O
ovrzls
Guest
I tend to jump start my stories with too-complicated events and descriptions.. this is my attempt at starting more slowly, but hopefully not more dull. It's on its way to being a short story, so it's not a novel or anything.
Let me know what you think, like if anything is confusing, or the parts you like best.
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Charlotte Paxton attended 291 Sunday sermons by the age of 6, and never understood a single one. It wasn't until sermon 292 that she became interested in the nervous old pastor's words.
"Witchcraft!" Pastor Cameron grasped the altar, arms shaking with old age, voice filled with unusual intensity. It was the first time he had ever distracted Charlotte from her usual counting of hairs on Widow Seymour’s neck in front of her.
"Here in our tiny town of Shepherd Mills,” Pastor Cameron continued, “we've been blessed with the absence of witchcraft. But the devil's hand moves ever closer. Towns nearer and nearer are exposing hidden evils. Hickory Lake found two witches among them. Last fortnight, a stranger staying at the inn in Baldridge, summoned spirits and caused the fire that killed a 6 year-old girl."
Charlotte had burnt her finger that morning. She stared at the red spot that still hadn't stopped stinging. It was such a tiny spot that caused so much hurt. She imagined the burn on her whole hand, and her whole body. She imagined being surrounded by flames and her heart began to beat wildly inside of her.
That poor girl. What if that stranger had come to Shepherd Mills? Would Charlotte have been killed in a fire, and would that girl in Baldridge be alive at church, trembling in a hard pew trying to keep her tears hidden so that nobody would see them?
"The Lord gives no mercy to witches or spell casters, and neither does the church. 'There shall not be found among you any one that useth divination, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a consulter with spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.' If you suspect a person of any of these sins, you are bound by the church to expose them, lest another child is killed in flames."
Charlotte refocused her attention on the hairs on Widow Seymour's neck, but didn't count them. She had a renewed sense of purpose. She would expose any witch or spirit-raiser who dared to show her any evidence of their sins.
Charlotte soon discovered that Mother shared her natural curiosity about the people within the limits of tiny Shepherd Mills. Once Charlotte began asking questions about the habits and secrets of their neighbors, Mother unleashed an unseen fountain of knowledge. Until then, Mother only talked to Charlotte as a daughter to be reared properly: scolding, instructing and sometimes comforting. But when they talked about the possibility of witchcraft in a neighbor, Mother spoke to Charlotte like an adult. Like a friend.
For the next 4 years, Charlotte kept a watchful eye for peculiar behavior, even in the most trusted people of Shepherd Mills. She loved to come home from the tiny schoolhouse with news of a rotting deer carcass found behind the Haggis house, with crazy old Mr. Haggis denying that he had killed the beast. News of that sort meant Charlotte and Mother could prepare supper, speculating how a witch was involved. Perhaps Mr. Haggis had killed the deer, but a witch erased his memory of the hunt and he left it to rot by accident? Or he killed it to use its blood for some evil ritual? Or someone else killed it and put it on the Haggis property to avoid being noticed?
"Or maybe," Charlotte laughed, stoking the fire, "Mrs. Haggis killed it for herself, and Mr. Haggis doesn't even know that she is a witch!"
"Oh, don't be silly," Mother said, though she smiled at the wild suggestion.
The next morning, they learned that Mr. Haggis had died.
Let me know what you think, like if anything is confusing, or the parts you like best.
------------
Charlotte Paxton attended 291 Sunday sermons by the age of 6, and never understood a single one. It wasn't until sermon 292 that she became interested in the nervous old pastor's words.
"Witchcraft!" Pastor Cameron grasped the altar, arms shaking with old age, voice filled with unusual intensity. It was the first time he had ever distracted Charlotte from her usual counting of hairs on Widow Seymour’s neck in front of her.
"Here in our tiny town of Shepherd Mills,” Pastor Cameron continued, “we've been blessed with the absence of witchcraft. But the devil's hand moves ever closer. Towns nearer and nearer are exposing hidden evils. Hickory Lake found two witches among them. Last fortnight, a stranger staying at the inn in Baldridge, summoned spirits and caused the fire that killed a 6 year-old girl."
Charlotte had burnt her finger that morning. She stared at the red spot that still hadn't stopped stinging. It was such a tiny spot that caused so much hurt. She imagined the burn on her whole hand, and her whole body. She imagined being surrounded by flames and her heart began to beat wildly inside of her.
That poor girl. What if that stranger had come to Shepherd Mills? Would Charlotte have been killed in a fire, and would that girl in Baldridge be alive at church, trembling in a hard pew trying to keep her tears hidden so that nobody would see them?
"The Lord gives no mercy to witches or spell casters, and neither does the church. 'There shall not be found among you any one that useth divination, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a consulter with spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.' If you suspect a person of any of these sins, you are bound by the church to expose them, lest another child is killed in flames."
Charlotte refocused her attention on the hairs on Widow Seymour's neck, but didn't count them. She had a renewed sense of purpose. She would expose any witch or spirit-raiser who dared to show her any evidence of their sins.
Charlotte soon discovered that Mother shared her natural curiosity about the people within the limits of tiny Shepherd Mills. Once Charlotte began asking questions about the habits and secrets of their neighbors, Mother unleashed an unseen fountain of knowledge. Until then, Mother only talked to Charlotte as a daughter to be reared properly: scolding, instructing and sometimes comforting. But when they talked about the possibility of witchcraft in a neighbor, Mother spoke to Charlotte like an adult. Like a friend.
For the next 4 years, Charlotte kept a watchful eye for peculiar behavior, even in the most trusted people of Shepherd Mills. She loved to come home from the tiny schoolhouse with news of a rotting deer carcass found behind the Haggis house, with crazy old Mr. Haggis denying that he had killed the beast. News of that sort meant Charlotte and Mother could prepare supper, speculating how a witch was involved. Perhaps Mr. Haggis had killed the deer, but a witch erased his memory of the hunt and he left it to rot by accident? Or he killed it to use its blood for some evil ritual? Or someone else killed it and put it on the Haggis property to avoid being noticed?
"Or maybe," Charlotte laughed, stoking the fire, "Mrs. Haggis killed it for herself, and Mr. Haggis doesn't even know that she is a witch!"
"Oh, don't be silly," Mother said, though she smiled at the wild suggestion.
The next morning, they learned that Mr. Haggis had died.