A Killer Witch. A Colonial town is stalked by a monster. (standard:mystery, 5184 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 21 2020	Views/Reads: 1429/995	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Something or someone is killing residents of 18th century Johnstown, Pa. His family wiped out, Peter Clampett sets out to find a serial killer, witch or human.

Three-year-old Samantha Clampett played with a homemade cloth doll. She
sat between the stone hearth and an outer wall. The child was trying to 
keep warm on a cool October night in Johnstown. It was in the year 1731 
and one of the few settlements in what would later be Vermont. 

Wind whistled through cracks in mortar between logs of her crudely-built
home. The lone window was shuttered, that opening also covered with 
furs to keep out the cold; glass being far too expensive for her 
family. Peter, her father, was over at the meeting house. Her mother, 
Abigail, sat across the room while spinning wool into yarn. 

Samantha liked to sit between the fire and cold. That way, she could
turn her body one way, enjoying warmth on one side and coolness on the 
other. When one side became too warm, she'd turn the other way. That 
particular spot had a hole in the mortar large enough to see through. 
It was nice to be able to sit with her face pressed between logs and 
see outside, eye cold from a small breeze coming through. She was 
careful not to let her parents know about the hole. They would just 
stuff a rag in it or something. Then she wouldn't be able to watch the 
muddy street at night. 

The girl heard a dog barking outside. Looking through her hole, Samantha
saw someone coming toward the house and thought it must be one of her 
mother's friends. A feeling of expectation filled her breast. Visitors 
meant a rare cup of sassafras tea, maybe even a cookie or piece of cake 
if the visitor brought a gift. 

Samantha waited, and waited some more, but nobody knocked on the door.
She peered out again. While she watched, someone passed by her hole. It 
was very quick and they were too close for her to see well. A couple of 
minutes later, while talking to Alice, her doll, she noticed that air 
from outside wasn't blowing on the side of her face anymore. Looking 
over, she saw an eye looking back at her ... from out there. Samantha 
forgot her secret, screaming in shock and fear. 

“Mama! Mama! Someone's outside. I can see them.” In sudden horror, she
backed away from the hole. Before her mother could answer, the door 
slammed open on leather hinges. 

*** 

“Who could have done this? How could anyone have done it?” Reverend
Fletcher held Abigail's bloody head in his lap. He was sitting on the 
floor, covered with red from handling her body, the fluid still 
steaming in cold air coming through the open door. Townspeople peered 
in the doorway, hesitant to come come closer to what they considered 
the devil's work. Satan had certainly been in that home, and might 
still be standing among them, gloating. 

The woman had been stripped, raped, and stabbed multiple times. Both her
breasts had been cut clean off, and were nowhere in sight. A large 
swatch of once beautiful blonde hair was also missing, cut or torn off 
the head. 

Peter, her husband, sat on the floor at the farthest end of the room. He
was in shock, sitting in a fetal position, visibly shaking, wide-eyed 
and with his head clasped between his legs. 

Samantha had been hurriedly taken out of the cabin by one of the ladies.
The girl had been screaming something about a witch, an ugly evil 
witch. She'd also been naked and obviously sexually molested. The child 
had been covered with blood. No one inside the cabin knew yet if it 
were hers or her mother's. 

* 

Jebediah Johnson stood outside, watching activity down the street. He'd
been working at his home business. It was the only shoe shop in the 
town of about three-hundred people, also being one of the few with a 
real glass window to show off his wares. 

His business was sporadic. Being a real shoemaker himself, Jeb sold his
own creations and fixed them when needed. Sometimes he would have 
little business and need to find part-time work on local farms. Other 
times, he worked late. That night he was working late. 


Click here to read the rest of this story (520 more lines)