If you haven’t read parts 1 and 2 or if you need a refresher, here they are:
Beth was fascinated with the lesson she learned about the Salem Witch Trials of the 17th century. When she arrived home from school, she opened her book and continued reading. Beth gasped at the sight of the picture of the young woman from her dream the night before. The caption read Raven Sullivan, accused witch, who after a one-day trial was found guilty and sentenced to death.
October 31,1692 - Salem Village, Massachusetts Bay Colony
“Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Let me go!”
Raven struggled to free herself from the two men as they wrapped the rope around her body. They secured her in place against a tall, wooden torture stake. Just below her was a pile of wood.
One of the men yanked the pentagram pendant from around Raven’s neck.
“Give it back!” Raven demanded.
The man laughed and threw the pendant on the ground as he followed his partner down from the torture stake and into the crowd.
Under the grey clouds of the night sky, Raven scanned the crowd that had gathered around her. The fire from the torches the people held illuminated the narrowed eyes, flared nostrils and clenched jaws on the faces of the men, women and children of Salem Village. A cold breeze of the autumn air caused Raven to shiver.
“Help me!” she screamed.
“Shut up, Witch!” yelled a man from the crowd.
Raven could barely move any inch of her body as she was so tightly bound to the stake.
“Get me down from here! You have no right to do this to me.”
A village woman waved her arms in the air as if to conjure up something magical. “Why don’t you use your sorcery to free yourself?”
The crowd burst into laughter.
Raven cried out, “Stop it! All of you.”
A boy picked up a rock and threw it at her, hitting her on her cheek. More rocks and twigs flew in her direction.
The villagers continued laughing.
Raven put her head down and wept.
“Enough!” yelled a man in a white barrister wig and long black robe.
The crowd went silent.
The man made his way to the torture stake, accompanied by a very large man holding a flamed torch.
“Raven Sullivan, you are being put to death this 31st day of October for the crime of witchcraft. Have you any last words?” asked the man in the wig.
Raven raised her head. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, she looked at the man and then to the people of the village.
“Judge, my body you may kill, but my soul is eternal. And I will haunt and destroy you all!”
The crowd yelled insults and profanities. Some laughed.
The judge nodded to the large man.
The large man lit the pile of wood at the base of the stake.
“Aaaaah!” Raven’s eyes grew wide.
The villagers continued their yelling, screaming and laughter. A melody from a violin and clapping hands could be heard.
Raven peered downward at the fire rising just beneath her bare feet. The heat made her sweat. She shook her head and rapidly blinked her eyes.
Please let it rain, she thought.
She watched the crowd dancing and celebrating. A toddler picked up Raven’s pendant and threw it in the fire.
“Eeeeek!” The fire consumed her feet and was moving up her legs.
A clap of thunder filled the air.
With clenched teeth, Raven shifted her head toward the sky.
Beneath the heat of the fire, Raven felt something moving within her gut. Her face tightened. The rumble in her stomach mixed with the hot flames was too much for her to bear. The crowd’s cheering drowned her own thoughts. Whatever it was had moved up her throat and to her mouth. A lion’s roar was her scream. Astaroth’s snout poked out of Raven’s mouth.
The villagers paused their activities of excitement.
The fire was up to Raven’s neck. Smoke rose high into the sky. Her eyes turned from green to black and two horns grew from her head.
Everyone screamed. People scrambled, pushed and trampled over one another to escape.
The snout turned into fire that shot from Raven’s mouth to the man who told her to shut up.
“She really is a witch,” yelled the woman from earlier.
Raven shot a ball of fire into the woman’s mouth. There was more thunder and still no rain.
Totally engulfed in the fire, Raven laughed a deep, grotesque snicker.
With her fire, she burned the wig atop the judge’s head. She continued hitting people with fire. Some laid dead, others got away and some continued dodging the fire.
A girl in tattered clothing, a village slave, watched the entire event from behind a tree. She held black tourmaline beads up to her lips and kissed them. She ran up to Raven’s burning body and pitched the beads into the fire.
A thunderous roar came from the flames. Within a blink of an eye, Raven’s orange flaming figure descended into the ground and shook the earth. Rain came down and extinguished the empty torture stake.
The slave girl searched within the embers at the bottom of the stake. She saw that the beads were undestroyed. She picked them up and put them around her neck.
To be continued…
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