Pumperdick's Used Book Emporium

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Suzanne Marsh

Autumn 2022 Salem Massachusetts

‘Twenty first century and I have need of a book from the seventeenth century” The young woman muttered to herself. She needed the help of a very special book: she needed to return to Scotland to clear her great great great grandmother of the crime of witchcraft.

Annie Michaels was self-styled witch. She had no idea about witchcraft other than if she put a spell on someone it sometimes worked; depending on how gullible the person was. She had been doing spells and incantations for several years. The spell she required would take her back to the seventeenth century Scotland. Cars zoomed past her as she strode toward Pumperdick’s Used Book Emporium.

Egbert Pumperdick waited for Annie to come into the portal. When he saw Winston, her crow, he knew she would enter the portal in a few moments.

“Hello Egbert, it has been quite a while. I must return to Scotland, a very special relative is

in great peril.”

“It sounds quite serious Annie. Is it someone I know?”

“Yes, I fear that you may. Isobel Gowdie”

“Isobel? What has she done now?”

“She proclaimed before the justices that she is indeed a witch. She told them about the

coven of thirteen; having feasted with the Queen of the Fairies. I fear she has gone to

far. The coven wishes me to ah take care of the matter; if I don’t, she will continue

on her path of destruction.”

“Annie, are you going to take her life?”

“No, I won’t unless I can’t convince her to hush up.”

Annie bit off the last words; she thought it would be best perhaps if the justice’s strangled her then burned her body at the stake. Such primitive methods they had in 1662. She hoped she would be in time; to save her relative.

Autumn 1662

“Here is the warrant for the arrest of the witch Isobel Gowdie, she will stand trial in five days.

Gather as many witnesses as you may against her.”

The sheriff took the warrant for Isobel. He simply thought the woman was crazy but apparently the Justice thought differently. He immediately began to find people who had heard her state that she had feasted with the Queen of the Fairies.

“Aye Sheriff, I had heard her say it more than once. She tis a witch, of that, I am sure.”

The sheriff heard that most of the afternoon he spent investigating Isobel. He thought about not going any further into an investigation, then realized that she had to be stopped. The last name on his list of people was Sean MacTavish. Isobel had placed a curse upon him:

“Aye, sheriff, she placed a curse on me. She turned me into a deer; she said I deserved

to be a laddie’s dinner.”

That concluded the sheriff’s investigation. He found Isobel, gathering herbs in her healing garden.

“Isobel Gowdie you are hereby under arrest for the practice of witchcraft.”

He bound her hands and pushed her gently toward the door of her shack. She threw back her head and laughed hysterically:

“Och, do ye take me fer a fool, I knew you would be here to arrest me. I am a witch sheriff.

would ye like me to transform into a highland stag, that way you can have me for dinner.”

She laughed once again. The sheriff took her to gaol where she would no doubt be tortured into proclaiming she was a witch. Her tattered dress, her stringy gray hair flying around her oval face all lent an air of oddness to the entire scene. Once inside the gaol, Isobel found herself in shackles, wondering why this was happening to her. Yes, she had said she was a witch to frighten folks, but she meant no harm by it. Yes, she was part of coven of thirteen, she could never tell the sheriff who those women were for fear of reprisals. A giant of a man approached her cell, his voice deep as a cave:

“Isobel Gowdie” he commanded. He opened the cell door, pushed her toward the stairs and down into the torture chambers. Isobel knew now she was in a difficult situation of her own making. The first thing the giant did was to push her into a chair and reshackled her. He walked over to a wooden table and returned with a witch pricker. He began to prick her skin, she refused to scream. He assumed that she was a witch, but he was required by law to get a confession.

Isobel, began to tremble with fear; she had already confessed to being a witch what more did this giant man expect of her? The giant, as she thought of him, decided to use thumbscrews however when Isobel saw those, her dark browns eyes following him in terror, she began to curse him and spit. The torturer strode over and grabbed Scold’s Bridle; a horrible form of torture to he needed to hush her. He secured the bridle over Isobel’s head, with a padlock. He had, had to push hard to open her mouth as to include the piece that went into the mouth and over the tongue, this was to prevent dwagging. He had learned of this from his predecessor. At least now she was quiet. He began slowly:

“Do you Isobel Gowdie state that you are a witch?”

Isobel meekly nodded her head yes. He had the confession, he unshakled her from the chair. However, he did not remove Scold’s Bridle. The following morning Isobel was strangled, her body burned.

Autumn 2022 Scotland

Annie Michaels stood at the unmarked grave she had been directed to. She felt remorse because she was unable to save her ancestor. She did not understand why witches were considered evil and in league with the devil. No devil had aided her in coming here, no devil appeared at the gravesite. She stood silently in tribute to the woman whose remains were supposedly in that grave. As she turned to leave; the wind blew across the moor, a cold wind in mid summer. Annie, her red hair flying into her face found herself back in a portal on her way to the twenty first century. Her quest had no succeeded but yet in her heart she knew they had executed a good woman for no reason.