The Boy Who Cried Witch boyxboy
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MatureOngoing6m
Last published Sat, Feb 18, 2017
Salem, 1692. John Proctor was a broken man. The mother of his two children had perished, the tuberculoses bringing her breath and heart to an earth shattering halt. John is in a constant state of agonizing guilt, feeling he could have stop his wife's death if not for his affair with the house keeper, Abigail Williams. John believes his life could not be rattled anymore, but things have only just started.
Abigail speaks of witches, and brings a group of girls to cry witchcraft with her. Now, The Salem Witch Trials are coming to be, and the once quite town needs help. Who better than a striking man with luscious locks. A man who will fill John to the brim of more emotion he has felt in his entire life.
~A Crucible FanFic~
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Book 1 of Rewritten: The Inamorate Saga. The great reveal had been beneficial for some. Elves, particularly, with their beauty and grace and quiet manipulation of the world around them. They thrived in the light, able to infiltrate human structure with ease, carving out a place for their kind at the most crucial of times. Their leaders set down territory lines, segregating cities and even states for themselves, for the growth of their people. They flourished, building their empire on the backs of those withered beneath. Fae, however, didn't find such a foothold. They remained in the darkness, hidden away in the tangles of forest untouched by humans, trapped within their clans. The dark ages reigned through those woodlands, void of modern technology and any shade of defiance. Monarchs ruled, surrounded by warriors, enforcing their law upon the common people. Outside, there was talk of abuse, of forced subjugation, whispers from those fae that had made it, that had escaped. Salem had chosen to remain silent. Five years had passed, not a soul knew of the clan he had fled. He had a family, three brothers who had taken him in, who had chosen to house him rather than barter money for the purity he still held. There was a normality to the world, to the life that Salem had forged. There was no reason for change, nothing to draw him back into that inky abyss he had clawed out of. Nothing but a tree flowering ivory petals housed in the estate of one of the most influential elves in their city...
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