Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
According to the story, (which was written by Mercy Pruitt’s great granddaughter, Charity,) a Witch Finder by the name of Milas James came to the township of Andover. Accusations soon started flying and he had many of the women of Andover arrested—including Charity.
“My mother, of course, was indeed a Witch—but not the sort that Milas James Claimed. For she did not dance naked in the moonlight with the Horned One, nor did she Fornicate with Satan and his Imps,” Charity wrote. “Indeed, it is only that she had THE POWER—which all we of her line did so inherit—that we are able to bend the Natural World to our Will through the use of Spells and Cantrips and Potions.”
Hmm…I had brewed a potion, but that was by accident. Also, I didn’t seem to need spells to make my magic work. I wondered if the power Charity wrote about had somehow mutated over the many generations?
“Milas James did lock Mercy up and then he Condemned her to Die,” the story went on. “For not only was Milas James a Witch Finder—he was also a Warlock of the most Evil kind and he wished to steal her Power for himself.”
Wow—that was a twist! I kept on reading—I was now on the page with the awful face. It was a drawing of Milas James, apparently. I wondered what had happened to him…and to my many-times-great Grandmother.
“He tried to Drown her and he tried to Burn her, but each time Mercy cast a Charm of Protection on herself,” the story went on. “And then, one night, she did escape His Clutches. But she knew that Milas James would never stop hunting her—such was his Lust for her Power that he would follow her to the Ends of the Earth. And so, through her Magic Arts, she found a way to lock his spirit away in the Dark Realm. Behind the Black Door he resides and so lives on forever, though he is Banished from the Land of the Living.”
I frowned as I studied the drawing again. Though it was done in black ink, I could almost see those menacing eyes glowing angry red as they narrowed in hate. Lust for Power indeed—I bet that Milas James was one of those men that hated women and wanted to harm them all. A seventeenth century incel.
At last I dragged my gaze from the disturbing drawing and went on reading.
“Mercy left Andover and founded the town we live in still—Hidden Hollow—banding with the Creatures around her to form a barrier of magic which holds the Outside World at bay. At first she thought herself Safe. But she WAS NOT,” the story went on ominously. “For the Evil of Milas James was too much to Completely Contain. To Mercy’s great Sorrow, he laid a Curse on her and her descendants—that every time a Pruitt woman finds her Heartmate, he shall be able to open the black door and come forth to wreak havoc on the One she Loves.”
Here it was—the family curse! I read on, my heart sinking as I scanned the lines.
“For every Heartmate of a Pruitt woman must and shall die by the hand of Milas James,” it went on. “His Spirit enters into them and drives them MAD until DEATH takes them. It is a most Vile and Terrible death and none has yet been able to break the Curse.”
I thought of that black door with the red X painted on it opening…thought of the gaunt-faced man with the burning red eyes coming out and going to find Rath…
“No!” I said out loud, pounding with one fist on the table. “That can’t be it! There has to be something I can do!”
There was more so I kept reading, but the image of Milas James and his glowing red eyes wouldn’t leave my mind.
“However, Hope has been given to us in the form of a Prophesy—which is why I am writing this account,” the book went on. “For today, the fifth day after the death of my beloved Heartmate, John, I was Scrying for to see the Future. And it was given to me to know that in the Eleventh Generation the daughter of a Pruitt Witch shall be born. She shall be a Natural Witch and need neither Charm nor Potion to work her magic. She will be strong enough to defeat Milas James once and for all and free her Daughters of this Curse. These are the Words that were Given to me for Her.
Where the stream runs Swift and Pure
There our Sorrow She shall Cure
There the Evil one she’ll Take
And at last the Curse she’ll Break
Though it may invade your Dreams
Evil cannot Cross the stream…
I frowned as I read the little poem several times. I knew that many superstitions held that evil things couldn’t cross running water, but what stream was my ancestor talking about? The stream that ran at the end of the backyard, maybe? The one that marked the boundary of my Grandma’s property?