The Tortuous Spell Ch. 01

A bead of sweat traveled slowly down Elizabeth's back under her thick wool dress as she sat stiffly with her brother's family on the cramped wooden pew. The heat of the many bodies crammed into the small church heightened the sweltering conditions of the already unseasonably hot October day. She felt glances from around the room as she focussed on appearing intently fixated on the minister's sermon. The vivid descriptions of the certain fiery damnation that faced the sinners amongst them were accentuated by the surrounding sizzling atmosphere. It seemed her fellow parishioners did not have the same qualms about ignoring the minister as Elizabeth, the young new widow from Virginia. She felt their judgmental stares boring into her from every direction, even the minister himself gawked her way for a substantial portion of the sermon.

Elizabeth had been married to Henry for two short years. They had had a quiet and peaceful existence that was pleasant and comfortable, if somewhat less than exciting. He was fifteen years her senior, they didn't have much in common, but neither of them were bothered by silence from the other. One morning, over breakfast, Henry had complained of an ache in his tooth while chewing. Elizabeth thought nothing of it, though he was hardly a man accustomed to complaining. A week later, infection had seeped throughout his body and he was gone. She'd felt confusion, surprise, and some grief; but the most overwhelming emotion was that of guilt. She felt guilty that she was the only person he had left in this world and she wasn't in a total state of despair at his untimely death. Of course, she was not elated to see him gone by any means, he was not an unkind man. But, her justifications for any substantial amount of mourning for the loss of her husband were wholly selfish, no matter how hard she tried. She grieved for her comfort and her routine more than the man himself, and that suffocated her with guilt.

With Henry's death, she had to confront the total uprooting of her life. She'd been forced to move from her hometown in Virginia to Massachusetts, with her brother William, her only remaining family. William was the oldest of their nine siblings and had relocated to Massachusetts several years before Elizabeth had married. Since that time, various illnesses and accidents had taken their mother, father, and each of their siblings in a cruel and timely succession. Elizabeth had felt nearly anesthetized to death by the time Henry had passed.

She was ripped from the freedom of her marriage and her humble, but peaceful home, to live in a cramped farmhouse with William, his wife, and their five daughters. She had additional guilt from her feelings of negativity and ungratefulness with their sacrifice of taking her in. She was overwhelmingly inadequate as a wife, a sister, and a Christian. She supposed she should get used to the heat of her surroundings now. The smallest of smirks marred her fixed countenance of concentration from the macabre tangent her thoughts had taken.

After what had felt like the eternity that was repeatedly mentioned in the sermon, the minister dismissed the congregation and they began to file out of the pews as the doors of the church were finally opened, releasing the heavy stagnant air. She and her brother's family joined the others outside, where there was the small relief of a breeze. The congregation was enlivened at the opportunity to talk amongst each other and stretch their stiffened muscles. She knew it was unwise of her to hope for a quick escape to the house after hours of sitting in the poorly ventilated small church.

The leaves that crunched beneath her leather shoes seemed to have been scorched from the branches rather than blown away with autumn winds. The thick fabric of her dress was sticking to her skin from the perspiration that had accumulated all over her body. She had to tamp down her urge to escape. She wanted to tear the layers of clothes from her body and run until she reached the nearest collection of water to jump into, wherever that may be. Her cheeks reddened at the untoward daydream. Elizabeth was lost in her own thoughts and hadn't noticed the conversation between her brother and another family until her name was said, pulling her from her mind.

"This is my sister, Elizabeth. Her husband has recently passed. She is living with us." William stated bluntly, as was his nature. "Elizabeth, this is Earl and Edith Bishop and their family."

"Welcome to Salem, Elizabeth." A plump middle-aged woman, she assumed the matriarchy, Edith Bishop, greeted her. "Our sympathies for your loss." Her smile was kind and full of genuine pity.

"Thank you." She responded politely. A girl no older than seven stared up at Elizabeth from behind the short woman. Her irises were nearly black underneath the thick rim of her pristinely white coif. Most of her thin body was shielded from her mother's generous posterior and full skirt. The occasional rustle of a breeze blew the girl's pale yellow dress around her mother and into visibility.

"Elizabeth is my youngest daughter's name as well, but we call her Beth." The woman smiled cheerfully, bringing the child forward with her hands on the young girl's shoulders. The juxtaposition between Edith Bishop's kind and sunny demeanor and her daughter's was instantly evident. The young girl didn't smile, only stared at Elizabeth unblinkingly with her unnervingly dark eyes which were heavily contrasted by her pale porcelain-like skin.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Beth." She forced a smile down at the child.

Beth's expression did not lighten in the least at being spoken to, she didn't react at all for an uncomfortably long moment when Elizabeth's polite smile fell from her face from unease. The young girl then opened her mouth as if to reply, but no words came out. Instead, she was silent with her mouth gaping widely. Once the child had looked around, moving only her dark eyes, and made sure that she held the attention of the entire group of adults surrounding her and her odd behavior, she began to shriek with a deafening pitch and volume. Everyone in the vicinity was startled and the sudden halt to the conversations around them only allowed the grating prolonged noise to resonate further.

As Elizabeth quickly looked around, she noticed the congregation had expressions of repulsion from the child's intrusive and shocking performance. The girl's own mother, however, looked terrified, but not of her own child. Strangely, she stared directly at Elizabeth with all color drained from her once rosy cheeks. Elizabeth was baffled at the older woman's reaction. The girl's mouth was still wide with her effort to scream, but her obsidian eyes were smiling and taunting Elizabeth in a clear and unnerving threat. She had no idea why the girl would have such unwarranted aggression towards her.

"Please Lord, not again." The girl's mother said under her breath, during a brief moment of silence as the child refilled her lungs. She had both hands on Beth's shoulders, her knuckles white with the force of her grip.

The entire congregation was now fixated, not on the screaming child, but on Elizabeth, the strange new widow in Salem. Her confusion at their reactions as well as the piercing and incessant noise were causing the muscles in Elizabeth's back to bunch and tighten with stress and the compelling urge to escape. Finally, the minister rushed through the crowd and towards the scene.

"What happened?" He vehemently asked Beth's father, his deep and powerful preaching voice easily overtaking the young girl's continued wails. As soon as the minister was near, Beth pulled her sleeves up and began to dig her nails repeatedly into the white flesh of her exposed forearms.

"No, Beth!" her mother tried to restrain her, but she wasn't quick enough to grab her now quickly flailing limbs. The porcelain skin was soon covered in thin red lacerations. As she frantically scratched herself over the same places, small droplets of blood rose to the surface of the self-inflicted welts.

"She started when that woman spoke to her." the girl's father answered the minister, glaring at Elizabeth in reference to whom he referred. Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock. Surely they didn't think that any of this child's behavior was to be blamed on her. The girl continued to scream, making it very hard to think logically about what was happening.

"Carry the child into the church, quickly!" the minister demanded Earl Bishop.

The man grabbed the small girl, restraining her attacking arms under his own. The pair hastily moved the short distance back over the wide threshold and into the church. The minister rushed along with the father and daughter pair. As they crossed back through the wide open church doorway the child instantly went limp and silent in her father's arms.

"Who afflicts thee, child?" The minister demanded, shaking the girl. The girl lifted her arm, covered in scratches that seeped blood, and weakly pointed straight towards Elizabeth. As the entire congregation gasped and once again turned all of their attention towards her, Elizabeth saw the girl bare her teeth in a smile with nothing but malicious intent.

She felt a strong hand wrap around her elbow tightly from behind her. "Come, Elizabeth." William's tone was just as firm as his grip as he pulled her to the pathway that would lead them back to his home. She could feel the stares boring into her back as her brother nearly dragged her stupefied body along, while his dutiful family trailed behind them. William's wife, Camilla, herded her daughters silently while keeping her eyes averted to the dirt path. None of them looked nearly as shocked as Elizabeth felt. She had a strong suspicion that they were running from an angry mob, though she had no idea why anyone had the right to be angry, save herself, and the mob had yet, it seemed, decided to give chase. It didn't take long to walk a distance that was out of sight from the congregation with the demanding pace that William was setting.

"What is happening, William!" Elizabeth insisted, attempting to pull her elbow free as she struggled to keep up with his brisk stride.

"Keep quiet!" he demanded, looking around suspiciously as he began to walk even quicker.

"William, please," Camilla called from behind them after a short while, the distance between them increasing with the young girls' inability to keep up with their father's much longer strides. He grunted with frustration as he released Elizabeth's arm to turn back and pick up two of his younger daughters, one in each arm, Camilla already held the baby. As soon as he had them secured he began to lead the family again, quickly towards the house.

Elizabeth turned to her sister-in-law in the time it took William to scoop the young girls up, she intended to ask Camilla what she could do to help with the eldest girls. She was stopped by the glare her brother's wife pointed in her direction when their eyes made contact. Camilla had been cordial to Elizabeth thus far in her short stay, even if she had sensed an underlying dislike of her imposition on the family's home from the older woman. The look she gave her was hostile enough to suffice in the place of words to express the extent of Camilla's dislike.

The events that had transpired only in the past ten minutes, since being excused from the morning's service, made Elizabeth feel as if she had been standing on a rug that had been ripped away from underneath her feet. In an instant, some strange child's misbehavior had somehow upended her already disheveled world further into chaos. She had been prone to daydreaming more than usual since the death of her husband, but she didn't think she had been lost in her own thoughts so far as to have missed some key piece of information that would explain the sudden overt animosity from the entire village, including her only remaining family. She didn't have much time to muse her thoughts over before the family had reached their destination.

William threw open the backdoor of the farm house and the children scattered up the stairs without need for further direction from their father. Camilla left the room as well, though she didn't miss the opportunity to make sure that Elizabeth saw her scowl. Elizabeth ignored her and faced her older brother in his kitchen.

"What is happening?" she demanded, all thoughts of propriety lost.

"Elizabeth, have you made an oath with the devil?" He grabbed the top of her arms and shook her as he asked.

"What? William, what are you talking about?" She gritted her teeth to keep them from knocking together from his shaking. She tried to turn out of his strong grip to no avail.

"Answer me!" he demanded.

"No!" she glared at him and his ridiculous accusations, "Of course not!" He looked deeply into her eyes, as if determining whether or not to believe her for a moment, then removed his hands from her upper arms.

"The Bishop girl has been afflicted by witches in the past in much the same manner as she behaved this morning." He sat at the small table and placed his head in his hands which frightened her more than anything had yet.

"What does that mean, William?" He didn't answer her. Elizabeth felt an increasing tension in her muscles at his silence. "She's obviously lying. Did no one see that child? If anyone is possessed by the devil it is her!"

"Hold your tongue, Elizabeth!"

"Why? If my reputation is damned, as your reaction indicates it is, why should it matter what I say of the little brat?"

"You do not understand." He sighed. "There has been a problem with witches in Salem lately. They have convicted and sentenced many women, and even some men, to death this past summer. It is not your reputation in the town that I worry for, Elizabeth, it is your life."

She felt as if she was sinking and at the same time had a strong sense of disbelief. Hadn't she been through enough? Was this her penance for not properly grieving her husband in her mind the way that he deserved?

"William, I am your sister, you know me not to be a witch. Surely you can tell the minister that this simply isn't true?"

"It will not matter what I say, I have seen it before. And," he finally looked up to her again from his spot at the head of the table, his eyes were full of pity, and a hint of what looked like guilt, "I have my girls to think of."

Her eyes, which had been so dry through all of the chaos of the aftermath of Henry's death, suddenly threatened tears. "So it is done? There is nothing I can do?" She turned to look at a spot on the wall, avoiding William's uncharacteristic sympathetic stare.

"I didn't want them to arrest you in front of the entire congregation, but they will come here and take you. I'm sorry Elizabeth."

"I think I will retire to my room for a while, I am not feeling well." She left without turning to look at her brother. Once she reached the small room upstairs where all her worldly possessions sat in bags and crates, she found her eyes were dry once again. Elizabeth longed for the catharsis that she knew crying could bring, but it seemed she would be denied that as well. She felt so empty and alone. No one in the world would truly care if injustice should befall her. Elizabeth contemplated whether things would be different if Henry were here to defend her, but could not imagine him doing so against the crowd of hostile strangers. If she was going to get out of this, she would have to figure it out on her own. She laid on top of the quilt on the narrow bed, still dressed fully from church, and stared at the ceiling awaiting her fate.

Elizabeth sat up much later, the muscles in her back stiff from being in one position too long. The early evening sun bathed the room in a warm golden glow from the western facing windows. There was silence throughout the full house and she was overwhelmed with an ominous dread. She felt a palpable compulsion pulling her towards the window to look out and did not have the strength to resist. As she sat up on the bed and looked out she saw several male figures on the path approaching the house from across the far field, still several minutes out. Tension coiled her muscles tightly, preparing for flight, but she had nowhere to run. She stood and took the few steps from the bed to the window. As the men neared closer to the house she recognized the tall imposing minister and the father of the Bishop girl. There were two other men among them, but she did not know them. The faces of the men were shrouded in shadows as they walked nearer with the sun to their backs. Elizabeth rang her hands and began to chew at her lip.

If they were here to arrest her, as she suspected they were, her brother would not protect her. He had blatantly told her as much in the kitchen earlier in the day. She wished she was noble enough not to blame him for that. She could logically understand William's duty to safeguard his wife and children, but upon hearing her oldest brother tell her that he would do nothing to defend her she felt the acrid sting of betrayal nonetheless.

Elizabeth left the room and descended the stairs into the main room of the house where the family sat silently. William sat in a chair facing windows that faced the same western direction that she had been looking through upstairs. He hadn't needed to see the men from the window to know they were coming. They were nearly upon them now. Elizabeth's older nieces avoided looking at her, as she was sure their mother had instructed. She was trapped in a tortuous period of waiting, and alternated in her mind between wishing she could stop time, and wishing she could just speed it up.

Elizabeth knew that everything was about to change, again. She took in everything in the small room and knew that it would be etched in her mind for the rest of her existence; the golden light that diagonally traversed through the windows over her brother's daughters, the illuminated particles of dust that danced through the air, the warm brown hues of the wooden floor and furniture throughout. Though these people were the only family that remained to her on this earth, she felt as if she were looking over a group of strangers.

Although she had been expecting it, the harsh knock on the wooden door made Elizabeth startle. William stood slowly from his chair, taking steps towards the door as if his legs were made of lead. From her angle, standing at the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth could not see which of the men was on the other side of the door as William opened it, but she believed she recognized the minister's voice after having listened to it for hours only that morning.

"Good evening Mr. Jones." The minister addressed her brother through the threshold. "May we come in." William seemed to legitimately contemplate the request before he stepped back and allowed the men to enter his home without a verbal response to the minister. The minister entered and his eyes scanned the room quickly and locked in on Elizabeth. His lip turned up infinitesimally as if he smelled something bad in the air. The patriarch of the Bishop family was on the minister's heels and entered the house next. His expression of disgust and anger was much less subtle than the minister's, but he held his tongue with clear forced restraint.

One of the strangers entered next, he was a large plump man with brown hair that had gone mostly gray in the temples and throughout his beard. He scanned the room as well upon entering, but did not only focus on Elizabeth. He seemed to study everyone and everything inside. The last to enter was a much younger man, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, he had short dark hair and a close cut beard over a sharp angular jaw. He was the tallest of the men and lean, but clearly muscled. His skin had been tanned from the sun and his eyes were a striking green that reminded her of a firefly. Those glowing eyes locked with her own the instant that he entered the room. She seemed unable to look away from him and had the feeling that he held a secret behind those magical eyes. He smirked knowingly at her and she felt her face flush instantly as she looked back towards the furious men she'd met that morning.