“So be it! All of you fools will die without my help!” 

Tears blur Elizabeth’s vision as she watches her mother curse the naive people of Massachuesetts from the gallows. Men surrounding Proctor’s Ledge scream for her mother’s death, and the executioner has no reserves. Elizabeth quickly turned her back as the noose tightened around her mother’s neck, causing the tears that had been brimming up finally to spill across her blotchy cheeks. Cheers ripped through the crowd, for they did not know they had sealed their guarantee of death with a kiss. Elizabeth pulls her bonnett over her head and wraps her body in her cloak to at least try to prevent the stares or glances or sharp objects being thrown in her direction as she walks away from Proctor’s Ledge. 

Elizabeth walks into the woods on a winding and twisting, worn dirt path. Soon, she is deep in the forest before she sees the familiar outline of a humble cabin. Several bugs lull around lazily basking in the light that poured into the darkness from the cabin’s windows. Elizabeth opens her wooden door, shuts it behind her, and sits down at a crowded table covered in old books with strange symbols on them and equally as aged parchment. She starts pouring over what appears to be the oldest book that was left open in front of her chair. So many thoughts race through Elizabeth’s mind as she tries to understand the ancient language on the pages before her. The young witch’s breath becomes shaky as she realizes what she has to accomplish, and the words become unrecognizable from her tears. There was no way she had the power to cast a spell this powerful alone. Her mother was the last witch able to protect Earth from the impending extraterisotal attack. Elizabeth was just starting out in magic, and she was far from being able to cast protection over the entirety of the Earth. Elizabeth buries her face in her hands and starts to weep. For her mother, for herself, and the entirety of the human race. She has failed to save them all. 

The weight of the world on Elizabeth’s shoulders was overwhelming. Her stomach cramps from the excessive weeps that rack her entire body, making it impossible to think of anything other than her failures. Tears rolled down her neck and hands, spilling on more spell books that were no use to a novice. 

Twenty men all carrying torches, varius garden tools, and religious items marched down from Proctor’s Ledge onto the worn dirt road. The men wore matching black hooded robes with thin brown rope tied around the waist, and sinister smiles plastered on their faces as they headed their way towards the last Salem witch. Finally, the cabin is in the eye's view and they begin the chanting of Puritan prayers. 

Elizabeth is jerked back into reality when she hears the men’s prayers getting closer. She wipes her tears and swipes her nose across her sleeve. Elizabeth puts up no fight when two of the men break her door down and take hold of her two arms. She doesn’t say a word as they set fire to the only home she had ever known. Elizabeth knows that by tomorrow the whole world will look like her cabin. 

Elizabeth stands exactly where her mother had just an hour or two before. The rope felt scratchy and rough around her neck. Elizabeth peered at the people below her, all cheering for the “End of the terror of the Salem witches!” What they didn’t know that this “end” was just the beginning of a new terror. Elizabeth peered in the sky and saw clouds parting to make room for a futuristic ship of some kind. Elizabeth smiled, taking comfort in knowing that she will see her mother again, and that Massucheunts would have a new horror to deal with, without the help of the witches. 

“It’s just the beginning,” Elizabeth muttered, still looking at the sky. She felt the platform drop from under her feet, and her neck snapped.