Wearing one of Mary's dress. I walk the most naturally in the cloudy streets of Salem. If I wanted to find the ingredients that I needed I had to go to the local market. I had a pouch of money that landed I don't know how in my pocket. Sabrina or Benjamin must have done that.

I start by buying some sugar and pumpkin. As I searched for spices a loud noise interrupted my shopping. Everyone started putting aside what they were doing to go towards that noise. I hailed an old woman who was following the crowd.

- Hum...Excuse me, but what is all the fuss about? I asked alerted.

She looked at me with wide eyes before answering me.

- Oh my child, you mustn't be from this town. The villagers have captured a witch! The trial is about to start and everyone is obliged to watch it.

She turned her attention back to the crowd and walked towards them. I decided to follow her. After all I wanted to blend in and I was a bit curious too. I didn't know much about the Witches of Salem period. Surely it is going to be like our modern trials?

As we gathered around the church (who was the place where all trials would happen), I could hear some excited voice about what punishment will be reserved to the witch. I started to feel uncomfortable: people were talking about her like she was already proven guilty. Like they were looking forward with great impatience to the punishment. I sit toward the back in the shadows to avoid any attention. An old couple sit next to me as well as a young man and a middle aged woman dress in black.

The young man was wearing elegant clothes. He bended towards the woman and whispered:

- I am deeply sorry for your loss Madam Smith.

The whisper was loud enough for me to hear in the religious silence of the room.

- He was good husband and a good man, said the widow taking a tissue.

She gently dried her face soak with tears under her dark veil.

- I hope that justice will be brought and that the evil soul of this wretched woman will burn eternally in the flammes of Hell.

Her harsh voice was charged with pure hate and an other emotion.

A man in a black priest cloth and thin circle glasses came in. His face was serious and filled with pride. He went behind a long table and cleared his throat.

- Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming. You all left your jobs and your chores to come see us bringing justice in this town. It has been a few months since the attacks started. Bodies mutilated with the devil's marks written in their flesh, their blood taken by those murders.

Angry growls filled the room. Sounds that belonged more to animals than to us.

- Penelope Grace is called to the bar.

A young woman a bit older than me, probably twenty-five years old, was escorted in the middle of the room by two people, who must have been their sort of policemen. I almost gasped of horror when I saw the state of that "witch".

Her clothes were all torn and dirty. We could see most of her body covered of dirt, blood and red fresh wounds. Her face has thin and tired. Her hair was so tangled that it looked more like a nest than hair. She wasn't walking straight. She was limping on a soaked blood leg. But the worst were her eyes. They were incredibly beautiful. Two midnight blue eyes. Eyes who were screaming pure fear. She was so frail and afraid between the two men. She looked like a wounded rabbit in the middle of a pack of wolf.

Maybe this is it.

This wasn't a trial. This was a show. There wasn't any way there were going to let her go free after torturing her like this.

- May the trial begins.

Heavy noise marks the start.

- Are you Penelope Grace? asks a judge.

- I am indeed, she responds.

Even threaten she still conserves a glimpse of dignity.

- Do you admit to have murdered Mister Arthur Smith

- I do not.

- Do you admit to be a witch?

- I do not.

Angry noise starts to elevate in the small church. Penelope starts to shiver.

- Miss Grace, you can still find redemption if you admit your sin.

My doubts confirm themselves. They are already convinced that she is the murderer. My stomach tightens. I am scared to see what will follow.

- Gentlemen, please escort Miss Smith to the lake.

Five men stand up and drag the woman outside the church. Maybe fifteen minutes pass before they come back...without the presumed witch.

- She drowned.

Disappointed sight fuse in the room. The crowd starts to evacuate the trial. I am going to stand up when someone grabs my wrist. I jump, startle.

- Excuse me, are you knew in town?

I recognize the young man who was talking with Madam Smith.

- I am, I am a relative of Mary Rosebay, I lie. My name is Lana Oliver.

- Enchanted to meet you Miss Oliver. I am William Floyd. You must be a bit lost with those witches trials.

- I am, I say.

My heart aches.

- It has been a few months since people started to die. On their body we founded sigils. Witches' sigils. To this day we only caught one real witch.

- How do you know if someone is a real witch? I ask fearing his respond.

He smiles darkly.

- We tie them on a chair. If they float, they are witches. If they drown...well they are innocent.

My stomach drops.

- It was nice meeting you. See you around Miss Oliver, he says with gentleman smile.

I stay stun for a few minutes before fleeing out of the church. I forget everything about the ingredients for the pumpkin spice latte. I just want to get away from this morbid place. I run until I am out of breath. I fall on the floor. There is no one. Strangely I feel safer. I sit in fœtus position, my head on my knees.

I have to get away from this town. The quickest possible.