The Headless Horseman

 My wife and I left our ranch to visit my uncle, who lived near San Diego. In our wagon, pulled by two mules, we traveled all day. We continued on, even after sunset, looking for a place to camp for the night.

We saw a fire in the distance. I told my wife, "I think we're getting close to Laguna del Muerto. I'm glad there are people there now. I feel safer this way than if we were alone."

The closer we got to the lagoon, the more the fire flames died down. When we arrived, nothing remained but embers. No one was there... not even footprints on the ground.

The fact that the fire was out bothered me somewhat, but I didn't want to say anything to my wife so as not to frighten her. We decided to camp right there under a huge oak tree. It was already too dark to continue.

We took what we needed for the night out from the wagon. I threw wood on top of the embers and lit the fire again.

Just as the flames were rising, we began to hear a horse galloping in the distance. It was coming toward us faster and faster. We heard branches breaking. And then we witnessed the most frightful sight: right in front of us, a tall, gray horse, running at full speed; mounted on the horse, a headless rider. We saw him as clearly as I see you at this moment. As he passed in front of us, he dug his spurs into the animal's sides. My wife fainted at that moment.

The rider continued toward the lagoon; the horse ran over the water as if it had been cement. I could still hear the sound of the animal's hooves on the other side of the lagoon.

Suddenly the noise stopped; at the same time, the fire in front of me went out.

Since the moon had already left behind the clouds, I decided to leave that place immediately and look for another place to spend the night. Before leaving, however, I marked the spot with rags that I hung on the branches of the oak tree.

The next day, when we arrived at our uncle's house, we naturally told him what had frightened us so much the night before.

Our uncle smiled as if he knew exactly what it was about.

"Well," he said, "it was next to Laguna del Muerto. I've heard many rumors about that place. They say that, many years ago, four ranch owners got together to see who had the best horse. Each man was convinced his horse would win. They were so sure that they bet everything they had: money, ranches, and cattle."

"Mr. Dickson had a tall, powerful gray horse named Hercules. Well, Hercules won the race so easily that the other humiliated men became angry. Not only did they refuse to pay their bets, but they jumped on him and killed him with a machete, cutting off his head."

"From then on, it is said that Mr. Dickson and Hercules run the same race again every night."

After my uncle finished, he and I left for Laguna del Muerto. We returned to the exact spot beside the lagoon. Not even a footprint on the ground, even in the mud beside the lagoon. Nothing remained of the fire, no embers, no ashes; even the rags I had left on the branches had disappeared.

In short this legend is originally from the United States but is based on a European legend this legend talks about a headless ghost rider during the nights in search of a lost head appears especially in the town Sleepy Hollow causing terror to those who manage to see him That would be our opinion between my colleagues Sebastian and me.