SALEM'S MYSTERIES: True Legend or Grand Misconception

By Ghenrietta Von BLOOME

For several centuries in a row, some of the unexplained mysteries of Salem do not cease to amuse millions of inquiring minds. Many people seem to be drawn to the magical world of this prominent city, set in the midst of faithful folklore beliefs and at times, controversial scrutiny. Loads of travelling folk have always been fascinated by Salem’s uncanny history as well as its infamous witch trials. Their random individual stories had created a lot of misleading preconceptions. Yet, some people still explore the possibility of certain events that took place in the city’s dark past, to be veracious tales or a sumptuous illusion...
Implementing a '3D guise' original literary genre in the story, which had been invented by the author Ghenrietta Von Bloome when protagonists end up reading the same book, which they are part of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781304895912

Book preview

SALEM’S

MYSTERIES

True legend or grand

misconception

GHENRIETTA VON BLOOME

SALEM’S MYSTERIES

True legend or grand misconception

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This is a work of fiction. All characters and situations appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or personal situations is purely coincidental.

Bloome Publishing

978-1-304-89591-2

Imprint: Lulu.com

2024

978-1-304-89591-2.png

TABLE OF CONTENTS

When history began

Puritan simple yet complicated…

Religion

Red Feathers

Primary policing force

Witchcraft hysteria

Jail

Women in Colonial America

The executions of witches

Gallows Hill

History changed

Common misconceptions

As the legend continues

PREFACE

For several centuries in a row, some of the unexplained mysteries of Salem do not cease to amuse millions of inquiring minds. Many people seem to be drawn to the magical world of this prominent city, set in the midst of faithful folklore beliefs and at times, controversial scrutiny. Loads of travelling folk have always been fascinated by Salem’s uncanny history as well as its infamous witch trials. Their random individual stories had created a lot of misleading preconceptions. Yet, some people still explore the possibility of certain events that took place in the city’s dark past, to be veracious tales or a sumptuous illusion. When most people think of Salem, they associate it with magic, beautiful chaotic world of mysterious adventure, and most of all witches, for they are the ones, who made it into the city’s history, by symbolically engraving their names on the stones of eternity. They are the ones, who made the history of Salem. I often wonder what it was like for some of the women, who lived in this place in the late 1600s to carry on, speaking their truth among the ones, who looked down upon the idea of being different and authentic.

Later in the book, we shall travel through the current sightings in Salem, including haunted houses, cemeteries, old churches and some of the well-known locations, where the witch trials took place, leaving their pleading heart-wrenching laments upon the souls of the accusers. For some of us, Salem stands as a beautiful setting with magical spirits and remarkable historical points full of mesmerizing archives and luring past. For others, it remains a wicked echo of terrorizing events, which put an evil inerasable mark on the walls of the everlasting city.

CHAPTER I

When History Began…

As I sit by the window in my apartment in Boston, gazing out at the flickering street light as it is about to go out, I think of the distant past and what this street might have looked like four centuries ago. The glittering golden stars wink back at me with their mysterious presence, trying to symbolically hypnotize me with their magical everlasting constellations. The prominent sense of faraway memories speaks mystical tales of history. I look up at the stars, knowing that these are the same silent witnesses that saw everything that happened eons ago in the outskirts of Boston in the small town, named Salem. I take a deep breath, realizing that the flickering light outside my window might have just gone out. I fight myself from falling asleep, for I absolutely love to see the magical starry patterns in the sky, beautifully designed by the mysterious echo of the past. Without any further resistance, I slowly drift off to the illusory world of dreams, where I can see things my awakened mind may not justify or make sense of. My deeply hidden memories now magically bring me to the place, in which I had been lost many lifetimes ago, and in which I may find my essence once again. I am now in Salem. I timidly walk through a cobblestone street, as people open their doors and look at me with their puzzled eyes. I breathe in the salty air of the seventeenth century life, beginning to realize where I am, slowly taking my steps in the unknown direction.

It seems like the town never goes quiet. It is always in motion, as if the invisible eyes of the sky above never close to rest. I briefly catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window of someone’s shop, staring at the forgotten version of myself that had been misplaced many Moons ago. I do not recognize my physical appearance, for it had been subconsciously erased from my mind by the reason unknown to me. I do remember the feeling and the overwhelming emotion of joy of being here and living a simple life of a housewife. Suddenly, I recall being married to one of the local merchants, who is currently away visiting a family member in the Old Planters Farm behind the Great Pond. I continue on with my walk, gradually recognizing some of the points in the town’s history, the very ones I would have been through four centuries from now. I slightly hear a distant sound of approaching thunder, whispering the stories of some upcoming horrific events that were about to take place, in my ear. I pretend not to hear this elusive voice in my mind, for I intuitively understand the significance of this hidden message.

I speed up my walk and find myself at a local market. The intense smell of fish pounds in my head as I make my way through tight rows of different stands with seafood, meat and freshly gathered vegetables. Some of the meat does not have a healthy look, but people bargain over it anyway. Random cats savage around the market, hiding under the tables while trying to catch a piece of rotten meat thrown off the smelly wooden blocks. It is a loud place. I see a few women in their domestic casual attire shop for the best deal they can find. However, they mostly keep to themselves, trying to silently calculate what they may need to make dinner later on, constantly looking in their baskets. It is mostly men, who do the bargaining over the household necessities. The more I look at these men, the more I realize that they are not local. I can detect a slight accent, with which they firmly address the merchants on the street.

Some of these accents refer to the European background, most of whom are of the English milieu. I can tell some of these men are of authority and therefore, exercising very confident and somewhat arrogant manner of speaking. Suddenly, I bump into one of the women, whose flamboyant style of dress and unrestricted way of speaking to a merchant catches my full attention. She briefly looks at me, greeting me with her smile, and then turns back to the man, who is selling fresh cod. Two minutes later the fish merchant puts the desired seafood in the woman’s basket, while giving her a criticizing look. She quickly places the fish on top of the turnips and covers it with white cloth. She then smiles at the man with her carefree attitude in spite of his gloomy facial expression. As I try to place this woman in my mind, she promptly walks around a few more stands with different commodities, making her way out of the crowded market. I can now vaguely see her bright red tunic, slowly mixing with the distant throng of local residents and European newcomers. As she vanishes in the fog of the cold early spring morning, I lucidly realize that I have just had a brief encounter with Bridget Bishop, one of Salem’s most controversial characters and later on, one of the first women accused of witchcraft during the infamous Witch Trials.

I casually proceed along the cobblestone street, looking back at the market and its lively busy commotion. I try to contemplate which area in modern Salem I happen to be in. I recall reading about the history of this place, realizing that It had been divided into two areas at the time of my dream. One of the territories was known as Salem Village, which happened to be settled by poor farmers. The village separated from the original town in 1672 after it had established its own agricultural schedule and quite a sizeable populace. The other half of the now known city remained as Salem Town. It was a much more developed area businesswise, with wealthy merchants and a load of English puritans. While cultivating crops as a main source of making ends meet, Salem Village made its timid entrance into the wealthy town’s life. The town’s prosperous merchants had an obvious resentment toward the villagers, however they kept it well hidden and reserved.

Salem Town was one of the major seaports, having established a tight connection with England, specifically London, trading sea goods and related commodities. With all this said, I figured I had lucidly travelled to Salem Town, having witnessed its large trade between European and local merchants. I was also greatly puzzled by a swift appearance of the woman, known as Bridget Bishop. I knew of her after reading some books about her life in Salem Town in the 1600s. Originally her long journey brought her here from Norwich, England. She followed her at the time husband Thomas Oliver, when they decided to settle in Massachusetts in the late 1660s. Thomas Oliver was a wealthy estate and land owner, who provided the luxury and material comfort for his wife, therefore enabling her to become a well-known tavern owner in Salem Town. There were multiple rumors that her in-laws did not like her and did everything they could to break her marriage with Thomas by trying to disinherit her in the case of her husband’s death. Knowing Bridget’s carefree attitude toward life and her inner liberty of somewhat undiscriminating behavior, they gave up on arranging to discredit her reputation.

They came to a vivid realization that their daughter-in-law was a free-spirited woman, who was known for her open-minded style of dress and speech. Although they visited Bridget’s tavern quite often, they accepted the idea of not being able to harness the woman’s will and rather placing their faith in the arms of fate. The tavern was very popular among younger male crowd, who remained fully entertained by Bridget’s ostentatious ways to keep them coming back for late evening leisure. Mind you, the Puritan crowd kept a criticizing eye on the tavern, with only a certain number of men visiting there, who were mostly farmers and other working class members, with an occasional presence of some wealthy merchants. A few local street walkers were welcome in the tavern, bringing in steady business and reoccurring clients. With my personal observations, followed by my inquiries about the timing of certain events, trying to institute the year of my lucid travels, I reckon I was in the middle of the year of 1692.

It is spring time, perhaps the month of April. From my background knowledge of the upcoming affairs in Salem Town, I knew the paramount significance of that year. It was about to be the summer of the infamous Witch Trials in the Village of Salem. I slightly shake my head, brushing off the impending thoughts about the trials, knowing that I would have to witness them firsthand if I were to stay in my dream any longer. I now walk along a beautiful alley in the midst of Salem Town, admiring the blooming flowers set in some gardens. A few women gaze at me with their puzzling expression, as I pass their houses. Their conservative Puritan style of dress reminds me of the first settlers in these areas when the settlement in the colonies just began. From my earlier readings, I recall Salem was founded in the year of 1626, when European crowd decided to come to this colony to escape religious prosecution. The interesting part about it is the very tyranny they were trying to avoid in England, they had brought to this town and placed it upon the local residents, who lived here prior to the newcomers’ somewhat unwanted arrival.

When the colony became an official town in 1626, the strict religious laws and uncontestable rules were placed upon the people by the Puritan men of authority, later on dividing the population into two major residencies, as I had mentioned earlier. The socially poor class of farmers and other workers had been driven to an agricultural land of Salem Village, when more prosperous kind of families remained in Salem Town, which is now modern Salem. I look up at the sky, observing gray fluffy clouds making their way onto the vast blue horizon. I can see the vivid sign of an approaching storm, which is about to take over everyone’s lives, making its slow yet steady advent upon an unsuspecting town. I like when it storms, however not this time, for I understand the consequence of this impeding doomsday upon these innocent unwary souls.

CHAPTER II

Puritan simple yet complicated life…

As I continue walking on a narrow sidewalk, some distance ahead of me there is what seems to be a town’s square. All of a sudden, an unexpected rush of a small crowd run toward the square, reciting a prayer. I focus on what is happening on the street leading to the square, gradually speeding up my steps. Now I can see it more clearly. To my complete unwelcome surprise, I become a witness to a public turmoil of some sorts, due to someone’s impending punishment. I come closer to the angry crowd only to realize that a public execution is about to take place. On the wooden podium of the small town’s square, there are a few men preparing to do an evil deed. One of them is mixing something in a wooden bucket. A strong gray smoky tail of something burning in the bucket comes out, as he whispers some words under his breath, looking in the crowd’s direction. The air seems to be full of dark demons and merciless cries. I look around, without fully understanding yet what is about to happen. As the dark smoke dissipates from the burning substance in the bucket, I see a young woman tightly held by a few Puritans. She tries to resist them, but I can tell her strength is slowly leaving her.  The woman in question has a beige linen tunic on, with a matching long skirt. Her tunic seems to have been ripped in the front part where it would usually be laced up.

Many people cheer loudly, as they see the woman being led toward the wooden bucket. She is silent, however her eyes speak louder than any words. She looks petrified. One of the women pushes me closer to the podium. Now I can see everything just as I stand a few meters away. I look at the terrified woman and fear the worst. I lucidly remind myself that this is just a dream, and I happen to witness something that used to be a common occurrence in the lives of strict Puritan community in the seventeenth century. I can vaguely hear the verdict a man proudly announces, looking at the mesmerized crowd. There are a few children in the crowd as well, who are about to witness a horrific event, and who are holding on to their mothers’ skirts, being scared to let go. One of the men forcefully pushes the sentenced woman toward the podium, holding her by her long tangled hair. I hear a voice behind me, setting forth the upcoming punishment of death by hanging. The rowdy crowd, especially women, begin to cheer louder and with more enthusiasm.

I look at everyone with complete and utter bewilderment. I keep telling myself this is not real, yet fully understanding that this is exactly how it was done four centuries ago. From what I gather after hearing bits and pieces of the verdict, the woman in the ripped dress, happens to be found guilty of committing adultery. Back in those times, the strict Puritan community did not tolerate this kind of behavior, by punishing it with the worst known methods, such as death by hanging. It seemed to be the most common way of dealing with such moral ineptitude. Many of the women were accused to be of low moral qualities, followed by their public humiliation and in some cases, a death sentence. Anyone could point a finger to a morally degenerated woman, with or without subtle proof. Unfortunately, some of the husbands could do so simply because they were tired of their wives and were seeking change in the marriage department. Perhaps, this was one of those cases.

One’s punishment usually would have been performed without any in-depth investigation, or further scrutiny. A woman, who was claimed to be a morally declined character, was sentenced quickly and with majority of votes, considering the main stream of paramount voices came from the accuser, who had the direct interest in sentencing her in the first place. The chaos of moral purity defined the ill-thinking society in the Puritan community. No one was safe from a death sentence, provided most of whom were women, in other words innocent housewives, whose only fault was that their husbands might have looked the other way to find a more suitable amorous interest. The complexity of dictated moral standards and silent internal disobedience when breaking those rules, yet hiding behind the approving public eye, was