Stories About The Salem Witch Trials Novels & Stories

I could notice something etched on her forehead. It was a mark, a sigil of some sorts. It was a straight line with two other lines crossing on it, meeting at the top intersection. I knew that mark, I have come across it before. It was the mark of Saetani, the sleep demon. During the late 1600, Saerah Dumire was a witch caught during the Salem witch trial and was accused of practicing dark witchcraft.

They took delight—especially around Halloween—in scaring kids with talk about the coven of witches who used to frequent the area, one of whom allegedly wrote The Book of Shadows, a grimoire of great power. The author was thought to be one Delores Mellor who, along with her four other coven members, died at the hands of the Witchfinder General in the 18th Century. Summer tourists often came to the cove, fascinated with its macabre history. For, although the true nature of the tales surrounding it was fantastic, it was also a fact that five women had actually died as a result of a witch trial, and such an event would only continue to serve to fascinate.

I agreed and fell asleep quickly. It seemed like I wasn’t asleep for more than a few minutes when I was suddenly back in that room with my sister and now, two brothers. They were all shackled to the floor. I did notice that the window was no longer tall, but wide. One of them had turned the window sideways, and I know why. During the era of the Salem Witch Trials, the houses in the affected areas started being built with one window at an odd angle or sideways. It was called a Witch’s Window because a witch wouldn’t be able to fly through it on her broom. It was a human attempt to deter witches from entering their homes.

I was about to say something when that woman who had been following me around at the festival appeared. "Ms. Stephens I've been waiting for you by the river. What is taking you so long?" She asked, placing her hands on her waist. How did she know we were going to the river? "I know you boys." She said looking at the group of men. "If I remember correctly your grandfathers tried to have me killed back in 1692 during the Salem Witch Trials. Do I need to do to you what they did to me?" The men backed up at the threat and she smiled.

I gesture to the book in my lap, “I guess I was inspired.” “The Salem Witch Trials is a dark subject to touch on.” The girl remarks. “But since we live in Massachusetts and it's kind of like our 'claim to fame' we have to do reports on it, every year around this time. This is my ninth report on the witch trials.” I say. Every Halloween is when we study this fascinating subject. I feel myself being drawn to the violence and misery of the stories. Morbid, I know, but I can't seem to help myself. It just fascinates me to no end.

“I have a husband.” Several groans sounded that made Cameron and me smile at each other before we were forced to pay attention to class. “Alright then, let’s start today’s lesson.” Mrs. Kovac gave us another smile. “Turn to page 94, The Salem Witch Trials.”

Anytime I try to recall that child, or any fragment of the life I supposedly have, I always end up with a splitting headache. So I've come to terms, that if I don't recall it, it doesn't exist. Even if the media had once talked about it, they could as well as be lying. Since they lied that Salem kidnapped me and he tried to traffic me. Even though it was Abigail behind everything. They just painted her as a bystander and made Salem take the fall and didn't even utter a thing about Emmette being at the scene of the crime. Anytime I thought about that man, my blood boiled. And something tells me that he's behind the reason why Salem is taking the fall.

"I have a husband." Several groans sounded that made Cameron and me smile at each other before we were forced to pay attention to class. "Alright then, let's start today's lesson." Mrs. Kovac gave us another smile. "Turn to page 94, The Salem Witch Trials."

“I thought they had all gone extinct from the Witch Trials.” Liam’s father leaned back and sighed. Liam knew all too well about the Witch Trials. Many innocent women burned at the stake for trying to help people using science. It scared off the good witches, or even the not so good witches, and they left Liam’s small town within the month. The Witch Trials continued on for years, though, murdering millions of women and even men based on hearsay. It was not a happy time in the small town’s history. Not many looked back on it with pride. In fact, Liam’s father’s reaction was how many people acted when asked about the story. It wasn’t exactly one many people remembered with fondness, after all.

The monstrosity would serve as a daily reminder not to venture into the dark wilderness. He shook his head as he saw werewolves everywhere, in every corner, intermingled with the humans. If he hadn't cloaked his scent, they might have recognised him; for now, he was thankful that he remembered how to cloak his vampire scent. Regardless, the peasant smell of wood smoke permeated most of that peasant clothing and seemed to act as a deodorant. Peasant women spun wool into the threads that were woven into the cloth for these garments. In these centuries, there were tens of thousands of witchcraft trials throughout Europe. The concern about witchcraft was a sign of troubled times. He knew it from