layed him in bed, attempting to nurse him back to health. News about of the attack spread around the village, and people came to ask the farmer what it was that had wounded him so badly. But, when he did, the people laughed and mocked him, saying that he was seeing things because he was drunk. They left him, and he died later that week due to his injuries. The following evening, A man and his wife were riding on the same road with their dog, pulled by their horse. As darkness fell, a chill began to carry on the air. The horse became skittish and agitated, and the dog began to bark ahead of the road. Just then, the husband spotted a dark rider in the distance. He mentioned it to his wife, but she couldnt see anything. The figure slowly got closer and closer, and still the wife could not see the figure, and the animals became more and more agitated. Then, the rider became to sprint full pelt towards the cart. The horse took fright, and veered off road into a ditch. But as it did, the man looked at the rider, horrified to discover that it had no head.
The second report of an attack in a week shocked the villagers, who decided something must be done. They decided that because this being seemed to be from hell itself, they would fight it with the power of heaven. They brought 7 priests from the surrounding areas to have a mass on the road and bless it. They waited until night fell, and began to purify the road. Halfway through, the priests saw a rider, seemingly watching from afar. But instead of riding towards them, his horse let out a cry, and he turned and fled away from the road, across the moors, never to trouble the villagers again.
To this day there have been many sightings of the headless rider, all ending in tragedy and hurt. You can still hear whispers of the nameless fear at the local inn at Onecote, and some say you can see the shadowy figure on a cold night, riding across the moors.
