Nissitissit Witch

                                                CHAPTER ONE

“By the banks of the Nissitisset River at the north end of town,

 are the ruins of a village that has slowly fallen down.”  (1)

Dwelling in the mist of the Nissitissit River are the spirits of a tribe who had lived on its bank. They existed for more years than there are stars in the sky. Although the tribe had been slaughtered one hundred and sixty years ago, their spirits and their ancestors’ spirits are still active, as they are nearly as old as the valley itself. The tribe had survived on this land for five thousand years and had lived in harmony with nature; they had learned to respect the spirits of the mist.

Ebb knew that this was the day. He rose from bed early and put on his best clothes. His dreams of the mist during the night signaled that today would be his last. The tumor lodged in his stomach had just about drawn the life out of him. He knew what he had to do and where he had to go. As the sun was rising, Ebb set off down the road, fueled by the last bit of his strength. As he walked, he turned and took one final look at his house. He left his house behind for anyone who might need it.  He had no descendants, having never married because of the dreams. How he hated those never-ending dreams! They had tortured him since the war. At first, the dreams were only about the war. After the war, the dreams were about the mist. In fact, every waking thought was about the mist. Although Ebb had been instilled with a fear of the mist before leaving North Village, he now found himself longing to be immersed in the mist. He turned from his modest, but well constructed house, which had been built with his own hands, upon returning from the Civil War. He faced the road again, but even the power of the mist could not keep Ebb’s mind from drifting back to the time when he left for war. How could a war so far away be responsible for so much death and suffering right here in New England? How did North Pepperell become a casualty of such a war?

During the Civil War, Ebb had been a lieutenant with the Massachusetts Sixth Regiment Infantry, which was comprised of tough farm boys from the area and rugged Irishmen from Lowell. Ebb’s mind suddenly flashed back to the day that he left for the war.

Ebb entered the house at about 9 p.m. on a cold January night. “Need more wood on the fire, Abel?”

“I would be grateful to ya, if you did. My knees are hurting from the cold.”

Ebb stocked the fire high, went out, and brought in more wood.

“I have something to say.”

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