Blessed, a Fantasy fanfic - FictionPress.com

Author Note: I wrote this for my Advanced Composition class, and it's the first thing all year that my teacher has even liked, so I figured I'd give it a try here. I hope you enjoy it.

I smiled at William's face as it glowed in the candle light. It was his turn to lead the coven that Saturday night in the woods, and I couldn't help but feel affection for him as I felt his power roll off of him. It was almost in waves, and I wrapped myself in its warmth as if it was a comforting blanket. I still couldn't believe that I was in love with such a powerful man. The man I was betrothed to. Had given my whole self to. And my power wasn't too minor, either. It was strong enough that I could sense his love for me. William wasn't like the other boys in the village, who only wanted me for my pale blonde hair or bright blue eyes. He loved me for me, and there was no way to describe how good it felt. It felt like creating the most beautiful magick that had ever existed.

Maybe love is magick, I thought. How else could it possibly be so beautiful and create such joy?

William finished the part of the spell that he had to do alone, and everyone clasped hands. We all started moving clockwise around the circle, with William starting to chant. Every time he paused, we repeated his words. I felt the warmth that I associated with magick building in my chest. The room was starting to glow brightly with the colors of the coven members' auras. Although I had a generous amount of power, I wasn't too powerful of a witch. I could only see their auras when we were all making magick. William told me once that he could always see them, even those of the non-witch residents of Salem Village. Part of me was jealous, but at the same time the prospect scared me. To always know how people were feeling, even the hateful Puritans that we pretended to be like. It would have frightened me if I were him.

The circle sped up and all of the colors of our auras blended. I could no longer tell who was standing where in the circle or which aura belonged to who. All I could see was a whirling rainbow that moved so quickly that it created new colors for people that weren't even there.

Now we were all repeating the chant over and over, but the words started to blur, as well. I knew that we were supposed to be doing something with this spell; banishing fear and prejudice. But I just couldn't concentrate. All I could do was feel the warm giddiness that I associated with magick making. Why did the Puritans believe this to be so terrible? Why were they so fearful and hateful of something that could be so amazing?

Without any verbal clues, we suddenly stopped spinning and threw our hands into the air, throwing the magick and the spell into the world. I wanted to grab some of the magick and keep it for myself, but I knew that all of it would be needed for the magnitude of the spell that we were attempting. Trying to make Salem a peaceful place was a daunting task. Then we all said them, the words that would complete the spell.

“Blessed be.”

I sat next to William, munching on a ginger cookie, as he played with my hair. It was a sweet, minor gesture that he and I observed frequently. It was also something that the Puritans would have us condemned for. Touching! In front of people! Not even married yet! We would be tried for adultery quite easily if they ever saw our affection. But, I wasn't the only woman with her hair down. Our whole coven took off their bonnets as soon as we entered the area of the woods that our coven usually met for circles. We also all removed our shoes, and the men left their hats forgotten as well. We didn't really see the evils in showing these parts of ourself.

“Mary, love,” William started, “Are there any more of those cookies?”

I chewed on the one I was eating and handed him another one from my lap.

“The two of you are so beautiful together,” my mother, Sarah, said. “I just hope that you two will be able to have a real wedding, not some Puritan sham, once this whole witch business blows over.”

“Witch business?” I asked. “Mother, we arewitches. Or have you forgotten?”

“Of course we are,” Rebecca Johnson, another woman from the coven answered. “What your mother means is their impression of witches. We don't fly on brooms or pinch and bite people. We certainly don't sign the Devil's book in blood. I personally don't plan to sign anybook in blood. But perhaps I am the only one in thinking that way.”

I nodded and leaned back onto William. “And to think,” mother said, “I used to believe little Ann Putnam was such a darling child.” The coven laughed nervously.

I walked through Salem Village with my mother and father toward church the next morning. It was time to live our facade more thoroughly than any other time of the week. We had to sit there and pretend to believe the messages of hatred that our new minister was teaching us. And then there were the girls. We had to sit there and pretend that we believed those girls as they shrieked of witchcraft and got people killed while we knew that they were just seeking attention. They were killing people for sport, and we had to smile and nod as if those “poor children” were being injured. As we got nearer to our local “house of God,” we met William's family, also making the weekly trek. William strode next to me, almost but not quite touching, and his mother, father, and younger brother walked around us. The adults started chatting in low tones while Thomas, William's brother, skipped along. William was so close to me I could feel his energy crackling off of him. I longed to touch him so badly. To hold him. To kiss him. I mentally cursed to Puritans and their rules. We were engaged to be married, everyone knew that, and yet we still couldn't touch in public. It was even taboo for mother and father, and they had been married for eighteen years.

When we arrived at the church, we took our regular seats in the pew three rows from the back. We didn't have to sit in the same place every week, but we made it a habit because the coven liked to sit together. Our families were the last to arrive out of the seven in the coven. There were the Johnsons, the Cooks, the Smiths, the Carltons, the Kinneys, the Radcliffes, the Taylors (William's family), and us, the Winchesters. I sat next to William, pulled out a Bible, and looked toward the front of the Church hall as the weekly day of boredom and lying began.

As we left the church several hours later, William grabbed my hand gently. “To Hell with what they think, Mary,” he whispered to me. “Let us show them what real love is.”

I quickly pulled my hand away and tried to ignore the hurt look on his face. “Are you mad? People already dislike us for rarely speaking to anyone else. Can you imagine what would happen if Ann Putnam Sr. told her daughter that she had seen us touching? We'd be accused before you could say 'Goddess'.” I sighed and looked down. “Love, you know how much I want to touch you. But...we cannot. Not in public. Come to my house tonight, and we can replace the lost time, I promise.” I smiled a small smile that was only for him.

“Promise?” he asked, repeating me.

I strongly resisted the urge to grab onto William and kiss him. Instead I just nodded and continued to grin.

“I love you,” William whispered as we approached my home.

“You, too,” I replied just as quietly. I walked into my house, my heart full. I couldn't wait until that night, already planning it in my head. I almost wished that I had made friends with other girls my own age, if only so that I could share my excitement with someone else.

But William never came that night. I tried not to make myself sick with worry, spending the whole night trying to convince myself that because we had forgotten to consult our parents first, he had not realized that he had chores to do that night. Maybe his brother became ill. Maybe their house needed cleaning. Maybe they needed more wood for the stove. But not matter how many excuses I thought of, I knew within me that something was seriously wrong, and it had nothing to do with Thomas being ill.

Eventually, I fell into a troubled sleep, plagued with nightmares. In one, I was imprisoned, everyone staring and poking at me. In another, the accusing girls came into my house and started crying that we had kidnapped them, even as they pricked their own fingers with our sewing needles. I repeatedly woke up, gasping for breath, each time with a deeper sense of dread than the last.

The next morning, I was awoken by my mother shaking me. I blinked slowly and yawned, moving sluggishly. “What is it, mother?”

“It's happened. One of our own has been accused!” she replied shakily, and it was only then that I noticed the tears running down her face.

I shot up immediately. “Who?” I demanded, my worry from the previous night returning with frightening intensity. Not William, I thought. Not my William. Those little heathens couldn't have seen him grab my hand. Couldn't have heard him tell me he loves me.

“I'm so sorry, Mary,” my mother replied through her tears.

I collapsed into sobs, my whole body shaking. “W-when is the tr-trial?” I asked, the crying causing me to stutter.

“In a few hours. Get dressed. We have to be there.”

“I c-can't. I c-can't see them d-do this to him. H-he'll have everyone yelling at him and spitting at him. A-and those girls will be crying out their terrible, m-murderous lies. I can't s-see that.”

“Don't you understand, Mary?” Mother asked. “That's why we have to be there. We have to support him. Let him have somewhere else to look other than those girls' faces. Let him have something else to think about than his own turning against him.”

I nodded sadly. “He w-won't confess, will he?” I asked quietly. “Even though it would s-save his life, he wouldn't, would he?”

My mother shook her head gravely. “Of course not. We all know William better than that. He'd never confess to a crime he wasn't guilty of.”

I just hugged my mother and continued to sob.

We sat in the front of the courthouse that afternoon, even though it hurt more than words could ever describe to see William there. He looked so degraded sitting there, but he still gave me a weak smile. I tried to return it, but it was kind of watery from my tears. I hadn't managed to stop crying earlier, and it only got worse seeing this whole spectacle.

Too soon the trial started, and I don't remember much of it. I sobbed the whole way through. I vaguely remember accusations, though, because mother had tried to hold me down so as not to bring wrath upon myself.

“He came into my room at night,” little Ann Putnam said. “He held me down and forced himself upon me, and all the while I could see the man in black in the background, laughing. Every once and a while the black man would lean over and whisper into his ear, and they'd laugh together.”

The judges asked, “What did he say? Did you hear what he said?”

All the girls cried out as Ann Putnam wailed, “He said that I was even more fun to watch than the Winchester girl! I do not know why she has not spoken up, because I then knew that she had experienced it, too. This terrible thing!”

I stood up then, even as Mother tried to pull me back to sitting by the side of my skirt. “William has neverforced himself on me or anyone else! He is a goodman, and you little demons are just accusing him because he tried to express his love for me!”

Then I finally sat back down, with the whole room staring at me. But I only had eyes for William, who looked at me with something halfway between sadness and awe.

Of course, my words had no effect. He was still convicted.

Later I sat in my room, still weeping. I've done it, now, I thought. They're coming to get me. Well, I won't let them see that I'm afraid. So, with some effort, I stopped crying. I even half-heartedly tried cleaning the house and washing the clothes, so that they wouldn't think I was frightened of their coming.

Sure enough, that afternoon we heard a knock on our door. I answered it myself even as my parents quietly begged me to hide. They took me away, but I didn't go quietly or make it easy for them. I kicked, screamed, bit, and pinched the men. It was all to no avail. They just took me to the jail. There I was stripped by some women, and my body was searched for a “witch's mark,” and I cried at the humiliation and violation. No wonder William had looked so degraded earlier that day. They didn't treat us like we were even people.

The women found what they were looking for in a small birthmark under my left arm. “I've had that my whole life!” I sobbed.

“Then you must have been born a witch!” one woman spat at me.

By the time they were finished with me, it was dusk. They threw me into a cell, telling me my trial was to be the next day. I cried myself to sleep.

The next day I was awoken early and brought to the courthouse. That day, I sat in the same chair that William had. I had determined as I had been lying in my cell the night before that I wouldn't show anything but confidence to the village, and most importantly, those girls. Ann Putnam Jr. and her gaggle of girls, all pretending to be afflicted by some nondescript witchcraft. They didn't deserve to see my emotions.

The trial was a complete blur. The judges told me the charges, I denied them, the girls spouted some ridiculous story about dreaming of me signing the Devil's book in blood, I denied it. There was some yelling, screaming, and crying on the part of my accusers. There might have been some laughing on my part.

The actual trial doesn't matter. All that matters is that I was convicted, and like William, sentenced to hang. We were both to meet our ends at the gallows the next day.

I was brought back to the jail, this time to a different cell. What, did they think that if I spent too long in one place I'd magick my way out? I wish.

For the first time in days, I had a stroke of good luck. The cell across from mine was occupied by William.

“Mary?” he asked quietly as soon as the man who had escorted me in was gone.

“Yes?”

“Oh, Goddess, they got you, too?”

I nodded slowly. “We're to die together,” I joked, “Isn't it that terribly romantic?”

William just looked at me. “This is no time to jest. I will not allow for them to kill you. We have to think of a way for you to escape.”

“William, this is a perfect time to jest. It is the only time we have left. We both know that there's no way to escape, so there is no use panicking. That will only make us more miserable.”

William sighed and slowly nodded. “I know. But...I love you so dearly. I cannot bare the thought of your death.”

I just sighed. “Nor I you.”

We spoke the whole night, and I fell asleep listening to him speak and leaning against the bars of my cell.

I awoke on my last morning with a crick in my neck and rough hands on my arms. I was being shaken into waking, as was William in the cell across from mine.

“Up, girl!” one man shouted at me. “Get up! It's time!”

Just to defy the men pulling us to the gallows, William kissed me when we were both in the hallway, and we walked the whole way to the hill holding hands. We heard angry shouts and jeers,

“Witches!” “Heathens!”

“How could you do those things to those girls?! What did they ever do to you?!”

and I know that I felt someone spit on me, but it didn't matter. They didn't matter. We only had so much time left together, and William and I intended to spend it that way. Together. We didn't want to let anyone get in our way.

The put the bags over our heads, and then I felt the rope tighten around my neck. It wasn't a very long period of time between then and my death, but a lot ran through my mind. I never really got to say goodbye to my family. Our coven was losing its strongest member. I would never have children. Would Thomas remember William and myself when he got older? Would he grow up to be like William? Would he have his power?

My last thought before I felt my neck snap was this: “At least they cannot touch us where we're going. We are free.”