Read part 2

The witch landed upon a hill, and concealed herself with magic.  The rest, whatever happened here, she would observe from afar. With the rest of her coven gone, she could not afford to be careless.

“The people of Salem have all been judged to be naughty!  They have killed my coven, now their blood will be driven upon the snow.”

“HO HO HO”, Robot Santa answered in his metallic voice.

Christmas Eve was a quiet night in Salem. All of the town members were in their homes, enjoying their warm fireplaces. Cotton Mather was stolidly smoking his pipe, sitting rather stiffly in a straight backed chair. He began to hear a commotion outside.

He opened his shutters to look out on the blanket of fresh snow. The scene before his eyes was horrific. Houses in flames, Christmas trees toppled over and the snow stained red.

The remaining townsfolk came pouring out of their homes. In many cases the children were ushered in as quickly as they came, shooed back by the fathers. The townsfolk all reeled back in horror as they say what was once a family of elves turned ghastly.

“Get your rifles men! Protect the Town!”, exclaimed Cotton.

The townsfolk emerged from their homes again, each carrying a musket. The sound of musket fire could not drown out the screams. Inside of one of the houses, black smoke began to billow out of the windows. Perhaps a lamp had been overturned in the melee, or perhaps a townsperson started the fire hoping to kill the elves inside.

“HO HO HO.”, Robot Santa cheered.

A paddy wagon was drawn by four destriers, and  it was framed by thick iron bars.  The horses tramped many of the elves under-hoof, and several others were flung inside and barred in, at the tips of bayonets.

A strong wind was now forcing the fires from the burning house to spread westward, throwing the flames from its burning windows like a powerful billows.

A water tank was opened, and some of the women and children were called out into a bucket chain. Many of the elves had been hemmed into the burning building and the water was directed towards containing the flames from spreading to nearby houses.

The witch watched the remainder of the chaos from the ridge above. Robot Santa fell to a parade of gunfire from the town’s sheriff and deputy.

Most of the elves had been burned, even the paddy wagon seemed to have been immolated.  Someone in Salem had a lust for arson she noted. As two more houses started to smolder. A shame, she thought, that such an individual would foil her plans. Perhaps later, he’d be an ally.

The town began to quiet, only the sound of flaming wood crackling could be heard. The Witch stood atop the hill aghast. Her plan had failed but she was nothing if not persistent. She came up with a new plan that would destroy Salem forever.

She reached inside the folds of her skirt and pulled out a vial of ashes, and threw a sprinkle of them high into the air. Before her glimmered an ornate, turreted building on a distinctly Italian countryside. Warm air gusted out of the portal. The ashes had more power than even she had known.

She looked through the portal, then back at Salem. “So much hard work wasted”, she sighed.

As the Witch stepped through the portal, it became evident that this place was not of her time. Through a nearby window she could see horseless carriages speeding along. She had arrived in Sicily, Italy but not the Sicily she knew.

“Ey, how’d you get in ‘ere? If you got a beef you gotta talk to the Capo.”, a voice came from behind her.

The Witch turned about. She saw a older man with salt and pepper hair. He was tall, confident and, the Witch could tell, powerful.

“I have a job for you. One you cannot refuse”, The Witch sneered. She reached into her pocket and threw a handful of ash the man’s way. His eyes glazed over.

“The Don, at your service. Who do you want me to whack?”, the man said lazily.

The Witch grinned evilly.

 

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