Salem 1693

Things were wilder back then, the world, magic, everything. There were darker things hiding around every corner. Children were warned of the dangers that lurked in the woods. Fairy stories were warnings, witches roamed the land looking for children to eat. Beware the candy houses and sweet singing in the woods.

Women said they could hear witch song over Salem harbor, like bird song only bitter. Men thought that their godliness would save them from the witches, but they kept their axes sharp and twisted new rope.

Abigail Cromwell was a witch. Just like her mother and her grandmother, and all the other women in her family. They weren't evil witches, they didn't want to live forever, or curse a town, or steal children away in the night. They wanted to help people with their knowledge and magic. And Abigail was trying very hard to learn from her mother, though her temper often made her wonder if she really was a good witch. She once hexed Elijah when he played a cruel joke on her, secretly getting her revenge on him until her mother found out and made her remove the spell.

It was the bad witches that gave them all a bad name. The Cromwells had been witches as far back as their family history went. Of course, their name had changed over the generations, but they were all witches, with the occasional warlock, but generally, there were girls born in their family line.

The witches everyone was so scared of thought there was nothing better or as sweet as the shinbones of little girls. Or some other equally terrible thing. But the Cromwells were not like that. Maria Cromwell had been trying to protect the town of Salem from the witches that wanted to harm it. She set out protective charms, that looked like dropped flowers or small stones with a rune draw on it with charcoal, nothing big or obvious, things people wouldn't look twice at. But to do that she had to walk around the edge of town every so often, making the townspeople think her a little odd, but she said that she was simply taking a stroll, and people shrugged and went on their way, her husband was the town's doctor (and well aware of what his wife and daughter were) so nobody wanted the doctor mad at them for accusing his wife of being odd.

But there were other witches near Salem. The ones that put everyone on edge. They didn't live near enough to be a bother unless livestock died, or a child was sick. Then the people started to mutter about the Sanderson Sisters – Mary, Sarah, and Winnie – who had not been girls for a while but did not merit the respect of 'ladies'. But no matter what happened, someone would intervene for them.

'They're no bother. Just batty girls playing in the woods.'

'Leave them be. Don't you remember how kind their mother was, and how generous?'

And it all made sense, at the time. But once the town meeting was over, no one could quite remember who the someone that spoke for the Sisters had been.

And it stayed like that for a while.

Until Emily Binx went missing.

It wasn't unusual for Emily to stray close to the woods. Her mother often scolded her for it, but not too hard. Emily was a serious nine-year-old. Pious. Flipping through her prayer book and not paying attention to where her feet took her.

She was old enough to understand the rumors about the Sanderson sisters, Abigail had warned her about them when she was much younger. They were said to be horrible old women, according to Abigail, to be avoided at all costs. But whenever Emily saw them in town, which wasn't often, they were very kind to her. They didn't smile much, with their crooked backs and dusty faces she supposed it might be hard to be happy enough to smile about anything, but when they saw her, they always smiled and clapped. Miss Sarah and Miss Mary always said she had rosy pink cheeks and pretty hands, things her mother would never say for fear of indulging vanity. Miss Winnie would even awkwardly pat her shoulder and tell her to get back to her mother before she ate the little girl up.

All of that made her less afraid of the woods than most other people. She was even less afraid of Thackery, who was seven years older than her, and at the age were everything a woman does is highly suspect. So, when Emily started to dream of the woods, she wasn't startled.

In her dreams, the forest promised an adventure, with its cool air that tasted faintly of damp soil a crumbling bark. It was welcoming and mysterious and she longed to see what was inside. She never mentioned her dreams to anyone.

Thackery dreamed of the woods too, but his dreams showed the forest as the border of the world he knew and the world of witches. He often woke feeling more tired than when he had gone to bed. He never told Emily, his parents, Abigail, or Elijah.

Emily didn't tell because she feared her mother would scold her for letting her imagination run wild beyond her prayer book. Thackery never told anyone for fear of what his dreams meant there was something dark in his head or worse, his heart.

Abigail would also dream of the woods, but her dreams showed them as they were. She saw the trees and the animals, and worst of all the sisters. She could often see their house in her dreams. Never the inside though, just the outside. Even if a window was open, she couldn't peer into it. And the dreams always left her with a sense of foreboding. But unlike the Binx children, she told her mother. And Marie tried her best to ease her daughter's worries, but the older woman knew that this wasn't a good sign.

Marie hadn't been walking the borders of the town as often as she used to, she'd just had another daughter a few months before and hadn't quite regained her health. She was feeling weaker and weaker every day. So, her protection spells were weaker than ever.

Little did anyone know the other children in town were also having strange dreams of the forest. But they never said a thing, for reasons more personal than the next.

Abigail was woken up by her mother in the early hours before dawn. It was early and she could feel something was off. Something was happening, something magical.

"-gail, Abigail!" Marie shook her daughter, trying to wake her. "Something terrible has happened."

Abigail was instantly awake. What had happened? Was there illness in town? Had her mother gotten sick? Had her sister? Or worse? Had the townspeople found out they were witches?

It was a constant fear to be found out. She wasn't very good at her magic; her spells were often silly rhymes that usually worked the way they should. Her mother's spells were much more efficient and powerful, hers were all in Latin, a language Abigail loathed learning. She often wondered what would happen if Salem found out about her and her mother, but more recently she'd started wondering what Thackery Binx specifically would think.

"My spells to keep the Sanderson sister's enchantments out broke." Abigail snapped out of her thoughts, that was terrible. Those spells kept the sisters from enchanting anyone in town, it protected the children of Salem specifically. "I'm going to try and fix them, but I need you to stop any children from wandering into the forest."

"Yes, mother," Abigail nodded solemnly. She quickly got out of bed and dressed as quickly as possible, not bothering to wash her face or braid her hair. She wouldn't let anyone be harmed. She took to the streets of Salem, the world sounding too quiet, too still in the early morning.

But the damage had been done. A spell had made it into Salem.

Emily Binx woke in the dreamy light of dawn. For a moment she thought it was because of the cock's crow, but then she realized that the animals – for whatever reason – were silent.

She crept to the window and peered out. She saw the roosters and chickens asleep. The chickens usually clucked while they dozed but this morning, they were silent. The strangeness of it all led her to slip from the house without changing out of her bedclothes. Her mother would be scandalized if she was caught dressed like this.

She could hear a faint song in the air. It didn't sound like anything she was used to, not like the birds, or the hymns the pastor's wife lead at church. It was delicate and sweet like it could melt or sour if it wasn't used right away.

Emily stepped through the yard, passing a cluster of goats and her father's pony, Mopsie. She patted the horse on the nose and giggled at his little snort before she carried on.

She walked into town. Passed the milliner's house, and the butchers. The houses had their curtains drawn and they were silent. She walked by the bakery, spotting Elizabeth, the baker, working through the window.

Elizabeth was a woman in her early twenties who had been seen less frequently since the witch trials had begun. The people that did see her said she was a simple beauty, they said. She was tall with dark curly hair and wore a pale-yellow cloak in almost any weather.

The smell of boiling fruit and sugar stopped Emily.

A little girl, about Emily's age, looked out the window, giving Emily a friendly wave until a man called her away.

"Ismay, get away from the windows." His voice was hushed and urgent.

Elizabeth moved to close the window when she locked eyes with Emily.

"What brings you outside so early this morning, Miss Emily?" Elizabeth pushed the window open better to see the little girl. "And how on earth did your mother let you outside without shoes, my dear?"

"The whole world seems to be asleep." Emily giggled.

"John Barker's ale must have been strong last night," Elizabeth reasoned, then she held up the apple she'd been slicing. "I'll have pie later, but you won't be allowed in until you've changed."

Emily nodded somberly. "I'm going to find the music first."

"Don't follow it." Elizabeth's face turned grave.

"But it's prettier than any tune I've ever heard before, miss."

"Beautiful things have a way of obscuring danger, my dear girl. Don't –" The smell of burning fruit filled the air along with the sound of clumsy gurgling distracted Elizabeth. She moved to take the delicate preserve off the stove, but when she turned back to the window, Emily was gone.

Elizabeth thought about following for a moment, perhaps she could do something to get the girl to return home, but then the doctor's daughter, Abigail, came running down the street.

"Miss Elizabeth, good morning." Abigail greeted, though she was very distracted.

"Good morning, my dear, is everything alright?" It was unusual to see anyone out this morning, and now she'd seen two children, though one she was sure was enchanted by something, either magic or a lingering dream.

"You haven't seen anyone else this morning, have you?" Abigail focused her grey eyes on Elizabeth.

"Emily Binx was just here a moment ago," Elizabeth said. "I was trying to get her to go home, she was in her nightclothes, but she disappeared before I could convince her."

"Thank you." Abigail started to head in the same direction Emily had been walking.

"It's dangerous out this morning, you should go home!" Elizabeth called out the window. But the older woman knew that neither girl would be going home now. Emily was enchanted and Abigail was looking for the little girl.

Thackery jolted awake, the sound of Mopsie whinnying bringing him from his dreams to reality.

A layer of sweat stuck his linen shirt to his back as he sat up, his long sandy hair still mostly tied back but some had escaped the tie in his sleep and now stuck to his face. His ears slowly adjusted to the commotion outside. The sun was already higher in the sky than it normally was when he woke, meaning he'd slept through the cock crow, and now his father would be angry that he hadn't milked the cow yet.

Thackery flopped back down in his bed. Perhaps he could say he was sick. He looked to his left, hoping Emily would cover for him, but her unmade bed was empty. Her church dress was still hung by the fire with her gabled cap. He looked around the small room they shared, looking for something. Emily's shoes were by the door as well, which was very unlike his sister.

Thackery hurried out of bed. He couldn't smell the woodsmoke that would mean his mother was cooking porridge in the main room. Nor could he hear his father greeting neighbors in the street as they came back from the harbor.

Something was very wrong.

Thackery dashed outside, sending the chickens scrambling. Mopsie's head hung limp, no longer tied to the tree. A shiver slid down Thackery's spine. Thackery spotted his best friend, Elijah, from the gate of the sheep's pen, and he was rubbing his eyes as though he'd just woken as well.

"Elijah!" Thackery called, forgoing his shoes in his haste. Thackery grabbed Elijah's forearm, making his friend turn and blink as though he was coming out of a dream.

"Has thee seen my sister, Emily?" Thackery asked.

"Nay," Elijah answered. "But look: they conjure."

Thackery followed his friend's gaze. Far past the fields, deep from in Salem Woods, a plume of heavy smoke rose from between the trees. The smoke was an unnatural pink color – bright and conspicuous. It made his stomach flip.

"The woods," Thackery half-whispered, the feel of the half-dreamed ghost of witchy hands tightening around his neck. He pulled Elijah's shirt sleeve and the two boys raced down the lane to the field. It was there that Thackery caught the sight of his sister's slight frame slipping into the shadow of the woods. And not too far behind her, maybe three-quarters of the way to the wood, the sun glinted off the auburn hair of Abigail Cromwell as she too headed for the woods. Thackery felt like his heart was being squeezed. Emily and Abigail were headed to the woods, both in danger. He had to save them.

"Wake my father," Thackery ordered his friend, not taking his eyes off where Emily slipped into the woods, where Abigail was heading. "Summon the others. Go!"

Before Elijah could respond, Thackery was racing through the field, towards the witching wood, shouting his sister's name. Maybe if Emily came out it would be over. Abigail wasn't in the woods yet; he could catch her and send her home.

But Abigail had also entered the woods. Thackery lept over a branch and ducked under another. Then he lost his footing and tumbled down a steep embankment, where he landed in a thick bed of leaves. He groaned, not prepared for the fall, but forced himself up onto one arm and then to his aching feet.

He stood before the Sanderson house. It sat crookedly upon its foundation and sagged in the eaves, though it was much newer than the buildings in town. Wooden shutters obscured the windows, and weeds grew in thick clumps around the base of the house. There were some blue flowers, despite the October chill, and Thackery had no doubt that they tasted sweet as honey but would kill a man in minutes.

A hand reached out and covered his mouth and another grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the house. His protests were muffled but the hand but he as stronger than his captor and broke free before they got very far. Thackery whirled around, ready to attack until he saw Abigail was his attacker.

She pressed a finger to her lips, indicating he stay quiet, before pointing to the house. Where the water wheel was groaning as it turned in the creek. The smoke hung thick above it and promised something wicked.

Emily disappeared inside as Thackery and Abigail watched helplessly. Thackery was trapped by the memory of when he and Elijah clambered down her at age twelve, daring each other to throw pebbles at the door, the memory of his heart knocking against his ribs and leaping into his throat when Winifred Sanderson stepped out with her wild hair and threatened to roast them with chicken of the wood and worm snakes' tongues. Abigail was trapped in thoughts that she'd failed; Emily had been enchanted and it was her fault. Her mother had wanted her to help with the spell, but she wasn't good enough at Latin, didn't apply herself enough.

Both children pushed their thoughts aside, they had to save Emily.

Abigail started to cross the flat stepping-stones, but Thackery grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him.

"You should go back," he whispered. "It is not safe for thee."

"Tis no safer for thee, Thackery Binx," Abigail argued back. "I'll not let thee do this alone." She pulled her arm free of Thackery's hand and stepped across the flat stones to a low window. Thackery followed quickly.

Inside the sisters were doing the Devil's work. They each wore a heavy cape with a pointed hood – one green as leaves before fall, one red as clay, and one a purple deeper than an elderberry's juice. Together they danced and rocked slowly around poor sweet Emily.

Emily was seated in a heavy chair, looking patiently at the three women as though she expected a present at the end of all of this. Her eyes widened when she saw Thackery and Abigail peaking in the window, making the two intruders hurry out of sight and shut the window.

Thackery grabbed Abigail's hand and dragged her along as he climbed around the waterwheel and ducked into an alcove just as the rusted hinge on the window creaked and Winifred Sanderson's high haughty voice rang out above them.

"Oh, look," she sighed, resigned. "Another glorious morning. Makes me sick!"

She slammed the window shut again, and Thackery leaned into the stone of the building, relieved at not being caught. Though he instantly tensed as Abigail leaned into him, also relaxing at not being caught. And though he relaxed again after a moment, he still felt like his ribs had been knotted with a tight rope.

Emily was trapped inside with three witches and he had no idea what to do to save her.

A/N: Happy Halloween! Well, it's a little early for that. But this is my story for this month. I plan on posting a chapter every three days, with the last chapter being posted on Halloween. I used both the novelization of the movie and the movie itself to write this, so if there is stuff you don't recognize it's probably from the book. The book included a sequel story (which I haven't read yet) and there is the rumor saying Disney is making/has made a sequel so if that's true, I may figure out how to include Abigail in the sequel.

Hello, I got a review from a guest, and it made me feel I needed to clarify something. My Abigail, the Abigail in this story, is not meant to be the Abigail Williams from the Crucible or the actual Salem Witch Trials. I actually forgot that there was an Abigail involved in the Salem Witch Trials or I might have picked a different name, but it's too late now. I simply googled common names for the 1600s and Abigail was the one I liked. So it is pure coincidence that her name is Abigail.