Author Games: Salem

Task Three: The Hunt - Female Entries

ROLE ACTIVATION TIMESLOT BEGINS NOW - In the next hour/half hour I will send to you infomation regarding your role. Should you need it.

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Sybil Josefina May - The Seamstress 

Sybil knew her parents were outraged by Sybil’s forced participation in the witch hunt, but did not dare say so.  She also knew it was fear for both her and themselves that kept them quiet.  Sybil did not like to think that the frenzy of the mob would subject a young girl to the stake, she would prefer not to test her luck.

Unfortunately, the system of witch hunting in pairs separated Sybil from her father and instead put her with the jeweler woman.  Sybil could not quite recall the woman’s first name, but she did remember that her last name was Sawyer. 

Sawyer did not say much in Sybil’s presence.   Sybil preferred this just as well.  She would rather not spend the hunt observed in the talk of a woman she would never converse with again.

An owl hooted, the sound more chilling than a bird’s daytime tweet.  With it came the wind’s midnight howl.  A shiver passed through Sybil, and in her mind she prayed for the day Salem would put all this demonic nonsense behind itself.

However, Sybil’s mind was far from the witch hunt.  Instead, she thought of the poor young woman the town had burnt at the stake three nights prior.  Try as she might, their horrified faces and screams of agony failed to depart Sybil’s memory.

Everyone else hoped to find a killer, but Sybil did not.  She knew she would rather not see another human burning, regardless of the person in question’s guilt.  If fate was kind, then Lady Carlyle’s killer would die alone in the wilderness before he or she could strike once more.

Unfortunately, fate was not kind.

Sybil was the one to trip.

Under the now scrutinizing gaze of Sawyer, Sybil scrambled to get to her feet in a most unladylike way.  She was almost grateful for the darkness to hide her clumsy blunder.  The object which had tripped Sybil assumed to be only a mere root.  She was corrected when her next step came over the crack of a bone.

This time she broke her silence with a shriek and a jump backward.  Sawyer swung her lantern down to illuminate the bodies of the tinker and the landlady.  For the first time, Sybil felt a flush of relief that this search took place under darkness.  Seeing the bodies under torchlight was quite enough to scar Sybil for life.

“Who would do such a thing?” The words came out gasped, as if they had been choked out of Sybil. 

Sawyer turned to look at Sybil, her face eerily grim in the lantern’s light.  “The same being that did such a thing to Mina Carlyle.  Possibly even the same being that brought about an end to Margaery Carlyle.”

Sybil couldn’t help but think that Sawyer’s eyes seemed more than a little accusatory.  Though Sybil knew she had nothing to be accused of, but it was through Sawyer’s gaze that it occurred to Sybil that perhaps the killer was one of the witch hunters themselves.

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Lucille Carginal - The Tailor/Maid

"Who's there?"

The voice of a mature sounding woman echoes around the deserted streets of Salem. I wouldn't be able to tell you who it was for the life of me, I really wouldn't. "I'm here," I yell out, clenching my fists. What if I'm luring the killer right now?