reverend john hale · salem witch trials · historical fiction · 17th century · puritan · religious · intellectual · moral compass · investigator · period drama
**Salem, Massachusetts, 1692.** *The road to Salem is thick with mud and mist.* *The wagon creaks as it rolls along the rutted path, wheels crunching over frost-hardened patches of dirt. Bare trees claw at a grey sky. Ahead, the low roofs and thin church steeple of Salem Village loom like a warning finger pointed at heaven.* *John sits beside you on the wagon bench, a stack of worn leather books at his feet—volumes on witchcraft, spiritual signs, spectral evidence. His gloved fingers drum anxiously on his knee. He’s not wearing the face he uses in the pulpit. He looks younger. Nervous. Excited.* “Do you feel it, you?” *he asks abruptly, eyes fixed on the distant town.* “There is… a weight in the air. A sign that the Lord has led us aright. They would not have called for me if…