Gallows Hill

Marybeth Paxton was twenty-four and fresh out of college. She was smart, driven and ready to start her life. She’d earned her masters in American literature from Wellesby College just four weeks ago. Now she was in Salem, Massachusetts looking for a new place to call home.

Cromwell Catholic High had offered her a teaching position, and she’d said yes before she could talk herself out of it. But from the moment she stepped into Salem, something felt off. Marybeth told herself it was just nerves. She was wrong.

It was cold for late August, so Marybeth ducked into a smal coffee shop. She ordered something hot, didn’t care what, as long as it warmed her up. The place was quiet, almost empty. She found a tiny table by the wall. Then she saw it, a corkboard covered with 5x7 cards, each one handwritten, each one a little crooked.

She scanned the cards one by one. Then one stopped her. Great One Bedroom Apt. Great Location Very Quiet Ready for someone to move in today Contact Sarah Good 565-0666 She scribbled the number on a napkin, dug a quarter out of her purse, and crossed the store to the payphone. Her hand hovered over the receiver for just a second. Then she picked it up and dialed.

After three rings, someone picked up but no one spoke. Marybeth waited, phone pressed to her ear. “Hello? Is this Ms. Good?” she asked. There was a pause and then a woman’s voice said, “Are you calling about the apartment?” “Yes,” Marybeth replied. “My name is Marybeth Paxon. I’m very interested in the rental.” “The apartment is stil available,” the voice said. “If you come now, I’l show it to you. 1313 Thorndike Street, ring the bell.”

Marybeth asked the girl behind the counter for directions to 1313 Thorndike Street. “Go west on Main to the first stoplight,” the girl said. “It’s on the corner, left side. A few minutes later, Marybeth reached the light and saw it. A large Victorian house. The numbers 1313 were painted neatly on the front. The house was a deep emerald green; its copper roof gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. It looked solid and somehow untouched by time.

She walked the numerous steps to the front door and lightly knocked. She heard shuffling footsteps approaching her. The door opened, and standing before Marybeth was a tiny older woman in a long black dress. Her hair was jet black with a streak of gray down the middle. Her left eye was covered with a black eye patch. Her face carried a sadness that seemed to reveal a lifetime of loneliness.

Ms. Good looked at Marybeth with a crooked smile and stepped back. Marybeth reached out to shake Ms. Good’s hand, but she quickly turned away and said, “Follow me to the third floor.” Marybeth followed her down the dark hall to a flight of stairs located at the back of enormous house.

Marybeth noticed once she entered the front door how cold it was inside. Ms. Good stopped at a dark mahogany door with the number 13 printed in white on the top door frame. Ms. Good unlocked the door to apartment 13. As Marybeth entered the apartment, a strong blast of chilled wind blew through the open turret windows, and the apartment door slammed shut.

As Marybeth walked to the center of the living area, she felt a strange feeling of being watched but after a few seconds it vanished. Continuing, she walked over to the large turret windows. Outside to the left of the house was church with a beautiful spiral tower with a golden cross pressed against the cold, blue horizon. Marybeth saw a man sitting on a bench next to the church, he looked up, smiled at her, then returned to his newspaper.

Ms. Good placed the key in Marybeth’s hand and said, “This apartment was meant for you, my dear. You can move your belongings whenever you’d like.” Ms. Good walked out of the apartment, leaving Marybeth still standing by the windows. She watched Ms. Good pass into the hall.

Over the next week, Marybeth moved her belongings into apartment 13 and began getting ready for the start of the school year. After a few days, she noticed something strange, she seemed to be the only tenant in the building. She hadn’t seen anyone coming or going and even Ms. Good appeared to have vanished.

As Marybeth stepped out of her apartment on the first day of school, someone emerged from the apartment across the hall. At first, she was startled to see another person on her floor. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you.” he stated. He appeared to be in his early thirties, tall, with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, and dressed all in white. After a few seconds, she recognized him as the man sitting on church bench. “Hello, you must be my new neighbor. I’m Marybeth Paxton from apartment 13.” “So nice to meet you, Marybeth” he said with a calm smile. “I’m Michael.” As they walked toward the stairs, she asked, “Have you lived here long?” “I’ve stayed here from time to time,” Michael replied. “I come back to Salem whenever I’m needed.”

Michael walked across the street and up the seven steps of St. James Protestant Church. The church was a large red brick building with stained glass windows above the dark pine doors. It was built in 1806 by the large Protestant congregation that lived in the northeastern portion of Massachusetts. There were 30 rows of pews, separated by a large aisle in the center. At the front of the church stood the sanctuary, a pure white space with a crucifix of Jesus hanging from the ceiling. Over the altar was a stained glass window, in the center of the glass was a simple red cross.

Michael walked down the aisle and sat in the second row on the right. He stared at Jesus, lowered his head and silently said a prayer. As he sat praying, a brilliant light slowly engulfed Michael’s body. As quickly as the light had ascended upon Michael, it dissolved at a much slower rate. When the light had finally ceased to be, Michael rose and left St. James. He entered the apartment building, climbed the three flights of stairs and stood in front of the door marked 13. Michael passed through the locked door and marched directly to the bedroom closet. Passing his right hand over the closet entrance, Michael placed his palm down on the wooden face of door. He took his finger and made the sign of the cross on the surface and said, “Deus omnes protegit. You and your demons will not walk this Earth again. Your Legion was sentenced to darkness for all eternity,” As Michael turned to leave, the cross appeared on the door and turned blood red. Wails and whispering voices seeped from the depths of the apartment, then fell silent.

The dark green house at 1313 Thorndike Street was built on the site once known as Gallows Hill, the location of the Salem witch trials and 3oo yards south of the spot where 18 women and one man were burned at the stake. According to legend, one hundred years after the executions, a dark figure appeared at the base of Gallows Hill. His appearance drew a large crowd of Salemites, many believed they were in the presence of the devil. “I am Abaddon, the angel of destruction and the keeper of all dark magic. I command a Legion of nineteen, banished from this world by your ancestors more than a century ago. When the 5th descendant of your line returns to Gallows Hill, the door keeping us trapped will be unlocked. We will rise over Salem, and its inhabitants will be plunged in darkness.” He raised his arms above his head; smoke hide his entire body. When the smoke cleared, he was gone. No one spoke of that night again, not publicly. But the story lived on, whispered through generations, buried deep in the hearts of Salem’s most devout.

Michael kept a close eye on Marybeth from a distance. She had no idea he was there, invisible to her and others, but always near if danger approached. Marybeth loved to walk the two blocks to Cromwell, now that the cold weather had finally turned warm. On her way home one afternoon, she saw Michael sitting on the bench in front of St. James. “Well, hello Marybeth,” he said. “Mind if I sit?” she replied. “Please do.” “You have lived here a while. I have a question. Is our building haunted?” she added. Michael laughed and said, “Why would you ask? Are you seeing ghosts?” “No, just strange sounds at night, it sounds like scratching in the walls, and sometimes, I think I hear faint voices coming from my closet.” Marybeth answered. “Our building is over 150 years old and seems to have a life of its own. I think you are just hearing the old structure expanding and settling with age. There’s nothing to be concerned about, I hear sounds all the time. It’s just the history of this place telling us its story. But if you get worried, feel free to knock on my door anytime. I will come over and have a look.” Michael commented. She looked at Michael and whispered, “Don’t be surprised when I do.”

This conversation troubled Michael. He knew the time was fast approaching, and he had to be prepared to protect Marybeth and ensure Abaddon and his Legion never entered back into this world through the sealed gates under apartment 13. Michael walked back into the sanctuary of St. James and stood in front of the stoup which contained Holy Water. He removed a chain from around his neck. Hanging from the chain was a vessel which contained a small amount of a red substance. Michael removed the clasp and added a few drops of the Holy Water.

Marybeth entered her apartment and was shocked to see a cat sitting on the ledge of the turret windows. The cat was black with a silver streak running down the length of its back. Marybeth slowly walked closer and noticed the cat had a small object in its mouth. She instantly recognizes the object. It was a silver key on a silver chain. This key was given to Marybeth by her mother when she turned 6, and she wore almost every day. This morning, she accidentally snagged the chain with her hairbrush and broke the fastener. Marybeth had left it on the nightstand, so she could fix it when she got home. She started to reach for the cat, but it quickly turned its face toward Marybeth and then disappeared out the opened window. An instant before the cat vanished, Marybeth noticed something strange: it’s left eye was missing.

The one-eyed cat took the tiny key. The key was seized from around the neck of Sarah Good moments before she was burned at Gallows Hill for being a witch in 1692. It was taken by a woman named Rebecca Paxton. A few years later, when Rebecca died, she left the key to her daughter, Mary. The key was passed down through generations of Paxtons until Marybeth’s mother, Susan Paxton, gave it to her on her 6th birthday.

The black cat slowly transformed into Ms. Good. She entered the locked room directly under Marybeth’s apartment. Located precisely in the middle of the room, on the hardwood floor, was a black pentagram. She placed the key in the center of the pentagram, and the area around the key turned dark. After a few seconds, the key melted and dropped out of sight. Abaddon held the silver key in his hand and placed it against the inside of the closet door of apartment 13. The wooden door exploded, and Abaddon entered Marybeth bedroom.

Marybeth stood in front of Michael’s door and started knocking loudly. “Michael, I hear voices pleading for me to open the closet,” she shouted. Michael opened the door, and there stood Marybeth in a terrycloth nightgown. She had tears rolling down her face and a terrified look in her eyes. He grabbed her and pulled her close. Her skin was ice cold, but her nightgown was drenched in sweat. As Michael embraced her, Marybeth violently pushed him away. "You cannot protect her anymore!” a voice growled.

As Marybeth stepped back, she collapsed to the floor, and a black cloud emerged and floated above her lifeless body. Michael moved forward and whispered, “Reveal yourself, let me see your face.” Suddenly, a creature appeared, dressed in leather armor and with the face of a horned beast. “Abaddon, I know you all too well.” Michael said. Michael knelt before Abaddon. Abaddon saw him with his head down and he thought he had won until Michael said, “Amen.” As Micheal rose magnificent white wings unfurled from his back.

Michael said nothing at first and moved closer to Abaddon. As he walked forward, there was a loud clap of thunder, and a bolt of lighting flashed outside. Rain poured striking the copper roof. Abaddon raised his hand, and flames flew from his fingers and engulfed Michael. Michael wrapped his wings around himself, and the fire instantly died.

Michael ripped the vessel from his neck and opened it. Abaddon hissed, “Water blessed by a human has no effect on my power and certainly no effect on my soul. I will battle until God’s strongest warrior is defeated and Salem will be obliterated from existence, and my Legion will return to rule over all.” Michael moved two steps closer to Abaddon and slowly poured the liquid onto the floor. The light red liquid rolled under Abaddon’s feet. He tried to move away but he was frozen in place. Michael covered Marybeth’s body with his wings to protect her from the flames that were spreading through-out the room. “Abaddon, this liquid is not only Holy Water, it is the life of Christ. I have mixed the Holy Water with Christ’s blood. It ends here were it started 275 years ago,” Michael declared. A bright blue light formed at Abaddon’s feet and quickly moved up his entire body. In a matter of seconds, Abaddon was consumed in blue flames and screaming in agony. As Abaddon turned his back to Michael, a silver key on a silver chain fell to the floor in front of Michael. He picked it up and touched it with his right hand to cool it down. As Michael stood, still encasing Marybeth with his wings, lightning crashed through the large turret windows and collided with the closet door. Incinerating the room. In a matter of seconds, the old house at 1313 Thorndike Street exploded into flames.

No one was outside when Micheal emerged though the inferno and into the rain with Marybeth in his arms. He laid her on the grass at St. James. In the distance, he could hear the blaring sirens but knew when they arrived only ashes would be left. Micheal touched Marybeth’s forehead, made the sign of the cross and whispered, “You will not remember this night or me, my child,” Micheal stood, his wings in full view. A light from the smoke filled sky surrounded him and Micheal ascended to heaven