The Life of a September Rose

Rose Annabelle Weston was born on September 13th in the year 1679. Rose is thirteen when the Salem witch trials begin in the state of Massachusetts, during the year 1692. Her life had been quiet, tending to the housework and her younger brother, staying out of trouble. That is, until a new family moves into town. When Rose befriends a girl by the name of Mary Drengot, her once peaceful life turns into a dark spiral of secrets, lies, and fear.


1. Prologue

"There is magic in all of us, whether we choose to recognize it and how we choose to use it decides who the true monsters are. These men, they don't fear us. They fear the unknown. Whatever happens, promise me that you won't forget me. Listen to your aunt Ann, keep your chin up. Most of all, my sweet Mary, know that I will always love you."

Cynthia Drengot spoke softly to her daughter as the candlelight flickered against the cellar walls of their small home. She knew the townspeople were coming. After her husband's passing and her friend being hanged, it was only a matter of time before the church found her guilty of witchcraft.

"Cynthia, please. Mary and I have to leave before they arrive." Ann Haruph, sister of Cynthia and aunt of Mary, spoke from the shadows. She was dressed in a black riding cloak, with a small basket of her things.

Mary looked at her mother sadly, wrapping her arms around her in a final embrace. She knew that once aunt Ann and herself left on the waiting horses, there was no turning back.

"Goodbye, mother. I Promise." Mary spoke the words, her voice breaking as tears trailed down her cheek.

There was a silence that not even Ann dared to break. The kind of silence that carried regret and the promise of a bittersweet memory, one to be brought back by a starless night, or the first chilling breeze of a new autumn.

Then the silence was shattered. There was a light tap against the door, turning into a heavy knock. Men could be heard shouting from outside. Aunt Ann gripped Mary's arm, tearing her away from her mother.

Cynthia couldn't bring herself to look at her daughter as she was led away, afraid the pain would be too unbearable. She kept her head down, gazing at her shadow dancing in the candlelight on the ground before her.

Mary stumbled, tears falling to the ground as Ann led her up the stairs, away from the cellar. Once they were in the kitchen, aunt Ann opened the window leading to the back yard. Mary slipped through first, followed by her aunt.

Just as the window closed behind them, the front door was heard being forced open. Mary mounted her waiting horse, quickly lurching into motion after Ann.

"Don't look back." Aunt Ann called as they raced away down the moonlit road.

Mary couldn't help looking back. She was leaving the place she'd known as home her entire life. Her mother. Her friends.

Mary watched as the light began to glow in the windows. The men came out, yelling wretched and vile names. The words, 'burn witch', rang in Mary's ears as the flames began to engulf her home.

The night air was still with sorrow, being sliced by a sound that broke Mary's heart and shattered her very soul, into so many jagged pieces that one would be cut and bleed to death before being able to come near repairing it.

Her mother's scream echoed in the empty darkness, haunting her. Mary closed her eyes, turning and crying into her galloping horses mane.

Ann and Mary rode on, away from the burning house, away from the dying screams, and away from every haunting memory of the past. Mary was lost in her mind and in the past while Ann looked ahead, def to the horrors behind her. It was Ann that truly knew running from things didn't fix or stop them, it just prolonged the time before they caught up to you.

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