#european witch trials

[streetsofsalem]

Revenues and Reparations in the Witch City

Revenues and Reparations in the Witch City

I often find that my profession and my residence are in conflict: it’s challenging to be an historian in Salem, especially at this time of year. More than one person has suggested that I move, and I think every one of my colleagues has done so when I come in all hot and bothered about one thing or another. But even though Salem is often frustrating, it is always engaging and has offered me many…

[kamishiro-rui-phoenixwonderland]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING??

[mask131]

One final rant before going to sleep.

It is so funny seeing the USA all like "Oh yes we got a terrible, dreadful witch hunt. Salem. Oh yes. It was so traumatizing, it is in every witch media of ours and must always be used as a comparison scale. The darkest chapter of our history. The epitome of witch-hunting. Our media will make it the core heart of all persecutions against women and non-conforming people. Nearly thirty people dead, can you imagine? The barbary. A barbary we'll advertise and sell as merch, of course, but a barbary still. And those poor women... We'll still depict them as horrible, child-killing witches in movies and tv series. But they'll be forever remembered as the martyrs of our nation!"

While Europe is like: "Oh, the witch hunts? Yes we all know the crazy American stuff, fire and flames and apocalypse and all that... Yes, yes, we heard we heard. Did we have some too? Well... I don't think right now... Oh wait yes we had! Yes we wrote about it somewhere... It's in a book I left somewhere in my archives, can't really recall... Anyway I don't usually like bringing it up in conversations you know? Kind of chills out the mood. Which is funny for a big barbecue! Ha, ha... Hem. Oh yes, the book... Well it must be in the Spanish... No wait the Danish? Or German section? Oh I also recall there's one in the French... And another one for Scotland. I must also have a Swedish or English copy somewhere... You know I just had so many, it is hard to keep track of all of them! And anyway, it's not like it was a big part of our history. You know, just thousands and thousands of deaths... No big deal. *takes a sip of the local drink* Now, the Black Plague, THAT I can talk to you about for hours! And don't get ME started on the Big Wars!"

[xxacid-milkixx]

A misconception about the witch trials that i see is fueled by Google is that it was mainly Salem, MA, or the most deaths happened in Salem. If you search "how many people died in the witch trials" the first result says 25 people were sent to death IN SALEM. Please know that America was late to the witch-hunt as the Puritans had just arrived in America in the 1600's. The real amount was mostly from Europe and it totalled around half a million. Please remember it was estimated 50,000-60,000. It was mostly women, but it included men, children, the elderly and even animals, as they were thought to be familiars of a suspected witch. The witch-hunts lasted many centuries, and decimated villages. Please remember that MANY, more were undocumented as they were killed by villagers and even some were killed as late as the nineteenth century; though the trials "officially" ended in 1775. Lots of older documentations of potential deaths were lost to time.

[single-nachtmahr-in-your-area]

Fun fact: None of the people killed during the European witch trials were witches. All of these people were tortured and murdered for something they didn't do.

You can call yourself witches as much as you like, I genuinely don't care, you do you.

But stop with the ~we're the daughters of the witches you couldn't burn uwu~ bullshit. You don't get to claim these people's suffering for your cute little aesthetic.

[lafseanchai]

Of the various goals/reasons I have set for myself (and rarely followed through) for fitness, making sure I can do a 4.6 mile hike from the Häxmuseet (Witch Museum) to the Bålberget (Bonfire Hill) Monument in Sweden in July is ranking up there.

I need to start walking yesterday.

[greenapplebling]

"You probably heard about the witch trials, but I bet you never heard of werewolf trials done in Europe-"

eXCUSE MEEEE

[historyfocus]

“innocent I came to jail, innocent I was tortured, innocent I must die…”

- Johannes Junius, 1628, a letter to his daughter

I find it important to remember that the persecution of witches (I speak from a European perspective) was not something that only harmed women. Around 20-25% of those executed in Europe for witchcraft were men [Male witches in Early Modern Europe, Apps 2003], and those unlucky few faced the same agony and misery as their female counterpart.

To disregard numbers based on gender is to kill the forgotten twice.

[lifelongscribe]

I did a review of this book :) If you're curious check it out :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Texts used and references:

•Davies, O; ‘Magic: A very short introduction’, Oxford University Press, 2012 •Gaskill, M; ‘Witchcraft: A very short introduction’, Oxford University Press, 2010 •Bible passages: Matt 9: 1-8; Mark 2: 1-12; Luke 5: 17-26

Some of the people and things mentioned in the video:

-Owen Davies (A very short introduction to Magic) -Malcolm Gaskill (A very short introduction to Witchcraft) -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89mile_Durkheim -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludwig_Wittgenstein -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gabriel_Naud%C3%A9 -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89liphas_L%C3%A9vi -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mezuzah

[mapsontheweb]

Map of werewolf witch trials

by subthings2

   Mapping the location of 223 witch trials that included accusations of turning into a wolf, mostly based on Lorey's online list (just under 200 listed). Blécourt gives a few corrections to Lorey's list, Klaniczay has 13 Hungarian trials, and Madar, Metsvah and Winkler collectively give 14 Estonian trials; Metsvah says there are 30 recorded in Estonia in total, but data on the rest weren't provided. When a location has multiple trials, the crosses form a circle around the city so as to not overlap - this is most obvious for Tallinn, Riga, and Sopron.  

   The initial point was to visualise how the trials spread over time, but what it also makes really obvious is how tightly clustered most of them are - this matches how regional the witch trials in general were, but also that beliefs in werewolves weren't evenly spread across Europe; hence the lack of anything in Great Britain, Basque Country, but weirdly also Scandinavia where southern Sweden is known for having a decent number of werewolves in its folklore.  

   Finally, after going through all of Lorey's descriptions, there's a few that stood out that I wanted to share (machine translated from German):  

   1619 Tonnis Steven von Grevenstein, shepherd in Kallenhardt (Electoral Cologne Office of Rüthen). “Out of pain and unbearable torment, I had to say that  I was a magician and a Wehrwolf, but God in heaven knows that everything is a lie and I have never seen a devil in my life.”  

   1652 Wilhelm Scheffern, shepherd from Metterich (di Metternich near Münstermaifeld, Kurtrier). One of the reasons he was talked about was because - in contrast to his successors - there were never any losses due to wolf attacks during his time as a shepherd. "It is entirely believed that the defendant could turn himself into a werewolf" (6th count) and "that he ... once made himself invisible in the field" (point 15). However, previously in points 2 and 3 "that his "The father was burned because of the vice" and "that the defendant's sisters were burned years ago because of the vice of magic." (Court verdict not received; according to Krämer, however, probably executed.)  

   1661 Cuno Jung, a shepherd from Westerburg, had not defended himself strongly enough against being called a werewolf. Because his parents were already under suspicion and his sister had been executed as a witch, he spoke out against the witchcraft trials. He also refused to take part in an execution as a lay judge. He once even tried to buy his way out as an observer at a witch trial. Executed in Westerburg.  

   there's also the WAR WLF of Lemgo, featuring this funky little guy that's also had several people write about the rather unfunky little trial  

   the single case aaaall the way up in Finland is Erkki Juhonpoika  

   Sources:  

   Willem de Blécourt, ‘The Differentiated Werewolf: An Introduction to Cluster Methodology’, Werewolf Histories (2015), pg 7  

   Gábor Klaniczay, Bengt Ankerloo & Gustav Henningson (ed.), ‘Hungary: The Accusations and the Universe of Popular Magic’, Early Modern European Witchcraft: Centres and Peripheries (1993) pg 254, footnote 122  

   Elmar Lorey, ‘Werwolfprozesse in der Frühen Neuzeit’, http://www.elmar-lorey.de/prozesse.htm (2000)  

   Maia Madar, Bengt Ankerloo & Gustav Henningson (ed.), ‘Estonia I: Werewolves and Poisoners’, Early Modern European Witchcraft: Centres and Peripheries (1993), pg 270-271  

   Merili Metsvah, Willem de Blécourt (ed.), ‘Estonian Werewolf History’, Werewolf Histories (2015), pg 210 & footnote 25  

   Rudolf Winkler, ‘Uber Hexenwahn und Hexenprozesse in Estland wahrend der Schwedenherrschaft’, Baltische Monatsschrift, 67 (1909), pg 333-4  

[youzicha]

It's kindof interesting how Salem has its emblematic status in the U.S. mainly because it was exceptional. In total about 35 accused witches were killed in the U.S., 19 of them in Salem.

Meanwhile Europe killed like 40,000 - 60,000 people, the map is densely red, and I think the typical European could not name a single trial site or accused witch. That Stalin quote about tragedies versus statistics...

[v4voracity]

HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

  ⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended. 

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months. 

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession. 

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

 A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by! 

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you… 

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell  during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled. 

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room—  with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him. 

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff. 

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask. 

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.” 

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.” 

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows. 

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass. 

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly. 

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.”  You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!” 

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

[molsno]

White colonizers manufactured similar moral panic in response to the practice of "sati," or as Europeans called it, widow-immolation. (In Sanskrit, "sati" refers to the woman who dies, not the ritual, but because I am primarily referring to European accounts I will use "sati" to mean the ritual.) The rite—which was not strictly a religious practice—involves a Brahmin widow casting herself on her husband's funeral pyre, and it was rare in India even at the time. Large parts of the country did not practice the barbaric ritual at all; in other regions, it was restricted to certain castes. In the seventeeth century, when the British first encountered sati, witch-hunts, trials, and burnings were still being conducted across Europe and in the American colonies. Yet despite the many similarities in the "spectacle" of burning women, and the purportedly moral underpinnings for doing so, white people apparently only recognized violence against women when it was perpetuated by what they saw as primitive "other" cultures.

—Rafia Zakaria, Against White Feminism

[capitalisticveins]

Imagine the Salem and European Witch Trials were just empowered people being seen as demonic and satanic and being killed as a result

Imagine THATS when they started hiding out and pretending they dont have magic

[single-nachtmahr-in-your-area]

mantra against emailing the author of an article because of one (1) detail that is insignificant to the point of the article, but it's WRONG

[breelandwalker]

hi! i was reading that post on things that need to stop in witchy/spiritual spaces and i was wondering what you meant by the burning times (spelled tymez)? i truly have no idea what this is and sometimes humor goes over my head. thanks!

Oh, my WHEELHOUSE! -claps on the Witchstorian hat-

The Burning Times is a revisionist bit of historical fiction passed around and promoted by the modern witchcraft and pagan communities. It refers to a very real period in European history in the 15th-17th centuries when witch hunts and witch trials were happening frequently, many ending in the hanging or burning of the accused. The revisionist myth seeks to turn these innocents into martyrs, labeling them as members of a secret underground pagan cult that survived the Christianization of Europe and were later hunted by the Church for their attempts to keep a pre-Christian nature-based religion alive. Estimates put forth by some community figures, most notably Gerald Gardner, total the supposed number of slain witches as close to nine million.

In reality, while these trials certainly happened, the accused witches were almost entirely marginalized or disenfranchised persons, targets of vicious gossip and hearsay, or victims of political and ecclesiastical machinations beyond their control. Some were on the wrong side of disagreements between Church factions. Others were Jews, Muslims, or Roma persecuted by a prejudiced and easily frightened populace. And by that point in history, it is safe to say that while pre-Christian trappings certainly remained part of various seasonal festivals and popular superstitions, none of the people accused, arrested, or executed in witch trials were actually pagans.

Nor would they have labeled themselves as witches, despite what our modern standards may make of their practices and beliefs about the world they lived in. It's important to remember that "witch," up until the early 20th century was universally regarded as a derogatory term rather than an empowering one. It is still a derogatory and even dangerous thing to be called in many parts of the world today, despite efforts to reclaim it by the modern witchcraft movement.

(It should be noted that accused persons who confessed to being witches often did so under duress or torture, and it should go without saying that this does not constitute any kind of objective truth.)

Furthermore, the figure of Nine Million Witches is factually impossible in historic terms. With the continent already ravaged by war, famine, plague, and political upset during the 200 or so years that make up the so-called Burning Times, a loss of nine million people from witch trials alone (nearly all of them women, if Gardner is to be believed) would have completely decimated the population of Europe. The Black Death alone killed at least a third of the population less than a century before the first spate of these trials began and the continent wouldn't recover for another 150 years. Simply put, even with the most dedicated and zealous of witch hunters on the case, there wouldn't have been enough people to burn.

The actual number of witch trial victims is closer to about 100,000 all told. That's just what we can prove on paper. And even that made a huge impact. The real figures are enough of a tragedy on their own. No embellishment needed.

The Burning Times was adopted as both a pagan and a feminist buzzword for the patriarchal crimes of the Church, and a documentary film (riddled with factual errors) premiered in 1990 which spread the story to a wider audience and cemented the presence of the myth in the second wave of the New Age and witchcraft reconstructionist movements.

There have been many revelatory texts written by both pagan and secular scholars over the years which debunk the idea of the Burning Times, but it's so firmly entrenched, particularly in popular books by the likes of Buckland and Ravenwolf, that you still see it crop up from time to time. It's one of the things we often have to unteach newer witches and pagans, especially the ones who have an axe to grind.

When we say, "Oh they probably still believe in the Burning Times," with a bit of an eyeroll or a knowing look, it often signifies in a gently derivative way that the person is question is either new to the conversation and has not yet been disabused of certain outdated notions, or that they're clinging to those notions with a tenacity of cognitive dissonance too strong to be countered by common sense.

If you'd like more information on witch trials, I did a very long episode on the history of witchcraft and the law on Hex Positive back in September of 2021, tracing the evolution of witchcraft-related laws and notable trials from the Code of Hammurabi to the late 20th century. The Burning Times myth makes an inevitable appearance during the discussion.

Hope this cleared things up for you! 😁