Soon, the liquid inside the cauldron began to ooze green over the edges as she continued to add ingredients to the stew. I couldn’t grasp what she was adding to the concoction, but as she stirred, an evil smile crept over her wrinkled face. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did, and then she waved her hand as though she was motioning for someone to come near.
I heard a young girl’s voice and followed the speaker to see Ann and Alice standing in the corner of the room as if captivated by the scene unfolding before them. Their bodies stood stiff and unmoving as if awaiting instruction from the woman. My eyes grew wide and my heart began to pound as I watched the girls drop a live rabbit into the cauldron in horror. The rabbit kicked, sending a splash of scolding hot liquid which hit Ann in the face. Her eyes teared and her hand went to her cheek. The old woman turned, and with an evil glare, placed her hand over Ann’s cheek and said some words I had never heard before. When she removed her hand from Ann’s red cheek and stepped back, Ann smiled, as though the event had never occurred.
It was at that moment I knew what I had seen. Fear grew in my belly, and I turned to run, but when I took a step, my foot fell upon a fallen branch making a loud snapping noise. I closed my eyes and held my breath, hearing a commotion from within the cottage. They must have heard me‒I knew they had‒but before I could blink, my legs were carrying me through the woods, and I never once looked back.
When I reached the clearing my heart was pounding so hard it practically leaped from my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John walking his horse along the perimeter of the woods, and I was overwhelmed with panic. He'd seen me, of that I was sure. Without stopping to think of a reason as to why I was in the woods, I ran all the way to my home, never daring to speak of what I had witnessed in those woods.
Reader, you are first to know of this awful truth. I sat back and watched as two young girls became trapped into becoming the Devil’s minions. My guilt will follow me until my dying day, which, with sadness, I must admit is near.
Chapter Ten
I couldn’t stop reading Elizabeth's journal if I tried. Every word she wrote stuck to me as a metal filing to a magnet. My insides shook, my body threatened to go numb, as I carefully turned the next page.
The next morning, I was still tired when I awoke, for I was unable to sleep that night. Trees outside of my bedroom window tapped against the pane, preventing me from sleep. Dark clouds swam through the night sky, veiling the moon. The images of those poor girls with that awful woman was etched into my memory.
As the sun rose in the sky, my mother and I began our daily chores. Making the beds and washing the dishes from breakfast kept me busy, and everything seemed to be normal until a loud shriek rang through the air. My sisters ran into the kitchen where I was returning the dishes to the cabinets. My father rushed through the front door, still muddy from his morning chores out in the stables, called for my mother, and told us to remain in the house. As my parents darted out the door, my sisters and I ran to the large window in the den to see groups of people, men and women alike, running toward the church. Some were appeared to be crying, while others shouted in anger. I couldn’t imagine what might cause such a disturbance.
After everyone disappeared into the church, my sisters and I had no choice but to continue our daily chores, our imagination running wild as to what could possibly be happening within the walls of that church. I heard my sisters talking about what might have happened, and hushed them, insisting it was most probably an elder or someone of importance that had passed away. I didn’t really believe what I told them, but the suspense of not knowing was unbearable and I needed them to stop talking about it.
My parents finally returned two hours later, my mother crying as she ran into the house and rushed by me, her face hidden behind her pale hands. My father remained in the doorway, hands together in front of him as if he were praying. He called out to my sisters and me, and we followed him into the den, where he stood in front of the fireplace, fingering the sharp edges of the stone mantle.
My sisters and I stood in front of him as we searched his face for an answer. Father stood there, rubbing his gray whiskers, silently for a while before he finally spoke:
"Girls, you are never to speak to Alice Goode and Ann Proctor again. They have been seen entering the woods and meeting with an evil woman who works for the Devil. They were arrested early this morning and examined by Good Pastor Green. Those girls’ names will never be mentioned in this home again, is that understood?" Father stared back at us as if looking for some sign of understanding.
We each nodded in agreement.
I followed behind my father as he left the room, stopping before I left the room. My sisters stood behind me as if paralyzed and unable to move. They smiled at me, seeing to radiate a mysterious glow that frightened me. I watched as they ran out of the room, laughing and smiling.
They are only children, I reasoned, they do not understand how serious a matter this is. These were their friends, after all‒how could they not be upset?
I heard crying from behind my parents’ bedroom door‒what else could I do but to listen? Standing in the corridor, my ear pressed tightly against the cold door, I listened to my mother say in a low voice, "Those poor girls! How could this have happened?"
"The Devil has taken hold; we can only pray," Father said in an effort to soothe mother best as he could.
I closed the journal and shut my eyes, drowning out the rest of the world. I could practically hear the wicked cries of the women and children as I tried to visualize the scene. What Elizabeth must have thought and felt when she ran from that house, through the woods, stricken with fear! Never, in all my encounters with the dead, had I ever felt their pain. Sure, they caused me actual, physical pain from time to time, but I'd never had I such an emotional pain connected to one of my "visitors" like I did with this one.
"Sadie, you have a visitor," my mom yelled to me from downstairs. I'd been so engulfed in Elizabeth's story that I hadn't heard her come into the house, let alone the doorbell ring.
I placed the journal on the floor and quickly left my room, listening to her talking to someone at the foot of the stairs. When I got near the bottom, I saw it was Lucy.
"Hey, Sadie, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I'd stop by and see what you were doing this afternoon." Lucy grinned at me where I stood.
I smiled and invited her in. I was frustrated that
I'd been interrupted, but part of me was happy Lucy felt comfortable enough to just stop by my house to visit me.
"Let’s go up to my room," I said and motioned for her to follow me up the stairway.
My room was still cluttered with boxes, but Lucy didn’t seem to mind.
"This is nice, Sadie." She tried to smile and be polite, but I knew she was thinking that it was a huge mess!
"Well, it will be, once I get unpacked. Sorry it's such a mess." I moved some shirts and books off of my bed, so she could have a place to sit.
"I see you're an avid reader," she said, pointing to my posters and the countless boxes labeled "Sadie’s books," scattered across the floor.
"Yeah," I responded, a little embarrassed. I wondered if she thought I was a loser who spent all of her time reading. It wasn't necessarily a false assumption, but for the time I spend playing mediator to the dead.
I showed her my book collection and told her about my love of running. Unlike me, Lucy hated exercise, preferring, instead, to lounge on her couch and watch trashy television.
When she was done searching through my collection, Lucy started talking. "Were you okay today?" she asked. "You looked like you were somewhere else."
"Sorry, I just had something on my mind." I didn’t want to tell her too much‒she was my first friend in Salem and I didn’t want to scare her off. I contemplated showing her the journal, but I wasn’t ready to share my find with anyone else just yet.
"Oh, I understand. Anyway, I just came because I wanted to tell you a secret: someone li
kes you." She gave me a mischievous smile as she said the words as if we were still in grade school.
"What? Who? I don’t know anyone other than Noah and…" I knew Noah liked me, I just didn’t think he liked me enough to tell anyone about it.
"It's Noah. He told me today in Art class that he thinks you're pretty and sweet. He wanted to know if you had a boyfriend back in California."
I couldn’t believe it! No boy had ever shown any interest in me at all‒ever! I knew Noah was interested, but I thought he was just being silly. After all, he just about drove me insane the other day with his immature antics back at the bookstore.
"No, no boyfriend," I said grimly.
"Well, he likes you. What do you think of him?" Lucy leaned in closer, waiting for an answer.
I thought about her question for a moment. Of course, I liked Noah. He was cute, funny, and seemed to really have a great personality.
"He seems nice," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I don’t really know him all that well." I tried to sound uninterested, like I hadn’t given the idea any real thought. I hoped my answer was okay‒maybe after I got this mess with Elizabeth's journal cleaned, I could consider pursuing Noah, but for now, I didn’t want him getting hurt, by either me or Elizabeth.
"He is really nice. Maybe you all could go out sometime." She looked at me closely, as if trying to read my expression.
"I did run into him the other day, at a bookstore near the harbor. He's definitely cute, and I could totally see us hanging out, but only as friends right now. I'm still trying to get adjusted, and I just don’t have time for boys." If Amber had heard me say that, she'd have smacked me silly.
There was a long pause before Lucy blew out a puff of air and said, "Oh, I understand…maybe you all could go out sometime, just as friends."
I smiled and nodded my head, relieved that Lucy didn’t push the issue any further. "I think that'd be fun. Maybe we could all go out."
I couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of getting to hang out with Noah. "So, I guess this weekend would be a good time for all of us to get together. What's there to do around here?"
That turned the topic. Lucy's excitement grew as she told me about all of the museums, movie theaters, shopping, and boating adventures we could go on.
Lucy spent the next few hours filling me in on all the necessary and juicy gossip where my new classmates were concerned. I quickly learned that the terrifying, cat-like, Gothic girl I met my first day was the daughter of the town’s most prominent attorney; the boys who sat at the back of Geometry class were usually dealing drugs that they'd bought from their brothers in college; Melinda Carlisle was the queen of the school who could make your life miserable with nothing more than the wave of her freshly manicured hand; and to never, ever, under any circumstance, eat the cafeteria meatloaf. For someone who was an outcast like me, Lucy sure did know what was going on in each of the school's cliques.
"What's that?" Lucy asked, having noticed the journal I'd tried to hide under my pillow. She reached for the journal, but I grabbed her hand before she could snatch it up.
Her eyes met mine in an intense stare; she looked upset.
"I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to grab your hand like that. It’s just that, well…" I was mumbling. What could I say? Could I tell her it was my secret diary and that it was personal? It might work.
I looked over at Lucy and saw an innocence and honesty in her eyes, and knew I could trust her with this secret, that she'd understand.
"Lucy, if I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I know we haven't known each other very long‒well, actually only a few days‒but I feel like I can trust you."
"You can!" she shrieked. She began to look anxious.
"Shh," I said, holding a finger up to my lips. "My parents don’t know about this either: I found something in my room the other night and I'm not sure exactly what it means, but I'm not ready to tell a lot of people about it yet."
"What is it? Oh, you can trust me, I promise!" Lucy was leaning forward as if I were talking in a low whisper.
I reached under the pillow and pulled out the journal. Her eyes followed my hands as I placed the book between us on the bed.
"I found this journal the other night. I was putting some posters up in my room when I dropped a tack. I found a small secret door behind an uneven spot on the wall, and journal behind that, covered with dust like it hadn’t been touched in centuries."
Her eyes widened as she listened intently to every word I spoke. "What did it say?" she whispered.
"Well, I've only read a little bit so far, but I believe it was written by a girl who was persecuted for being a witch." I cringed anticipating the sound of her to laughter, or for her to scream and out of the room screaming, but she didn’t do any of that.
Lucy let out a loud shriek and clapped her hands in excitement. "I can’t believe this! I've lived in Salem all my life and I've never even come remotely close to finding anything related to witches. Sure, I've have visited the cemeteries and museums, but a real witch? This is incredible!"
I brought my index finger to my mouth. "Shhh...I don’t want my parents to hear."
She put her hands over her own mouth. "Sorry," she whispered.
"I don’t think she was really a witch, but she was accused of being one. Anyway, I have to finish reading it before I can make any assumptions."
"Sadie, thank you so much for trusting me. I cannot believe this! This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened around here. I mean, I've heard stories of strange occurrences, you know, screaming in the night, ghosts, and the like, but never have I ever been in the presence of something so real, so amazing."
I felt like laughing. She reminded me of a child on Christmas morning who'd just found a mountain of hidden gifts.
"Do you want to read some of it?" I knew what I was asking was wrong, maybe even dangerous, but I was tired of keeping my secrets hidden. Who knows‒she might even be able to help me help Elizabeth.
I knew the answer to my question before I'd even asked it, but I enjoyed seeing her rapid enthusiasm growing, nevertheless.
"Of course, I do!"
I opened the journal carefully, allowing Lucy to touch the faded pages. She examined the contents with careful ease.
We read a few pages together. Even though I'd previously read the words, I still couldn’t help but feel the awe of what I had in my possession.
Over the next few days, strange occurrences seemed to doom our town. Three more women and two more children were arrested and thrown into jail. A massive witch hunt ensued as the townspeople searched for those who had hurt our community. Each time a soul was persecuted, the town called a meeting.
The deaths soon became a weekly show. My parents and I attended each event my, standing at the back of the crowd. A man who refused to name his wife as a witch was murdered when Governor Bradford ordered two husky men to bind him and crush his body with stones. The town watched in horror as the man screamed, and his cries for help were ignored. I was unable to watch the gruesome scene. Now, looking back, I should have, for it would have prepared me for my own frightful future.
While sitting in church on a gloomy Sunday morning, young Annabelle Jones stood and pointed at Pastor Walker, abruptly interrupting his sermon, throwing her arms into the air and waving them to and fro. Her body trembled as she let out loud, screeching laughter. The congregation stared in fear at the excitement around them. Annabelle screamed that she saw red birds flying around Pastor Walker's head. After grabbing the attention of all present, she dropped to the floor, kicking and screaming, her blonde, curly locks covering her face as she rolled about on the floor.
Many women fainted at the sight of this disturbance. I just sat there in the midst of this chaos, my head down in shame. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise rising around me, but I was unsuccessful. My mother grabbed my hand and pulled me up off of the bench I was on. My Bible fell off my lap and made a loud thump as
it hit the floor, but no one seemed to notice. As she pulled me from the pew, people rushed past me, as the attempted to escape the evil unfolding.
We ran out of the church, hand in hand, to meet my father and sisters in the churchyard. Standing beside one another Margaret and Sarah turned to survey the scene inside the building, peeking through the large double doors leading into the whitewashed church.
Mother rushed over to them, placed her hands on their shoulders, and shook them violently. "Girls, what do you know of this?" Mother cried as she looked into their eyes.
Margaret and Sarah stared blankly back at my mother and began to sob. When she saw my sisters' pain, Mother fell to her knees, held them close to her chest, and they cried together. Tears soon began to fill my eyes as well.
I decided to walk back to our house on my own, leaving Father, Mother, and my sisters behind. I was lost in thought when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see John. Girls in town seemed to fancy him most. He would be likely to charm a snake right out of its skin, with his bright smile, blond hair, and fair, blue eyes. He had been asking me to take his hand in marriage since the day I reached the age of eighteen. His father was a wealthy fisherman, training his son to work alongside him. I knew I should have been honored and flattered, but I was repulsed, instead.
"Where are you going, Elizabeth?" he asked, smiling.
I told him I wanted to be alone, that what happened to Annabelle that afternoon had upset me greatly. I tried to walk away, but he continued to speak. I did not want to be perceived as rude, so I allowed the conversation to continue.
"Have you thought any more about my offer?" he inquired, staring intently at me.
Anger grew deep inside of me. I was not going to change my mind.
"No!" I said firmly.
I took a step back‒I had not meant to be so rude, but the frustration I felt had me overwhelmed.
The smile he carried diminished. "You must reconsider!" he shouted back at me.
Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 7
