SURVIVORS OF SALEM

People argued over parking spaces, they littered the pretty streets and Richard realised he had a headache before he reached the pharmacy. Sadly, the man behind the counter had nothing for cancer but some aspirin would do for now.

Grandma said that once, real witches walked these streets, magic spell whisperers who could cure his illness with a kiss.

Six months.

Now there were cosplay witches everywhere. Cackling brides on their hen night, howling and lifting stale pumpkins over their heads because apparently that’s how you respectfully honoured women wrongfully executed centuries before.

Richard shivered in the cold. His doctor had told him to take it easy but this headache was murder and again he thought of dead witches at these famous spots. Grandma had told him how evil men snatched people up at night and tortured them until they announced that they danced with the devil.

Poppycock.

At this house was where Ms. Bennett lived. And here was where her daughter was hanged.

‘Give me that broom,’ a woman giggled in front of a sign marked WITCH MUSEUM and posed for a photo.
Bloody people, Richard sighed and realised that he didn’t have the breath to reach home. He didn’t like it but he’d have to take the shortcut that grandma said he must never take through the woods where real witches once danced.

More poppycock but at least he could be away from people for a while.

Then when he heard the woman scream, he rolled his eyes. Did no one have respect for hallowed places? He tried to quicken his step to avoid another annoying hen party wearing bows saying HOTTEST WITCH but he realised that his legs didn’t have the strength.

‘Help,’ said the woman when the fellow in the ski mask snatched her purse and pushed her down.

‘Gimme your money!’

‘Hey, leave her alone,’ Richard said and felt his body cool.

Shit. I just said that, he thought.

The mugger counted a few bloodied bills and jabbed a finger at the stranger. ‘Keep walking, man, or I’ll bury you.’

People were always trouble which is why Richard kept away from them, he preferred to be alone but he wasn’t cruel. He couldn’t walk away when there was fear in the woman’s swollen eye.

‘I—I have aspirin,’ he stuttered.

‘Huh?’ the mugger said. ‘Do you want me to kill you too, asshole?’

Richard recoiled when the mugger clenched his fists and sprang forward. He hadn’t been in a fight since school. When he could walk two steps without breathing heavily.

‘You’re a little late for -’

Richard stopped talking when the gloved fist broke three teeth in his head and weak as a sheet, he fell.

‘Don’t hit me, I’m not well,’ Richard said and wondered why the tourist in the witch’s hat remained sitting, stunned.

Poor thing must be in shock, he thought and howled when the boot crashed down into his gut.

‘I’ll kill you if you get in my business,’ the mugger spat and turned back to the woman.

Bloody people, Richard thought. None had been kind to him, no one had cared, but his grandma would be very disappointed if he was as cruel as them.

The mugger groaned and pitched to his knees as Richard took careful aim and threw a rock at the back of his head. He crashed forward into a bunch of nettles, farted and snored.

‘Y—you killed him,’ the witch said.

Richard coughed up blood and knew his doctor would chew him up—when I advised exercise, I thought of walks to the store, not tackling muggers.

‘No, he’s breathing, come on,’ Richard took her hand and slowly guided her back to the street.

‘God, you’re soaked in sweat,’ the woman said and righted the black hat on her head.

‘I—I have cancer,’ Richard said.

‘You did all that with cancer?’ the woman marvelled and shook his hand. ‘Stephanie.’

‘It—it wasn’t much I’m afraid but we have to reach the police station—oh, sorry. I’m Richard.’

‘You were very brave,’ Stephanie softly kissed his cheek.

Despite the Halloween chill, Richard felt his cheeks burn. ‘It’s okay, I -’ he stopped talking when he threw up. Retching and gasping, he clutched his knees and vomited again, staining the grass black.

His doctor said this would happen with exertion. His body just wasn’t what it was.

Trust me to embarrass myself in front of someone with lovely eyes.

His grandma would be appalled.

Somehow, his lungs were expanding fully—he could breathe and fill his chest. Now the night smelt of candy, he could detect the reek of dead leaves and rotten pumpkin.

For the first time in months, his pain was gone.

‘Stephanie, what have you done?’

The witch laughed and adjusted her hat again. ‘You were very brave,’ she praised and vanished.

The change was instant, so like smoke through a window that Richard continued talking before he realised he was alone.

A witch’s kiss cures all ills, grandma said and somehow, he managed to move his legs forward with a spring in his limbs.

What am I gonna tell the doctor Monday morning? He thought and quickened his steps when he heard the women walking over the road enter into the Halloween spirit.

Some wore ribbons saying KISS ME, I’M A WITCH.

All of them wore bent black hats.

Bloody Halloween in Salem, Richard thought.

It was always trouble.