Table of Contents
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Dedication
Family Lines
Past
Prologue
Present
June
July
Nathalie & Dean
Sadie & Luke
August
September
October
Future
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright
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The Haunting of Barrington County
A Barrington County Novel
By Stacy Charasidis
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my parents,
Ellis and Mary Anna Charasidis.
To my father because he understood the value of education after only finishing Grade 8, and insisted I go to university to ensure I could do anything I wanted…and to my mother who set a great example by finishing university at night with three small kids.
My guiding lights…
Love you, miss you.
Family Lines
Bakers: Cindy & Noah (parents), Reginald (17), Austin (15)
Barringtons: John & Claire (parents), Raphael (27), Gabriel (24), Michael (22), Tristan & Jack (20), Luke (17), Max (15)
Browns (extinct): Jedidiah (17) d. 1860
Crofts: Josephine & David (parents), Dean (17), Ella (15), Bessie & Fanny (7), Eddie & Zach (5)
Farmers: Barbara & Bill (parents), Hannah (17), Savannah (15)
Kellars: Liora & Boris (aunt & uncle), Sadie (17)
Parkers: Mary & Steve (parents), Rain (20), Nathalie (17), Nick (6)
Smiths: Sarah & Daniel (parents), Tess (17), Harry (15)
Sweets: Anna & Eric (parents), James (17), Bella (15)
Past
Prologue
June 21, 1595 – Day of the Summer Solstice
The six stood in the clearing in a semi-circle in front of the gallows, their blazing torches smoking in the early evening light. The sun had not fully set and a storm was brewing. The wind was rising, trying its best to blow the hats off the heads of the men gathered there. One woman stood in the shadows under the trees. She was there to observe and remember.
On the gallows was an incredibly beautiful woman. Her long black hair and dress whipped around wildly in the wind. Her violet eyes blazed in a pixie face as she stared with hatred and loathing at the townspeople below her, while her slender, willowy body twisted and writhed in an attempt to free herself from her bindings. It was a futile effort, for the woman who would record these terrible events was also the woman who had carefully studied the lore required to bind a demon’s mistress.
While innocent women around the counties were being falsely accused, charged, and executed for witchcraft, somehow Dame Willow Kellar had slipped the noose until now. How could such a vicious and obviously powerful witch escape death for so long? Dame Parquhar smiled grimly at the answer as she watched the gathered men. She knew many men could not bring themselves to put such an inhumanly beautiful woman to death, especially one of whom they had carnal knowledge. Barrington men were no different.
That Willow had seduced many powerful men was well known but not spoken of. Early every day Dame Parquhar passed the Kellar cottage on her way to the bakery where she worked. As chief bread maker, her strong, thick arms made short work of the daily baking. The walls of the Kellar cottage were thin, and there were many mornings where she heard the creaking of bedsprings along with the grunting and moaning of fornication. Just as often she overheard the pleading tones of a desperate lover newly scorned, begging Willow to change her mind. But once Willow had what she wanted, or once she grew bored, the unfortunate male was discarded. Many marriages in Barrington were strained, and the unfaithful hung their heads in shame as they went about their business. A couple of men had killed themselves — one of them leaving his widow with young babes. It was such a pity.
Willow often looked at Dame Parquhar speculatively, probably wondering how much she knew. She always looked back at Willow with a vapid wide-eyed stare. It just didn’t do to have Willow Kellar think you knew her business. She was just glad her own Henry had gone before that witch had graced Barrington. All she could do was mind her own business and pray to the good Lord that the next time Willow Kellar batted her eyelashes to bewitch a male, the man would have the good sense to avoid the snare. So far, she was still praying.
The mayor had never done anything about the shameless and sinful behaviour exhibited by some of his townsmen. However, when the sixth child of Jenna and Saul Croft went missing, Dame Parquhar snapped.
“Poor little tyke,” the young female assistants sympathized as they knead dough. “She just disappeared.”
Dame Parquhar listened as the girls whispered, and she burned with righteous anger and fear. She knew Willow Kellar was responsible. This was the third child missing in the two years since Willow had arrived in Barrington. Each one had gone missing just before the summer solstice, which was tonight. She’d seen this pattern before, and despite her fear, she would act!
After the day’s first loaves were put in the huge bread oven she left the bakery, and in a panic, humbly presented herself to the Mayor at his home and spoke out.
“This is a very serious accusation, Dame Parquhar,” Jacob Barrington said with shock. They were sitting in the visitor’s salon of Barrington Manor. It was a gorgeous room, full of red velvet and crystal.
“The punishment for these crimes is death. The woman will be tried as a witch, hung and burned at the stake. If you are wrong, Dame Kellar can have you put in the stockade for false accusations, or worse, have you tried as a witch yourself,” he said quietly, his face creased with consternation. He looked uneasy.
Dame Parquhar shook her head. “I will take that chance, your honor,” she said with determination. “A dangerous witch roams our town and now a child’s life is at stake,” she said urgently. “We must act now, before the summer solstice comes to a close.”
During their conversation, Jacob’s wife had been busily preparing tea. “What say you of all this, Jane?” he asked. His wife had an uncanny sense of intuition that baffled and amazed him in its accuracy.
Jane poured tea and looked thoughtfully at her husband. “I’ve known Dame Parquhar all my life. She has never uttered a falsehood. She has been an exemplary member of this town.” She stopped speaking as she handed out cups, but then continued. “But mainly, she has no reason to lie. Willow has not done her a wrong, and so has no other conceivable reason to say these things except for revealing the truth and exposing evil.”
Jacob was pacing, and Jane put her hand on his arm to stop him. She looked into his face. “Surely you see the truth, husband?”
He nodded, and that was that. Jacob sent messengers to gather the influential men of the town and they planned her capture for that very night.
“We can’t delay,” Dame Parquhar said anxiously, wringing her hands. “Today is a powerful day for witches. The child will lose her life when dark falls.”
At dusk the mob headed to Willow’s house, torches burning. A group of townsmen waited at the side of the Kellar cottage, ready to apprehend her if she tried to flee. The plan was to have Jenna and Saul Croft distract Willow at the front door by confronting her and making a scene by demanding Willow return their child. At the back, Jacob Barrington and Dame Parquhar would sneak in and search the house.
They found little Livey Croft barely alive, bound and gagged in the root cellar. She had blood markings on her face, wrists, and feet. They also found the remains of at least one other child. It was a horrific sight.
Jacob cried the order and the men rushed to the front and grabbed her. Willow just laughed. “No human prison can hold me, you fools,” she had hissed. Her violet eyes had turned whit
e.
The men were terrified. “Demon,” they whispered as they backed away and crossed themselves superstitiously.
“Bind her,” Jacob barked when he arrived. He could see the evil flickering inside Willow and eating away at her immortal soul. They had captured more than just a witch.
“We should burn her house too, Jacob. It is a place of evil,” one of the men could be heard saying as they bound Willow’s wrists and legs with carefully prepared rope.
“We will come back when the wind dies down and cleanse this place,” Jacob said, looking back at the house.
The mob dragged her off.
The Crofts were sobbing and hugging their child. Dame Parquhar put her arms around them. “Take your child home,” she said softly. “There is only violence left here this night.”
At the county law office the room was in an uproar—packed with people shouting. The trial itself was merely a formality considering the grisly evidence found at Willow’s home. She was condemned to die, and sentenced to hang and burn as a witch immediately. No banns would be posted and no crier sent to relay the news. The townsfolk cried their approval as the decree was recorded in the ledger…and they found themselves here.
Dame Parquhar’s drifting thoughts were brought back to the darkened clearing, which was being torn apart by the wind. She looked around at the gathered men. Only a select few had come. Jacob had forbidden the townsfolk to follow due to the dangerous nature of the witch. No judge and no doctor were present either because they were, unfortunately, former lovers of hers…tsk…but Tobias Baker and Alaric Sweet were there. Tobias looked longingly at Willow, like an alcoholic looks at a bottle of spirits, even though he knows the vice will kill him.
Dame Parquhar had known of his indiscretions with Willow. Unfortunately, so did his wife. Well, at least he’s here. He made the right decision by supporting the verdict, and is acting like a responsible, God-fearing man, she thought with grudging respect. Alaric on the other hand…she shuddered.
Jacob Barrington, owner and mayor of Barrington County, stood in the middle of the men. The torchlight cast a harsh glow so that his gaunt face looked almost skeletal. He raised the scroll of arrest and execution and unrolled it. He raised his voice to be heard over the wind.
“Today we execute the witch, Willow Kellar. Her crimes include consorting with the devil, the murder of two children, Peter Knotts (still missing) and Jenny Stone, whose remains we found at her residence, and the attempted murder of Livey Croft, aged two years. We, as a community, have observed that by her actions she has forfeited her soul, and by the law granted unto me by the Lord, has now forfeited her life. She will be hung and burned, and her remains will be buried in unconsecrated ground for all eternity.”
The wind was howling now and it was fully dark. The moon was just beginning to rise, but did not cast much light. Through the torchlight the trees could be seen bending with the force of the wind. The men muttered and one of them spit on Willow.
Willow stopped her struggling. She looked at the gob of spit on her skirt and stared directly at the man who had insulted her. “Ezekiel Smith,” she said. She turned her gaze to each man in turn, “Alaric Sweet (who sobbed), Michael Farmer, Joshua Brown, Tobias Baker, Jacob Barrington…”
She smiled. Her white eyes glinted.
“Hex,” she hissed at them while they stood there, staring at her as if enchanted. “I hex you,” she mouthed in the wild wind, yet everyone in the clearing could hear her voice clearly in their heads. “There will come a time when you will all gather again, and I will return. When I do, I will destroy your families and erase your family lines. I will bathe in their innocent blood, and I will show no mercy.”
Dame Parquhar was stunned. Willow was cursing the idiots and they were just standing there, listening! “Kill her!!!” Dame Parquhar screamed, breaking from the trees and running towards the men to be heard over the wind. “Release the gallows,” she screamed frantically, breaking the semicircle and grabbing Jacob Barrington’s arm.
As if coming out of a trance, Jacob nodded and touched the bramble underneath Willow with his torch while the executioner released the lever.
In the second it took for Willow Kellar to fall, and her neck to snap, she looked directly at Dame Parquhar. “You’ll watch,” she whispered.
She was burned where she hung. The flames from the witch’s pyre could be seen from town. Eerily, her body turned to ash and scattered with the wind. There was nothing left to bury.
From that time on, no living thing ever grew in that clearing again. Jacob Barrington had a tall rock placed on the dead earth, with a warning on it, chiseled in Latin: “Be warned. All he who consort with the Devil shall perish utterly.”
Haunting
After the Kellar burning, the men responsible for the judgment and execution of Willow Kellar began to be haunted by their dead.
Jacob Barrington was pacing in Father Joshua Brown’s living quarters at St. Thomas of All Angels, the town’s small church. “What the hell is going on here, Joshua?” he asked in an aggrieved voice. The tension in the small, dark paneled room was palpable.
“Watch the ‘h’ word Jacob. This is a house of God,” Father Brown said wearily from behind his desk.
“The good people of this town—our friends—your parishioners—have become crazed with fear.” Jacob ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes. “They think the town has been touched by the devil. This is completely unbearable,” he said desperately. Ghosts haunted his footsteps during the day and Willow’s white eyes plagued his nightmares at night. Jacob looked haggard. Building a life in the middle of the wilderness had been a struggle for all the families. Every one of them had lost a member somewhere along the way. Seeing them reappear was deeply unnerving.
Father Brown looked at the visitor in his office. So far the apparitions had only appeared in the graveyard or around town, but none in the church itself. He had called in a specialist. Another priest was present in the room, dressed in black garb and priest’s collar. He wore his black hat squarely on his bald head. Besides being a priest, Herman Mitchkovik was a specialist in the occult.
At this point Herman cleared his throat and shook his head at Joshua’s desperate look. “You have been hexed,” he said in his heavy German accent, “and not just you. Every member of your family vill be stained vith this curse until it comes to fruition. There is no escaping it or removing it.” He shrugged.
Jacob stared at Herman. “That’s helpful…” he trailed off weakly and turned to look at his friend. “That leaves you the lucky one Josh, with no descendants forthcoming,” he said, his voice strained.
Father Brown took a deep breath and sighed. “Not true, Jacob. I wasn’t always a priest. I became one after my wife died in childbirth. The child survived.”
Herman nodded.
“Oh.” Jacob Barrington was stunned. “Damn it, man, this is awkward. Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Father Brown laughed. “What difference does it make now? I took Holy Orders and I’m a priest. I can’t go back. My son has no idea that I’m his father. He thinks I’m his uncle.”
Herman cleared his throat to speak again. “Ya. Vith Villow Kellar’s hex marking your bloodlines, anyone involved vill draw death. Think of her curse as a vedge in a door that no longer closes fully. It is like that,” he said simply.
Jacob looked confused. “What door? What’s a veg?”
Father Brown sighed again. “That’s ‘wedge,’ not ‘veg’ Jacob.” He stared at Herman. “So vhat do ve…er…what do we do now?”
Herman was thinking out loud. “Of course, proximity is an important factor.”
Even Father Brown looked mystified now. “Of course, so…”
“So, move your graveyard,” Herman said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
In the end Jacob Barrington and the Mayor of Limerick, The Honourable Sean Kirkman, came to an agreement and Barrington’s small graveyard was painstakingly moved by ca
rriage to a plot of land in the tiny settlement of Limerick. Father Brown worked tirelessly consecrating the ground for the new graveyard and then blessing each grave as it was moved. It took six months to complete. In Barrington, a new, larger church was built on top of the old site, and Father Brown once again blessed the ground that had been torn asunder.
The haunting stopped and peace returned to Barrington, but not to the six men. They convened and formed a secret group called The Circle. The Circle was responsible for protecting their descendants from Willow in the future. They strategically redesigned the layout of the town and put in a special warning system to alert future circle members to the presence of evil. Dame Parquhar recorded it all, as did Jacob Barrington.
Unfortunately, like all things journeying through the passage of time, the gravity of the hex faded and became a myth—a traditional “town” story told by the campfire. The fear faded. The lore passed on to the six’s children became family ghost stories, losing its purpose as a means to transmit important knowledge. Like the Salem witch trials, the Kellar burning became a famous historical event for Barrington. Instead of fearing the hex, the town capitalized on its chilling potential, and Kellar Rock became a famous site to visit. Dame Parquhar’s “Book of Record” was boxed for storage and lost for a time. Although Barrington boys were always given Jacob’s diary to read every generation, and it was cared for as a precious heirloom, the contents were no longer taken seriously…
Until now.
Present
“Every town is famous for something.
For some it’s hot springs, for others it’s ruins…but not us. Nope.
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