A Witch Hunter’s Guide: The Wraith of the Woods

Let it be known, I write this story in defiance of the Norfolk council. For they would see the events of October 1659 hidden away, forgotten. But I cannot and will not live among the ignorance. Let this story serve to teach. Serve to teach all new settlers of America to be wary of witch folk.

***

My name is Abigail Thorne. At the time of the events in this story, I was 16 years old. You also must know, that roughly two months prior to the events of October 1659, an unknown force began threatening the townsfolk. People began finding strange runes carved into the sides of houses. Farmers would wake to discover a sheep, lying dead, it’s hooves severed. And children whispered of seeing a gray woman crying in the forest. I must admit, even I had been a skeptic in those first months. It took my own discovery that the gray woman, or Martha as she was named, was undoubtedly real.

I first came across the wraith trekking back from the beach. I will state, I was not searching for her. My mother and I had quarreled earlier that day and I fled to the beach. As I navigated a steep climb in the path, I heard the most horrifying wail only yards away. Like the sound a mother makes as the gravedigger lowers her son. I dropped to my stomach. It was early evening on an abnormally humid September day. A thick mist layered the forest so I could only see but feet in front of me. The wailing continued, on rhythm, almost as if the wraith were mocking itself. But I could not see anything in the distance. Slowly, I rose to my feet, eyes above the fog. The moon cast a shimmering glow creating a mystical haze throughout the forest. I looked around but could find nothing. No movement. No sign of any other beings but myself. Just the metered wailing in the distance. I did not have desires to find the source so I quickly moved up the rest of the hill. As I crested the hill, the wraith was face to face with me. The next wail’s location no longer a mystery. I fell to the ground. Frozen by fear. She let out a deafening shriek this time and I rushed to cover my ears and curl my body.

Then she retreated. I cautiously uncurled my body and sat up. Prepared the throw myself back down the hill, if I needed. She was calm though. I could sense that. She was half transparent and half solid. I could see through her but she had spots that reflected back. She was young. The parts of ‘skin’ that I could see weren’t wrinkled, as thinking back, I would have expected. We stayed in that moment, locked on each other, for what felt like an eternity.

“Ss-ss-ss-so ss-ss-orry,” she said leaning in to offer a hand but then remembering that wouldn’t be of much use. “I h-h-haven’t s-seen a p-person in s-so many of y-ears-s.” Her voice felt charred and forced but her tone offered comfort. I planted my hands and rose to my feet, not removing my eyes from her.

“Uhhhhh…I’m ok.” I muttered.

“T-That’s m-most p-pleasant.” “I-I’m M-Martha.”

“Uh. Abigail.” I replied, gesturing towards me. She appeared as if she had a reserved eagerness to continue conversing. But I could see that each word pained her. I looked to carry the conversation as one sided as I could.

“You are the wraith of these woods? The one the children rumor about? Forced to a half life of perpetual sadness?” I asked. She nodded solemnly.

“Who created you?”

“A d-dark-k war-warlock.” she whispered so to speak clearly. “Cassian Blackthorne.”

“When did you die?” I asked.

“1625”, she whispered back.

We continued discussing for some time. For simplicity of the story, I shall publish an excerpt from my diary entry that night;

…I questioned Martha how she came to be. She said she had died as young woman from a terrible illness. Her parents where among the first settlers of the Virginia colony. This Cassian Blackthorne, she says, is an evil creature. She is bound to him as her summoner. She was fooled by the dream of a second chance at life and she’s been held hostage ever since. Bound to the woods he inhabits. He is a cursed being, she said. Afflicted by a demon that he must sacrifice to. That explained the strangeness around Norfolk. Every few months they would emigrate to the next village and prepare the next ritual.”

***

I awoke the following morning and immediately spoke to my father about what I had witnessed. He wanted no part of it. Shooing it away as my usual dramatics. Mother did the same. I even charged into the town council chambers that afternoon and demanded to be heard, but no one would hear what I had to say. The only person in this moment who would listen to me was my brother, Jonathon, the newly appointed town vicar. And all he did was nod his head and gently advise me to add Valerian root to my nightly tea. I was alone to prevent Cassian’s sacrifice from coming to fruition.

***

I returned that evening to the opening in the forest where the trees gave way to a small dirty patch next to a small stream. I heard Martha’s wailing off in the distance and she arrived not shortly after. She stood motionless. Her eyes pleading for good news. Something I could not give her.

“Wh-what do you me-mean, they d-don’t be-lieve?” making her disappointment firmly felt, even through her monotone, haggard voice.

“I’m sorry,” I cried. “Its a fairy tale they think I’m telling. They think I’m in hysterics from a nightmare.” I paused. “If anyone of them do believe me, they’re too afraid to confront it.”

Martha must have sensed my hatred in being defeated, because she did not press me. Even as an undead, she had a keen emotional awareness.

“You m-must g-get away,” she muttered. “The r-ritual w-will begin sh-shortly.”

“What does shortly mean?” I quickly responded. “Days?” Martha nodded.

“He’ll t-t-take th-three virgin w-w-women. In t-two d-days. At-t the n-new m-moon.” she pointed to the sky where a tiny fraction of the moon was reflecting back.

“I’m not going to abandon you,” I yelled “my family, or the village. I will fight this fight myself if I have to.”

Martha made no response. She walked over to boulder and appeared to sit down. She stayed in that moment for a while.

“I-I th-think I h-have a plan.” she finally said.

Author’s Note: A complete guide for taking down a demon corrupted warlock is included as Appendix A.

According to Martha, she often overheard Cassian communicating with the demon. She said Cassian was immortal unless wounded by a holy dagger, one blessed with holy water. Cassian’s focus would be elsewhere for the upcoming hours as he prepared for the ritual. We had to act fast if we were to catch him off guard.

The dagger was taking care of. I had been given a dagger at the age of 9, in secrecy, by my father. My mother would not welcome me or my sisters to learn to fight. Her goal for us was to be reverent ladies to be married off. I naturally would not fit that mold and in turn have gotten fairly competent with a blade.

No, my challenge would be convincing the priest to bless the blade. My challenge would be convincing my brother.

I pondered my approach for several hours. Pacing up and down the town streets. Wasting the valuable time we had left. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that I made my way to the church.

Jonathon was standing at the altar when I entered through the front of the church. Preparing for the evening service, dressed in full garb already.

“How may I help you, Abigail.” he said.

“Do you recall the “dream” I discussed with you a few days ago, brother?”

“Yes, I recall.”

“I had another last night.” I said as I began my lie. He studied me as I continued. “In this dream, nightmare really, I encountered the wraith again. This time she began shouting satanic words at me. Screaming of burning Norfolk with the fires of hell.” Jonathon held my gaze as I detailed the fake nightmare I had developed. His face as solemn as the Lord’s on the cross behind him. “Would you bless my dagger with Holy Water?” I finally asked. “It would put me at ease tonight knowing I have the Lord’s protection.”

“Abigail, you always have the Lord looking over you. I believe these dreams are a test from Him. I advise you to look inward and discover the reason.” Jonathon lectured.

“No, I need this blessing…” I pleaded as he raised a hand to cut me off.

“I must continue to prepare for the evening service. We can continue to discuss afterwards.”

I wandered between the pews like a serpent. Unable to accept my defeat. I exited the church and aimlessly wandered onto the street. Without watching, I walked into a man walking the opposite direction. Neither of us saying anything. The man continued onward, focused solely on the entrance to the church. I paused and glanced back to the man, he wore a black leather cloak with the hood up. I could not make out his face but on the shoulder of his cloak, I could faintly identify a rune etched into the leather. A rune that I had most certainly saw carved into houses at the beginning of this whole mystery. I paused to gather my thoughts. Was this Cassian? Why was he here? Does he know I’ve been talking to Martha?

I put my questions aside and began walking back to the church as the doors swung closed following the cloaked man’s entrance. I hastened my walk at the bang of the wooden doors. I entered the church to find the cloaked man and Jonathon in a close embrace. Jonathon’s eyes found me in the center aisle. Then his faced turned pale. He let out a groan as he fell back to the alter. His robes, I could see, where soaked with blood around his abdomen. I rushed over to him, ignoring the man standing over, a bloodied knife in his right hand. Jonathan was trembling in my hands as I lowered his head to the ground. The man turned to address me.

“You must have guessed by now, Abigail, that I’ve uncovered your plot against me. Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance though. I am Cassian Blackthorne.” His tone rank with superiority. He removed his hood and I could see his black eyes. Drawn over his bald head were more of his satanic runes. “Now, you’ve tested me but I was able to make special arrangements after Martha informed me of the plan you two had.” My face must have shown the anger I felt in that moment. “Oh, don’t blame Martha. I suspected she had began making attempts to escape. It was simply a matter of forcing her to tell me.” My body collapsed over Jonathon. His ever weakening breath cradling my head. I could see a small vial in the pocket of his robe. I spun my head around to look at him. He was looking back at me. Painfully fighting to keep his eyes open. I saw him mouth “Holy Water” to me and tap his robe pocket.

“Come now, Abigail. You are the final piece we need for the ritual.” Cassian began walking towards the doors of the church.

I began to sob. I knelt in front of Jonathon. My back to Cassian walking down the center aisle. My body blocking Jonathon’s face from Cassian’s view. Huddled over my lap, I reached down into the pocket of my apron, and retrieved my dagger. Slowly, I reached into Jonathon’s robe to pull the vial of Holy Water from his pocket. His eyes fixed on mine. Using all his energy to survive any bit longer. I pulled the cork from the vial and placed the Holy Water in his hands. In one motion, he flicked the water over the blade in my lap and muttered a prayer. He collapsed down on the alter and shut his eyes.

“Come now, Abigail,” Cassian scolded. “I will not be asking a third time.”

I rose. My eyes pinned to the ground in front of me. I followed Cassian out of the church, down the street of the village. Not looking at anyone around me. And into the forest, headed for the warlock’s hut.

***

Cassian’s hut was little more than an outhouse looking at it from the outside. It was nearly inconspicuous among the dense forest. However, once you entered, the hut was cursed to make it appear as a castle on the inside. Elegant tapestries draped on the walls and a grand staircase in the center. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Cassian led me through the halls to the dining room which held a large circular table. Seated at the table already were two other girls. Younger than I but only by a year or two. I recognized one as Prudence Atwater. The other I did not know. They made no movement as we entered the room. I would come to learn that they had been bewitched. Paralyzed until Cassian gave them a command. Which I expected would be my fate in only a matter of moments.

Cassian pulled out a chair and gestured. “Sit down,” he said to me.

I obliged. Nervously awaiting my moment to strike. Wondering where he had Martha banished to.

Cassian walked around the table to the opposite side. He snapped his fingers and two trays floated out from the kitchen.

“I enjoy a formal dinner prior to the ritual. And to have the company of such a remarkable guest…is a rare treat.”

“What did you do with Martha!” I yelled.

“Oh she’s only begun to experience what I am going to do to her.” He grinned and remove the lid of his tray, inhaling deeply, savoring the moment.

I continued to scan the room to create a moment of opportunity to plunge my dagger into him. But could find nothing. Until it fell in my lap.

“Ah, how rude of me. You know I entertain so few visitors these days, I hardly remember the pleasantries.” He backed away from the table, stood and began walking towards me. “Allow me to prepare your plate,” he said.

This was my moment, I thought. I can time it properly to stick this dagger into his neck. Lets just hope the blessing will work.

I remained firmly seated. My hands in my lap, concealing the dagger gripped in my right hand. He approached me from the side, reached over and grasped the platinum lid of the tray. In a moment, I thrust my dagger under his outstretched arm, straight up to his throat.

Cassian reacted enough to avoid a fatal blow. The dagger only grazing his collar bone as he grabbed at my arm with his other hand and held it firmly outstretched, the dagger still in my grip.

“Well, I must give you credit, Abigail. You are feistier than I had imagined.” He conjured a handkerchief in the hand not restraining my own and dabbed the spots of blood where his shoulders met his neck. “I assumed Martha would have told you. Only Holy weapons can defeat me. I guess I could have spared that vicar after all.”

My heart pumped and I thrashed my arm trying to free myself. He continued to restrain the dagger.

The next moment, Martha emerged into the dining room. Her grayish aura now a trickling gold through the room.

“Martha!” I screamed.

Martha then channeled all the sadness that had been imbued upon her since her being summoned back to the living. She let out an enormous wail, reverberating through the dining hall, stunning everyone. The two girls snapped out of their trance and covered their ears. With only one hand, all I could do was cover a single ear. But I realized, Cassian had received the full blast. Releasing my arm holding the dagger and staggering backwards. I continued my attack with my outstretched arm and plunged the dagger into his neck. He continued to stagger backwards. Refusing to believe that the dagger had worked. Although, in his eyes, I could see it most certainly had. He fell back to the marble floor and lay motionless.

Martha’s wail ceded and her golden glow faded back to gray. I rushed over to her as she slumped to the floor. My arms grasping for anything to hold her as I held Jonathon. But nothing could be done. She smiled up at me, “I’m free.” she whispered. And she faded into the atmosphere.

***

I am Abigail Thorne. Leader of the Virginia Witch Hunters. Join us if you believe.