The Devil in Salem: Part One

Lucas was sitting in the armchair next to his wife’s in their small colonial Salem cottage next to the woods. He was reading The Devil in Salem by Will Getyu. Even though he refused to believe in nonsensical things such as women selling their souls to the Devil and writing their names in his book with their own blood, he loved learning the history of the Salem Witch Trials and reading about the gullibility of the people who truly believed that those girls were being attacked supernaturally.

Maureen, bundled in a thick shawl that she had made herself, was knitting a scarf next to him and staring into the dimming fireplace, occasionally glancing from it to her husband as if to say, are you going to go out and get more wood? He pretended not to notice and continued reading.

Finally, Maureen said to her husband, “Love, I think the fire needs more wood.”

“Why not just turn the heat up?” Lucas asked, knowing her response.

“This cabin is old. Turning the heat up could cause a fire.”

He knew she was right, so he got up out of his warm, comfortable spot, tossed the book onto the chair, and headed for the coat rack. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t ever get the wood, but he supposed it was proper for the man to do the job. He’d been getting the wood for the fireplace and making the majority of their income with carpentry for the entire 31 years of their marriage. Why should he expect that to change now? It’s not that she does nothing: she sells her knitting to the neighbors. But, he thought, I’m not as young as I used to be, and it would really be nice to have someone else do the dirty work for once.

Lucas decided he’d rather bring back large pieces of timber than collect all the sticks that were close to the cottage, so he went out to the tool shed to grab his axe and then headed into the woods, his boots crunching on the snow and dead leaves.

Deep in the woods, it was cold and the wind was picking up. Lucas was starting to regret taking the time to find a log to cut up when he could have just looked for kindling. “I’d give anything to have a servant do the work for me,” he muttered, bending down to examine a log he’d found. As he raised the axe to cut the first chunk off the log, he thought he heard rustling behind him.

He started and turned around but no one was there. He turned back and continued his work. Then he heard snow crunching. Again, he looked but no one was there. He continued cutting up the log until he had plenty of good sized chunks for the fire.

With his hands full of wood, he turned back to go to his house. All of a sudden, the path was blocked by a cloaked figure who wore only black. Lucas dropped the firewood. The figure for some reason reminded him of the illustrations in his book, even though he couldn’t tell at all what the person looked like. It just stood there as if staring at him.