Redway was out of his mind if he thought she even would dare to venture out into the bad air of the town and not only risk getting the pestilence, but venture down to the graveyard where who knew what kind of nefarious activities could have been happening to see an old rock with a woman’s name carved on it that she didn’t know and stand around all day waiting for her spirit to rise into the mortal plain.  How ridiculous!

“I just want to find someone who will. I’m dying to know if it’s true,” Redway smiled and clenched his fists in passion.  As much as he was frightened of it, the aspect of not being alone in his adventure calmed him, especially being with someone as fearless and strong-hearted as Josephine.

“Apparently you still know nothing of this town, or perhaps you’ve been living under a rock your whole life,” Josephine’s voice transformed from cold and catty to ominous, “curiosity kills.”

It was never good to be too curious.  That was how people became missing persons.  It was  how people got accused of witchcraft and how people became victims.  Redway should have known these things, as he had been a resident there for some time.  Why was he acting so reckless?

Just then, the male smiled and looked as if some kind of epiphany came to him.  His pale features lit up and he slammed his fist in his hand with delight. “Hey, maybe Roana knows something about it. She’s big into weird stuff and her mother is a beaked doctor.”

Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Roana would have been the perfect person to talk to, and she wouldn’t have insinuated that he was an idiot for even bringing it up like Josephine did.  This was perfect!

“Maybe that will help you then,” a twinge of jealousy infiltrated the girl’s tone and her features morphed into something more malevolent.

Why come all the way out there just to tell her that she wasn’t good enough to tell a stupid ghost story to and then recommend going to her friend to tell her about it instead? Josephine tried to contain the anger that bubbled up in her form from not only having her time wasted but being insulted as well.  A pale, bony hand clenched the side of her nightgown and her lips pursed.

Redway grinned and a sly expression crossed his visage. 

“You still don’t sound completely convinced.”

“Shut up,” Josephine’s voice was sharp, “what would I care about some dead woman in a graveyard? It’s probably just another weird story.”

“Too bad,” Redway teased, “I’m going to do some more investigating, see ya!” 

The red-haired boy stuck his hand in the air, palm rigid and fingers outstretched skyward as he turned on his heel and walked away.  His form retreated into the depths of the town and was consumed in fog as green eyes watched in irritation.

“Yeah, bye!” Josephine shouted and slammed the door in a whirlwind of anger.  

It made a loud bang and shook under the girl’s weight as she leaned against it.  The surface felt dry and cold on her exposed skin and she sighed deeply to herself.  She had missed an opportunity to go and spend time with her friend, but what did it matter now?  She was alone once more, standing in her pajamas in an empty living room with only her thoughts to keep her company.

The more that Josephine thought on the subject, the more certain things about it bothered her.  She was one of the only people that Redway felt comfortable even telling his strange interests to.  Why had she treated him so cruelly? Was it because she hadn’t even had time to process her nightmare before he showed up?  Was it because her health had been declining and she was unwell? Was it because she felt as if she was being examined in some cruel laboratory and taken apart piece by piece to see if she would fall under scrutiny enough to be hanged?

Josephine sighed in exasperation.  The anxiety was permeating from her form, and guilt began to take over her.  She could have at least acted interested in what he had to say.  Redway was a dear friend.  

Now he was going to go to her and pay her attention.  She hated it.  She wanted to be a part of all of this.  Even if she thought all of the ghost stories that surrounded Conversion Town were nothing but blasphemy and delusion, she wanted to spend time with her dear friend.

“Okay, since now I’m wondering what’s up with it, I’m going to see Roana,” Josephine stood erect with a visage of determination.  There was no way that she would let this just go by without inserting herself into the equation.

--

A loud knocking sounded through the small house as a girl walked up to her door to answer it.  She had elbow-length, long, wavy black hair that was partially tied back in a midnight blue bow.  Her dress was of a similar shade and had short, puffy sleeves.  The midsection was form-fitting and empire cut and the bottom cascaded out as if it were an intricate ball gown, due to her petticoats.  She opened the door to see Josephine, who was now dressed in a white, Victorian dress with black vertical stripes.  It had long sleeves with puffs at the shoulders, curved around each of her breasts and flared out at the bottom much as her own did.  Lace trimmed the bottom drug on the soil as she moved.  

Josephine’s hair was tied back in buns on each side of her head. She had done herself up, as if she was going somewhere of great importance. It was a surprise for Roana to see her, especially because she had not planned to go anywhere with her.  Maybe Josephine stopped by to tell her something important.

“Hello,” Roana greeted and smiled warmly at her friend.

“Have you heard of the witch Gladys who possesses people?” Josephine’s face turned to stone as she went straight to the point and skipped formalities.

Roana looked thoughtful for a moment and answered in her usual calm tone. “Maybe you should break it down into questions. Do I believe that this woman existed? Maybe she did at once, but I’m a little skeptical.”

“However, these stories can alter our perceptions of reality. They broaden our acceptance of fantastical ideas. There is much in this world that we don’t understand, making the possible intelligence we can gain from our experiences beyond our imagination.”

“Belief is a powerful thing. At any given moment the universe is controlled by what one particular person believes. All things change as soon as one dies another is chosen in their place.”

“Witches? They are hung when the non-believer can’t fathom the fact that alchemy may exist. Theories, seemingly obvious laws of nature take a long time to come around because of prior contradicting beliefs.”

Josephine listened as Roana began to go off onto a tangent, expressing her beliefs on knowledge, acceptance and how she believed the universe to work.  It was all very interesting, and usually the other female would have been fascinated with what seemed like revolutionary and even dangerous ways of thinking for the time, but today Josephine was merely left irritated that Roana seemed to be going around the bush and not truly getting to any kind of point.

She really had no time to listen to this girl ramble about witchcraft, belief and the universe.

“You always answer me indirectly,” she huffed in irritation.

Was a simple yes or no truly too hard to pull from this girl?

“I am merely making observations,” Roana  didn’t see what was so wrong with giving a little explanation and expansion to something that seemed like it needed a fresh, new perspective. She just wanted to give Josephine something to think about.

“Do you really think that a ghost can make you kill people? You’re making me think on this more than I should,” the other woman wouldn’t say that Roana speaking like that didn’t give her a sense of the chills.  

Talking on the subject of belief and how certain ideas were ignored due to it being a choice unnerved her.  What if she was someone who stood as a nonbeliever and labeled stubborn and ignorant because she refused to see Redway’s points? What if he was right about all of this and they truly had a problem on their hands? What if the tales of paranormal activity and ghosts wandering around were all true, but due to her own disbelief she simply could not see what others did?  

Paranoia crept up her spine and caused her to shiver in a sense of nervousness and fear.

“If you wonder, through searches you can find out,” Roana offered her an alternative. “Look up information on possession. It might be just a cruel joke resulting from the paranoia going around and all of the persecution of those blamed for witchcraft.”

The dark-haired girl had seen it all before.  Everyone was so afraid…afraid of disease and afraid of each other. It was no wonder that the town walked on eggshells.  People had been accused of being witches for simple things – being sarcastic, keeping spoiled milk, not having children, not being wed at a proper age and even having too many children.  There seemed to be no true standard for what the people of the town saw as being evil and anyone could be swinging from the gallows next.

Such thoughts haunted her. They consumed her mind and pulled her into darkness deeper than any sorrow, deeper than any evil and terror of the world.  It was the thing that made blood run cold and stole the very breath from one’s body.  It was pure, raw fear in its most primal form.  

Roana knew very well of what Josephine may have been feeling at this point and she wanted to offer any kind of comfort that she possibly could.

The way to kill fear was through understanding.  That was what she had believed.

A sorrowful expression crossed Josephine’s face as she pointed her visage to the ground and her voice lowered in pitch. “Many have been convicted and killed.”

Roana paused for a moment as those words absorbed into her skin like poison and injected her with sorrow and nostalgia she didn’t care to remember. Her heart sank as she recalled memories that were once buried deeply in her being.

She closed her eyes and said, “I believe some of them were innocent.”

“What can we do about it?” Josephine looked back at her friend with concern.

The dark-clad girl held her wrist. Her eyebrows furrowed and pink lips frowned.  Dark blue eyes closed, black lashes were prominent against pale skin. “Nothing, unless we want to get involved ourselves,” her voice was riddled in sorrow, “we risk as much as they do at this rate.”

Those who defended witches were no better than the witches themselves and were often condemned to prison or to hang alongside them in the town square. People would cheer as bodies hung high like sickening Christmas ornaments, a gift in the conquest of fear. For the sake of those who passed in this manner before her, Roana didn’t want to become subject to such hatred and paranoia.

It hurt her to watch the innocent die, but she could do nothing but watch helplessly as the town’s people turned on each other and pointed the finger needlessly because they didn’t want to fall victim to the gallows like so many before her.

“I may take Redway’s advice,” Josephine wisely changed the subject back to its original matter. There was not a need to continue down the prior path.

“I am assuming that’s what he wants you to do,” Roana knew Redway. He had probably asked her to pursue the urban legend with him to see if it was true and she declined only to come to her and seek her advice.

Josephine’s features hardened and she clenched her fist and held it in front of her as her voice took on a more determined edge. “I don’t want him to think I’m a chicken!”

Roana smiled a little, “sounds like a good idea. Tell me if you find anything bizarre. To me, speculation is just that, but if there is any truth to the demonic possessions, I would be intrigued.”

The dark-haired girl knew how these kinds of things often turned out.  However, the aspect of something like this being real was quite fascinating. Not only would it be a true anomaly that would put belief into the hearts of the most cynical skeptics but it would provide proof to so many things that people doubted.  Truly, it would be something to behold and knowing she had a part in it could yield some exciting and terrifying results.

“It shouldn’t do that to me, right?” Josephine picked up the sides of her dress to lift it from the ground and a look of unease crossed her. The girl’s voice trembled as the words came out.  She didn’t like questioning this again, but she couldn’t get this terrible feeling out of the back of her mind. It was as if some parasite was feasting upon her psyche and she loathed it but could do nothing about it.

“Not unless it had a way of altering your state of mind. However, I wouldn’t doubt the phenomenon of Conversion Town,” Roana wanted her to feel safe, but never lose sight of the realm of possibility.

“I know,” Josephine took her words to heart, “I’ve encountered many dark things here. I think I’ll go back to Red’s. That way if something should happen, one person would know.”

For once, she would admit that she wouldn’t dare go by herself.  As much as Redway was more than likely to go alone, so was she.  Josephine knew that not every tale that was woven in Conversion Town was one of fear and misunderstanding.  The town truly harbored sinister secrets, both true and untrue.  She wasn’t willing to wager too much on the validity of anything nowadays.  There was nothing that consumed her with fear more than becoming part of the lore in this town.  It was how people became victims.

“I’ll await your findings,” Roana wished her luck in her endeavors.

“I’ll see you later,” Josephine turned and bid her friend goodbye.