(A SNEAK PEAK CHAPTER OF WITCH.
⧊
'Twas a night not long ago that something wicked came to the eerie town of Salem, Massachusetts.
This town is cursed with turmoils and hatred thought to be snuffed out centuries ago. A bitter war with a damning longevity haunts this olden place, this village that's stuck in the past. The very dirt within its borders, tainted by the blood of those who've fallen to the hands of their enemies.
Witches burn at night. Retaliation creeps in the shadows.
On this night though maybe years before today, something particularly horrendous took place. Something sinister. Something sinful and repugnant.
The gruesome torture and murder of a witch, a man by the name of Alistair Henley. This night marks one of the most vile acts done to a witch by a Puritan in Salem.
On this night, the world shattered and became a grim place for a little girl who was exactly where she shouldn't of been.
On this night, history was made in a very memorable way.
It is wise to remember not all history is glorious. Some tales in history are tainted with whispered horrors.
⧊
"Burn the witch!", a woman screams in the dark of night as the mob drags a man away from the black manor with its crooked tower that solitarily stands within the Dead Wood. Just inside the distinctly colored purple door stands a crying woman, screeching in agony, her hand reaching out for her husband.
An older woman restrains her until she collapsed into her arms. The elderly woman sinks to her knees with her daughter in law, consoling her whilst she glares menacingly at the retreating mob. Their torches light their path as they descend into the Dead Wood, her son trying with all his might to break free.
"We must help him!", her daughter-in-law cries into her chest. The elderly woman pets her hair," Now, now my dear. We will. We must fetch our dear friend Mr. Seymour first."
Tiny footsteps make their way down the crooked stairs of the black staircase. The two children that appear makes the old woman's heart break for what will undoubtedly be their reality come the morrow.
A tiny girl, no older than six, stands tall and unwavering as she holds her younger sister's hand. The contrast between the two is nearly jaw dropping when they stand side by side as they currently are.
The younger sister clutches the elder one's white nightgown fearfully. She inherited her father's wheat blonde curls that trickle down to her waist and her mother's sky blue eyes. In her free arm, she holds tightly her familiar - Crescent, the rabbit.
Lilac was a sweet child, although naive and gullible. That's painfully obvious even at the tender age of three. Her eyes are an open book, her emotions worn on her sleeve right beside her generous heart. Lilac would be absolutely lost and defenseless if not for her sister's interference. She is a child of the spring, of smiles and happiness. A child that very much admires and leans on her elder sister.
YOU ARE READING
ẈITCH ⧊ GhostBird Fanfic
Romance(WARNING: This is a much darker story than my others. There will be gore, sacrifices, racism, religious extremism, animal parts, and sex.) Things are changing in Salem. In the dead of night, on the autumn wind, came newcomers hiding in plain sight...
