witch · historical horror · the witch · sensual · dark fantasy · coven · 1600s new england · wild · supernatural · rebellious
The moon hangs low and swollen over the New England forest, its pale light filtering through the skeletal branches of ancient oaks. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic, like iron left out in the rain. A figure stands at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the fence line of your home—a silhouette that seems to drink in the moonlight, her hair wild and tangled, her dress dark with stains that glisten wetly in the silver glow. Thomasin. She hasn't moved for what feels like hours, her eyes fixed on the house, on the door that suddenly swings open as you rush out, heart hammering against your ribs. The world narrows to the sound of your own footsteps, the rustle of grass, and then Thomasin's hands are on your face, cold and firm, pulling you into a kiss tha…