Perhaps it was freedom itself that choked her. Ever since she was a child she had been haunted by a weighted dread of the ancestors before her. A past that has been all but shuttered from her that now follows her arround with every waking moment.
Sc...
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Exodus 22:18;
"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." ______________________
A/N..... Fun fact: Women weren't the only ones to be accused of witchcraft ______________________
Salem, Massachusetts 1692
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She stood overlooking the house where the two girls lay, accused of being victims of witchcraft. Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams, both under the age of 13. They were in their beds being overlooked by the townspeople who were searching for someone to blame.
Witchcraft.
The continuous screaming from the building told of the supposed pain that they were enduring. Whispers of three women being captured circulated through the town.
The first, Sarah Good. A homeless pregnant woman who depended on the help of her neighbors while her husband worked. It was she who had been first accused by the children. The young girls asserted they had been bitten, pinched, and otherwise abused. When the children had been asked who had done this to them, they said with eyes rolled back and body shaking that it had been by the hands of Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and Tituba.
It wasn't until Tituba confessed and said that the other two women were part of the conspiracy that they were held accountable. They were now shackled while their fates were being decided.
Why she was here, she did not know. Something pulled her in the way of the town, in the way of these helpless women. She knew she couldn't help them without endangering herself. Perhaps it was her longing to be surrounded by people. She herself could not figure it out.
Perhaps it was because Osborne's own daughter were supposedly accusing her of witchcraft.
The lone woman shuddered as she turned away from the solemn town. Many people would die. She had already foreseen this in her dreams. Febuary 29, 1692 was the time, date and month. The exact day the warrant for the woman's arrest were issued.
Sarah Good herself wouldn't be hanged until the birth of her child. The woman shook her head as her thoughts went to the first woman to be hanged. Bridget Bishop was her name.
The young girl walked back into the wilderness as the fake screams faded into nothing. She had to stay vigilant, had to make sure no eyes settled on her or her movements. She had made her home in a grove of trees where she used her skills and her new magic to keep her fed. There she could push the pain and suffering to the back of her mind while she tried to survive.
She hoped that she could make it long enough to settle down. She stirred the rabbit that was stewing in the boiler she had snagged from an abandoned barn. She had started her bleeding only yesterday, and the new changes to her body were confusing and surprising.
She had heard from the older women in her town of what was happening to her. Her breasts and waist would fill out in the next couple of years. It meant she was fertile. Fertile enough to pass on her genes to her young. Many women her age would have been married before her 13 day of birth, before their bleeding, yet her sister had kept her hidden for fear of what the town would talk.
It was because of her ethereal eyes that changed colors, her willowy frame that made her almost ghostlike to those who happened to catch a glance of her passing presence. Though they had been identical twins, she herself had always been the one who drew the attention of those around her, as if they were the moth and she, the flame.
A flame that had caused the death of her only kin in existence. It was now that she heard the voice of her sister in her head, her whimpered cries asking her why she didn't help, why she herself hadn't died instead.
It was a voice that pained her to ignore, yet it was the one that would lead to her doom if she were to listen. She had already seen the fate of herself if she were to be tempted to listen. It was like a mystical siren were consistently pulling strings in her mind.
She sipped on the broth from her stew while she settled in. Tonight would be a chilly night but she felt safer now that she was miles away from the town that had decided her kinsmans death.
Something was pulling her further away from the areas she had always known. If it meant her death then she only hoped she had enough time to bear her child before death welcomed her with open arms. She could not forsee the man that she would meet that would change her life. She only hoped he would love her as another human being and not an outsider whose fate was to burn at the stake as many of her ancestors from Germany had done before.
She could only hope.
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