On the Existence of Ghosts

[Thunderembargo]

this sketch conjures the ghost of Washington Irving, I can hear him now, craning for Ichabod, writing the headless horseman into existence with rain pelting a darkly lit bureau (Candlelight flickering and dim shadows cast through a cold room) and Irving - himself - with only a stammering acknowledgement of the apparition only just now having moved past his domicile, continues to work on through the winter night