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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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for anyone curious, my newest book is about the Salem Witch Trials! it’s at the point of view of Mary Warren and how she went through trials, ultimately ending in her downward spiral into madness as the trials deteriorate her mental health. it’s called Servant of Evil.

here’s the first segment of the first chapter!

— — —

She was gathering crops the first day she caught wind of the hysteria.

It was late January and sunny, the last warm day in what would soon feel like forever. The sickle in her hand was wickedly sharp and gleaming in pale yellow light, and the stalks of the corn she was cutting away were rough and sharp beneath calloused fingers. Already, the skin on her hands was shredded, oozing ruby droplets of blood and staining bright green stems. Her legs ached from crouching in the dirt, muscles locked up and tense. Somewhere beyond the pillars of corn stretched out before her, she could hear her master’s children talking in high-pitched voices, dogs barking, and horses neighing. Even closer than that, however, she could hear heavy footsteps tramping through the field, and she knew the owner of this land would not enjoy such galumphing through his crops. But she also knew that the one who appeared through the stalks wouldn’t care much for the fiery point of John Proctor’s scorn.

“Something weirdish is going on in Salem.”

Without looking up, Mary Warren answered the unexpected visitor, “Something is always going on in Salem.”

That much was true, at least right now. Salem was a town of rich trade and sea salt, characterized by a sparkling harbor that was bested only by Boston’s and a habit of fighting with itself. For years, Salem had been split between two forces: the nobles up in Salem Town and the farmers down in Salem Village. The two territories were never not fighting with each other; they were always mad about something the other did, and it was easy to lose track of who hated who and for what reason. Salem Village didn’t like the control Salem Town held over it, while Salem Town was annoyed by Salem Village thinking it was its own settlement, but they all detested the British church, which was mutual. Salem Town often pulled men from Salem Village to be a part of the national guard, which made Salem Village nervous because then they would have nobody to protect them, and Indian attacks were a regular fear throughout the civilization. Aside from its harbor, the other thing Salem had to owe to its popularity was its unfortunate position in front of frequent ambushes. And if it didn’t suffer ambushes first-hand, then it suffered ambushes through the survivors of such raids, many of which populated the city and would soon help with the grisly events that turned the community over on its head.

But the only other thing Salem Village and Salem Town could agree on was that the Indians were an issue. Unfortunately, that was where agreements ended and arguments began- Salem Town wanted more men to train, promising protection; Salem Village refusing, saying they knew how Salem Town lied, and if they didn’t, then they only saved them because of their bountiful trade and not because they were their people. It wouldn’t be long until the yelling broke out, testaments from the Bible were quoted, and grown men argued like two children fighting over who was their parents’ favorite kid.

However, Salem as a whole had fallen silent recently. Things were peaceful. It was as though a grace period were opening up before them all--or, perhaps, it was actually ending.

Except for right now, in the Proctor corn field, of course. Because her visitor would only bring silence if she were dead, and she had proved to be too slippery for death’s fingers three times over after surviving several Indian attacks throughout her young life.

“This is different.”

Wiping a sagging green sleeve over her damp brow, Mary looked up and squinted through sweat and sun to look at none other than the Putnam’s maid, Mercy Lewis.

Mercy was a fine example of everything the Puritans didn’t want. Despite her name’s sake, she was stubborn, brash, and spitfire, though she was smart enough to never act in such a way in front of the church. And she was, indeed, smart. She was more clever than a fox, easily outwitting several situations despite the minimal education women had in their lifetime. The only thing she was merciful to was her younger cousin, Ann Putnam Jr. Her parents were better off naming her Big, Loud, and Vulgar.

Mercy was nineteen-years-old, two years older than Mary, and built like a small bear. She was short, compact, and sinewy, her muscles and joints well-honed from rough maid work. Her temper was black and her teeth were sharp. Her curly dark brown hair was tucked up in her blindingly white bonnet, and she was dressed in a nondescript dress of purple. Storm cloud grey eyes bore down on Mary with bright amusement.

The two of them met three years ago in Elizabeth Proctor’s tavern. Mary had been struggling to wipe away a sticky stain on one of the tables; Mercy was looking for fresh meat. They both were in the right place at the right time.

Mary hadn’t heard her come in. It was as though the shadows of the tavern itself had unfolded the sixteen-year-old before her because she was suddenly there, towering over the front of the table, and Mary ended up spilling the bowl of soapy water she was using all over herself upon noticing her.

“My, are you jumpy,” the strange girl had observed, peering over the edge of the table. She didn’t offer Mary her help or even an apology. Mary didn’t ask for one. “Were your parents murdered by savages, too?”

“What?”

“Ooo, no, then. Got it.”

Mary blinked up at her for a moment, then carefully got up out of the sudsy puddle and retrieved a dry rag to clean up the newest mess. The entire time, the strange girl watched her as she dripped droplets and beads of white soap from the bottom of her old lavender dress.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked as she got back down on her hands and knees to clean the floor.

“Oh, no,” the strange girl answered. “I just came to say hello. Introduce myself. You work for the Proctor’s, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mary nodded.

“Interesting, interesting. I work for the Putnam’s. Thomas is my cousin, actually.”

Mary nodded again. She looked back down at the puddle, trying to focus on that. The girl didn’t move.

“Mercy.”

Mary looked back up again. She blinked. The strange girl blinked back. Was this a game?

“Pity.”

The girl stared at her for a moment, then burst into loud laughter that seemed to shake the walls. Mary was startled; she had never heard anyone laugh so hard in her entire life. Especially in a town as strict as Sakem.

“No, that’s my name,” the girl said after calming down. “My name is Mercy. Mercy Lewis.”

“Oh,” Mary’s ears heated up. “Right. Your parents were feeling pretty creative, weren’t they?”

Another bout of laughter. “Yes. Yes, they were.” She squinted at her. “And you are?”

“Mary. Mary Warren.”

“Well, Mary ‘Pity’ Warren, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

And she was right.

Mercy, as menacing as she could be, made life in Salem a lot more bearable, especially when Proctor’s whip frequently began lapping at Mary’s bare back. Together, they formed a cohort of sorts, sneaking away into the woods with other village girls, hiding away from the Lord’s watchful eyes to discuss the most sinful of things.

And today, Mercy wanted to carry on with their long-running traditions.

“Different in what way?” Mary asked.

Mercy rolled her eyes. She kicked a cloud of dust at Mary, and Mary sputtered, nearly falling backwards into the corn.

“Different-different,” Mercy answered. “Something is wrong with Abigail. Betty, too, I hear. We’re gonna go up to the Reverend’s house and see them. They’re ill, you know?”

“No,” Mary shook her head. “Mister Proctor didn’t tell me anything. They’re sick?”

“Yeah. Real sick. Ain’t wakin’ up. The Reverend has been throwin’ a huge fit over them.” Mercy explained, “I’m surprised you never heard him howlin’!” Then, doing a horrible imitation of Reverend Samuel Parris’s voice, she wailed, “Oh Betty, Betty! Wake, my sweet daughter! Wake! Why won’t you wake?!”

She clung to Mary’s arm dramatically. “God! God! Why have you forsaken me?! What have you struck my little girls with?!”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle softly. Still, her mind was made up on the whole ordeal.

“Tell them my pardons and prayers,” she said, grabbing the fallen sickle. “My master said I gotta tend to the crops. Then I can go to town. But I am not spendin’ my free time meddlin’ in someone else’s affairs.”

Mercy groaned loudly and snatched the sickle away from Mary, making her yelp.

“Live a little, will ya? Let’s go see poor Abby and Betty!” Mercy urged. “To Hell with your master right now. You can’t let him lead you around by a leash all the time. Deal with the consequences later. Let’s go!”

Mary stared into the older girl’s eyes and then sighed, giving in. She stood up- Mercy was taller than her, as she always had been. “Lead on, Mercy.”

Mercy brightened.

Together, the two of them snuck out of the Proctor property, careful as to not get caught by one of the many children roaming the plantation.

Technically, the Proctor’s had eighteen children, though four were dead and eleven were brought forth by two different women, both of which had also passed over the seasons. The only living child of John Proctor’s first wife, Martha Giddens, was Benjamin, a tall, lanky man who could never seem to grow a beard, yet had hair down to his shoulders. He was thirty-three and didn’t talk to Mary very often, but when he did, he greatly critiqued her work in the field. That farm was his pride and joy, and it was a challenge to not roll her eyes when he would go on about the importance of their crops and proper plant care.

Elizabeth II was the second oldest at twenty-nine, and helped Elizabeth Proctor run the tavern with her other siblings: Martha IV, twenty-six (the first two Martha’s had died when they were both infants, along with the woman they were named after); Mary II, twenty-five; John II, twenty-four; Mary III, twenty-three; and Thorndike, twenty. Why Proctor decided to have TWO daughters named Mary was beyond Mary herself, but it wasn’t uncommon for things to become confusing when their name was shouted for whatever reason.

Elizabeth Proctor’s children stayed on the farm, helping clean and take care of the livestock: William, eighteen; Sarah fifteen; Samuel, seven; Elisha, five; Abigail, three; and Joseph, one. Mercy often made jokes that Elizabeth had obviously been the one to name the kids, as they were actually creative and not repeating several times over.

But with so many watchmen on the property, Mary was surprised about how easy it was to slip away unseen.

The road was loose and crunched loudly beneath their footfalls. Mercy kept kicking a rock, and Mary watched it bounce across the ground.

“So, what’s wrong with Betty and Abby?” Mary asked.

Mercy smirked widely.

“There be witches about, Mary.”

#servant of evil #lizzie’s dumb book #my writing #original story #salem witch trials #mary warren #mercy lewis

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davidosu87 · 6 years

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horrororman · 6 years

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Released October 8th, 1996.

#ChildrenoftheCornIVTheGathering

#NaomiWatts

#KarenBlack

#Horror #horrormovies

#horror movies #horror #children of the corn IV the gathering

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buckybabybaby · 5 years

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Mr Hollywood (Epilogue Part III)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1532

Chapter summary: The peace of normality, for once.

A/n: Probably the last epilogue, but who can say?! I think this rounds if off nicely though...

(If the picture is all blurry, opening it in a new tab in browser helps!)

Warnings: Just fluff.

Previous: Epilogue Part II

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

“Do you mind it when Mr Barnes kisses other people?”

You don't have to look up to know Isabella is staring across your desk at you, eager to know the answer. Her younger sister Emilia has also drifted in to your classroom this evening, dragging with her a box full of building blocks, and is currently creating a mini town on your window sill and ignoring everything else, not quite old enough to be interested in gossip.

If you can call it gossip. Even with Bucky's dramatics over the month you spent in America, the paparazzi didn't catch on to anything and you returned to England and your work just as anonymous as you left.

That doesn’t mean, however, that curious little eight year olds can't figure out that something has changed between you and him. Edwin and his wife Ana both work full time, which isn't usually a problem as the two girls attend after-school clubs most days of the week, and even on Fridays when there aren't any running it's still not a problem as there is plenty to keep them occupied while they wait to be picked up. The music room seems to be a favourite of theirs, the lure of bashing around on the drums or piano unsupervised too hard to resist, but more often that not recently they can be found with you.

Isabella's continuing. “And do you make him clean his teeth before he kisses you afterwards?”

You laugh, still surprised at how direct she is. It only took her a couple of minutes to wrangle out the truth about you and Bucky on you the first day back, and so far it seems like she's stuck to her vow of keeping it to herself, in exchange for stories of your time in Hollywood.

She's still talking. “Does his character kiss other people? I haven't seen the show, daddy says I can watch it when I'm a little bit older.”

“Your daddy's probably right,” You say, not answering her other questions.

That doesn't stop her asking, “Will you get married to him now?”

“We'll have to see.”

“Will daddy get an invite to your wedding? 'Cos then I could come too! Emilia's too small but I could come, couldn't I?”

“Don't get too excited, Isabella. Nothing will happen for a few years yet, probably.”

Resting her head on her crossed arms, her brow furrows in obvious disappointment and you feel guilty.

You can't have that. “Tell you what.” Holding out your hand, you offer her your little finger and she wraps her own much smaller one around it with a grin. “When we get married, I'll make sure you get an invite, okay?” She gasps happily, and you add, “And one for Emilia, because I'm not planning on marrying him any time soon so she'll be old enough by then.”

“If you wait a few more years then the new baby can come too!” Isabella's hands clap over her mouth as you both realise what she's said. “I wasn't meant to say!”

You feign confusion. “Say what?”

She slumps back into her seat in relief, giggling quietly when you wink at her.

Then a soft knock interrupts from the classroom door and you look up to find Ana leaning against the frame. Not so subtly you glance at her tummy, trying to see if you can make out a bump, and from the look on her face, she notices.

Isabella and Emilia jump up at her arrival, gathering up their belongings as she comes to perch on your desk.

“I'm guessing she told you?”

“In her defence, it was an accident.”

Ana shakes her head fondly as she watches her oldest collecting her pens and zipping them away in her bag. “We didn't really expect her to not too. We're in the process of telling people so it doesn't really matter, and I'm just so pleased she's excited.”

Her daughters have finished fastening their coats and are hovering by the door, tired now after a long week and more than ready for dinner and bed.

“Thank you for looking after them.”

You whisper your congratulations as you hug her goodbye, waving as they leave, and you've nearly packed up your own book bag when you're interrupted again.

“This place really doesn't change, huh?”

Spinning around, you're met with the most beautiful sight you can imagine on a Friday evening. Bucky, taking advantage of a break between his scenes to visit you for the first time since the summer, is stood in your doorway in the outfit he tends to wear every time he travels, and before you can stop yourself you're skipping across the room and into his arms.

“I thought I was picking you up from the airport?” You mumble against his shoulder.

He shrugs and holds you closer. “Got an earlier flight. So I thought I'd come and surprise you.”

“You're the best sort of surprise I could ask for,” You admit. “If you'd been here ten minutes ago you could've also surprised your biggest fan.”

“Edwin's daughter, 'bella?”

“Yeah. She's first on the guest list when we get married, too.”

He leans back slightly to catch your eye, grinning widely. “Oh, it's 'when' now, is it? Not 'if'? That's encouraging.”

Your smile matches his. “But we'll have to wait until both of her siblings are old enough to attend too, I've made a solemn promise I couldn't possibly break.”

Bucky frowns. “Both her-oh, a new baby?”

“Yep.”

“And you don't want screaming babies ruining your big day?”

“Nope. Well, not ideally.”

“So, three to four years is how long we've got to wait?”

“If you're prepared to?”

Bopping your nose, he slides his lips briefly across yours. “Don't worry doll, I'm a very patient man.”

*****

“He's going to spoil your little girl rotten, I hope you know that.”

Sat on one side of your lounge with Sophia, you watch Bucky on the other side of the room cradle week old Amelia like she's make of tissue paper. The timing of his trip back 'home' is perfect as his baby niece was born just days ago, a much easier birth than her older brother so the whole family's able to come round to your house for the afternoon when she's still so young.

“Well, not rotten,” You acknowledge. “Never rotten, not one of your children, but he's still going to absolutely treasure her like he does Benjamin.”

“I know. I don't really think there's anything I can do to stop him.”

“Nah, you've just got to embrace it.”

“And what about you? Does he spoil you too?”

You flush at the knowing look she gives you. “He tries to.”

Not elaborating nor giving her a chance to pry any further, you get up and saunter over to admire the newborn, sitting next to Bucky on the sofa as Dayton slips away back to his wife, leaving the two of you alone for a minute.

Bucky turns to you. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Oh, er-”

“Here.” He holds Amelia out to you carefully. “Just keep her head supported and she'll be fine.”

“O-Okay.”

Waiting until you settle comfortably, he then passes you the precious bundle. You're tense at first, terrified of holding her incorrectly and causing her pain, but when she doesn't stir in your arms, you sink back into the sofa and watch her sleep. She looks almost exactly like her brother did when he was born, just that the soft hair across her forehead is darker, the same colour as her father as opposed to Benjamin's blonder curls, matching his mothers.

“She's so tiny,” You murmur in awe.

Bucky nods, smiling down at her when she stretches. “But she won't be for long. Which is yet another reason to come back more often.”

*****

It may be October half-term, but with the sun shining down it's warm enough to enjoy the fresh air in the garden, at least for a little while. Benjamin drags himself away from his little sister long enough to offer the chickens some corn, and under the watchful eye of both his parents he hesitantly holds out his hand to them, even after you warn him their beaks may hurt. Just like his dad and uncle, he loves a challenge.

Bucky guides you away from the others, ambling around the edge of the borders as he tells you about his and Sam’s latest antics, finally stopping at the base of the apple tree that holds so many memories.

“I miss you Y/N.”

“I'm right here.”

“I know, but when I'm gone, I-” He pauses, sighing. “I wish it could be like this all the time.”

“Me too.”

“I was thinking, for the next project, I could find a role a bit closer to you. Maybe a British production?”

“You shouldn't limit yourself for me.”

“No. But if something came up...”

“Then that would be very nice.”

“Wouldn't it?”

He holds you tight as he kisses you in a sunny patch under the slowly yellowing leaves, and you know that, whatever comes your way, as long as you have moments like this nothing will ever tear you two apart.

*****

Epilogue Part IV (Final!)

*****

A/n 2: if this is this last part I just wanna thank everyone who read and commented on this over the last eight months! It's been quite a while, so if you've stuck with it, thank you!! Once again I find it hard to let go when I feel like I've built a little safe family around Bucky, but there's always more stories to write, and different ways for him to fall in love with y/n, so watch this space ;)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood

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youbetterworkcovergirl · 5 years

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Mischief Night

Saw II

Bill and Ted Face The Music

Saw III

Saw IV

Christmas Made to Order

Olaf’s Frozen Adventure

Pride and Prejudice and Mistletoe

Direct To Video

Saw V

A Very Merry Mix up

Christmas At Pemberley Manor

Sense, Sensible and Snowmen

A Joyous Christmas

Anna

Run

Train to Busan: Pennisula

#Alive

Christmas Camp

Witchboard

Porno

Road to Christmas

Friendsgiving

Zombies

If Anything Happens I Love You

Diana In Her Own Words

Christmas On The Square

Unhinged

Amish Grace

Polytechnique

The Only Way

The Wolf of Snow Hollow

Soul

Freaky

The Rental

Relic

Unlawful Entry

White House Down

The Craft: Legacy

Christmas in Connecticut

Absence of Malice

6 Souls

10.5 Apocalypse

13 Hours

A Shoe Addict’s Christmas

A Stranger Among Us

9/11 The Day That Changed The World

No Escape

A Country Christmas Story

Dolly Patron’s Christmas Coat of Many Colors: Circle of Love

Smiley Face Killers

Death of Me

Detective Pikachu

One October

The Broken Hearts Gallery

A Cheerful Christmas

Head Count

Hamilton: One Shot To Broadway

Fire in the Sky

Fade to Black

Children of the Corn: Revelation

Children of the Corn: Genesis

Children of the Corn III

Blind Faith

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