A Town Called Salem

My name is Lilith Smallwood. I was a true witch of Salem. I was hanged in May, 1693. They thought they could get rid of me, but little do they know that killing me was the worst mistake of their lives.
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4. The Sarah's Were Innocent

"The look on her face," Jezebel shrieks with laughter as Ann Putnam's soul fuels my hunger. The woman had been such a thorn in my side.

"How many souls do you need?" The first demon, Saul, asks.

"Well what does the book say?" I ask uncertainly. "I've got to be close."

"What book?" Jezebel asks.

"Malleus Maleficarum."

"As if we've read it," Saul responds sarcastically.

"Well you were in Betty Parris' body for more than seven years. Don't you remember anything?" I ask Jezebel.

"I was a little trapped. If someone hadn't chosen the preacher's daughter as a host for me, maybe I would have been able to do more than cause some seizures."

I roll my eyes. I have to admit, targeting a faithful young girl hadn't been my wisest move.

"I know who will know," I say confidently, "Let's get out of this miserable house."

As soon as I say the words, we are transported to the town square.

"This, ladies and gentleman, is the spot where I died." I gesture proudly to the empty square, its gallows long since removed.

"Wonderful," says Saul. "Now why are we here?"

"We need the Sarah's," I inform.

"Those two are barely spirits," says Jezebel. "Moreover, I don't think they want to see you."

"They have no choice." It's true that I am the one who got them killed, in a roundabout way. The two innocent women hadn't even heard of witchcraft before the Trials. It was a bit sad, I admit.

"Sarah Goode." I summon her.

"Sarah Osborne." They both materialize in front of me, faces frozen in terror and necks still crooked.

"Snap out of it," I send a blast of energy into their spirits. They gasp and straighten up, looking around at their surroundings.

Immediately, Sarah G. starts screaming and pointing at Saul. Sarah O. follows suit.

"Oh. Do you mind?" I ask the demons apologetically. They both grumble and curse before vanishing into thin air.

The Sarah's calm down a bit.

"Hello, ladies. You may remember me. The name's Lilith Smallwood." I hold out a hand. They ignore it.

"Aren't you Abigail and Betty's friend?" asks Sarah O.

"Was. We aren't really friends anymore," I say.

"I swear, I didn't do anything to them," Sarah G. "Don't hang me!"

I try to sound sympathetic.

"Dear, its a bit late for that. You see," I gesture to the square. "We've all been hanged already. We're dead."

Realization dawns on the women's faces.

"We're...ghosts?" Sarah G. asks.

"Yes. Sorry about that. But I need something from you two."

"Wait a minute," Sarah O.'s eyes narrow. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Me?" I feign ignorance.

"Y-you're," Sarah G. stutters, "you're the witch of Salem!"
 

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