Crucible Crisis

by Amberley Faith

  She didn't feel sleepy; she felt bone-weary. As she closed her eyes, she uttered a plea for the tea to work. She didn't want to dream about any of this. She had squelched enough sparks about Julien to light a bonfire, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep them smothered.

  COREY: Mister Hale… I have always wanted to ask a learned man—What signifies the readin' of strange books?

  HALE: What books?

  COREY: I cannot tell; she hides them. Martha, my wife. I have waked at night many times and found her in a corner, readin' of a book. Now what do you make of that?

  --Giles Corey to Reverend Hale, Act One, Scene 1 The Crucible

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  POSITIVE PARTICIPATION

  In the days following the tea test, Ellie noticed two things she attributed to the anthology. She was dreaming less, and fewer gnats pestered her. If only she could find a charm to keep people from pestering her. Ellie continued to pour her energy into her job and her home life. She was determined not to cater to the rumor mill. She held her head high and behaved as if nothing were amiss.

  At school, she continued classes as normal. Since many of her students were struggling with the antiquated style of speaking in The Crucible, she had the students write a letter to one of the characters from Act I, mimicking the style and syntax of the 1600s.

  About half of her students wrote to Abigail, the ringleader of the girls who accuse villagers of witchcraft to get what they want. Their letters scolded Abigail for manipulating the group of girls and for threatening them if they didn't back up her story.

  The other half of Ellie's students wrote to John Proctor, the object of Abigail's desire who tries to forget about his lust for Abigail. The letters reprimanded him for acting on his feelings for Abigail in the first place.

  GG, however, wrote the most perceptive letter of all. Her writing reflected real insight into both the history of the period and the position of women at that time. Her letter also displayed an excellent imitation of the speech pattern Arthur Miller used when writing the play. In short, it was an outstanding piece of work; Ellie Googled it to make sure GG hadn't plagiarized it.

  GG's letter was written to Tituba, the slave from Barbados who leads the group of girls in three forbidden activities of the time - conjuring Ruth Putnam's dead sisters to "come out of the grave," helping Abigail with a "charm to kill John Proctor's wife," and dancing. Not only was it a unique idea for GG to write to Tituba, a powerless slave, but her imagination of what was happening behind the scenes in Salem Village was compelling, too. For example, GG did not assume that the girls were innocent of witchcraft, as most do.

  Poor Tituba,

  You wretched, inexperienced little fool. It were horribly indecent of you to play at conjurin' spirits. You broke the first two rules of The Art. Twere terrible times for you, workin' as a slave and wantin' nothin' more than to fly home to Barbados, yet you should have known not to cast magick on another without her consent. Tryin' to charm Goody Proctor were not of your nature nor your ability.

  Furthermore, The Book is clear that you cannot teach ever so small a charm to those who would not treat it respectfully. You should have known that no good could come from your meddlin' with The Art in plain view of them girls. If you had truly acknowledged The Art as a sacred gift, you would have been sure to work your magick undisturbed by others.

  'Tis easy to understand that, when they blamed you for devil worship, you said whatever you could to prevent another bloody punishment. Although you rightly exposed Reverend Parris for his evil treatment of you, and his religious hypocrisy, you did wrongly reveal to others the nature of our Art.

  In revealing our Art, you forgot the fourth rule -- the decree that whatever energy you send out returns to you threefold. Tis why you were punished til the end of your days. 'Tis why your Book went missin' without a trace. Your mishandlin' of the pow'r you were cravin' was your downfall.

  Abigail Williams

  The letter lifted Ellie out of her angry fog and helped restore her belief that she was getting through to some of her students. Ellie loved how GG had taken the line about the "strange book" and turned it into an actual book of witchcraft. Ellie almost wished that GG had written more, and she considered having the students write a sequel to the play after they finished it.

  All in all, it was another successful assignment, and Ellie chose to bask in the contentment of it for a few days. In November, they would be hosting the grand opening of Julien's studio. There was plenty to do to keep Ellie's mind focused on the tasks at hand rather than dwelling on the ridiculous rumors that swirled around her.

  "These people had no ritual for the washing away of sins. It is another trait we inherited from them, and it has helped to discipline us as well as breed hypocrisy among us."

  --Arthur Miller, Act One, The Crucible

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  INESCAPABLE INSECURITY

  Since Ellie's meeting with the Reverintendent, she'd purposely made an appearance each day in the faculty lounge. The others, because that's what they were to her now, sickened Ellie with the hushed silence that fell when she entered, and the quickly exchanged glances as she left.

  Ellie plastered a smile on her face and acted as if no one had been poisoning her husband's good name. She sat with people who pretended to be her friend as they swapped student stories and recipes. She smiled on the outside and cringed on the inside whenever Annabelle Sarka started in on her latest gossip about student affairs and fights.

  Really, Ellie wondered, what would Mrs. Sarka do if she didn't have any students to meddle with? She was a pot-stirrer and on Ellie's short list of potential rumor-starters. Mrs. Sarka rather enjoyed thinking of herself as the teacher with the best relationship with the students. She called it "being accessible," but Ellie called it being a busybody.

  It was hard to maintain her façade, but the worst part was that Ellie continued to have doubts. She would find herself wondering about things that never would have crossed her mind before. She was starting to question Julien's interest in Tai.

  At first, Ellie had been pleased with the idea of Julien taking an uneducated young woman under his wing and grooming her for the world of photography. It was clear that Tai had natural talent, and it was also clear that she would never be able to make a living on that creativity without guidance and exposure to the world outside of Stusa.

  Ellie was proud of Julien for sharing his expertise with someone less fortunate. She was impressed that he was willing to hire someone the community looked down upon. One of the things she loved most about him was his generosity.

  As Julien continued to spend more and more time at the studio, Ellie credited it to all the preparations for the grand opening at the beginning of November. When gossips questioned their relationship, Ellie ignored them; she viewed them as baseless rumors spread by the petty and the pitiful. After all, many of Ellie's female students were jealous of Tai and her ample curves – especially Jelly Sarka and Eve and Eden Matthews. They were probably the ones who started the rumors anyway - out of spite.

  Lately, however, Ellie's mind had turned on her. Awful daydreams popped into her head without warning, sending icy tendrils through her veins and pricking her heart. Ellie tried to shake them off, but they struck without warning – while driving, while doing laundry, while working in the garden.

  Like a lightning bolt, an image would flash in her mind then vanish. Ellie would see Tai and Julien in an embrace that lasted a moment too long, or Julien reaching over to brush the blonde hair out of Tai's face -- intimate movements that had no place in their relationship.

  Twice, Ellie had to pull over to vomit on the side of the road. The thoughts sickened her and left behind a fierce rage along with dry heaves. How could her mind do this to her?

  She wasn't sleeping well despite no longer having nightmares. She couldn't eat for the nausea and the stress. Her worries plagued her day and night. Why couldn't she control these images, these thoughts, th
ese visions?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE SHADOW

  The Shadow gathered her groupies once more. She needed to invoke a scrying spell to obtain the necessary information - how to sever Ellie's connection to the heirloom, an uncoupling that would leave the heirloom's power intact yet still receptive to a new handler - one with enough willpower to direct it.

  This time, they met at dawn on a small, marshy strip that jutted out into a slow-moving segment of the river. Although they were close to a cypress-filled area of swampland, the water moved enough to meet the conditions of the invocation. The ritual required running water.

  The Shadow had not invited the shy one. Only four souls were needed to complete the task. The twins and Jelly Sarka showed up on time, once again dressed in their cloaks. While the groupies complained about wearing them, The Shadow knew that they secretly enjoyed the air of mystery the prescribed cloaks provided.

  As she knelt by the fire watching the groupies' arrival, The Shadow was glad to see that Jelly had not brought her magenta cell phone. While the cloaks were no longer in pristine condition, the terrifying flight through the woods at their previous meeting having sullied them, everything looked to be in order. Eve held a small mirror. Eden brought a polished piece of black obsidian, and Jelly had a vial of holy oil. The invocation would lack nothing.

  As the girls drew near, The Shadow put her fingers to her lips to silence them. She sat down, then motioned for them to do the same. She modeled a seated meditation pose with upward facing palms, and they obediently copied her position.

  The Shadow withdrew a small, silver chalice, allegedly forged from a piece of the Cup of Jamshid. It had taken her mother many years to acquire the piece. It was too bad her mother had never thought to use it to scry for the heirloom.

  She took a sip from it and passed it around the circle. The tincture ensured that the girls would remember nothing of the ceremony. The twins looked at each other and giggled, but Jelly drank without hesitation. For a split second, in fact, The Shadow feared that Jelly had consumed the entire amount, but there must have been some leftover because the twins grimaced at the bitter taste when the cup reached them.

  The Shadow stretched out a palm and waited for the girls to hand over the items they'd brought. She placed them inside the now empty chalice. First, the tiny mirror. Then, the polished obsidian. Next, she leaned over and scooped up some of the river into the cup. Finally, she poured the oil over it all and swirled it around.

  She threw a handful of ground crystals into the fire, and the flames shifted from orange to emerald green and finally to deep purple. A pungent odor arose from the flames. As the girls inhaled the fumes, their eyes glazed over, and they began to sway. The Shadow stared into the chalice, concentrating without blinking until her vision blurred and images began to form. Markings appeared in the chalice, floating on the oily water and Eve spoke.

  "The four elements that bind the universe also bind the disciple to the script. Only by using their power can you sever the connection."

  Eden continued. "Find the element that bears the strongest influence. Its opposite force will extinguish the link."

  Jelly finished. "The disciple must not suspect your involvement. Otherwise the script will protect itself with powerful elemental force."

  A series of three smoky lines arose from the fire. At first, they appeared as three vertical wavy lines - fire. Then, the lines rotated to hover horizontally over the fire - water. Next, the three lines of smoke straightened out into taut horizontal lines - air. Finally, the straight lines crinkled into jagged peaks and valleys - earth.

  The Shadow smiled. She knew exactly where to start

  ◆◆◆

  The Shadow watched Ellie and Zyla walk around the county fair together. Ellie and her optimistic, happy attitude made The Shadow sick. She could see Ellie enjoying herself, greeting students and parents alike. Ellie was a slender, attractive woman, but no one would ever call her beautiful - not until she smiled.

  Ellie's smile could light up a room, and when she chose to flash it, people immediately felt better. It was like her smile infused its recipients with a jolt of temporary, dazzling happiness. For the few seconds that they basked in the light of her smile, they got a taste of Ellie's inner joy.

  And that taste was addictive. People always wanted more, so they kept coming back. Just hoping for a tiny moment in Ellie's light. Although no one would attribute Ellie's rise in popularity to her looks, people still used words like striking and charming to describe her. The townspeople of Stusa might not be able to pinpoint their attraction to Ellie, but The Shadow could.

  The Shadow first suspected that Ellie had discovered her heirloom the night she'd been branded, and now she was certain. Ellie's aura reeked of electricity; it was unnatural. The enhancement to Ellie's persona was almost magical. The Shadow attributed it to the heirloom, and she would do anything to get it. In a way, it was a stroke of luck that Ellie had found it for her. Now, all The Shadow had to do was steal it right from under Ellie's sickeningly silver glow.

  She smirked as she thought of what was to come. The Shadow would see just how much wattage Ellie's smile held. After all, extinguishing that electric smile with the element of water was only natural.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  FALL FESTIVAL

  It was mid-October, and personalities were more pleasant as the temperature finally descended below the 100-degree mark. Ellie admired Stusa's sense of community. She would have enjoyed the fair if she hadn't been coerced into sitting in the dunking booth. Mrs. Sarka had approached her a week earlier to see if, as Stusa 's newest teacher, she would be willing to submit herself to either a pie-throw or a dunking booth. It was a request far above and beyond her job requirements, but Ellie soon found out that it was a tradition. All the teachers participated in some way at the carnival. In fact, it was expected of them.

  Each teacher had his or her specialty. Mrs. Sarka ran the photo booth. It suited her. She was vain, so she knew just what poses, props, and filters each model would want. It somewhat satisfied her need for being in the public eye. Mrs. Sarka craved attention in a way that made Ellie leery.

  Zyla, as the history/drama teacher, oversaw the stage performance. She tried to get Ellie to perform The Crucible, but Ellie insisted they weren't ready. Her class had only covered Act I. Act II wouldn't be ready until spring semester was nearly done. Zyla tried to convince her to perform the first act at the fall festival and the second act at the spring fling, but Ellie didn't think she was up for that much public scrutiny yet.

  Mr. Grant already had twenty years' worth of dibs on the lemonade stand, so Ellie couldn't claim a kiosk for her lavender lemonade. She thought about what other talents she could bring to the fair without subjecting herself to the bodily torture of the dunking booth, but all other posts were filled by those with a prior claim.

  Being new sucked.

  Ellie had eventually decided on the dunking booth when she found that she'd be replaced with a dry candidate after her first dunking. She figured one good dunking was easier than a face full of pie. Getting wet seemed a lot, well - cleaner - than getting sugary, sticky cream all over her face and hair.

  As Ellie and Zyla toured the fair, Ellie grew more and more apprehensive. She felt like people were sneering at her rather than smiling. She had the unshakable feeling that someone was watching her. Several times she thought she saw someone out of the corner of her eye, but each time she turned to look, no one was there. After Ellie's third jump-and-whirl, Zyla piped up.

  "OK, Ellie. You're either hyped up on sugar and caffeine, or you're training for the witness protection program. What gives?"

  "What?" Ellie blushed slightly. "It's not normal to keep checking behind me? Because I think someone is following me – us" she amended.

  Zyla gave an impressive eye roll and said, "I think Julien may be right. You've read too many novels. Who on earth would be following us? A student with a crush on the new teacher?"<
br />
  Elli's blush deepened. "It's not like that, Zyla. I just have a strange feeling, that's all."

  "No, wait," Zyla continued as if Ellie hadn't said anything. "It's probably a turnip farmer stalking us for digging up his greens in the middle of the night." Ellie chuckled. This prompted more from Zyla who loved making people laugh.

  "No, hang on. I'm picking up some vibes." Zyla stretched one hand out in front of her and covered her eyes with the other one. "Yes, I am definitely getting something here. It's a weak signal, but I think I can make out – phantom, foe, fugitive – farmer! It's Farmer John! He thinks you're the one who has been cow tipping at his farm lately."

  Ellie snorted, "Ha ha. Very funny. Where did you get your psychic training? Back there from old Maude the Magical?"

  "Tsk, tsk," clucked Zyla. "You'll never be as smart an aleck as I am. Don't even try, missy." She turned to Ellie and grinned. "I think you've had a little too much fair food – just one funnel cake too many. You're getting mighty big for your britches." Zyla starting walking and kept her tone light and playful. "What makes you think you're being followed? Where's your evidence, Miss English Teacher?"

  Ellie sighed. "I don't really have any. I just feel like someone is watching me, and I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye. Every time I turn around, though, nothing is there. I've been feeling this way since the day the girls' fort collapsed at The Jewel."

  To her credit, Zyla didn't laugh. "So, it's not just the fried Oreo," she held up one finger for each item on her list, "the grilled ear of corn, the cotton candy and the funnel cake talking, then? You've been feeling like this for a few weeks, now?"