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Witch Hazel
Chapter 1
Duck and Cover
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 3rd, 1692, Salem, Massachusetts
“Everyone is an enemy, everyone hates who we are and what we do. Keep your head low, and keep your hands hidden.” Hazel repeated this mantra in her head as her boot heels clicked on the cobblestone path. She gripped the handle of her wicker basket firmly. It was a cloudy day; rolling gray and white blankets covered the sky in thick sheets. A soft mist hung over the dew soaked fields. It was early morning, the pale sun was shining white behind the clouds, sending the world into a pale haze. These kinds of days were Hazel’s favorite. Her mother told her that these days were imperative to people like them; it was when their practices worked best and were the safest. Hazel tugged on her black gloves that covered both hands. Her fiery red hair ran down her back with two strands bound into braids that stretched to her upper stomach. Her skin was pale with a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. She broke into a light jog; her green dress and cloak billowing behind her. Mist flew up in the clouds behind her. Hazel let out a small laugh and felt happier than most mornings. It could have been the weather or something supernatural, but there was something in the air. She began to chant an old rhyme her mother had taught her when she was much younger. Her small voice barely formed an echo in the empty countryside.
“Daisies caught on moonbeams
Echos in the storm
A single drop of magic
And witches they were born
Some of fire some of air
Some of water and earth
The blue moon formed by angels
Was the witch’s sacred birth”
Her mother said that the rhyme depicted how witches and mages had come into being. The blue moon gave them the powers they possess. Hazel repeated the nursery rhyme until she saw the misty rooftops of Salem unfold before her. She stopped at the broad iron gate that led into town. She made sure her hands were well hidden, smoothed her dress, and then brought up her hood just like her mother had shown her. “When you step through these gates, you are just like everyone else.” Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. She took in a deep breath and stepped into danger.
The town was quiet today. “Good,” Hazel thought. Her bright, almost glowing green eyes caught the sign of the butcher’s shop. Several slips of parchment were nailed into the wood which in itself wasn’t uncommon, but Hazel always made it a priority to read every single page. Several pictures of women's faces. Some old, some young, some in between. They all read the same. “Suspect of Witchcraft: If seen please report to Town Hall.” Hazel knew some of the women here. Miss Ambrose was an Air Mage who would babysit Hazel from time to time, 22 years old. Lizzie Fellian was a friend from school, a Fire Mage, not 12 years old. Mrs.Elembrook was an old widow who Hazel’s mother would invite to tea every Saturday, a Water Mage, 82. They all had two things in common: One, they were Witches of some sort, and two, they had all disappeared. Hazel remembered hearing the harsh knocking on the door. She was supposed to be asleep, but she listened instead. Mrs. Elembrook had come to tell Mother she was leaving. Her dark eyes were full of tears. Mother asked where, but she answered only with tearful sobs. The words “I’ll be hung” repeated over, and over, and over. Hazel didn’t understand what those words meant at the time, but she did now, every child knew what awaited them if they stepped out of line. Eventually, mother calmed the widow down and Miss Elembrook left an hour later. Hazel hadn’t seen a glimpse of her since that day. Ever since then, Mother let Hazel leave the house less and less often and finally, even started homeschooling her. They began a garden in order to limit trips into town. Hazel understood why. The gallows weren’t exactly hidden, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Where other towns would put a statue or fountain, Salem had a noose swinging in the breeze. Hazel tore her eyes away from the posters and began her way to the marketplace. This was a test run. Hazel’s mother had let her go to the market on her own. It was risky but necessary. The mist was so thick that any slip ups would be covered. “Just act like any other child, little sprout.” Mother had said. Just be wary of the produce and flower stalls; it’ll be fine. There were only five visible people in the marketplace: two shoppers and three salesmen. Hazel made her way around, trying to keep chatting to a minimum. She never liked conversations with adults; they always seemed so condescending… especially with her. A lot of parents around here didn’t trust her mother’s parenting skills. She noticed people didn’t take too well to single mothers with a child; they saw it as taboo or something. Hazel had only ever asked about her father once. She had just come home from visiting Lizzie and had met her father who was also a fire mage. Hazel then started to realize that most kids in her class had two parents. She began to ponder why she only had one. When she asked, her mother had simply told her that he was back in England busy with work. As Hazel grew, she just accepted that he was probably either dead or deadbeat, or at worst both. She didn’t care; she didn’t know him. Although, she always felt a sadness grow inside her whenever she saw a happy, complete family.
Hazel stopped at the bakery and opened the door. The smell of fresh pastries filled her senses. The store was empty aside from a young woman standing behind the counter. Hazel knew she was safe here, so she took her hood off and smiled at Katherine Quinton. The woman perked up when she saw the 14 year old earth mage enter her store. “Hazel! It’s wonderful to see you! How’s your mother?” said Katherine.
“She’s well, still doesn’t want me leaving all that much,” Hazel responded as Katherine gathered up a few loaves of fresh bread.
Katherine lowered her voice to more of a whisper, and looked around the room, “For good reason. Father wants to head out west because witch or not, everyone’s a suspect to Hawthorne and his mates.” This was something made clear to Hazel, Judge John Hawthorne would tear the town to shreds if it meant getting rid of magic. His mates Sewall and Stoughton only encouraged him. Nearly every day, women were brought to the stand with slim to none coming out a free woman. Hazel smirked at the fact that Hawthorne’s only real evidence of magic were fairy tales for children that were obviously written by some pompous wiccaphobic jerk. Depicting old hags with flying brooms, turning little kids into toads willy nilly was all that they depicted. Ridiculous. Hazel learned quickly that these depictions were viewed as incredibly offensive by her mother.
Hazel was soon brought back to reality when she realized what she’d been told, “wait your leaving?” Hazel asked.
Katherine gave Hazel a sad look, “I’m afraid so. Father’s been paranoid about me ever since the incident with Netty last month. He thinks it’s better if we just try our luck out in the wild. Food shouldn’t be an issue, since, you know.” Katherine gestured to her hands. Like Hazel, Katherine was an earth mage who could control most plants. Hazel worked wonders with vines mainly, but flowers and shrubbery were a bit more difficult, not to even mention fruits and vegetables.
“Yeah… but…” Hazel started, feeling a weight in her chest.
“I’ll miss you too,” Katherine responded, “tell your mother that father and I would be more than happy to bring you two along.”
Hazel stared at her shoes, “I will.” Hazel took the bread off the counter and placed it in her basket, she began to pull out the coins her mother had given her.
Katherine put a hand up, “It’s on the house, father and I don’t have much use for money anymore anyway.” Hazel gave a small smile and put the coins back into her basket. Katherine gave a wistful smile as Hazel left the bakery.
Katherine and her father left that night, traveling to parts unknown. Hazel never saw either again.
———————————————————————————————
April, 4th 1692, Salem, Massachusetts
Hazel woke up to the dim sun clawing its way through the darkened sky. The beams descended into the room like ribbons over her eyes. Hazel reluctantly sat up and looked over to see that her mother was already up. The young witch pulled a brown dress from out of the dresser and put on her stockings and laced her boots. Hazel gazed into the mirror and brushed through her messy hair, her green eyes glared back at her. Hazel wished things were different. She didn’t regret her powers or her people; she just wished that something would change. Just a little spark, and witches and mages would be accepted by the majority. But wishing wasn’t acting, and acting would only result in a one-way ticket to Gallows Hill. So Hazel remained stuck in an endless cycle of run and hide. She felt as if a ghostly noose was always looming above her if she made one mistake. So she knew she couldn’t, because everything was on the line.
Hazel snapped out of her daydreams and quickly finished getting dressed and entered the kitchen. There stood Hazel’s mother Lily. It was easy to tell the two were related: long red hair that twizzled at the ends, blistering green eyes, and fair skin. Lily was taller and looked older and faded, with bags under her eyes. She was withered down by the pressures of secrecy, like a plant that was fed poison. She stood, humming by the fireplace. stirring a pot of breakfast stew that smelled simply alluring. Hazel walked over to the cabinet and pulled out two bowls and two spoons and set them down on the wooden table that occupied most of the room. She sat down and waited patiently until her mother brought over the pot and scooped the stew into the two bowls. Hazel watched as her mother stared out the window onto the dirt path that led to town right outside. Hazel could see the fear in her eyes. She was just waiting for the top of a hat or the neighing of a horse to appear down the long overgrown road. “Mother?” Hazel questioned as her mother’s staring continued a few minutes longer than usual.
As if being set free from a spell, her mother blinked and shifted her gauge to her daughter. “Oh, sorry… was lost in thought for a moment.” Lily responded dazedly, “Katherine and Milton stopped by last night”.
Hazel remembered her conversation from the previous day, “Did they need something? What did they say?”
Lily looked out the window once again, “They asked if we wanted to come with them. They warned that more women are being accused everyday.”
“So why don’t we just leave then? Katherine said that food won’t be a problem considering we can easily grow food ourselves.”
Lily looked back at Hazel, a swirling pool of nothing filling her eyes, “The wild is no place to raise a child. It’s more dangerous out there than here. At least here, we stand a chance of passing the trial, that is if we’re ever arrested.” She knocked twice on the wooden table. “Out west there’s animals and rugged terrain, and no way to get any sort of medical help…” Lily sighed and put a hand on her forehead, “we came here for a better life and I- ''
Hazel put a hand on her mother’s hand and gave a soft smile, “whatever happens… we’ll get through it together.” Lily looked at her fourteen year old daughter, the child she’d raised alone in a completely new world, and smiled. She hadn’t smiled in quite some time. The two returned to silence and finished breakfast.
Hazel scrubbed the dirty dishes while her mother wrapped a black cloak around her shoulders, “I have to get to work. Mr. Whitman has never been one to be patient.” Hazel’s mother worked at a tailors shop in town. Hazel had never been there before as Lily could mend any clothing. Also her boss was a creep.
Hazel set down the dishes and walked over to her mother. She adjusted the clasp on her mother’s dark cloak and moved her hood so that it was harder to see her face. “Stay safe, please…” Hazel saw her mother’s pained expression, and realized that tears were streaming down her face.
Lily embraced her child and began to feel tears as well, “It’ll be okay… I promise.” Hazel watched as her mother disappeared into the low hanging mist.
She was alone now. Hazel whispered into the empty breeze, “Stay safe…”
———————————————————————————————
Hazel was often alone. It was something she’d gotten used to over time. She let her thoughts become words and fill up the silence of her little home. She had things to do of course. She grabbed the tin watering can from its shelf and opened the back door. The sun was bright today; it flooded the pale blue sky and cast a golden glow over Hazel’s backyard, a vast stretch of small fields loaded with produce of all kinds. The garden was surrounded by a thick wood that shielded any oddities that might occur in the garden. This was Hazel’s most favorite place in the world. She reached into her coat’s pocket holding a handful of seeds. She then meticulously placed them on a new section of the garden. She removed her gloves and kneeled down, feeling the moist dirt and grass that tickled her skin. She felt its breath, inhaling and exhaling at a steady pace as it woke up with the morning.
“The ground is the birth of everything…” Hazel recalled from a book her mother had read her when she was young, “it’s a vast world of interconnected life and death, all life sprouting from its mighty roots. Those who hold a fraction of its power are tasked with preserving its world. Whether dark or damp, dry or dead, the earth mages must hold tight to the ground, for if they let go, all life will go with them.”
Hazel closed her eyes, feeling its sonorous heart beat as it ruptured through the ground. Hazel watched as her hands lit up with a vibrant green glow, her veins illuminating like glowing vines. She felt a small quake underneath her as small sprouts began to rise from the dirt, small leaves unfurling and little white flowers blooming in the golden light. Ipomoea alba, moonflowers. They weren’t native to Salem which made them harder to control.
Hazel’s mother had brought along a book of different plants when she came from across the sea along with an entire crate of various seeds and bulbs. It contained sketches of thousands of different plants along with names and descriptions all written in her mother’s swirly handwriting. Moonflowers were curious plants because the leaves could be used for edible purposes when cooked, but the flower can potentially carry toxins. Hazel’s mother always warned Hazel to wash her hands thoroughly after handling most wild plants.
Hazel began to feel the strain in her hands and the slow decaying of energy. A mage’s energy is concentrated into their hands as it’s the connection point between man and the life around them, so it’s common for the fatigue to begin there. If worked too long, the strain can spread to the rest of the body. Hazel remembered one of her mothers friends, Mrs. Witherin, who worked her air magic too hard and ended up with a permanent limp. Hazel smiled as she remembered her fondly. After the vines had reached a considerable distance, Hazel released herself from the earth as if a rope had been snapped causing the young witch to stumble onto her back. She breathed in and out, letting her hands rest. The throbbing was pronounced but lesser than the day before. Hazel smiled at her improvement. Today was a good day.
Chapter 2
Forest Friends
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 5th, 1962, Salem, Massachusetts
Hazel sat on a fallen log with her mother’s book in her hands. It was open to her mother’s etching of plants that were native to Salem. Hazel’s mother told her that when practicing in the forest she had to make sure that she was using plants that blended in. Hazel was never told why, but it did make sense. It’d be odd if there was a field of Rafflesia growing in a continental climate. So today Hazel focused on Junipers and Blueberries. Berries were hard. Highly edible plants were always hard. It was something about alchemic makeup or something. Hazel enjoyed growing Junipers; she only had to grow them to sapling height, and they smelled wonderful. Hazel continued flipping through the book until she stopped, staring at a page she’d never seen before. The title was written in thick black ink, clearly recent. It read:
Witch Hazel
(Hamamelis Virginiana)
Native to Eastern America, Witch Hazel forms a small tree with dense clustering leaves and can be used in teas that can help with ailments such as fevers. The leaves can also be crushed (using a mortar) and can be applied to the skin for irritations. It is also said to have divine properties in certain parts of the world, but that is yet to be proven. The leaves appear green or yellow in hue, but can also appear as strange clusters of yellow sprouts . The tree can appear in a variety of ways such as upright, rounded, spreading, and weeping. (Depends on conditions)
“Witch Hazel…” Hazel whispered to herself as she stared at the image. It was clearly an upright interpretation, with its branches growing upward, instead of outward or drooping. It was native to her region, but Hazel had never seen anything like it. A little ink tree filled in delicately with paints depicting brown wood with brilliant green and yellow flowers. Under the image Hazel saw scribbled underneath,
I named her Hazel
Hazel gave a soft smile. Every earth mage in her family had been given the name of a plant native to their country. Her mother was named after a convallaria majalis or the Lily of the Valley because that was the first plant Hazel’s grandmother saw when she immigrated to England. Hazel never knew which plant her name was from; she had just assumed that it’d be a hazelnut tree. She looked at the plant fondly knowing that it was what inspired her name.
———————————————————————————————
It was around noon, Hazel was sitting at the table with several books sprawled out on the old wood. Lily had started homeschooling Hazel after the witch hunt started. Hazel’s mother had been assigning books for Hazel to read every week and then on Saturdays would quiz her on what they were about. This week’s story was particularly boring, so Hazel stood up and decided to go outside for some fresh air.
There was a storm rolling in. Hazel could see the dark clouds appearing on the horizon. “Well the storm mages should be in for a surprise.” Hazel sighed to herself as she began to cover the garden with thick sheets to protect them from the wind. Hazel had never met a mixed mage, but she was sure that if there were any they wouldn’t be too antsy to try and find other mages.
Hazel’s mother had taught her all about the different kinds of mages. There's the core four of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, and after a while those four started to mix into subgroups that controlled specific aspects of the two they were derived from. However, things got complicated after that, and trying to learn all the different combinations made her head hurt. Hazel snapped from her daydream and continued shielding the garden as she felt the first few raindrops fall.
Hazel resumed her reading as she heard a knock at the door. Two knocks, a kick, and a final knock. Hazel opened the door as her mother pushed past her, rain dripping off her cloak. “It’s really coming down out there, huh?” I said, peering out the door, watching as sheets of rain fell and crashed onto the ground.
“Did you cover the garden?” Lily gasped, clearly having just run through the downpour.
“Y-yeah, I wasn’t able to cover the pears though…” Hazel responded, trying to remember if she covered everything.
“That’s alright, they should be fine.” Hazel’s mother replied, looking out the small front window to make sure that no one had followed her. Hazel watched as her mother removed her sopping cloak, and placed it near the fireplace to dry. Her mother then sunk into one of the kitchen chairs, taking in a deep breath.
“Um… so how did it go in town?” Hazel asked, sitting across from her.
“Lets just say I’ve acquired some new victims for the Wish I Could Strangle With Hedera Helix list.” Lily answered. Hazel let out a laugh. Lily didn’t laugh, but Hazel did catch a small smirk creeping up her mothers face. And her eyes shone brighter than they had in years.
_________________________________________________
April 6th, 1692, Salem, Massachusetts
Hazel had made a mistake.
It was early in the morning, barely dawn. Hazel had left for the forest earlier than usual. Her mother was still sleeping. She would’ve stopped her, she would’ve warned her, she would’ve at least given Hazel that cursed look of disapproval that Hazel feared everyday. Something, anything to make her stop. But no, Lily didn’t stop her. And it cost them everything…
———————————————————————————————
Hazel wandered out into the forest with her mother’s book in hand. She weaved in between the trees and skipped over rocks. The earth was still wet from last night's storm. droplets were falling softly onto the foliage of the forest floor. She ran to her regular spot, a secluded patch by a small stream. A long fallen tree acted as the perfect seat, a throne of sticks and flowers. Bushels of Butterfly-weed and mayflowers acted as walls, hiding her from the society that would never accept her. Hazel climbed up onto the tree and flipped open her mother’s book, needing to hold it up into the pale light of the morning sun to see the more faded pages. She was about to grow some roses when she heard a rustle.
Hazel fell still. She was more silent than she’d ever been before. No one was supposed to be out here. Like a deer at the mercy of a rifle staring down the barrel and waiting for some stranger to pull the trigger, she quickly brought up her glowing hands and grew a shrub around herself, careful to cover her bright hair with her dark hood. Hazel waited unsure if today she’d join all the other mages who had met their fate in this cursed town. She heard another rustle causing her to flinch. Maybe if she stood still enough, they wouldn’t see her. Suddenly, she saw a figure emerge from the foliage.
He was a young boy, at least fifteen, sixteen at most. He had dark ebony hair that fell into his confused brown eyes as he stepped into the small clearing. His old, tattered boots that Hazel had only ever seen on the sailors from Boston who came to Salem, sunk into the muddy banks of the stream as he walked along. His patched up brown coat slung over his shoulder, a stained white shirt underneath, loosened to his mid chest to let the spring breeze hit his fair skin. Even from within her leafy chrysalis, Hazel could see the dark circles under his eyes and his blistered hands. Years of hard labor were behind those bright brown eyes. He pulled out a small piece of parchment from his coat’s sewn-on pocket and unfolded it. From the light shining through it, Hazel could see the faint lines of roadways that connected Boston to Salem, only he was holding it upside down. Hazel laughed silently to herself as she watched this clearly lost sailor wander around the clearing and then sit solemnly on the fallen tree. That's when Hazel felt her stomach drop, …the book. Hazel could see the book lying on the ground just below his feet as he toiled over his now sideways map. Maybe if she ran quickly enough, she could grab it before he could even say anything. No… Hazel had never been all that fast and it was clear that a physically fit sailor could outrun a girl who had never left her house all that much. The sailor kicked his foot up inches away from the book. Hazel held her breath, one wrong move and he’d have a book dictating nearly everything about plant magic in his hands. That's when he stood up, his foot landed on the edge of the book causing him to roll his ankle and fall directly into the bush that Hazel was residing in.
The two kids yelped in surprise as the sailor toppled onto Hazel's chest, and they rolled out of the bush in a tangle of limbs. The two remained silent for a minute as they came to terms with what had just happened. Then, the boy jumped up in surprise, limping for a moment on his ankle. “Oh shite! I’m so sorry, are ye hurt?” The sailor asked in an unmistakable Scottish drawl. He offered his hand out to her.
It’s okay, he doesn’t know anything. Hazel thought to herself. “No I’m alright” She responded, taking his hand as he pulled her up.
“Why were ye in the bushes?” He asked, looking at the bush Hazel had been hiding in.
Hazel hadn’t thought that far. “Umm, I got startled that's all, you never know what's out here in the woods.” Hazel responded with a forced smile. The response seemed to satisfy him enough. He shrugged and went to pick up his coat which was still hung over the tree. That's when Hazel remembered the book which was still lying under the tree. Hazel felt her soul leave her body as the sailor picked it up. He didn’t open it, he barely looked at it. He looked at Hazel and held it out to her. “This yours?” He asked. Hazel quickly snatched it up causing the boy to flinch back. “Woah I wasn’t goin’ ter read it!” He laughed. Hazel held the book close to her heart. “That book must be somethin’. I’ve never seen a lass who could read one.” He then extended his hand out in greeting, “I’m Finnigan Taylor! Ye can call me Finn. What’s yer name?”
Hazel was hesitant, she didn’t like giving out her name. But he seemed nice. That’s when her mother’s words echoed in her head “everyone seems nice until they see what we are”. Hazel pushed the thoughts away and took his hand and shook it, “I’m Hazel”. Finn smiled, he then began pondering over the map again. Hazel looked over his shoulder. “You know that it’s upside down right?” Hazel commented, flipping the map upright. The boy looked like he’d had the biggest epiphany of his life and said, “Is tha why it looked so funny?” Hazel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never been all tha good with words, couldn’t read that book of yers if I tried.” He sat back down on the tree with a deep sigh. Hazel sat next to him swinging her feet back and forth.
She didn’t feel as petrified as she did before. It was nice feeling this normal. “I think you took a left here instead of here.” Hazel said pointing at spots on the map.
“Ohhhhh,” Finn replied brining the map in closer to his face, “tha makes loads more sense.” After a moment of silence, he suddenly stood up with a newfound confidence. “Say! Ye live here right?” He confirmed. Hazel gave a small nod. “I’m supposed to be pickin’ up a shipment from Salem, and I can’t for the life of me remember how to get to town. Do ye think ye could show me?” THIS was risky, going into town on a dark, misty morning was one thing. But today was bright and sunny. Especially just after a storm where there’d be way more people out and about to patch things up.
“Um… are you any good with directions?” Hazel questioned, hopefully.
“Hazel, I just got lost after bein’ told not ten minutes ago where the town was. Does it look like I’m any good with directions.” He answered solemnly.
Hazel gave a deep sigh. She couldn’t think of a good lie of why she couldn’t take him. “Where do you need to go?”
Chapter 3
Nowhere to Run
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took longer than normal to get out of the forest. Hazel did this on purpose to waste time. She felt bad leading Finn on, but she couldn’t risk going to town at this time. It was late morning, the ideal time for being out in the town since everybody thinks it’ll be the quietest time for shopping and leisure, but the problem is that everyone has that same idea. Hazel learned this the hard way when she was out with her mother a few years back. After an hour of wandering
through the woods, listening to Finn retell sailing stories from his time back in Scotland, Hazel finally gathered her courage and began walking down the correct path. Every branch and twine that stood in her way seemed to be trying to stop her, pleading for her to turn back. The spring breeze, the dirt under her feet, the feeling of life around her, everything suddenly felt uneasy.
The two reached the outskirts of Salem, a small ledge putting the town on display. Hazel stopped in her tracks; there were far more people than she had expected. As she scanned the town, she felt her stomach drop. People were gathering around the gallows. A young girl maybe two years younger than Hazel, front and center, had a noose around her neck. Her weak legs were dangling, and her cold gray body was swaying in the breeze.
Hazel and Finn stood in silence as the crowd cheered and life left her eyes. Even from a distance, Hazel could sense her fear; her last grasps at life were being torn away from her by strangers. Hazel stood there frozen. She’d seen this happen a million times. No matter how hard her mother tried to hide it from her, it never got easier.
“Barbaric…” Finn whispered, as the two looked on at the gruesome act below them. “Did ye know her?” He asked, giving Hazel a sympathetic look.
Hazel’s breath shuddered, “no…”. That wasn’t a lie, the girl was unfamiliar to Hazel. But the way her eyes looked was familiar; she’d seen it on countless women. Young or old, witch or not, they all bore the same eyes. And no matter what Hazel did, she could never seem to forget them.
After a moment of silence, the cheering crowds began to disperse. This was her window. She’d quickly show Finn where to go, and then she’d disappear back to her world of normal. She’d never have to leave the house again if she played her cards right. “It’ll be just down there, past the florist’s.” Hazel said, pointing to the grocers. Finn gave a sullen nod as the two walked in silence down the cobblestone path.
It was nice and quiet, but Hazel was still on edge, shivers going up and down her spine as unsuspecting townsfolk passed by her. Hazel went to tug on her gloves as she always had when she was nervous, only to find that they were gone. She’d left them at home today as she was
never supposed to be in town today. “Christ…” Hazel whimpered from under her hood.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Finn asked, his eyes wandering around the square.
“No, sorry, just a little longer and we’ll be there.” Hazel wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure at this point.
At last, the pair reached the grocers. Finn pulled out a letter that he was meant to deliver to the owner. “I can’t thank ye enough Hazel, I’m happy I ran into ye when I did.” The sailor smiled as he entered the store. Hazel gave a sigh of relief as she watched him disappear behind the wooden door. Then she heard a voice, one that made her freeze. “Aye you!” She heard Mr. Whitman call behind her, “Lily’s girl!” Hazel stood frozen with her back to him, scared that if he came any closer she’d start crying. A couple townsfolk turned to watch the commotion.
“Yes?” Hazel replied, barely a whisper, she watched as his shadow grew over her.
“Didn’t your mum teach you any manners, or is she as useless at parenting as she is an employee? You look at who you're speaking to!” Hazel slowly shifted around to see Mr. Whitman about five feet away from her. He was tall and round and built like a boulder. His crooked teeth sneered at the young girl. His hat shadowing his cold gray eyes. “Where’s your mum girl? She was supposed to come in today!” He yelled, bits of spit spraying out, the stench of beer wafting into the spring breeze.
This was a surprise, her mother didn’t go in today? She never missed work… was she alright? “S-she didn’t come today?” Hazel asked, taking a small step back from the man.
“No! And we have orders piling up! Where is she!?” He retorted surveying the townsfolk gawking at the one sided argument. “Um… I don’t know…” Hazel whimpered softly, unsure whether she should run or try to get through this.
“She’s your mum of course you do. She’s at that shack up the hill isn’t she!” Whitman replied looking in the direction of Hazel’s home.
“N-no she wasn’t there this morning.” Hazel lied, nervousness starting to seep into her cadence.
Whitman faced her, his eyes sharp as knives as he shifted his tone to a dark and quiet tone, gritting his teeth. “Don’t lie to me girl…” He growled, Hazel now visibly frightened as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. “I don’t like liars, girl… You better take me to her…”
Hazel stared into his eyes, tears beginning to form in her eyes. The townsfolk who remained watching were unsure whether they should intervene or watch the show. Hazel tried to pull away but the man's grip was thick.
“I don’t know where she is!” Hazel cried as his grip tightened. “Don’t lie to me!” He yelled. Hazel breathed quickly as she looked for an escape. She then drove the heel of her boot into the toe of his. Whitman let out a cry as he released the girl.
Hazel tumbled back catching herself on whatever was behind her. Her ungloved hand gripped at the edge of a herbs display table. Hazel felt all her senses go into overdrive. It was an accident, a mistake, she couldn’t control it. Rosemary and lavender shot high into the sky, dripping over the sides of the table completely obscuring the table underneath in beautiful tendrils of violet and green. Hazel stood there; she couldn’t move, her mind was blank. She couldn’t run from this. There was nowhere to go. Hazel watched as Whitman, with wide eyes, raised a single dirt-covered finger. He then spoke only one word.
“Witch.”
_________________________________________________
Hazel ran, she wasn’t sure where, her boots slapping the cobblestone as she bolted away from the town. The question: Should I have run? ran through Hazel’s head over and over again as she felt her lungs strain for air. She saw her house in the distance. She had to tell her mother what had happened. She would have a plan; she always had a plan. Hazel heard distant cries behind her, no doubt they’d alert the authorities and give chase. Hazel just had to get to her mother before the town got to Hazel. The two would be gone in a flash. They would run away from this cursed town into the wild unknown, just the two of them. Together.
Hazel practically ripped the door open, startling her mother out of her seat. “Hazel! Oh thank god where were you!?” Lily cried as Hazel clammored into the room.
“Mother! I-” Hazel couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t explain the harm she had done.
“Hazel, breathe. Tell me what happened.” Lily put her hands on the young girl’s shoulders and looked at her with a look of understanding and utter terror.
“I’m so sorry…” Hazel gasped, warm tears rolling down her face, “It was an accident! Whitman pushed me and… and…” Hazel began to sob, burying her face in her hands as her mother peered out the window and watched as several town members appeared a ways down the path. “They know about me!” Hazel cried.
Lily stood there contemplating. Hazel, through blurry vision, could see her gears turning. “It’s going to be okay Hazel. Right now, I need you to go pack up whatever you can, then meet me in the garden.” Lily instructed shoving a cloth bag into Hazel’s arms.
Hazel stood there stunned for a moment. “Mom… I’m so sorry I didn’t-”
“Hazel everything’s going to be okay, but I need you to do this for me.” Lily replied, unable to maintain the false smiling she was attempting to put on. Hazel ran into her room and began to shove whatever she could into the bag. After a moment, she looked around. She had spent her whole life in this room. She was born here. She felt a sorrow grow in her chest, weighing her down. She was able to fit two extra outfits and her three favorite books, along with an extra pair of boots and a few other necessities. Hazel stopped at the doorway, and looked back at the little room for the last time, before she sighed, and shut the door behind her.
Hazel quickly ran out into the garden where she saw her mother waiting there with another bag. Her mother perked up as she saw her daughter enter the garden. Lily then wrapped her black cloak around the girl and slung the second bag over Hazel’s shoulders. “Okay, there's enough food in there to last you for about a week. I also put some money in there just in case.” Hazel stood there in confusion as tears began to fall down her mother’s face, “Remember what I’ve taught you and please stay away from towns if possible.”
“Mother what-” Hazel started feeling the weight in her chest grow bigger.
Lily put her hands on Hazel’s shoulders and bent down to her eye level. “I’ll buy as much time as possible, but I need you to run far away from here. Go through the forest and head south from there, okay? Promise me Hazel.”
“Mom please. What are you-” cried Hazel.
“Promise me!” Lily cried, her face wet with tears.
“I promise…” Hazel whispered. Lily embraced her daughter, holding her as tightly as possible. Hazel was stuck in place, her mind racing with only one thought. What is happening?
Lily released her, and placed a hand on Hazel’s cheek. “I love you Hazel, I need you to be strong right now. Don’t look back… not for one second…” Lily then prodded her daughter toward the back gate. Hazel could hear their front door being broken open. It would only be a matter of time before they figured out they were in the back. Hazel stared into her mother’s crying eyes. “Run Hazel.” She whispered, quietly opening up the gate.
“Run.”
_________________________________________________
Hazel’s legs seemed to have a mind of their own as she bolted into the forest. The forest was welcoming, but Hazel didn’t have the time, nor the heart to enjoy it. She kept running, stumbling over loose roots and stones that littered the forest floor. Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled across the forest floor, unsure where she was going. Eventually, she stumbled into the clearing before falling to her knees. Breathing heavily, her hands shaking violently, Hazel stared at the ground. A breeze rushed through the forest causing the forest to shake as well, as if sharing her pain and fear. It was strange, Hazel had only been here moments earlier. Happy. Content. Now she returned, and she had lost everything. Hazel screamed into the forest, her sound reaching none but herself.
Hazel had remained there till the sun hung low in the sky. She waited, waited for a flicker of red hair, or the gleam of her mother’s eyes, but all Hazel saw was the forest. Her mother was dead. Hazel could feel it in her chest. The forest felt it too, leaves falling from their low hanging branches, as if hanging it’s head. Where do I go? Hazel brought her knees to her forehead and cried silently into the evening. That’s when Hazel heard a noise that caused her to leap to her feet, her hands illuminating vibrantly as she stood in a defensive position. Whoever it was she would kill them. “An eye for an eye” that's how the saying goes right? But Hazel didn’t just want an eye, she wanted the whole damn body. The young witch’s burning tears fell down her face as she awaited her pursuer. She could grow thorns as big as trees and sharp as knives. Hazel already noticed small brambles sprouting from the soft forest floor. The ruckus within the wild grew louder and louder, until Hazel was met with a pair of familiar eyes.
“So it’s true then. Yer a witch.”
Chapter 4
When One Does Wither
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finn stepped into the clearing, hesitant to get too close. Hazel’s hands dropped to her sides as she lowered her head. The glow of her hands faded. “They killed her, didn’t they…” Hazel whispered, not sure if her head believed her heart.
Finn shifted uneasily. “Yeah… about an hour ago. She didn’t even put up a fight…” Finn responded, trying to avoid her in the eye. Hazel dropped to her knees once more. Confirmation, somehow more impactful than belief. This is all your fault Hazel rebuked herself. She wanted to go back, and bring hell upon that town that she could never call home. But she couldn’t.
Finn put a hand to his temple, sighing deeply, “I’m so sorry, if ye hadn’t come wi’ me ye wouldn’t have-”
“Don’t…” Hazel started, breathing in sharply, “You didn’t know…”. Hazel felt Finn sit down next to her on the grass, the two staring into the forest.
“What was she like? Yer mum?” Finn asked, lying down on the ground, his hands behind his head, acting as a cushion.
“She was everything I had…” Hazel replied, joining Finn on the forest floor, her hands folded over her chest, “it’s always been the two of us, ever since I was born. She was the only thing that ever stayed the same.” Hazel closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Hazel then remembered who she was talking to, “are you afraid of me?”.
“I’m surprised, but no not really. I may have only known ye fer a mornin’ but, I don’t know, ye don’t seem all that scary,” said Finn. Hazel looked at the sky, it was starting to get dark.
“What are ye going to do?” Finn asked, noticing the sky darken as well.
“I don’t know.” Hazel replied, covering her face with her hands, trying to hide her tears, “My mother said to head south, but I have to stay away from towns for now. I guess I could maybe try and find the Spanish colonies down south but-” Hazel sighed, “this is all my fault…” The silence returned as the two struggled to find words.
“No it isn’t…” Finn responded.
Hazel wasn’t sure how to respond, “How can you say that? I was such an idiot, I got too defensive and-”
“It’s not yer fault.” Finn repeated with a finality in his tone, “trust me… blaming yerself doesn’t bring them back.”
“Who was it?” Hazel asked, she didn’t mean to pry, but she could sense that he had been waiting a long time to talk about this.
“Me brother.” He responded, pushing his bangs out of his face, “he had pneumonia since he was little. Me family didn’t have much money, so me an the rest o me siblings all got jobs to help pay for things while me parents saved up for medication. One day I tried to put in extra hours at the docks and I lost balance and sprained me leg. I couldn’t work fer two weeks. Without the money we couldn’t afford to pay fer his medication,” Finn took in a breath, “and he died soon after, he was only 9” Finn stopped a moment before turning to Hazel, “I was kind of cast out after tha… That’s why I started sailin’. I spent so long blamin’ meself, tellin’ meself that I could’ve done more, tha if I’d done somethin’ different he’d still be alive today. But I realized that blamin’ yerself does nothing but stop ye from learnin’ and movin’ on. And now I’m here, of course I miss him, but honestly, I think he was happier dyin’ then spending life in a bed, and no matter how much it pains me, I know he’s runnin’ around up there somewhere, finally bein’ a
kid, at least I could give him that.” Hazel saw his eyes tear up as a melancholy smile spread across his face. It was silent after that, the moon rising above the trees. Before they knew it, the two had fallen asleep under the starry sky. Hazel was still unsure what was to come, but for now, she felt safe.
_________________________________________________
April 7th, 1692, Salem, Massachusetts
It was early in the morning when Hazel woke up. Finn remained a few feet away, wrapped in his overcoat. Hazel didn’t want to wake him. She sat up and looked around, the forest was waking up as well, the golden light of morning dappling the ground, mixing with the shadows from the leaves. It was a beautiful morning, yet Hazel could sense the darkness of the forest floor. Would anything be beautiful anymore? Hazel tugged on her mother’s cloak, digging her face into its soft fabric. She missed her… she missed everything about her. Her rare smiles, her soft embrace, the light that flickered in her eyes from time to time, her touch, her warmth. Never again…
Finn woke up a little after Hazel did. The pair was starving, so Hazel pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jam that her mother had packed for her. She decided that it’d be smart to use up her packed food before growing her own. “Okay we need a plan…” Finn stated abruptly through bites of bread.
“We?” Hazel questioned.
“Well I’m coming wi’ ye of course.” Finn replied nonchalantly.
Hazel stared at him blankly, “What? Why would-”
“It’s not up fer discussion lass. Ye heard me life story, now ye got te deal wi’ me. Ferever…” He said ominously with a smirk.
Hazel couldn’t help but laugh. “But what about your shipment? And your job?” Hazel replied.
Finn waved his hand, “sailors disappear all the time, no one’ll even notice! I do, however, have te make one more stop…”
“Where?” Hazel asked.
Finn smiled, “Well yer mum said to go south right? Do ye think she’d be okay wi’ ye goin’ east?” Hazel pondered this. Running to Europe? Hazel knew that her mother came from England, but she had always been very private on what her childhood was like.
“I know my mother was from England. But I don’t know anything about the rest of Europe.” Hazel responded. World geography was never a subject Hazel, nor her mother, paid much mind to. For all they knew they’d be stuck in that house for the rest of their lives.
“Well, I’m a Scot, Dunvegan to be specific, but I’m sure ye guessed tha. The ship I work fer is departing to England tonight. If we hurry to Boston, I can get ye on the boat and we can head fer England and be there in about a month or so.” Finn added pulling out his map. It was right side up at least. Hazel pondered this offer, it would get her out of the colonies, away from the madness. Away from the memories. Hazel’s stomach twisted as she thought of what it must’ve been like. The fear. It felt horrible just to think about.
_________________________________________________
The two began their journey near noon. Finn guessed that it would take around five or six hours on foot to get there. Boston was Massachusetts' pride and joy, serving as the main trade post for ships from England and England’s other colonies. Hazel had never been there before, but her mother often recounted the tales of how she came to America, having fled England when the opportunity presented itself. Hazel’s family had never stayed in one place for more than one generation, and Hazel seemed to be continuing that tradition.
There were no clear roads to follow, mostly open plains and heavy forests that crowded the stretch between the two towns. Hazel could start to see how one could easily get turned around. The two remained silent for most of the journey, but soon Finn’s unwavering curiosity got the better of him.
“So wha spells de ye know?” Finn asked, when the two decided to rest for a while, “Can
ye fly?”
Hazel let out a laugh, “No, only Avian Mages can fly. I’m an Earth Mage.” Hazel could see the confused look on Finn’s face. Hazel took in a deep breath, and retold the story that every witch knows: “A long, LONG, time ago, four travelers found themselves lost in a deep dark forest. They had spent three weeks wandering and had given up hope of trying to find a way out. Before they perished they had pledged their souls to the world around them, accepting their fate. And under the light of the blue moon, they died. The universe cried out in sorrow, causing a fragment of the blue moon to shatter and rain down upon the earth. The magic from the moon was able to resurrect the fallen travelers, but at a cost. Half of their souls remained tethered to the elements, allowing them control over certain parts of nature. The first could spark flames from their bare hands, bringing light and warmth into the world. The second could control the air, from the mightiest hurricanes, to the faintest of breezes. The third could control the waters, the
tides, the very ocean. And, the last could control the earth, every plant and tree. Using their combined powers, the travelers were able to escape. They kept their magic hidden from the world, afraid that their power would fall into the wrong hands. They spent the rest of their lives looking over, and protecting the earth and its creatures. They then went on to have their own families, passing on their gifts to new generations, every last one making the same promise. To protect the natural world and to use their magic to help and serve.”
Finn just looked more confused, “So this blue moon is why ye got magic?” He asked, tilting his head to one side.
“Yep, older texts say that the blue moon was a gift from god. He was sad to see innocent life be killed by his own creation, so he sent a bit of the moon down to resurrect the first witches.” Hazel replied with a shrug.
Finn nodded, “So yer an Earth Witch, so ye can grow plants an stuff?” Hazel gave a nod, and he started looking at her with pleading eyes.
Hazel rolled her eyes and sighed, pulling a small seed out of her pocket. She closed her eyes and let her hands illuminate the dark wood. A small daisy sprouted up, gleaming in the few rays of sunlight that penetrated through the roof of the forest. “Iosa Muire agus Ioseph…” Finn exclaimed, plucking the daisy out of the earth, examining it closely. “So ye can grow all kinds of plants?” He asked excitedly.
Hazel gave another silent nod, she’d never been admired for her magic before. It felt nice. “Yeah, I’d have to have seen the plant and know what growing conditions work best for it, but I can grow a decent amount.” Hazel replied, “Also I’d need a seed for it, I can’t make it come out of nothing.”
“It feels crazy that I never knew witches were real. I thought that the witch hunt was just a bunch of malarkey.” Finn remarked, playing with the petals of the little flower.
“I mean, when threatened with death, you’d be surprised how willing people are to hide.” Hazel retorted sarcastically.
“Some people are just idiots, terrified idiots.” Finn replied, tossing the petals up in the air, watching as they fluttered down like snow.
The pair returned to their journey, albeit slowly. Exhaustion hit quickly and silently, so they moved at a slower pace than they had intended. They were about halfway there, the sun was hanging low in the sky, turning the broad fields a bright shade of gold. The sky was a peach pink, that rolled in a coral orange. Hazel breathed in the crisp air of dusk. Hazel wondered what it’d be like to be any other sort of mage. She thought about being an air mage and being able to control the winds, creating swirling whirlwinds around her, storming hurricanes, and quiet drafts. It sounded so peaceful. If you slipped up, you’d be able to just blame the weather. Hazel always envied the less “showy” powers, like sound mages or spirit mages. Hazel was brought back from her daydreaming as Finn stopped suddenly.
“I’m callin’ it, let’s stop fer the night. The ship doesn’t leave till tomorrow so we’ll have plenty o time tomorrow. Besides, it's best to set up camp before it gets dark.” Finn breathed. Hazel nodded. Her feet aching from walking for so long.
The two set up camp, starting a small fire in a barren patch of the field. Hazel pulled out the last of her bread, and a block of cheese, and the two sat down to eat. “So have you been to England before?” Hazel asked, trying to start up a conversation.
“Oh yeah, loads o times, it’s not as scary as some o the people here say, it’s just different.” Finn replied, taking a large bite out of his slice of bread.
“How do you mean?” Hazel asked, spreading a bit of cheese over her bread.
“Well, it's bigger, an busier, an um… British-er…” Finn replied with a shrug. “Do they have witch hunts over there too?” Hazel questioned, tugging on her cloak’s clasp. “Not nearly as many as there are here, there's too many people to keep track of.” Finn replied.
Hazel let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure why her mother ran away from England, but it must’ve been something big. “Thanks Finn, for all of this.” Hazel whispered, staring deeply into the flames of the fire. Finn didn’t respond, he just looked to the sky, closed his eyes, and smiled.
Chapter 5
Dawn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
April 8th, 1692, Boston, Massachusetts
The pair continued their journey, over hills and plains, and deep forests. One step after the other. Hazel began to wonder what her mother would think if she were here? Was this safe? Was this the right thing to do? Hazel missed having someone to make those decisions for her. She missed a lot of things she never thought she would. Routine, familiarity, foundation. Everything that left Hazel suffocating in that tiny house. She missed the prediction of tomorrow, knowing every little thing that was to come. She missed having someone who could give her that.
“So how am I supposed to get on the boat? They won’t just let me on, will they?” Hazel asked.
“Probably not, but don’t ye worry, I got the plan te end all plans!” Finn replied arrogantly.
“Okaaay?” Hazel replied, hoping for some form of elaboration. This elaboration Hazel did not receive as the young sailor remained silent. Against her better judgment, Hazel decided to trust him.
It was past noon when the two finally saw the skyline of Boston. It was much bigger than Salem with town houses reaching over two stories, and bustling streets filled with vendors and merchants from what looked like all over the world. Hazel spotted the towering masts of several trade shifts, with the English flag hung from the crows nest, rising over the city. Hazel pulled her hood up and tugged on her gloves. She’d never been around this many people before, and all were strangers to her.
“Finn? Are we sure this is a good idea?” Hazel whispered, keeping her head low as they joined the foot traffic.
“Of course! Once we’re in Europe we can go wherever! There’s got to be somewhere where-” Finn stopped and lowered his voice, “where witches are accepted…” Hazel had never thought about it. Could there really be a place like that? She wondered to herself. She imagined a little town in the middle of nowhere, where magic ran wild. A whole culture built around magic and witchcraft where mages and witches from all over the world could learn from each other and live in peace, but Hazel knew that that could never be. From what Hazel knew, most witches were eradicated early on, and the rest are too scared to leave home. There was also the
problem that the different mages didn’t always get along. Elements clashing with each other, causing disputes. Hazel remember’s her mother telling her about “The Great Fire of 48”. She said that it’s been a story passed down by Earth mages. It recounts the time when a Tyrant Fire Mage lost control and set fire to a library during battle causing thousands of ancient texts and stories to burn away. It also set fire to the surrounding vegetation. This left a group of Hazel’s ancestors to pick up the pieces and work to regrow the plant life. Fire Mages and Earth Mages have had a shaky relationship ever since.
After a while of walking, Hazel and Finn arrived at Boston’s port. Finn strode up to an older sailor with graying hair and ice blue eyes. A thick beard covering his face as he blew smoke from a pipe. “Seamus! Ciamar a tha thu ris an latha math seo!” Finn exclaimed, breaking into Gaelic. The man grunted, blowing a smoke cloud into the crisp air.
He looked at the boy with disregard, “Dhìochuimhnich thu an luchd, nach tusa Taylor…” He responded. Finn let out a nervous laugh. The man then shifted his gaze to Hazel, as she shifted nervously, praying to every god she knew. “Cò an ifrinn a tha seo?” The sailor asked Finn, pointing a gloved finger at Hazel.
Finn put on the fakest grin Hazel had ever seen. “Is i mo leannan a tha sinn a 'seòladh a Shasainn gus pòsadh agus pàistean a dhèanamh!” Fin replied with a cocky expression.
The sailor looked at the two blankly. “Caileag Shasannach?” He asked, looking over at Finn, with an exasperated expression.
“Tha, tha blas mìorbhaileach agam!” Finn replied, gesturing over to Hazel, who gave a nervous wave, unsure of anything that was happening.
The man approached Hazel, towering over her. “Be careful with tha pup, lass.” He spoke, Hazel finally being able to understand him. “He’s a handful.” Hazel nodded shyly and followed Finn up the wooden ramp onto the ship.
Hazel’s feet met the unsteady boards of the ship, her stomach feeling uneasy. She’d never been on a boat before. Unless you count when her mother first came to the colonies, with Hazel having already been in her womb for three months. She could feel the water ripple underneath her, moving her body up and down in long breaths.
“Ye’ll get used te it. Trust me, the hardest part is gettin’ off again.” Finn smirked, walking perfectly fine across the undulant deck, his feet moving with the wooden tide.
“What did you say to him?” Hazel asked, gripping onto the rail of the ship, her stomach turning like the tide.
“Ah yes about tha. I may have told him we’s was gettin’ married.” He replied with a confident smile, but embarrassed eyes.
“What!?” Hazel exclaimed in a sharp whisper.
“He wouldn’t question it! Seamus is the kind of fellow who refuses to listen te others' personal matters. So I told him ye was me girlfriend and that we’s was hopin’ te get hitched!” Hazel honestly couldn’t question that logic, she didn’t like it, but it was something people wouldn’t pry into. She was just some random colonial girl that a Scottish sailor picked up like a stray. “Just try and fake it till we get off the boat, we’re friends right now… so I guess just try te bump it up te best mates territory, that should suffice.” Finn replied, the cogs in his brain turning.
“How do I do that?” Hazel asked. Hazel had never had many friends before, much less a best mate. She had no idea how people distinguished the two.
“Umm… lets see…” Finn began to pace, “I don’t know how girls do things, but fer boys we mainly partake in physical stuff, like friendly brawls and/or unfriendly brawls. But I’m assuming couples don’t do much of that.” “Yeah I don’t think so… I guess they talk, and um…” Hazel started, trying to recount what she’d seen of married couples in Salem, “And yell at each other?”
Finn thought for a moment. “Maybe ye can be one of those silent lasses. Most of these guys speak Gaelic primarily, so you won’t have to talk to them much.” Finn said, gesturing to the other sailors on the boat. “Taylor! Ghlac thu fear beò! Co-roinn inntinn?” A younger sailor called from the riggings. Finn looked like he wanted to climb up there and punch him off into the harbor. “SHOVE OFF YOU SHITE!” Finn retorted, causing the sailor to break out in laughter.
“What’d he say?” Hazel asked, trying to wrap her head around all the new words she was hearing. “Don’t worry about it, all these guys are arses.” Finn replied, causing several of the boys on the ship to retort. “Te start I’ll give ye a quick tour, before I actually got te go an do stuff.” Finn exclaimed suddenly, turning his attention to Hazel. “So this is the main deck, where most of the guys’ll be during the day. Below deck, we have storage and sleepin’ quarters, where we keep all the imports an exports. We got at least 300 pounds of fish in here so the smell is… less than pleasant. And we also sleep down there. So yay?” Hazel was already gagging as the strong stench of fish wafted upward through the cracks in the boarded floor.
“Lovely…” Hazel replied.
“Then there's the eatin’/entertainment/brawlin’ room. It depends on how we’re feelin. And then Seamus’s quarters, don’t go in there, he’ll kill ye.” And… tha’s kind of it. The ol’ Stellalucis has been servin’ us fer years. Wouldn’t put me faith in any other vessel.” Finn added, painting the old wooden railing. The wood corroding under years of crashing waves and dedicated service. Finn sat up straight, “I got to get te work now, but I’ll meet up with ye when we depart.” Finn said with a nod. Hazel gave a faint smile as the sailor boy joined a group of boys who were hauling bags and boxes onto the ship.
Hazel couldn’t imagine being confined within this vessel for years. But the boys and men on the ship seemed happy, just a bunch of playful children trying to do an honest job. It was much different than what Hazel remembered from Salem, where all she saw were sullen faces of children, scared that if they stepped out of line they’d meet their end. Hazel was one of these children, too scared to go into town, too scared to be a part of society, too scared to be a child.
Hazel looked out over the waves, the golden sun leaking into the distant ocean. This was goodbye. Goodbye to this nation and hello to another one. Goodbye to the familiar and the darkness, and the pain that haunted her for years. And hello to a second chance; a chance that Hazel couldn’t waste. But Hazel knew that whatever happened, she had people who would help her, people who would stand by her, people who didn’t fear her. She wasn’t alone anymore.
Hazel smiled into the breeze, she imagined her mother, smiling down at her. Her eyes wandered to a single tree near the coast. It was tall, with branches hanging down. Bright yellow and green clusters swaying in the breeze, falling softly into the calm waters. Hazel wiped a tear from her face, smiling as she gripped her mother’s book in her hand.
She named me Hazel.
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