Page 6 of Haunting Salem

"I could only wish." If they were, I hoped we did their town justice and those still seeking justice for the travesties befallen them. I wanted this to not only be a hit series but a showcase of different towns. Sappy sure, but if we could give back a little to each community, we’d be putting a hell of a lot more ‘good,’ out into the world.

When we stepped inside the building my senses went on high alert. My skin prickled and the hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. Someone was watching us.

The place was alive with activity.

As I glanced around the spacious interior, I gauged whether or not anyone else felt the spike of energy. Beside me, Jack tensed. I squeezed his hand in reassurance before stepping farther into the space. Whoever was there held no malice, they were simply curious. Jack glanced at me and gave me a small smile.

Part of the reason Jack celebrated his sobriety every six months was due to me. I'm not saying that in a cocky way either. When I met Professor Jack Quinn—aka Mr. GQ—he was a functioning alcoholic. He came to class more often than not bleary-eyed and staggering. The last straw was finding the bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer.

So, I questioned him.

I was naive back then. I thought talking about feelings and therapy could help everyone if they put in the effort. For some people, therapy didn't work. Instead of them talking and finding the tools to help them heal, it only made the wounds bigger. They needed to find their way of coping. Jack used alcohol. One day he came to class a little bit tipsy from the night before, and after I gathered everyone's names, effectively canceling the class, he spilled his guts to me.

Jack saw ghosts. He was a medium like me, only he couldn't communicate with them. He felt their pain. Saw flashes of the dead person's life. For years he thought he was schizophrenic and took medication to boot. He also thought he was having visual hallucinations. When the medication did nothing, eventually making him sicker than he already thought he was, he turned to alcohol to tamp down on what he witnessed. But, in the few years before we'd met, it became unbearable for him. That day, when he stumbled into class, he'd planned on killing himself just to find a little morsel of peace.

Sitting there, listening to him, I did what I had to do. I asked Kael to step forward. I introduced Jack to my guide and then I began helping Jack rebuild his life. The last four years hadn’t been easy by any means for him, but Jack was learning. He was setting rules for the spirits who visited him. He had blocks he could reenforce at night to keep them out so he could sleep. And, more often than not, he’d learned to ignore the spirits who hung around him.

“So, this is interesting,” I murmured.

“They’re everywhere,” Jack muttered.

He was correct. Spirits were in the stacks, at tables, staring out windows. Most of it was residual energy. Usually, when an entity saw me, they approached. The majority seemed oblivious to us being there, some were curious though. "I don't think this is the place to dally."

“I believe you’re right,” Jack answered. “Should we find Ms. Good?”

“Let’s.” I started for the front counter but came up short when a little girl darted in front of me. Her period dress fluttered in the breeze while her giggle echoed in my mind. She carried a small brown teddy bear and a ball. Her hair had been pulled back into two ringlet ponytails and her fingers were adorably chubby.

"You see her too then," the librarian said when the little girl disappear into the children's section.

“Yeah. Who is she?”

“We don’t know for sure. None of our records show a girl of her age dying at this location. But, then again, this is Salem.” The librarian held out her hand. “Welcome. You must be here to see Betty.”

“Yes, we are.” I shook hands with the woman and grinned. “I’m Simone Hadley and this is Jack Quinn and Nolan Day.”

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said. "I'm Wanda Putnam. We are so excited to have you visit our town." She leaned in close. "I watched your video on Youtube. It was thrilling and scary. I loved it. My husband thought I was insane leaving the bathroom light on for a week afterward."

I gaped. “Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She motioned for us to follow. “Betty is in the research section of the library. She’ll have everything you need.”

“Mrs. Putnam, I have to ask,” Jack started.

"Is my husband a direct descendant?" She chortled. "Yes, he is. You'll find several of the original families still have offspring here." She glanced over her shoulder at me. "Between us, I believe it is our ancestors who created the activity around town. None of them, God rest their souls, are happy."

No, I'd suspected not. The Salem Witch Trial brought out the worst in people. The term mass hysteria was fitting for the time. People used religious extremism coupled with false allegations to prosecute innocent people for crimes they never committed. Had level heads prevailed, along with the use of practical law, no one would have died. The only ones who'd have faced any type of consequence were those who made false accusations.

“I don’t guess they would be,” Jack agreed.

“Some of the families after the trials moved away. Mostly it was those who caused the fracas. Good riddance I say, but they never apologized. They never made amends to the families they destroyed. Those deeds, slinking away at night like scalded dogs, were worse than their accusations. They offered not one ounce of remorse for the suffering they caused, especially when they knew they were lying.”

The OG mean girls,I mused.

I tucked away the bit of information she imparted on us. "Anger is a powerful emotion, Mrs. Putnam. "It can cause all kinds of issues in the long run." As we turned the corner, I spotted the white-haired, older lady sitting at a table. She had several small boxes of microfiche along with ledgers and folders spread out around her. This lady came prepared.

“This is where I leave you. Ms. Good, these are our guests, Simone, Jack, and Nolan. If you require my assistance, please let me know.” Mrs. Putnam squeezed my shoulder as she turned to leave while Ms. Good offered up the chairs across from her.

“Please sit. It’s so good of you to come to Salem,” Ms. Good said. “Maybe now, someone will get our history right.”

I cut my gaze to Jack then Nolan. Something told me, we were in for a crazy adventure. “All right, Ms. Good, please tell us about the history of Salem.”

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