Black Out Storytime

I make another rabbit on the blank tv screen to bored children, one of which is falling asleep. This is clearly going nowhere, so I set the flashlight down and sit across from my kids. “Okay, there’s something I’ve never told you about our family, and where you come from.” Another boom of thunder startles all three kids, and they scooch closer to me. I hold back a smile, “Hundreds of years ago, there was a town called Salem, and in this town, your great-great-great-great grandmother, Chastity, was born. She’d spent most of her life in this little town, taking care of the boys and girls younger than she. And, one day, while picking berries for dinner —“

“Why would she pick the berries? Couldn’t she just go to the store?” My youngest, Adam, asks. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t tell your brother to shut up. Grocery stores didn’t exist back then. They had to catch their food.”

“That’s crazy.” 

“Now, as I was saying, while Granny Chastity was picking berries—“ 

“Adding Granny makes her sound old. Is she old by now?” My older boy, Issac, asks. 

“Shh.”

“Don’t shush your brother. No, she’s younger here, around Heaven’s age if I had to guess.”

“My age?”

“How do you know?”

“I just said I’m guessing.”

“Is this real?”

“Yes, it is.” It actually was. Old Granny Chastity was one of the 19 witches executed in Salem, and our family has used her as a cautionary tale for generations. I’m one of the only Kenners to believe her innocent or at least undeserving of her fate. I wasn’t going to go into gory detail about that fate, though.

“But, anyway, can I finish the story now?” No objections, “Okay, then. Chastity found a glowing stone among the bushes. Her hand reached for it, transfixed, and she was burned on contact. Its white light was like a calling from the heavens itself, pure and bright. But she knew better than to play with things she didn’t understand, so she ran home and didn’t look back. She thought it was a one off thing, a strange memory. Until, one day while washing the clothes—“ 

“Why is she only ever doing the chores? Didn’t she have any hobbies?” My oldest, Heaven, interrupted. 

“Oh my god!”

“Be quiet!”

“Hey, hey! Leave your sister alone. Things were different back then, you know that. Aren’t they teaching about the witch trials in school?” 

“Witch?!”

“Okay, now I know you’re lying.” 

“She’s a witch?!”

“Stop yelling, Adam!” 

“Guys.”

“Does this mean I secretly have powers?!”

“What? No.”

“Adam, be quiet!”

“Stop telling each other to be quiet! That’s my job!”

Raising my voice seems to have stopped their bickering, and the sound of the rain fills the now silent room. “C’mon guys. Let’s make this fun, yeah? If you promise to listen to the end, I promise I'll answer your questions afterwards, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sorry Mom.”

Sorry Mama.”

“It’s okay. Now, back to Chastity. She was doing the laundry when her dresses floated out of her hands and onto their rightful place on the clothesline.”

“What’s—“ Adam stopped himself. I smiled, “And Chastity feared a witch had cursed her threads, so she burned the clothes and prayed. Then another day, she was gathering water and the river stopped running at her feet, so she ran and prayed. And another day, she’d cut her finger sewing, and it healed itself. She—“

“Prayed?” Issac sounds bored. 

“Yes, but she never told a soul about what she saw. About what strangeness followed her. She knew that magic had touched her, and she knew that her little town on Salem would not smile kindly on her.” 

“Why?” Adam asks.

“Because, Salem feared what it didn’t understand. They feared the Devil’s touch, and punished those with it. Chastity knew what those punishments were, and she feared those. So she kept quiet, and she hid what she could. But no secret is safe for long in Salem. A friend of hers, named Mary, caught an awful sickness. It left her bedridden for weeks. The doctors said she didn’t have much time left.” 

I pause for effect, “Chastity had a choice to make: use her secret, her Devil’s touch, for good, but expose herself or keep her secret, and let her loved ones die. For kind Chastity, the answer was simple. She snuck into Mary’s room and healed her with a touch. A graze of her finger, and Mary’s sick was gone. Mary opened her eyes for the first time in weeks, breathed in air and screamed, ‘Witch!’”

“What?!”

“Why??”

“She saved her life!”

I sighed, “Sometimes fear is bigger than kindness. Sometimes, it’s bigger than love. But it’s our choice to give into it or to be brave. Remember that.” My children all nod, and I’m so proud of the people they are. 

“What happens next?” Heaven prompts.

“Well, Chastity ran. Out the window she came from, Mary screaming ‘witch, witch, witch’ at the top of her lungs. Chastity fled into the forests she knew since was a girl. She could hear the men she’d grown up with shouting at her, following her. She could hear her heart beating out her chest as she prayed one last prayer. As she asked God for forgiveness. 

Then, off in the distance, a glimmer caught her eye. A light blinked off deeper into the forest. She knew that light, that pure, bright light, and pivoted. Getting closer to the glow, the screaming fades, her heart settles, and waiting for her is a door. 

‘Is this the door to Heaven?’ She asked. She received no answer. Instead, having faith, she steps forward and the door closes behind her. Chastity was freed. Chastity was home.” 

The storm passes by the time I finish, but I barely notice. It seemed the kids hadn’t noticed either. 

“Woah. Mom, that was really good.” Issac sounds surprised.

“You should write that down.” Heaven adds.

“Yeah!” Adam scoots even closer to me, “I wanna hear another!” 

“Uh.” I had nothing else; that came out of nowhere, truly. “It’s late, and the storm is over. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Like a switch being flipped, my baby’s mood changes, “No!!” 

He runs off into the dark, and in a panic I follow him, “No running in the dark! You’re gonna get hurt!” I can’t really see him, but his pattering feet make enough noise for me to follow him into Isaac’s room. With a quick scoop of my arms, he’s being carried to his own room in a fit of rage. 

“Noooo!!” He whines and shrieks and cries, and Lord, give me strength. 

My older two kids wish me goodnight on the way to his room, and unable to give hugs and kisses, settle for just saying it back.

“How about this?” I offer as I lay him on his bed, “I’ll tell you as many stories as you want until you go to sleep.” 

He thinks on this offer for longer than I anticipate but still agrees. Thank goodness I’m good at coming up with stuff on the spot.

“Okay. This one is called, ‘The Phoenix and the Knight’…”