Mary Liverich was one of the most God loving and God fearing women in all of Woodlot. She was well wed to Hubert Liverich, a well made blacksmith who lived in the eastern edge of the village, just a lush walk away from the church and the rectory of Reverend Boyle. Mary was dedicated to her faith and class. She went to the church to worship and pray, or the rectory for official church business. She never spoke or moved independently in the presence of men or company, and worked her way through house hold chores. She was wholly Puritan and a Woodlot villager, adored by most. Her day started on Sunday, and this Sunday was like most others.
It began early morning, with the crack of the sun waking her first before Hubert. Mary shifted to face him, lightly strong his cheek.
"It's Sunday morning Hubert, we need to get up and going." She cooed in a matronly voice. Hubert struggled to open his eyes, he grinned at the site of his wife.
"We can wait just a golden moment." They both shifted to look upward at the thatch ceiling. Mary sighed and placed her hand on his chest.
"There can never be a moment to wait before God, you know that!" Hubert laughs as he rises out of bed.
"Then you need to make breakfast and we need to dress fast!" They both slowly stumble their way across the small home, assembling a light meal and getting into their Sunday best. Which, in a blacksmith's home looks about as good as commoner clothes does. They said little to each other, as Mary liked it. It was God's day, they shouldn't be focusing on the stuff of Earth. A cowbell rung across the village as they had just finished preparing.
"Worship starting soon! Get to church!" A boy yelled over and over again. Mary and Hubert kissed lightly in the privacy of their home before beginning their short trek to the church. They walked slowly and side by side down the dirt road, the large wooden church just ahead. They entered the church directly into the sanctuary, which was a growing crowd. Hubert socialized with his fellow men while Mary stayed close by to him, silent as a mouse. Eventually, Reverend Boyle appeared and approached the pulpit. Everyone immediately quieted down and took their seats in the pews. Hubert and Mary in the front row to the right. Reverend Boyle was an elderly man, nearly seventy years of age. He had a light beard and long gray hair, always dressed in the dress of a Puritan priest. Boyle was of average height and plagued with wrinkles. He cleared his voice and the service began. He recited scripture and the whole congregation sang psalms and other hymns, which would be followed by more scripture, then some more singing. This pattern continued for a long and boring drudge before Boyle finally began his mighty sermon.
"Children of God," He began, raspy but loud. "There is a threat to Woodlot, to the region, and to all of God's people. Satan, and his army of witches!" The congregation gasped, Boyle started again. "There is an influence, and a plague that has come to the local lands. Reports of witch trials and other hunts. Satan has threaded across neighboring villages, and he can make his way here." Boyle coughed. "We must be strong, we must not let our own become witches, but if Satan ever comes through our doors and plagues a resident of Woodlot," He winced at the thought. "You must report it to our judge, or me personally. We must not let them fester, we must free their souls in the eyes of God. Do not fall to Satan, and fight the evils of Satan." He took a long pause. "Amen." The blessing rung across the church. The service ended and the crowd mustered again. Mary stayed right by Hubert's side as he conversed with his acquaintances when she heard a whisper.458Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9CVsgfLeN5
"Mary!" It called to her. She turned to see Claire Verny, a young woman who was short and quite controversial, dodging worship services for some mysterious purposes. She was even put on a brief witch trial before being declared innocent, as no one saw a spectral evidence to be found. Mary slowly walked to Claire, moving away from her husband was unorthodox enough, actually talking to a possible witch is pure hellbent sin.458Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyC0kuSjCQz
"What do you want, Claire?" Mary quietly sneered at the young rule breaker. Claire promptly straightened to match Mary's prompt and orthodox stance.458Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbHdBmAymxQ
"You are the most loyal to our God up high, correct?" Mary nodded, with mild curiosity. "And I am sure you are wondering why I, someone who has been accused of witchcraft would be speaking to the best servant of the Lord in Woodlot." Mary snickered.
"You are right." She responded. Claire grimaced before continuing. "It's because I have been going to another reverends service, and he covers the treatment of witchcraft much more clearly." She had piqued Mary's interest.
"Go on, Claire." Mary said. Claire gave a sinister grin as she continued.
"He is a wise and experienced man, ultimately blessed." She leaned on the wall, another extreme sin of the lady. "He moves from village to village, teaching his word on God and witchcraft." She took a step toward Mary. "He usually lodges in a far away place, but today he is preaching at his own rectory, which is nearby to Woodlot, only a small walks away. You'd be back home before dinner." Mary was completely intrigued by Claire's offer. "Women only, this service." Claire added. Mary turned to where Hubert was, still talking the ear off the village butcher.
"One moment." Mary said, walking to Hubert. "Hubert, my dear love." Hubert stopped in his tracks, turning to his wife. He looked shocked but happy to see Mary.
"Yes, Mary?" He asked with his usual charismatic grin. Mary cleared her throat.
"Some young women are heading to a very special sermon a short ways away from a popular reverend, may I please go?" Hubert looked to the left, pondering for a moment.
"It is Sunday, and you do love the Lord our God." He said, quietly. "Yes, you may go, but I wish to know all about what this reverend said when you return." Mary gave a small squeal.
"Thank you so much, Hubert, I shall come back before dinner." She walked back to Claire, confirming the journey. Claire lead Mary out of the church, were a crowd of women of many ages, mostly young were gathered. They briefly mustered about before they all walked off. Down a lonely path, seldom trodden. They left the village outskirts and on the way to the rectory.
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