Witches by Kathryn Meyer Griffith Page A

history. You probably saw her.” Mabel chortled softly.
    “Her?”
    A bony hand settled on Amanda’s shoulder after she’d sat back down and she looked up at Mabel.
    “Her. The witch of Witch’s Pond. You’ve never heard the stories, then, have you?”
    “No. Tell me.” She’d captured Amanda’s interest.
    Mabel settled tiredly into her chair. “When I was a child my mother warned me about that place. Told me never to go near it. People disappeared there. The children in town used to dare each other to go there at night and wait...for her. Not me, though, I wasn’t brave enough. There were horrible rumors about that place; about what had happened there.”
    “What happened there?”
    Mabel inclined her head, her face troubled. “They were supposed to have killed a suspected witch there. The woman’s name was Rachel Coxe, if I remember rightly. The town accused her of being a witch at the height of the witch scare sometime in the seventeenth century.
    “You know, though it never got as bad here as Salem or Boston, the witch mania infected the townspeople, sure enough. They believed Rachel was a witch, along with a few others, and the townspeople hounded her. I don’t think there was ever a trial...she tried to escape them.
    “They say they tracked her, and drowned her in the pond. Her wronged spirit is supposed to be waiting there to take revenge on those who killed her, or win vindication, so they say.”
    Rachel , Amanda’s mind whispered. Knowing a spirit’s name was having power over them, like knowing the name of a demon. You could control them.
    “Not long after Rachel disappeared, a trapper found body parts strewn along a section of bank at Black Pond. That was the beginning of the legend. Hideous things have occurred there ever since. Some campers were supposed to have disappeared late in the eighteenth century near the place. Three children drowned there when I was a girl. Lots of people through the years have seen things there, like you.
    “Did she say anything to you?”
    “No, just called my name, then evaporated,” Amanda intoned, thoughtfully. She’d strolled over to the door, was looking out.
    “I can’t believe you saw the ghost, and nothing happened.”
    I’m a witch, that’s why, Amanda thought. “Lucky, I guess. You really believe that it’s dangerous?”
    “Things have happened there.”
    Outside Mabel’s kitchen, the sun was sliding down into the treetops. Everything had that tint of winter pink, like one of those paint-by-number sets she’d had as a child. Night came swiftly in late October.
    “Why did they murder her?” Amanda asked, curious. She hadn’t felt any danger emanating from the ghost earlier, but then some ghosts could hide their true intentions.
    “According to the old stories, she caused the town’s livestock to get sick, did wicked things and cast evil spells, was promiscuous, which wasn’t all that unusual for the times, no matter what you’ve read in your stuffy old history books. They said she was able to see the future. She was a renegade. Extremely beautiful. The women of the town despised her because the men wanted her. Then they claimed she killed her married ex-lover and the chase was on.”
    “So they murdered her for it?” Amanda’s hair rose on the back of her neck. People had treated her cruelly for what they believed she’d done over the years, too, so she could empathize. Boston still haunted her.
    “Well, no one knows if they really killed her. The story went that Rachel was a witch. That she’d killed not only her ex-lover in cold blood, but her own children as well.”
    “She killed her own children?” Amanda echoed.
    “They found their bodies, butchered, and some thought she’d used them in a sacrifice. I don’t recall how many children she was reported to have had, or if they were boys or girls. It’s an old tale. Rachel just disappeared one day, some say she wasn’t seen again; while another version went that the