Purple smoke billowed from a chimney. The house that claimed the chimney was a small cottage deep in the Massachusetts woods. The cottage belonged to three witches. Sisters, by the names of Winifred, Sarah, and Mary Sanderson. And the oldest, Winifred, had a child.
Said child was young, only four years old, but she was already very adept at magic. Beautiful curly red hair, blue eyes, and a petite frame, she was the spitting image of her mother. Her aunts were not so similar physically or magically. Mary was the middle sister and was brunette, brown-eyed, somewhat lacking in intelligence, and not very powerful. Her only useful talent was sniffing out children. Sarah, the youngest, was blonde, blue-eyed, and the least intelligent. Her magic was the weakest, her only talent being her ability to entrance children with her voice.
But magic, any magic, had a price.
This night, Winifred was brewing a potion to reverse age, as they had paid for their magic with their youth. Her daughter was happily playing with her pet cat, levitating and lowering it. Sarah had just lured a little girl from the town into the cottage so they could steal her life force. Winifred had put her under a spell and now she sat deathly still in a chair. What the three women didn't know was that the girl's brother, Thackeray, had followed his sister to the cottage with the intent of saving her. He was hiding behind a support beam on the second floor, but Mary smelled him.
"Winnie," she said, tapping her sister on the shoulder, "I smell a child."
Annoyed, Winifred spun around. "Nyah, and what does thou call that?!" she asked, gesturing to the still girl.
"A child?"
"Hmph!" She spun back around, going over to the cauldron. "Sisters, gather round! One thing more and all is done! Add a bit of thine own tongue." They spat into the potion, causing it to turn green. "Tis ready for tasting," she said as she filled a large wooden spoon.
The three approached the girl, and she obediently opened her mouth.
"No!" Thackeray yelled, jumping to the ground floor.
"A boy!" Sarah cried happily.
At the soft of the boy, Winifred's daughter scrambled behind a shelf of empty vials, peering around the edge to see the outcome.
"A boy! Oh, I knew I smelled a child!" Mary gloated.
"Don't just stand there! Get him, you fools!" Winifred screeched. Thackeray stepped behind the cauldron, and Winifred's eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. "Keep him away from my cauldron!" she shrieked.
Mary and Sarah rushed toward the cauldron. Thackeray, sensing he was trapped, shoved the cauldron toward the sisters. They pushed it back, but when he shoved it again it came off its hook, knocking the two back and spilling onto the floor. Winifred screamed angrily and conjured lightning, her special talent. It shot from her hands, shocking and killing Thackeray instantly. Mary, sitting up from where she had knocked over a shelf of bottles, noticed a silvery aura around their captive.
"Winnie, Winnie, look," she said, pointing to the child.
"Ah," Winifred said with a smile as she caught sight of the aura. "The potion works! Take my hands, we will share her."
"Oh Winnie, how generous of thee!" Mary said excitedly.
The three women joined hands and began to suck in the silver aura. The child began to lose color in her hair and cheeks. Winifred's daughter watched in awe. As one, all three women dropped their heads, and the little girl in the chair slumped forward, dead.
"Sisters! Behold!" Winifred gasped.
"I...am...beautiful! Boys will love me!" Sarah cried, straightening.
She now appeared to be in her late twenties, rather than the old hag she had been minutes before.
"We're young!" Mary laughed, clapping her hands.
Winifred spun around, clutching a small band mirror. Her hair was now a bright fiery red, and her face was free of wrinkles. But her front teeth made her look uglier than her two sisters.
"Well, younger," she said calmly. "But, it's a start!"
Amazed, her daughter crept out from her hiding place. She studied her mother from afar before deciding she did indeed look like the mother she remembered from a few months prior.
"Mommy!" the younger redhead called.
Winifred's eyes darted to her child. Immediately, her face softened, and she smiled. She may be evil, but her daughter was her pride and joy, and the only thing she loved as much as her Master. She crouched down, opening her arms, and her daughter ran to her. She scooped her up, clutching her to her chest. She hadn't been very affectionate as of late, mainly due to her mother's haggard appearance.
Suddenly, a banging came on the door. Winifred's eyes widened as she saw the torches through the windows.
"Witches!" came the angry shouts from outside. "Daughters of darkness! Open the door!"
"Hide the children!" Winifred hissed to her sisters.
Quickly, Mary and Sarah three blankets over the two bodies. Shifting her daughter, who had buried her face in her neck in fright, to one arm, she threw her weight against the door.
"Witches? There be no witches here!" Mary called in a high voice, throwing her weight against the door also.
"We're just three kindly old spinster ladies!" Winifred called.
"Spending a quiet evening at home!" added Mary.
"Sucking the lives out of little children!" Sarah yelled happily, oblivious to the danger just outside.
Winifred screamed in rage, her free hand shooting to the blonde's throat to choke her. The townspeople had heard enough, and began to break down the door. Quickly, leaving Mary to guard the door, Winifred darted to the trapdoor that led to the cellar. Inside was a small escape tunnel in case of fire. She opened it, kissed her daughter on the head, and lowered her inside. She had just replaced the rug that covered the trapdoor when when the front door burst open and dozens of angry men stormed in.
From her hiding place, the little girl heard the sound of many men stomping around. She heard her aunts crying, asking her mother what they should do. Her mother never said a word.
When the house was once again calm she chanced coming out of her hiding place. She crept to the window and looked out. It was dark now, showing how much time had passed since they came. The townspeople had fashioned a hanging platform with three barrels and rope strung over a tree limb, and her mother and aunts stood upon them. Each had their hands bound and wore a necklace of rope.
One man held Book, and she noticed its eye was closed. That wasn't good. It's eye was always open, always.
"Hast thou chosen to repent of thy devil-worship?" a man, obviously the leader, called out.
"Never!" her mother cried.
"Then thou must suffer the punishment!"
He waved a hand, and the barrels fell. She screamed as she watched her family die. A woman nearest the door heard her scream above the gasp of the crowd and turned her head just in time to see a flash of purple in the window. Stepping away from her husband, she slipped through the door. Entering, she saw a small child huddled in a corner trying to hide. She was wearing a purple dress.
She called to her husband, who came and brought with him some other men.
"Look! Tis a child that hath lived!" she said.
"Indeed. Come here, child. We shall take thee to thy parents."
Knowing she had no other choice, the child went over to the couple and they escorted her from the house.