Once Upon a Time...
"The Legend of Long Ago"
Written by: "Fun But Shy Girl"
The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the desolate fields. A blonde teenage girl with braids and a dirty dress ran quickly through the fields, her ragged dress fluttering in the cool breeze. Her heart pounded in her chest like a rabbit's foot in a snare. She had been running for hours, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her eyes darting from side to side in search of any sign of danger. Soon the sun was almost set. The girl soon found herself stumbling into a small clearing and her eyes widened in shock. A barn stood before her, its wooden slats weathered and worn, with a large grinning skeleton painted on the wall of the barn. The girl, startled by the image of the skeleton, stumbled back, tripping over a rogue root that had dared to break through the hardened earth. The impact jolted through the girls' body, sending a sharp pain up her spine, and she let out a shriek that echoed through the stillness.
Before she had the chance to compose herself, a figure emerged from the shadows of the barn, startling the girl further. It was a teenage boy, tall and lanky with a mop of dark hair that fell into his eyes. He took a tentative step towards her, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Easy there," he said, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "It's just a painting." The girls' breath hitched in her throat as she took in the sight of the skeleton, now clearly a two-dimensional drawing rather than the grim reaper she had first feared. The boy offered her a small, crooked smile. "My name is Dudley," he said. "And that," he nodded at the barn, "is my barn."
The teenage boy helped the girl to her feet as he said, "And who might you be young lady?" As the blonde girl stood up, she looked into Dudley's eyes as she said, "My name... is Goody." Dudley smirked as he said, "Well then Goody, perhaps you haven't heard, but they say the winter of 1687 may be the coldest it's ever been in this land. I can't in good conscience let you continue to wander outside if the snow begins to come in tonight. Please come into my home and share a meal with me."
As Goody stepped slowly into Dudley's nearby home, she looked slightly scared though as she asked, "Why do you have such a... macabre picture on your barn?" Dudley kept a smile on his face as he simply said, "To keep the superstitious and cowardly at bay... but also because I find comfort in the reminder that we're all made of bones beneath our skin. I know skeletons are often an image that represents death... but I find comfort in the fact that even after our souls leave this world, a part of ourselves; such as our bones still carry on. It's like our lives still continue in a way on this world even past death. It makes me feel less... afraid of the end. Now come. There is plenty of food in my home."
The warmth of the fire inside the barn washed over Goody as she stepped through the door, the smell of stew and bread wafting from a bubbling cauldron and a stone oven. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since dawn. Dudley set a plate before her filled with food that looked heaven-sent. She devoured it greedily, her eyes never leaving his. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Dudley spoke again. "Where do you come from Goody? What brings you to this land?"
Goody took a deep breath. "I come from the town of Jericho," she said. "My family... they were all witches. They were all recently killed by zealots." She braced herself for his shock or revulsion, but instead, his eyes filled with compassion. "No living being made by God deserves such an end," he said softly. "Especially not by the hands of fearful men." The weight of his words sank in, and Goody felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps she had found a place where she could be herself, where she wouldn't be feared or hunted. "Well now your turn kind sir," she said. "What of your family? Surely it is strange that someone as young as you would also be found alone on a night like this."
Dudley's gaze drifted to the floor. "My parents," he began. "They were good hardworking people. But shortly after I helped them finish building this wonderful home, the plague took both of them, leaving me all alone. That was two years ago. I do have an older brother though, but he's off exploring the uncharted west. So I've been living here, keeping to myself, ever since my parents passed on." Goody sat silent for a moment... but then looked determined as she said, "Well as a thank you for your hospitality, perhaps I can help you around this home for some time." Dudley suddenly looked more happy as he said, "Well Miss Goody... if that's what you'd like, you can stay for as long as you believe is necessary to repay me."
The following days passed swiftly as Goody and Dudley settled into a comfortable routine. She helped him with the chores around the farm, her nimble hands adept at mending clothes, tending to the garden, and even helping with the livestock. Dudley watched her work with admiration. Her strength and resilience were unlike any he had seen before, and he found himself drawn to her fiery spirit. Then one day Dudley was having difficultly using his musket to shoot down some wildlife he was trying to kill for dinner. Suddenly Goody came to Dudley's side with his spare musket, and shot down a deer in one shot. Dudley immediately looked at Goody with admiration as he said, "Goody... that was astounding." Goody smirked as she said, "My parents picked up a few skills from Spanish explorers they met long ago, and passed those skills onto me."
Eventually one evening Goody and Dudley sat by the fire, the weight of the day's labor heavy on their shoulders. As they sat near each other, a smiling Dudley said, "You know Goody... you've done more than enough to repay me for my hospitality now." Then Goody, seeming a little nervous now, looked deep into Dudley's eyes as she said, "Actually... I think it may take me a long time to repay you for your hospitality. So I will need to stay here much longer." Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the flames of the fire reflected in Goody's eyes, casting a warm glow across her face. They shared a silent understanding in their eyes, while their words continued a facade as Dudley simply said, "Very well then..."
As the months dragged into winter, Goody began to teach Dudley some of the knowledge her mother had taught her about healing and herbs. Dudley listened intently, his curiosity piqued by her wisdom. He was especially intrigued by her stories of the magical properties of certain plants and the rituals she described. Goody shared her family's secrets with a fierce passion to Dudley, as if by speaking them aloud she could keep their memory alive. Their bond grew stronger as they faced the harsh winter together. The snow fell in thick blankets, and the wind howled like a pack of hungry wolves, but within their home, they had built a sanctuary.
One frigid night, the cold seeped through the cracks in the walls and chilled the floorboards. Dudley, who typically slept on the floor, shivered under his fur blanket. Goody, feeling a pang of sympathy, suggested they share the bed for warmth. She had noticed the way Dudley's eyes had been lingering on her more frequently, the way his cheeks reddened when she caught him staring. The silence grew thick as they began to lay side by side, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Goody's heart fluttered like a caged bird, and she could feel Dudley's eyes on her in the darkness. They had become so close, yet the line between friendship and something more remained uncrossed.
Finally, Goody spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Dudley, I've lost everyone I've ever loved. A part of me doesn't wish to love anymore; for if I love never more, I'll never feel the pain of loss anymore. But now I know... the greater pain would be to never feel love again... or rather in our case... this love." With trembling hands, and before either of them could say another word, Goody leaned in and pressed her lips to Dudley's.
The kiss was tentative at first, as if they were both afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the fragile moment. But as the cold seeped away, replaced by the heat of their passion, the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Dudley pulled away, breathless, and whispered, "We'll stay warmer if our bodies are pressed against one another without anything between them." Without a word, a smiling Goody quickly shed her clothes in the flickering firelight. Dudley immediately followed. Goody and Dudley, now both completely bare embraced one another, sending a jolt through their bodies, and suddenly the fear and doubt that had been holding them back disappeared like snow in the sun.
Their kiss quickly grew more intense, their tongues dancing together in an erotic waltz as their hands began to explore each other's bodies. Goody's soft curves melded against Dudley's firm frame, and his calloused hands felt like sandpaper on her smooth skin. They were like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their match, fitting together perfectly. Dudley took his time, as he moved to kissing Goody's neck, her collarbone, and the tops of her breasts. Goody's breath hitched as his mouth found her nipples, his teeth grazing gently against the sensitive flesh. Her body arched upward, a silent plea for more. Dudley didn't disappoint. His hands slid down her body, tracing the curves of her hips and thighs before finding the wet heat between her legs. He stoked the fire inside her, building it up until she was trembling beneath him.
Meanwhile Goody's hands found their way to Dudley's manhood, her fingers wrapping around him with a gentle firmness. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a low groan. She took his hard member in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him in a dance that was both tender and hungry. Dudley's hands fisted in the bed sheets, his body tight with need. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer. As Goody climbed on top of Dudley, straddling him, she looked into his eyes with a fiery determination that made his heart race. He felt her warmth as she positioned herself over him, her slick folds parting to accept his manhood. Dudley watched in amazement as she took control, her hips moving in a rhythm that was both ancient and new to him.
Their bodies now moved in harmony, the only sounds in the room their mingled gasps and the slap of skin on skin. The fire crackled in the background, casting shadows across their entwined forms. Goody's breasts bounced with every movement, and Dudley couldn't resist reaching up to squeeze them, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter within them like a spring ready to snap. Goody's movements grew more erratic, her breaths coming in sharp pants. Dudley could feel her muscles tightening around him, could see the pleasure etched on her face like a map to ecstasy.
And then it hit them both like a thunderbolt from the heavens, their bodies convulsing as they climaxed together. The aftermath was a sweet, sticky mess of limbs and sighs. They lay tangled in the bed, their hearts hammering against each other's chests. The warmth of their bodies kept the cold at bay, and as Goody and Dudley fell asleep in each other's arms: the two finally completely understood what it meant to be in love as they peacefully and comfortably drifted to sleep.
Nine months later though Goody began screaming in pain as her contractions began. Dudley had readied himself for this moment, but nothing could have prepared him for the raw, unbridled power of Goody going through the process of childbirth. He held her hand, whispered comforting words into her ear, and wiped the sweat from her brow. The pain was immense, a storm that raged within Goody's body. But she endured it all, her love for her unborn children acting as a beacon of strength.
With a final, guttural scream, Goody pushed, and life entered the world. A baby boy, squalling and red-faced, followed by a baby girl, equally loud and equally beautiful. Dudley's heart swelled with pride and love as he watched Goody, her face a mask of exhaustion and joy. She looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Looks like I've finally repaid your hospitality," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the effort. "Two souls to one day become free labor on your farm."
Dudley couldn't help but laugh through his tears. He had never felt more complete. He took the babies, one in each arm, and cradled them against his chest. They were perfect in every way, a miracle that had come from their love. As Goody watched him, she asked, "Even though I've paid my debt... may I remain here with you a bit longer?" Dudley smiled as he answered, "Of course you can stay here with me," he said, his voice cracking. "Forever, if that's what you wish."
The next five years passed like pages fluttering in the wind. Goody and Dudley's children grew into bright curious souls who mirrored their parents' strength and kindness. Meanwhile just as the children grew, a small town also grew not far from their farm, which provided them with a community they hadn't had before. Goody would often take the children with her to trade and sell goods, while Dudley tended to the farm. The townsfolk grew to know them as a hardworking family, and they were welcomed with open arms, with nobody aware of Goody's lineage or supernatural abilities (which she chose to keep a secret).
However one sunny afternoon, as Goody was haggling over the price of some fine wool, she heard a voice that sent a shiver down her spine. It was the unmistakable drone of a man preaching. The words grew clearer as she approached the town square. "Beware of the witches that could be in your midst!" the man shouted. "In my hometown of Jericho just over the hills, we have spent years exterminating witches we discovered, but some may have traveled here. They may be hiding in plain sight, pretending to be one of your own, waiting for the perfect moment to strike!"
Goody felt the world tilt on its axis as she recognized the speaker. It was Joseph Crackstone, the man who had killed her family. Goody's eyes immediately searched the crowd, desperately looking for a way to escape before Crackstone potentially spotted her. Goody turned to run, but her legs felt like they were made of lead. She stumbled through the town, her heart racing as she heard his words echoing through the narrow streets. "Do not be deceived by their charms or their smiles," Crackstone's voice grew louder, "for beneath their flesh lies the heart of the devil!" Goody knew she had to get home to Dudley immediately.
Goody's breath came in ragged gasps as she burst into her home. Dudley looked up from his work, concern etched on his face. "Goody, what's wrong?" he asked, setting down his tools. She could barely get the words out. "It's him... Joseph Crackstone. He's here." Dudley's eyes grew wide. He had heard the tales of the witch hunts in Jericho and knew the name of Crackstone all too well. Goody looked frightened as she said, "We need to take the children and flee to where your brother and his wife live. It's too unsafe for us here. If Crackstone discovers me and learns I had children, he will kill us all."
But Dudley was a man of the land, and he had worked hard to build their home. He didn't want to leave without a fight. "We can't just run," he said, his voice firm. "We have roots here. A life. Also, Crackstone must be a man that can be reasoned with. Perhaps we can negotiate with him and his followers some sort of treaty or make boundaries that can keep his people and us separate from one another."
Goody's eyes were wild with fear. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He's a monster. A zealot. He won't stop until he's cleansed the world of anyone different from him." Dudley sighed, his jaw tightening as he said, "I do understand Goody. But we can't live in fear. We have a proper home here. We can't just run at the first sign of adversity." Goody looked at him, her heart heavy as she said, "Very well. However... I won't risk our children. They need to be sent to go live with your brother... at least for the time being until the danger he passes." Dudley stood quiet and still for a moment... and then reluctantly said, "Very well."
With Dudley's reluctant agreement, Goody set to work. She had secretly remained in contact with the daughters of her mother's friends that had survived Crackstone's extermination of witches six years ago. Together, they had formed a secret group known as the Nightshade Society; witches that operated in the shadows, helping fellow witches in need. Goody hoped her long time friends would help protect her children. Carefully, she crafted a message, using the ancient symbols that were recognized only by families of witches. She sent it out with the town crier, who knew nothing of its true meaning.
Days passed, and the tension grew thicker than the snow on the ground. Goody waited with bated breath, her nerves stretched to the breaking point. And then, one night, it came: two sharp finger snaps were heard outside their door. Her heart racing, she threw the bolt open to reveal two female figures in cloaks, their faces obscured by the shadows. They stepped inside, and Goody recognized the sigils on their cloaks. Her fellow members of the Nightshade Society had arrived.
The two women, their faces still hidden, nodded to Goody. "We've come for the children," one said, her voice low and serious. Goody's heart clenched, but she knew this was for the best. She gathered her son and daughter, their eyes wide and scared in the flickering candlelight. "You must go with these ladies," she told them. "They're friends, and they'll take you to live with your uncle and aunt, where you will be safer for the time being." The children clung to her, but Goody was firm. "You have to go," she said, her voice trembling. "Papa and I will come for you soon. I promise." With a final, tearful hug, she handed her children over to her friends. They disappeared into the night, leaving Goody and Dudley in the quiet emptiness of their home. Dudley wrapped his arms around Goody, holding her tight as she wept. "This won't be forever," he murmured into her hair. "We'll find a way to make this right."
The following morning, Dudley approached Goody with a determined look in his eyes. "Today, I am going to pretend to join Crackstone's cause," he said, his voice firm. "I need to understand him better. Perhaps through peaceful conversation, I can even convince him to leave us alone." Goody looked at him in horror as she said, "But what if he discovers your true intentions? What if he learns about us?" Dudley kissed her forehead as he said, "Don't worry. I'll be careful. But we have to know what we're up against... and then maybe... perhaps if we understand Crackstone better, we can find a way to make reason with him."
So with that, Dudley donned his best clothes and ventured into town. The atmosphere was tense, the townsfolk eyeing each other with suspicion. Crackstone's words had taken root, and fear grew like a weed in their hearts. Dudley found the witch hunter in the town square, surrounded by a rapt audience. He listened as the man spoke of the evils of witchcraft, his voice rising and falling with the fervor of a true believer. Dudley's stomach turned, but he forced himself to stay, to learn.
After the meeting, as the townsfolk dispersed, Dudley approached Crackstone with a friendly smile. "A fine speech," he said, trying to keep the revulsion from his voice. "But tell me, why such a vendetta against witches?" Crackstone eyed him warily, his eyes narrowing. "They're unnatural," he spat. "Against the will of God." Dudley tilted his head, playing the part of the curious newcomer. "But is that not a bit harsh?" he asked, his voice steady. "Perhaps witches are merely people with advanced tools we don't understand. I mean, even us farmers with our simple muskets and carriages were once mistaken as creatures with supernatural powers by the native folk when we first came to these lands."
Crackstone's expression quickly grew hard, his eyes cold. "Even if that were true," he said. "These outcasts... they consume. They take the resources and land us true men deserve. We are the ones with the greatest strength given to us by God, and thus we are the only ones that deserve this world." Dudley felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just about religious fervor; it was about power. Crackstone's gaze grew more intense. "You're a smart lad," he said. "But don't let your heart be swayed by the tricks of these outcasts. You'd be surprised how convincing the devil's own can be." Dudley nodded, playing along, even as he seethed inside while departing from Crackstone.
Meanwhile Goody, unable to bear the thought of Dudley facing the monster of her nightmares alone, waited near the edge of the town, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. While doing so, she saw a young boy, about nine years old, kicking a ball around the field by himself. The sight of the lonely child brought a sad smile to her face, and she decided to approach him. The boy looked up as she neared, his eyes lighting up with excitement at the prospect of company. Goody's heart grew warm as she watched him, and she decided to indulge in a brief moment of normalcy amidst the fear. "Would you like to play a game of catch?" she called out to him, her voice kind and inviting. The boy nodded eagerly, his smile wide and innocent. They played for a while, the ball flying back and forth between them, the simple joy of the game bringing a brief respite from the looming shadow of Joseph Crackstone.
However at one point while trying to throw the ball, the boy tripped and fell, the ball rolling away. As Goody helped him to his feet, she asked, "Here, let me help you... what is your name child? I haven't seen you around town before." As Goody reached out to help the boy up, he smiled as he reached out to Goody while saying, "I'm just visiting with my father. My friends call me Joe, but my real name is Joseph Crackstone Junior." As the final words from little Joe's mouth were spoken, it hit Goody like bolt of lightning. The little hand that she had reached out to touch suddenly felt like it was coated in ice. Then suddenly Goody felt a powerful series of images enter her mind, a kaleidoscope of horrors that made her stomach churn. Goody had been warned by her mother long ago this would happen one day. For the first time in her life Goody was experiencing visions.
The images were fleeting, but the emotions they brought were stark and clear: fear, anger, and loss. Goody suddenly saw images of Joe grown into a man, his eyes filled with rage as he screamed for the death of those deemed to be outcasts. She watched in horror as Joe led mobs through the streets, torches held high as they burned the homes of those accused of witchcraft. The cries of innocents including women and children screaming as they were shot hung in Goody's ears, a chorus of despair that she couldn't silence.
Then the visions continued, showing Goody the lineage of Joseph Crackstone that was to come over the next three hundred years. She saw a future filled with Crackstone's descendants, their hearts stained with the blood of those they deemed inferior. And then Goody suddenly saw her own descendant: a dark-haired girl with braids, her face a mirror of Goody's own, standing defiantly before a descendant of the Crackstones: a red haired woman using dark magic like a hypocrite to resurrect Joseph Crackstone from beyond the grave. Goody was horrified as she saw a resurrected Joseph Crackstone use a knife to stab her dark haired descendant. Goody's breath hitched, the weight of the vision crushing her spirit.
When the images faded, she was left staring into the eyes of the innocent child, her hand trembling in his. During what had felt like centuries that just passed for Goody, only a moment had past in reality. Goody felt a cold sweat break out over her body, fear coiling around her heart like a serpent. "I'm... I'm not feeling well," she mumbled, extricating her hand from Joe's grip. She turned and ran, her feet pounding the hard earth, the wind tearing at her clothes as she fled back to the safety of her farm.
As Goody stumbled away, she realized that the battle she faced wasn't just with Joseph Crackstone; but rather with with generations of hate and fear that were to be passed down and lead to the death of countless individuals... including her own dark haired descendant. Goody knew she had to take action now to end the next three hundred years of torture the Crackstones would unleash... even if the cost was her own humanity.
Within an hour, Goody found herself back at the edge of town, where young Joe played innocently by himself in a field. Goody stood behind a set of trees with a musket in her hand. With Joe's back turned to her, Goody positioned the musket as she took aim at Joe's head; knowing that shooting through the head was the only sure way to end his life. Her heart was racing, but her hands were steady. This was the only way she knew how to save the future from the monsters her visions had shown her.
However just as she was ready to shoot, a shadow fell over her. It was Dudley, his eyes wide with confusion and concern as he said, "Goody, I was just heading home and... what are you doing here?" Goody swallowed hard, her finger hovering over the trigger. "I had a vision," she said, her voice strained. "Of that boy. That's Joseph Crackstone's son. When I touched his hand earlier, I experienced visions of the future Dudley. I saw that boy will carry on his father's legacy. Him and his descendants will kill thousands over the next three centuries... including one of our own descendants. However if I kill this boy now, it all ends. The bloodshed, the fear, it all ends with him."
Dudley stared at Goody in horror, the weight of her words sinking in. "But Goody," he pleaded, "He's just a child. Even if the future you saw in your vision is indeed completely certain... right now he is still just an innocent." Goody's hand trembled on her musket, the vision of her dark haired descendant's violent end burned into her mind's eye. "Everyone has the ability to make choices," she said, her voice shaking. "But some choices are destined."
Dudley's expression grew steely as he took in her words. "But the future is still wider and bigger than the vision you saw," Dudley argued. "For even good can still come from evil. Years from now: countless people that would've been enemies, could become allies due to their shared fear of the Crackstones. Friendships could be formed, with bonds made stronger all because of something that started with hate. Do we have the right to take that away?" Goody's eyes searched his, desperation clouding her judgment. "But Dudley, the lives that will be lost..." she whispered. "We can't just stand by and do nothing."
Dudley's voice grew firm. "We're not doing nothing," he said. "We're fighting... by being better than them. I was just listening to Joseph Crackstone talk earlier saying how his kind is superior. However we have to show all that we are superior; by not making decisions based in hate and fear ourselves. For if we kill children simply because of the group of people they were born to... we would find ourselves becoming just like the very hate filled man that killed your own family." Goody felt her resolve wavering as she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. With a heavy sigh, she put her musket down and began to cry. Dudley wrapped her in a warm embrace, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest.
Suddenly their tender moment was abruptly shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching. They pulled apart, and as they turned, they saw a small militia surrounding them with their muskets pointed in their direction. Then stepping forward past the backs of several of the militia men was Joseph Crackstone. "Ah, the little witch," Crackstone sneered. "I knew I'd find you if I kept sharing with every person I came across your facial description. The little girl who scarred my face six years ago. A face I never forgot. You thought you had escaped my wrath you horrid little wench... but you were only delaying your damnation." The militia men moved in, their muskets pointed at Goody and Dudley, who had no choice but to raise their hands in surrender.
Goody and Dudley were then dragged into town towards the local jail, the townsfolk watching with a mix of fear and excitement. The jail was cold and damp, the air thick with the stench of despair and waste. As the bars clanked shut behind them, Goody looked into Dudley's eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry Dudley. I'm sorry for dragging my terrible world into yours." But Dudley just took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he said, "Your world is my world Goody. I would do anything by your side, even go to jail with you. We'll find a way to get out of this problem. I promise."
The following day, Joseph Crackstone came to visit Goody and Dudley in their jail cell, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He stood before Goody, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "Six years," he said, his voice thick with spite. "It's been six long years since you scarred my face and escaped my grasp. But now, you're finally where you belong." Goody looked up at him, her eyes filled with a calm defiance that seemed to unsettle the man. "You've never understood what it means to be different," she said softly. "Us witches, we do indeed have abilities that set us apart. But that doesn't make us evil. If your kind would just accept us, we could be free to explore our abilities, pushing them further to bring about tremendous change for this land. Imagine a world where resources are unlimited, where no one goes hungry or cold. In time, witches with their powers could provide you that." Crackstone's smile grew cruel as he said, "Your kind would corrupt everything that is pure. That's why you must be eradicated."
"But what if you could have that power?" Goody asked, her voice steady. "The power to give every resource your people ever needed. Would you choose that over your crusade to destroy those who don't fit your narrow view of purity?" For a moment, doubt flickered in Crackstone's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a fanatical light as he said, "The power to eliminate the impure is my duty. For I am more than just God's instrument. The power to cast out those that don't belong on this Earth makes me as powerful as God himself! And this evening at your public execution: I will wipe away you and your damned husband from the face of this Earth, and this world will be a better place for it!" The tension in the room was palpable as Goody and Crackstone stared at each other. Then, with a flourish, Crackstone turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots echoing through the stone corridor.
Just as Goody and Dudley were now beginning to lose hope, suddenly several figures in dark cloaks stepped into the jailhouse. Their hoods obscured their faces, but there was something familiar about the way they moved. Goody however felt much relief when she saw the hooded figures snap twice. "The Nightshade Society," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder and relief. The leader stepped forward, and Goody recognized her as Rachel, a close friend of hers. Rachel nodded, confirming Goody's suspicion. "We've been watching you Goody," Rachel said, her voice low and urgent. "We know what happened. We're here to get you and your husband to safety."
The other members of the Nightshade Society moved quickly, unlocking the cell and helping Goody and Dudley to their feet. Dudley looked relieved as he said, "Thank you... but how are we supposed to get out? Everyone in town will certainly notice us if we take to the streets." Rachel then pointed to a wall that had been opened like a revolving door nearby as she said, "We had discovered a secret passageway connected between here and a cave hidden on Crackstone's property. When it's discovered you went missing, we're certain the last place Crackstone will look for you will be on his land."
"But Rachel," Goody added with urgency. "We can't just run. We need to find a way to stop Crackstone before his evil spreads too far." Suddenly without warning, Rachel handed Goody a worn leather-bound book with the title: Codex Umbrarum etched into the cover. Goody's eyes grew wide with shock as she recognized the book. "This... this is my mother's book!" she exclaimed. Rachel nodded gravely. "Yes. We managed to recover the Book of Shadows from your old home before the fires started. We know the power this book holds, and it's clear Crackstone is looking for it too. It's why he's been so obsessed with hunting you down."
The room grew silent as Rachel continued, "We knew we couldn't risk using its spells. It's too powerful, and we also didn't wish to use a book that is your birthright. But now it's time for you to claim what's rightfully yours." Goody took the book with trembling hands, feeling a strange energy pulsing from it, like it was alive. Goody then looked at her fellow Nightshade members as she said, "Thank you. But first, we must leave." The group quickly moved as a shadowy procession through the secret passage as they left the jail. However minutes later, a guard came to check on the cells... only to be horrified when he realized the prisoners he was expecting to see were gone. Suddenly shouting began to spread across the town, as the search for Goody and Dudley began.
As Goody, Dudley, and the Nightshade Society reached the end of the tunnel, the moonlight streamed through the opening, casting eerie shadows across the ground. Goody felt a mix of excitement and fear as she stepped out into the open... only to be greeted by the sight of Joseph Crackstone and his followers, all of them holding swords glinting in the moon's glow. "You think you can escape me so easily, witch?" Crackstone spat, his voice echoing through the night. His men formed a semi-circle around the escapees, leaving no room for retreat. Rachel and the Nightshade members, anticipating this, had already drawn their own swords, a silent promise of protection for Goody and Dudley. Joseph Crackstone looked very happy that there was about to be a battle though as he said, "Good. Everyone carries swords instead of muskets. Let us fight the proper way as I send you outcasts from my world into hell!"
Dudley then stepped forward as he said, "I am no witch Crackstone, but I would gladly defend my wife to the bitter end; for she is far more holy a person than you are." Then an angry Joseph Crackstone pointed his sword forward as he said, "Anyone who lays in bed with a witch, becomes a witch themself. So I accuse you of being an unholy witch as well that must be vanquished!" Dudley then held his sword tightly as he said, "So be it." Then with one motion of his hand, Crackstone's men ran into battle. The battle had commenced, with Dudley and Rachel fighting side by side with the grace of seasoned warriors. The sound of swords clashing filled the air, a symphony of chaos that seemed to dance to the tune of their pounding hearts. Rachel and the other Nightshades' movements were swift and precise, their blades perfectly deflecting each attack by their enemies. Meanwhile Dudley fought with a ferocity that belied his gentle nature, his sword flashing like lightning as he defended himself and Goody.
As Goody stood back from the battle looking overwhelmed, Crackstone tried to run at her with his weapon. However he soon found Dudley getting in his way. Dudley, driven by love and anger, faced the man who had haunted his wife's nightmares for years. Immediately their swords met with a clang that resonated through the night, sparks flying as their blades met. Crackstone's eyes gleamed with malice as he swung his sword, each strike fueled by his unbridled hatred for all things magical. Yet Dudley's movements were surprisingly graceful, his determination to protect Goody giving him strength beyond his years.
The two men circled each other, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they measured their opponent's strengths and weaknesses. Crackstone, tall and powerful, swung his sword in wide arcs that demanded respect. Dudley, smaller in stature but no less fierce, met each blow with a tenacity that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. The ground beneath them was soon trampled as their duel grew more intense. Each step was calculated, each parry and thrust a silent conversation in the language of combat.
The battle raged on, a whirlwind of steel and fury that painted the night crimson with the blood of both sides. Goody meanwhile watched in horror, torn between wanting to fight alongside Dudley and fleeing to safety so that her children would not become orphans like she had six years ago. Rachel, noticing Goody's indecision, called out to her: "Goody, either fight with us, or leave with the book. But please don't remain here any longer out in the open." Goody however simply stood still as she remembered the day her mother told her to run away just before she died. Seeing history beginning to repeat herself was leaving Goody in a state of frozen shock.
Meanwhile the duel between Dudley and Crackstone had become the central focus of the battle. Dudley's blade sang through the air, a silver ribbon weaving in and out of Crackstone's furious attacks. Despite his fear, Dudley felt a strange sense of clarity, as if the very essence of the night itself was guiding his hand. Each clang of their swords seemed to echo through the annals of time, a battle between two opposing forces that would set the stage for a future still unwritten.
But as the moments ticked by, it became clear that Dudley was beginning to tire, his swings growing more desperate. Eventually Crackstone saw his chance when Dudley left himself too open... and then Crackstone quickly lunged, his blade slicing into Dudley like a predator's fang. Upon watching the deadly blow, Goody's scream suddenly pierced the night as Crackstone's sword plunged into Dudley's chest. Dudley staggered back, the light in his eyes fading to a dull ember as he collapsed to the ground. The last movement Dudley made was looking lovingly at Goody before the life in his face was completely gone. Rachel and the Nightshade members redoubled their efforts, fighting with a fury that seemed to shake the very earth. Yet it was Goody's anguished cry that seemed to resonate the loudest. Then just to make everything worse, Joseph Crackstone grabbed a nearby torch he had, threw it on Dudley's body, and gleefully smiled as the body of the young man burned.
Her world now burning before her, Goody clutched the leather-bound book to her chest, her eyes wild with grief and rage. Crackstone approached her, his sword raised for the final blow, a sadistic smile on his face. But Goody was no longer the girl he had scared all those years ago. With a roar that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul, Goody threw the book open and began to chant in an ancient language as she read from the text before her. The very air around her grew thick with dark energy, a palpable force that seemed to coil around Crackstone like a living shadow. As Goody's incantation continued, Crackstone felt himself unable to move. His eyes grew wide with terror as he realized the true extent of the power Goody wielded. The spell grew stronger, and with it Goody's anger grew. She pointed her hand at Crackstone, and a bolt of shadowy energy shot forth, enveloping him completely. His screams were cut short as the magic took hold. And then, as suddenly as it had started, the energy retreated into the book, leaving behind the figure of a man that lay motionless on the ground.
In fear, all of Crackstone's followers immediately ran away. As Rachel approached Goody, she asked, "What did you do?" With her hands shaking, Goody said, "I... I sent Crackstone into an eternal purgatory. He is neither alive or dead. His soul is trapped in a plain of existence where he shall be alone indefinitely." Rachel looked relieved as she said, "Well, I don't care how you did it. The point is you stopped Joseph Crackstone. Well done Goody." But Goody's eyes remained fixed on Dudley's body which was still burning, tears streaming down her face. "But at what cost?" she murmured, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own heart breaking.
But then suddenly a new sound pierced the air: the anguished cry of a boy in pain. Everyone turned their heads and saw a young scared child step into the area. It was Joseph Crackstone's son: Joe, who was looking horrified at the body of his father laying lifeless on the ground. Joe immediately ran to his father's body grabbing a hold of it, and crying in great agony; with his screams sounding almost identical to the screams Goody had just made a short time ago when Dudley was killed. Then Joe turned to look at Goody, his eyes wild with grief and anger. In his hand, he clutched a dagger, his intention clear. "You will pay for this!" he shrieked, lunging at her with the weapon.
Two of the Nightshade members though quickly stepped forward, each grabbing one of Joe's arms and disarming the boy with quick ease. He struggled against them, his face a twisted mask of rage and despair. Rachel then looked at Goody as she said, "He is of the Crackstone lineage. Should we dispose of him too?" Goody then took a moment to look into Joe's hate filled eyes. A saddened Goody, while still keeping her eyes on Joe then said, "My vengeance has already pushed me too far on this night. I have taken a father from his son, and I cannot atone for that. I must do what Dudley would have wanted and spare this child."
Then one of the members of the Nightshade Society stepped towards Goody as she said, "But his father took your husband. There must be justice." Then Goody, complete with certainty in her voice said, "And it was was my husband who reminded me that if we kill children simply because of the group of people they were born to... we would find ourselves becoming just like the very people who hate us. Dudley may be gone, but I refuse to let what he taught me leave this world, and instead let his wisdom carry on past death."
Goody then looked at the other members of the Nightshade Society as she said, "Take the boy away. Find him a good orphanage far from here where no one has ever heard the name Crackstone before, so he can truly start his life anew." Rachel nodded, understanding the gravity of Goody's words. As Joe was dragged away, he looked back at Goody as he screamed, "I hate you! My family will get vengeance on what you have done this night, even if it takes centuries! On this I vow!" Goody stood silently as she saw Joe be taken away. After several minutes passed, Goody then walked towards Dudley's body. The fire that had burned his body had recently been taken out, and now all that remained was a figure Goody barely recognized. After looking at the burnt body for a long moment of silence... Goody fell to the ground and then began to sob.
A week later, Rachel and Goody sat silently in Goody's home, the scent of burnt wood lingering in the air. After a long period of silence, Rachel spoke, "Your husband was a brave soul. His memory will live on in the hearts of the Nightshade Society." Goody nodded, her eyes red from a week's worth of crying. Rachel tried to offer Goody some comfort as she said, "The town has been told that there never were any witches. They believe it was all a horrific lie conjured by fear and misunderstanding. Crackstone's followers meanwhile are too afraid to admit the magic they saw you wield out of fear for their lives. The leaders of the town have sworn an oath to protect those accused and to never again harm the innocent." Goody nodded, showing a small level of relief. However Rachel added, "But you know as well as I do that whispers remain. There are always those who will doubt, suspect, and hate. But for now, the hunt is over." Goody nodded her head as she said, "Yes... and so is my time with this book."
Goody the handed Rachel the leather-bound magic book she had used to defeat Crackstone, feeling the weight of its dark power in her hands one last time. "You must hide this," she said firmly. "Its power is too great for any one witch to wield. It can only bring destruction." Rachel took the book with a solemn nod. However as Rachel tucked the book away in her cloak, she curiously asked, "What of Crackstone's land? Who owns it now that he has gone and his son has been sent away?" Goody took a deep breath and then said, "The land now belongs to all types of outcasts. To those who have nowhere else to go. I've had a vision Rachel. A vision that showed me one day a great school will be built on that land. A school where outcasts of all types will learn to grow in their abilities. But until that time comes, we must keep our gifts hidden. We must pretend that witches are only whispers in the wind. As for now though... I wish to be reunited with my children, and make a better life for them... and the many generations that are to come..."
Present Day:
An adult Wednesday Addams was walking into a small museum alongside her wife Enid. As Enid had her arm wrapped around Wednesday's, she said, "OMG. Addams Fest has been amazing! It was so much fun to see all those kids dancing to that song from Descendants 2, along with watching all those teenage rock bands perform." Wednesday however kept a simple straight face as she said, "While I was disappointed to not see enough people dressed in appropriately gothic attire for this festival, I will admit it was quite inspiring to see children singing about the joys of finding so many ways to be wicked, along with the blood that one teenage rock band was covered in." Then as Wednesday and Enid's daughters: Harmony and Ana trailed into the museum behind the two, Harmony looked a little puzzled as she said, "Mother, I think that band was covered in fake blood." Then Ana quickly whispered to Harmony: "Shh. Don't ruin the moment for her."
Then Gomez and Morticia stepped into the small museum, as a smiling Morticia said, "Actually you all haven't seen the highlight of Addams Fest yet. It's right over here at the end of this gallery." The family then walked to the end of a long room where they saw framed on a wall was a piece of a barn wall that had a picture of a skeleton drawing on it. An interested looking Harmony then said, "Cool drawing. Who's the skeleton supposed to be?" Then a proud looking Gomez said, "That is your ancestor: Dudley Addams." Ana then raised one eyebrow as she said, "Wait. Did someone draw a picture of his skeleton after he died? Man, this family is more creepy and kooky than I realized."
Morticia however made a smile as she said, "No. This is a drawing your ancestor drew when he was still alive. However since there are no surviving pictures of him, the Addams Family has long accepted that this drawing here is a rough approximation of how his skeletal structure looked." Then a proud Gomez looked at the picture as he said, "This piece of our family history is actually quite priceless, since Dudley Addams is the earliest known ancestor of ours that anyone can find any record of. Thus, Dudley Addams is the original member of the Addams Family as far as anyone knows." As Wednesday stepped towards the drawing, she looked at it with almost awe as she said, "I've read about him. Dudley was Goody Addams' husband. As the story goes, when on her death bed: Goody said she didn't fear passing on... for her late husband Dudley taught her that even after our souls leave this world, a part of ourselves will still carry on through our bones... and much more."
Everyone in the family stood for a moment looking quietly at the skeleton picture. Slowly: Gomez, Morticia, Harmony, and Ana walked away. Soon it was just Wednesday and Enid standing in front of the picture. Enid then gently held Wednesday's hand and looked at her with a smile. As Wednesday kept her eyes focused on the picture, she said, "Goody saved my life... and history says Dudley saved Goody. Without Dudley, I..." Wednesday found herself unable to continue her sentence. Then Enid squeezed Wednesday's hand for a moment, and made a warm smile as she said, "It sounds like Goody was really blessed to have been married to one of the greatest members of the Addams Family... and I can definitely relate." Then Wednesday closed her eyes... and squeezed Enid's hand back...
THE END
A Brand New Story In Two Weeks: Harmony and Anxiety
Trivia:
-Dudley Addams is indeed the lost original member of the Addams Family. In reality, he is the oldest surviving character ever drawn by Addams Family creator: Charles Addams, and was actually drawn on a barn wall in his hometown. The wall he drew Dudley on is now a museum piece. While the fictional history behind the character of Dudley in this chapter was solely manufactured by myself, Charles Addams' original drawing of Dudley can be seen every year now at Addams Fest in Westfield, New Jersey.
-This chapter starts shortly after the flashback scene of Goody's mother and other outcasts being killed, as seen in Wednesday Episode 3: Friend of Woe.
-Goody's vision of Wednesday in the future is meant to be the moment that a resurrected Joseph Crackstone stabs her in Wednesday Episode 8: A Murder of Woes.
-Goody's defeat of Crackstone and how that defeat pushed her too far was first hinted at by information Morticia shared with Wednesday in Wednesday Episode 5: You Reap What You Woe.
-Events that would occur to Goody after the main flashback story in this chapter, are revealed in Chapter 13 of this series: Long Ago.
-The present day scene at the end of this chapter is meant to take place just a short time after to the second to last scene in the last chapter of this series: Wednesday's Acceptance.
-The events that Enid mentions happening at Addams Fest in the final scene of this chapter... real things that happened during my trip there. :)