Fiction

Devil Among Us

Coming in Fall 2025

Something Witchy This Way Comes

“Tituba, how did you learn to do all of this?” Sarah asks as she arranges tiny leg bones in a perfect circle around a pinch of lavender. “And where did you find a black cat on such short notice?”

            I cringe at the memory of killing the cat, but I know it was a necessary evil. “My mother taught me when I was only a girl. She said hex bags were the most important thing for a beginning witch to learn. Of course, that was before she was burned at the stake.” I force a smile and change the subject. “As for the cat, I won’t go into detail there.”

            “Burned at the stake?” Rebecca gasps. “I had no idea! Is that why you came to Salem?”

            “Yes. I was forced to flee my village, so I came here. That’s when Reverend Parris found me and offered me shelter.” I crush more lavender and sprinkle it over the bones. 

            The moon illuminates Sarah’s and Rebecca’s faces as they share a petrified look before turning their attention back to the dead tree stump we’re using as a table. “What happens now?” Rebecca asks, her voice shaking. 

            A ruffle in the bushes silences us and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I didn’t consider just how dangerous this is in our community. Of course, I took every precaution I could by waiting until midnight, when Reverend Parris was asleep, before sneaking out of the front door in pitch-black nothingness. I chose a spot several yards away in the middle of the forest, but what if someone catches us? Will we be killed? Reverend Parris seems like the type of man who would protect me if it came to it.

            Just as I am about to tell the girls to make a run for it, a fluffy creature hops out of the bushes. As it comes closer, we see that it is just a bunny. Muffled laughter rings out into the night, and we each let out a sigh of relief. 

“God, I thought we were going to be caught!” Sarah laughs.

“Don’t be silly. Who would be roaming around the forest in the middle of the night unless they, too, are doing something they aren’t supposed to be doing?” Rebecca responds. 

“Nonetheless,” I say as I wrap the contents of the hex bag in its designated sacrilegious cloth and tie it off with a bit of string, “we should be going now. Rebecca, you take this and place it under your husband’s pillow. I guarantee he will not lay his hands on you again.”

She tentatively grabs the bag while Sarah paces behind her. “But what will it do to him?” she whispers through the dark. 

“Whatever you wish it to.”

“It’s awful what happened to Rebecca Nurse’s husband.” I overhear the Parrises’ conversation from my place in the kitchen. “I invited her for lunch to take her mind off things.” Mrs. Parris says.

“Tituba!”

I quickly unruffle the part of my apron that I had bunched in my hand before making for the sitting room. “Yes, Reverend?”

“Prepare an extra plate. We are having a guest.” He runs his hand through his shaggy brown hair as he looks me up and down with hungry eyes. “Remember to save some food for yourself this time; you’re looking a bit malnourished.” 

“Yes, sir.” I go back into the small kitchen, grabbing bowls from the top shelf with unsteady hands just as there is a knock on the door. It takes no time at all before Mrs. Parris is cooing over Rebecca as if she were a fragile child and even less time for Rebecca to excuse herself to come find me. 

I take the food from the oven just in time to see Rebecca, puffy-faced and shaking, enter the kitchen. “I’m sorry about your husband,” I tell her, spooning even portions of leftover soup into each bowl.

“I’m sure you are. What did you do, Tituba?” she whispers. “He was in perfectly good health before I slipped your little hex bag under his pillow, and now he’s dead.”

“I did nothing besides what you asked me to do.”

“I did not ask you to give him a heart attack!”

“I have no control over what you wished upon him. I simply gave you the means.” 

“Are you implying that I wished him dead?” she cries, mouth agape.

“It’s obvious that you did, and I do not blame you, Rebecca. He was a terrible man.” At that, she storms out of the room. It’s not until she’s gone that I notice little Betty Parris standing in the doorway. 

“What did she mean?” she asks.

I finish filling the glasses with water before answering her, startled by her presence. “Nothing, dear. It’s just the grief talking.”

“She said you gave her a hex bag so she could kill her husband.”

“That’s obviously nonsense, Betty. I don’t know the first thing about hex bags, and I’ve been here the entire time. I did nothing to her husband.”

The ten-year-old looks me in the eyes before shaking her head. “If you’re innocent, then why are you lying? I saw you leave the house the other night.”

I try to come up with an excuse, but my mind goes blank. So, she knows. What will happen to me if the word gets out? I feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I force a smile on my lips. “You must allow me to explain… I did nothing wrong. I—”

“Tituba, where is the food?” Mrs. Parris yells. Betty scurries off before I can get another word in. 

I’m awoken in the middle of the night by a high-pitched shrieking coming from Betty and Abigail’s room, followed by a male voice I do not recognize. I get out of bed and hurry down the hall, running into the door on my way to check on the girls. When I enter the room, I see Betty thrashing about with her eyes closed and hands balled into fists. Abigail stares at her cousin from across the room.

Reverend Parris soothes the screaming child with a hand on her forehead as he speaks in hushed tones to the man whom I gather to be the village doctor. “What is happening to my daughter? She’s burning up. Do something!”

The doctor calms Betty down enough to do a quick examination, asking her what hurts before taking her temperature. “There does not seem to be anything physically wrong with her, Reverend. Her temperature is normal.”

“Then what in God’s name—”

“Dad,” Betty whispers through chapped lips. “I—I think I had a vision.”

The men exchange confused glances before Reverend Parris’s face pales. “What kind of vision, Betty? What do you mean?”

“It was the work of the Devil.”

Silence falls over the room as Betty looks directly into my eyes. “I think there are witches among us.” 

“This…this cannot be.” The Reverend paces the length of the room. “What did you see?”

“I saw someone using dark magic to hurt Rebecca Nurse’s husband. There was a small bag of what looked to be bones and some kind of herbs.” My heart skips several beats, and I begin backing out of the room slowly. There is no way she could have known these things.

“Well, who was it?”

“I shouldn’t say.” She begins twirling her fingers through her hair as if this whole thing were some sick joke. 

“You must!” Reverend Parris yells. “This kind of sorcery will not be tolerated here.”

I’m halfway out of the door when, after several beats of silence, Betty says, “It was Tituba. Tituba is a witch.”

Abigail gasps, and both men look to me for an explanation, but I panic. I make a run for it, my bare feet slapping the cold wood floor, until I’m out of the house entirely. Just when I think I’ve gotten away, a cold hand wraps around the back of my neck and pushes me to the ground. My tears mingle with the dirt that stains my cheeks as I turn to look at Reverend Parris. His lips are moving, but the only sound I hear is the beating of my heart as he drags me back into the house. 

I tread around the small, cinderblock dungeon I have grown accustomed to, kicking up dust with every step. I don’t know how long I’ve been down here because there is no window, just one lantern hanging from the corner of the ceiling, but I’ve counted six meals. The wooden door creaks open just enough for Reverend Parris to poke his head through and assess the threat, or lack thereof. Once he deems it safe, he steps inside and slams the door behind him. 

“Are you ready to speak now, Tituba?” he asks, sitting on the wooden bench that acts as my bed. He looks disappointed, and I worry that his beliefs have made him hate me.

“I have nothing to say.”

He runs his hand through his hair, considering. “This is a complicated situation. I just need you to tell me what happened.”

“Does it really matter what I say? You’ve already made up your mind about me.”

“I do not think you understand the severity of your crimes. Your life depends on your cooperation.”

I stop walking and look at him. “My life?” 

“There are people who would like to see you executed. All I ask is that you tell me the truth. If you do, I may be able to sway the judges.”

At that, I sit beside him on the bench and confess to my crimes, leaving out the parts in which Rebecca and Sarah helped me. After I’ve finished, he runs his hands down his pant leg. 

“I had a feeling something like this would happen,” he says.

I look at him with wide eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“When I took you in, it was clear you were a woman on the run. I did not ask because it was none of my business, but I let you into my home—around my wife and children.”

“Let’s not pretend that you took me in for any other reason than to clear your own conscience. Besides, how does your wife feel about the way you look at me?” I sigh and lean into him, my hand brushing against his. “I did not do anything that would have hurt you or your children, and I would never. I thought you knew me better than that.”

He clears his throat and stands, putting as much distance between us as is possible in such a small room. “I’m having a hard time believing you acted alone. How did you get the hex bag under Mr. Nurse’s pillow?” I say nothing, so he continues. “As I said, I can only help you if you are willing to tell me the truth—the whole truth. Who else was involved in this?”

“Rebecca Nurse and Sarah Good,” I say after a brief pause. 

“Very well.” He gets up and begins walking toward the door. I have no doubt he’s going to spread the word and have my friends arrested. 

“Wait! W-what happens to them?”

“They will have the same choice I presented to you. Confess or face execution.”

“And me? You’re just going to leave me here?” I beg.

“Not at all. You are free to go just as soon as I confirm your story.” He knocks twice on the door to signal to whoever is out there that he’s ready to leave. “There will be punishments, but nothing as severe as death. We are a fair community, after all.” A few seconds later, the door opens, and he is gone. 

Three meals have come since the Reverend’s visit, but there has been no word on when or if I will get out of here. The small glass pane in the door lets me see out only enough to know that there has been a guard posted in the hallway for the entirety of my stay. I’m not sure if his presence is to make sure I’m okay or to make sure I do not try to escape, but it’s likely the latter. I stand on shaky legs and press myself against the door. 

“Can I please speak to Reverend Parris?” There is no sign that he has heard me other than his weight anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Please!” I begin banging my weak fists against the wood. He finally looks at me, brown eyes meeting mine in the artificial light.

“Move aside,” he says, his voice rough and scratchy like mine. 

There are other male voices in the hallway, but I am now too far from the door to decipher whose they are. It doesn’t matter. These people do not care about me; I’ll be lucky to get out of here before—my thoughts are interrupted by the metal creak of the door opening. Reverend Parris steps inside, leaving the door wide open in his wake. 

“You are free to go. I’m sorry for the delay,” he says, eyes cast down to the dust-covered floor.

“That’s it? I—I’m just free?” I stammer.

“Yes. We appreciate your honesty and cooperation. There will be a matter of public confession, but we can discuss that at a later date.” 

I stand and head for the door, but Reverend Parris grabs my arm before I can make it into the hallway. “You should know, the others were not as cooperative.” He finally meets my eyes before continuing. “I could not stop the judges. I’m sorry.”

My mind is reeling as I try to figure out what this means, but I’m too malnourished to put the pieces together. “The others? Rebecca and Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“Are they here? I must speak to them.”

He lets go of my arm and runs his hand through his hair. “You misunderstand me, Tituba. They are not here. They—” his voice cracks, and I finally understand. 

Taking a few steps back, I attempt to gather my thoughts. “You mean they’ve been hanged? You killed them! Why should they pay with their lives when all they did was ask me for help? Why am I walking freely while they are dead? What have I done?”

“It was out of my hands,” the Reverend says as he places a hand on the small of my back. “It was not your fault, either, Tituba. I am trying to help you, but you must stop this madness.” He releases me and leaves the dungeon. 

I follow him out for fear the guard will lock me back in there. I wipe tears from my face with dirty hands. The fresh air nearly knocks me off my feet once we step outside, and I have to squint my eyes from the blinding sun. I suppose Rebecca knew what she was getting herself into. Still, neither she nor Sarah deserved that fate. 

I know what I must do to avenge their deaths, but I will have to find a cat. 

*Originally produced for and submitted to Arkansas Tech University in 2024.