Genre: Historical Fiction

Plot: Being hunted during the Salem Witch Trials

Words to use: spell, fire, stake, accuse, judge, townspeople, blame, hang, guilt, magic, phobia, women, execution, colony, religion

The fire light danced on Sarah’s face. It was an icy cold night and she huddled in her cloak to try to stay warm. She had hoped the townspeoplewould get over their phobia but they were spurred on by Magnus, the curate. They foolishly believed she would cast spell on them if they got too close. Sarah didn’t believe in such black magic but only the power to heal, particularly the women in her colony. Always trying to do her best and help people, there was a waive of fear that swept through the community that caused fingers to point and tongues to wag venomously with accusations of witchcraft. She had become the object of blame for the death of a woman and although she felt the heavy guilt of loosing someone close to her, she was innocent but who would believe her. 

The call rang out, “I accuse Sarah of witchcraft, she should hang” from those who were once her friends. Her life was now at stake. 

That moment she ran for her life into the forest that most wouldn’t dare to go too far into because some who went in never returned. Before they had a chance to capture her she was gone, taking nothing but the closes on her back. She ran as fast as she could to get far enough ahead but the terrain was difficult to navigate in her long dresses but she managed to stay ahead and hoped that she had outpaced them. Her paced slowed and she rested and the night was starting to overtake her escape. She found a spot to spend the night with enough brush that may keep her warm. She gathered some wood and used all the knowledge her father taught her to survive in the new world to good use. 

As the night grew its darkest she settled in for the night. In the distance, the sound of a group of people drew closer. She doused the fire that kept her warm. She felt her way deeper into the forest till she chanced upon a place to hide, a thicket of bushes she was able to push to the side and crawl inside. She covered herself with her cloak, shielding her eyes trying to make herself invisible. The voices and the light from oil lamps was almost upon her and she held her breath in anticipation. Her only hope was to find her away through the forest. The unknown beyond was ever present in her mind as she hid. All she knew, her friends and family, her religion, her life, would have to be abandoned and the tears welled in her eyes with sadness of the thought of never seeing them again. She said thanks for the thicket for protecting her from harm as they moved away farther, the lights from their lanterns growing dimmer and dimmer. She knew she had to keep going despite the darkness and tiredness.

She traveled through unfamiliar land, hoping to find civilization again. There was a larger colony that was known but she needed to find away there by an alternative way. With the threat of execution was her impetus. She made her plans while resting. She growing tired from travel and with little food she found herself in dire straights. 

She came upon the edge of the vast wilderness and saw the bright light. In that light stood a figure. “Oh, Lord be my judge,” she faintly whispered with the meager strength she still had left over. What drew closer seemed like a hallucination. A shape of a man but different than any man she had seen. He had long dark hair like the darkness of the night that was swept up off his gentle face from the breeze that caught it as it entered the thick stifling forest. She at last fainted in exhaustion and wonder.