Double Double Toil and Trouble

An excerpt from a short-story that is still in the works.


Crisp was the wind as it blew against the rickity old house in Salem, Massachusetts. The house remained hidden in the trees, and the children who walked down the dirt path surounding it took no notice. The year was 1692, and the inhabitants of the town of Salem were causious during this cold night of October. The trees were livid with their oranges and browns, but as the night fell upon them they grew dull and eery. The children wore danced and ran down the path wore costumes of all sorts; small children ran with covered faces, others in sheets, they carried sticks on fire and they chanted and sung into the night.
"Double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble."
For tonight was All Hallows' Eve, the night where the dead arose from their graves to take the lifes of small children, and when the witches of Salem took their chances and stole children into the night. The children who danced and sang on the path that night were brave young children, all of who which knew nothing of their suroundings. The oldest wore black around his eyes and his hair a mess. His clothes were loose and fit the ages, and he wore no shoes. The second of the group was a young female. She, too, wore black around her eyes, and her dress was black and haunting. The youngest, also a young female, did not wear any eye make-up; she wore black like her sister, and no shoes like her brother. Nothing scared the three children of Salem, so on the night of All Hallows' Eve they took flight into the woods, and they ran on Wicked's Way, the old dirt path that lead to the cemetary. They had planned to sit and wait for the recentley hung witches from the trials, to taunt them and send them back to their graves. The children were astounded by the fact that some of their neighbors had proved to be witches; Ms. Gavin had be accused of witchcraft and sent to trial, and only a few days later she was hung at the post. She was not burried in the main cemetary, for witches were not worth the time here in Salem, but instead she was thrown into a old, broken crypt at the far end where bodies were forgotten. She rested with all the other accused witches in Salem.
"Double double toil and trouble, something wicked this way comes!"
The giggles and singing of the children had alerted her ears and she went to the cracked window. There they were, dancing down Wicked's Way, making fun of the Night of the Dead. "Something wicked this way comes, indeed." She chortled as the three skipped past her house, on their way to the old graveyard. She turned to her desk and opened a large, dusty book which lay upon alone. Inside read a recipe that would serve nicely just for tonight. Large yellow eyes met hers and she could tell her cat was smiling. "Be patient, my dear. For tonight we shall feast and celebrate this fair night."
His meow was her only answer.
The tranquility of the graveyard was broken by the wild cries of children; they danced and sang over the resting place of people long gone, letting their voices echoe off the dying trees and grey headstones.
"Eye of Newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog."
Shadows fell on the graves as the children made their way through the chilly night air. Though it was not known to them, their voices had aroused the ears of evil. Brought on by the taste of tender flesh, of fresh voice, it crept from the depths and followed them in deep silence, waiting for the chance to attack.
A sudden noise startles the children. With a shriek, the youngest fled to the mass of gravestones, cowering in fear.
"Demitria, where are thou? Hast thou hidden from the ghouls of All Hallows' Eve?" Her elder brother jeered, making fun of the shaken child.
The eldest girl shook her head at her brother, dread also sinking into her bones. The feeling of eyes scanning her body shocked her and withdrew her from reality. "Benjamin, do thee not feel it? Did thee not hear it? The voices and eyes of the dead are piercing us, watching our every move and judging us. We have stepped upon their resting place, and the dead witches will awake and cast a spell upon us."
Benjamin frowned at her, disbelief in his eyes. "Nonsense! Susan, thou are not thinking correctly. It is All Hallows' Eve, the dead rest and try to awaken, but our souls keep them trapped."
Young Demitria whimpered slightly from beyond the headstones as a cloud passed against the doleful moon. The night was clear except for the clouds left behind from the storm that came the night before, and the large, silver moon shown upon the three figures.
"Come out, come out, Demitria." Susan sang quietly, spying around the gravestones.
"Come out, come out, come out and play little children." Came a voice from the shadows. The voice was small, pipy, and unknown.
The children started and glanced around blindy, looking for their guest. "Who is there!" Benjamin called as Susan opened her arms to Demitria as she ran out from behind a headstone.
"Oh, dear children. Do not be afraid. It is only I, a fair lady who wishes to place a flower upon her mothers grave." The detached voice called out, causing uneasiness in the children.
"Why come so late, and on All Hallows' Eve of all nights?" Benjamin replied, holding onto his sisters carefully.
"Ah, my dears. I should be asking thou the same question." And then the voice showed itself.