The Viper Times is pleased to announce the Verrado Literary Society. It’s a place where budding writers have a chance to present their amazing stories. This is by Jax Westover.
Jax is a passionate writer who finds inspiration in his family’s storytelling traditions. Growing up, Jax was captivated by his dad’s whimsical and imaginative “peanut stories,” fictional adventures about his family as peanuts. These tales sparked a love for creativity and storytelling, particularly in the realms of sci-fi and horror. Meanwhile, Jax’s mom instilled an appreciation for emotional depth, dramatic narratives, and stories with meaningful messages. This blend of influences inspires Jax to craft tales that are both thrilling and thought-provoking.
Printed courtesy Jax Westover
Thomas Greene stood before the charred ruins of his family barn, the air thick with the stench of smoke and despair. The townspeople surrounded him, their eyes filled with fear and hatred.”Witchcraft!” they shouted, fingers pointing like daggers. The mob’s anger grew, a culmination of fear that had been festering in Salem. “Witch Maker! ”One villager screamed, and the crowd echoed this sentiment, turning the rage on Thomas. Memories of Mary’s Innocent laughter echoed in his mind, now silenced forever, replaced now by the haunting cries of the mob.
At home, Mary held their remaining daughter, Jane, who trembled with fear. “Mama, why are they so angry?”Jane asked, her innocent eyes wide. Mary’s face grew pale. “They’re afraid baby, fear makes people do terrible things.”Suddenly, Jane began to cry, a chilling sound echoed through the walls. The temperature in the room dropped sharply, and shadows crept in, dark and suffocating. Candles flickered and went out leaving them in pitch darkness. “Jane!” Thomas yelled from across the room, rushing to her side. “You must calm down!”
In a fit of terror, Jane Screamed, releasing a pulse of raw energy that snuffed out every flame in Salem. Darkness enveloped the entire village, and an unnatural silence fell, a palpable dread settling in the air. “What have you done?”Mary gasped, clutching Jane tightly. Just then, the door burst open,and the mob flooded in, faces twisted with fury. “The witch’s child!” they roared, brandishing torches and pitchforks, their eyes wild with hatred.
As they closed in, shadows seemed to swirl around Jane, dark tendrils creeping out from the corners of the room. “I’m scared!” Jane whimpered, tears streaming down her face. “Stay back!” Thomas shouted, stepping protectively in front of his family. Desperation coursed through him as he faced the mob, knowing he had to protect them at all costs. The air crackled with a new energy, the darkness thickening as the villagers got closer. “Burn Her!” a voice shrieked, and chaos erupted. Mary screamed as a torch was thrown at her and her hair caught aflame. She was batting at herself but the flame was already too strong for her and she burned to a crisp in front of Jane and Thomas.
“Jane, use your power!” Thomas urged, his voice panicked. “Protect us!” In that moment, Jane’s wide, terrified eyes met Thomas’s. For a heartbeat, doubt flickered in her heart. Could she truly wield this darkness? But as her mother fell, a fierce determination ignited within her. In terror, Jane focused on the darkness swirling around her, and for a moment the shadows seemed to respond. A sinister light flickered in her eyes as she channeled her fear into power. But instead of protecting her father, a wave of darkness washed over Thomas, pulling him in and dismantling him as he dissipated into a shadow. “NO!” Jane screamed, it was too late.
As the flames danced wildly, Jane stood frozen, the horror of what she had unleashed sinking in. The shadows withered, feeding off her fear and pain. The villagers started retreating, all pale as they had just witnessed this horror unfold before them. “Witch!” they cried, but Jane could only stare off in the distance, still shocked from the whole ordeal. The fire roared, illuminating her face in a hellish glow. With every heartbeat, she felt an awakening deep within her, an ancient power that whispered promises of vengeance and control.
And as the flames charred the remains of the house and her parents, their cries became a haunting melody, melding into the night. Jane’s heart raced, a dark thrill coursing through her entire body and veins as she realized she was no longer a child. With her family being brutally murdered, Jane’s sorrow morphed into anger. The townspeople frightened, stumbling back in fear as she stepped forwards, her eyes glowing with an unearthly light. “Now you will see what true darkness looks like,” she whispered, her voice cold and distant.
Shadows swirled around her, twisting into grotesque shapes, forming a vortex of terror. The villagers all run to flee, but the darkness engulfs them, dragging them into the depths of despair. Screams filled the air, echoing the torment of her lost family. Jane stood alone, the last remnant of her family flickering in the flames. She was no longer a child but a vessel for the horrors of Sale, the embodiment of the darkest shadows. The flames danced in her eyes, illuminating her as she embraced the power of the darkness. As the village burned, she let out a chilling laugh, echoing into the night, sealing her fate as the new harbinger of fear in Salem.
