“The night belongs to me. Under cover of shadows, I walk the streets of this town as just another creature living in darkness. None could discern me from the others … There is a soft yellow glow in her window tonight, though it is long past the witching hour. A strange desire tugs at my heart. I want to save her, even if I do nothing but watch these woods, even if she never knows my name…”
~From the diary of William Wells; October 15th, 1685
Weeks of late summer flew by, and second harvest drew closer as autumn reached its pinnacle. Alexander had been right—autumn in New England was breathtakingly beautiful. Elizabeth found great pleasure in her daily outdoor chores, especially tending the animals. The days were bright and clear, and the leaves turned to vivid shades of gold, copper, and ruby red. New customs and rituals slowly became routine, though Elizabeth still found many of them absurd. At least she was learning how to belong, and to her, that was something. She felt both accomplished and proud of her work.
After an endless day in early October spent working the fields, preparing meals, and practicing needle work, Elizabeth collapsed on her bed in exhausted relief. Working from dawn till dusk was definitely a new challenge. Just as she closed her eyes to settle into a deep sleep, she awoke with a start to the jostling of the mattress. Dawn hovered above, bouncing lightly on her knees.
“Are you going to sleep in your clothes tonight?”
“Mmm no,” Elizabeth yawned, sitting up slowly, “I should put on my shift.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Hmm?”
“Lessons, Elizabeth. You have to show me the progress you’ve made on the bonnet. And then we have to work on my verbs.”
“Oh very well. I’m awake,” Elizabeth mumbled in defeat.
--
The cousins worked far into the night until the taper candles burned down and they had no choice but to turn in. For a long while after Dawn began snoring softly, Elizabeth tossed and turned on the thin mattress, unable to get to sleep despite her weariness. She finally just folded her arms behind her head and crossed her ankles, staring up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. Back home, she used to lay on the beach at night in this contemplative pose, watching the constellations above and wondering what her future might bring. Sometimes Mother would accompany her and tell her stories of kings and queens on distant shores …Gusts of wind whistled through the trees outside; and the melancholic sound reminded her of the ocean in winter. Sighing wistfully, she remembered how much she missed the sea. The kiss of the sun on her bare shoulders, the velvet touch of sand trickling between her toes, the weightlessness of floating on crystal waves…though she had developed a certain fondness for her new home, she wondered longingly if she would ever again see the land of her birth.
The wind increased its intensity, threatening an oncoming storm, and through the sound of blowing leaves, Elizabeth could have sworn she heard the crying of a child. Startled, she rose to peek out the small, circular window. Beyond the nearby field close to the stables, she saw—or sensed—a shadow. Unsure of what possessed her to do so, she tiptoed out of the loft, down the stairs, threw the latch on the front door, and stepped into the chilly night.
No moon lit the sky, so Elizabeth navigated the terrain by starlight. As the wind picked up, her hair began to pull out of the loose braid until errant golden strands the color of corn silk billowed across her face and into her eyes. She hugged her middle to provide some warmth as her thin cotton shift blew around her bare legs. If she were caught by her aunt and uncle traipsing outside after curfew half-clothed, the consequences would no doubt be severe. But some desire or foreboding curiosity drove her onward. She winced several times as stones and twigs pricked the soles of her feet. A little more than halfway across the field, she heard it once more, and this time it was perfectly clear—the scream of a small babe. Elizabeth ran toward the cry, beyond the stables and into the woods. And there among a grove of pine trees, she knew the shadow lurked. It stopped when it seemed to sense her presence, dropped the bundle in its arms, and showed its face. Elizabeth felt paralyzed; time ceased to move forward. She saw it for only a split second before it was gone, and what she saw, she could not reason. The face was pale, ghastly, inhuman. Its eyes flashed gold in the starlight, and a thin line of crimson dripped from its lips.
--
“Elizabeth! Lizzie, wake up! You were supposed to cook the porridge for breakfast, and Mother is cross! Shall I tell her you are ill?”
Elizabeth gasped and flew upright, placing her palm against her thundering heart.
“Are you all right, Lizzie? You aren’t really ill, are you?”
Dawn gaped at her cousin from the foot of her bed, her brows knitted in worry.
“No, I’m fine. It was just a dream. A nightmare. But I’m quite all right now. Apologize to Aunt Jenny for me and tell her I’ll be down straightaway.”
After her cousin left the room, Elizabeth carefully sat up in bed and rubbed her temples in an effort to force the memory of that face out of her mind. It was only a nightmare. Swinging her legs reluctantly to the chilly floorboards, she found herself drawn toward the window. Her hands shook in trepidation as she peeked outside into the dense morning fog hanging over the fields. Everything looked the same. She saw no shadow. Of course, what was I expecting? Grow up, Elizabeth.
--
“You look haggard, Elizabeth. Have you not been sleeping well?” Jenny remarked as she served her niece a bowl of porridge after the rest of the family had already eaten.
“I’m all right. I guess I’m just not used to the cold weather.”
“You’ll need to become accustomed to it quickly. In just a bit over a month from now, the snows will come in from the north.”
“I’ve never seen snow before.”
“Well you shall see plenty of it before the April thaw…You know, I don’t think you should work the fields or the garden today, Elizabeth, in case you have an illness upon you. Do you feel up to running some quick errands for me instead?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll make a list for you. Come back as soon as you’re finished—no dawdling in town. I want you to rest for most of the day.”
“Yes, Aunt Jenny.”
--
Leaving the feed store with a basket of newly purchased supplies for the animals in tow, Elizabeth strolled toward the northern end of the main street in the direction of her final stop at the general store for a jar of beeswax. On her way, she dug through her satchel to be sure she hadn’t accidentally dropped the extra coins Jenny had given her from the month’s rag money. Glancing up to see the shop just across the street, Elizabeth stepped into the road.
“Good morning, Miss Summers!” a woman called from a passing buggy.
Elizabeth smiled, recognizing Tara’s mother. “The same to you, Mrs. Maclay!” she called warmly.
“Shall we be seeing you at church on Saturday for the corn husking festival?”
“Aye, ma’am, I wouldn’t miss it!”
“Wonderful! It’s always a splendid occasion for the young people. And I know Tara will be excited to see you there. My regards to the family,” Mrs. Maclay called as she pulled her horses onward.
“Good day,” Elizabeth replied with a wave.
Her eyes followed the buggy as it departed, causing her to unknowingly step into the direct path of a cantering red mare. The horse and its rider seemed to materialize out of nowhere; Elizabeth did not even hear the animal until it had nearly crashed into her. Frightened, she cried out instinctively and dashed out of the way, dropping her parcels and sending the horse into a wild panic. The mare reared up in agitation, and as Elizabeth quickly skittered about to retrieve her belongings, she could hear the horse’s owner gently calming the distressed animal.
“Easy Sunshine, easy. You’re okay, luv.”
When the horse finally seemed controlled, the man hollered in Elizabeth’s direction, “You oughtta mind where you’re walking, girl. Especially in the road.”
“I am terribly sorry. I didn’t see—“
She looked up then into a pair of sad, clouded blue eyes. Silently he knelt before her to help gather the scattered items into her basket. For a brief second, his fingers brushed hers, and Elizabeth felt a prickling on the back of her neck. After her parcels were in proper order, she stood hastily and intended to simply thank him, apologize once more, and then resume her business. However she found herself momentarily unable to move or produce sound. All she could do was rudely gape at him. Her eyes took him in slowly—high, gaunt cheek bones, curly dark hair, almost boyish features…but with the weight of age behind them…Something about him felt oddly familiar for reasons she could not explain. A chill ran down her spine as if she was seeing a ghost or someone was walking across her grave. He said nothing, and held her gaze so intensely that she had to drop her chin and look away. Strangely unsettled, she quickly nodded her thanks and fled in the direction of the general store without looking back.
Once inside, she pretended to examine a display of colored glass beads in the front window; but secretly she watched him hesitate before guiding his mare across the street to the blacksmith.
“Hello Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs. Hearn, the elderly, rosy-cheeked shopkeeper, greeted cheerfully.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth replied absently, “Mrs. Hearn, could you please tell me—who is that man across the street? I’ve never seen him before, and I thought I’d already met most everyone in town.”
The old woman stood beside her, squinting over wire-rimmed spectacles. “Ohh, Mr. William Wells, that is. You’ll want to stay clear of him, my dear. He’s nothing but trouble. You’ve never seen him, I reckon, because he and his father live outside the settlement, up near Raven Pond. His father never comes around here, but William’s about occasionally.”
“Why do you say he’s trouble?”
“Well, you didn’t hear this from me but…some pretty strange things go on up there at Raven Pond, and I just know those two are wrapped up in it somehow. Black magic or the like,” she whispered.
“What sort of strange things have happened?”
“Don’t go spreading this around now…I’ve heard folks tell of people getting right up out of their graves and coming into town, though they’re as good as dead. The burying ground’s near the pond, see.”
Elizabeth raised her brow at the outlandish claim, wanting more than anything to dismiss it as paranoid, small town gossip. But clearly something was amiss in Wethersfield. Something no one could speak of…She had a fleeting thought of her dreadful nightmare and shivered.
“William had a sister that lived up there with them, but she disappeared some months ago,” Mrs. Hearn continued, “I heard tell she passed away from the fever or some such thing. Must’ve buried her themselves without a proper service. Makes you wonder what they’ve got to hide. It’s all very mysterious.”
“How far away is Raven Pond?”
“I’m not too sure. It’s been a long time since I traveled out of town myself, but I figure it’d be about a day’s ride.”
“And you said that—he and his father are the only people that live there?”
“Aye. William’s father’s a shady sort of fellow, and he’s…he’s forbidden to come here no more. But that’s over and done with now. As long as he keeps far enough away, the town stays out of his dealings. A bit of an unofficial agreement, I suppose.”
“Mrs. Hearn, pardon my asking this, but I’ve heard some strange talk about a man named Townsend. Who is he? Is…is he acquainted with this Mr. Wells?"
The shopkeeper visibly blanched at the question. Her voice was quiet and somewhat shaky when she answered.
“Jack Townsend was serving man to the mayor. One night he was stabling the horses ‘fore turning in, and…there was an accident, Miss Elizabeth. The Reverend and the mayor buried him the day after without proper service. Two days later, he came back.”
“Came back?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“I’ll say nothing more ‘cept to tell you to stay far enough away from Wells and his people. Nice, pretty girl like you shouldn’t get mixed up in anything unnatural.”
With that, the old woman scurried off to assist a customer at the front counter.
Across the street, the stranger lovingly pulled worn shoes from the mare’s hooves. While Elizabeth observed, he paused in his work and straightened, almost as if he felt her eyes on him. She knew she could not be seen from the street, and yet she felt almost certain that he saw her. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
--
“Dawn, do you know anything about William Wells?”
“Who?” the girl answered, dipping her quill into a jar of ink, “Does this sentence look okay?”
Elizabeth leaned over her cousin’s shoulder. “The t in ‘cat’ is backwards. You wrote it like a j. I ran into him today—“
“Blast!” Dawn huffed, scratching out her mistake, “Honestly, I can’t get anything right!”
“No don’t say that; you mustn’t get discouraged. See, the rest of the sentence is fine. ‘The black cat sat on the brown fence.’ I can read it—it’s legible…sort of.”
“Can I go to bed now?” Dawn whined.
“All right, but only because it’s getting late. You’re not giving up.”
“You mean like you gave up on the dress?”
“I so did not give up! I just—I pricked my fingers with the needle and needed a rest…a long rest.”
“If you say so, but the bodice had better be finished by Saturday.”
“Right. In time for that corn thing.”
“It’s a festival. We have it every October. There’s corn husking, and picnicking, and music…”
“Music? You people have music?”
“Indeed we do. So what were you asking about before? You met someone in town or something?”
“This man—William Wells. His horse nearly ran me over. Mrs. Hearn said he’s trouble, so I was just wondering if you’d heard anything,” Elizabeth explained evasively.
“Oh, is he the one who lives out near the graveyard?”
“Yes I think so. What do you know about him?”
“Just that Father says he should be banished from Wethersfield.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I think he’s a witch.”
“That’s nonsense…Can a man even be a witch?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a witch before, I mean that I know of, so I can’t be sure exactly of what one looks like. Why are you asking about him, anyway?”
“There was something about him, Dawn…I—Have you ever lived a moment twice?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, have you ever been somewhere or seen something or met someone and felt as though…you’d seen them before?”
Dawn snorted. “No. What on earth are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Elizabeth did not get much sleep that night.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I added warnings to the story as future chapters have become clearer. None apply so far. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I love hearing from you!