Where the Witch Hunt Began
Seasonal Spookfest: Once each season, we dive into a chilling theme from America’s haunted past. This fall, we begin in Salem — where fear turned neighbor against neighbor, and ghost stories were born from truth.
They say it started with two girls — a nine-year-old named Betty Parris and her eleven-year-old cousin, Abigail Williams.
They lived in a small Puritan household in Salem Village, surrounded by rigid rules, scripture, and the constant reminder that the Devil was always near.
In early 1692, they began to change. They screamed. They convulsed. They hid under tables and cried out at invisible hands. They barked like dogs and shook as if possessed.
The town was terrified.
Ministers were called. Fasting and prayer were ordered. But the fits continued.
And in a world that saw Satan as not just real, but active and walking among them, there was only one explanation:
Witchcraft.
When the girls were finally pressed — “Who is doing this to you?” — they named three women.
Tituba. Sarah Good. Sarah Osborne.
Three women who had no power, no wealth, and no way to defend themselves.
Tituba was an enslaved woman from the West Indies, living in the home of Reverend Parris. She was different. Foreign. Easy to blame.
Sarah Good was a poor, homeless woman who walked the streets and muttered to herself. People crossed the road to avoid her.
And Sarah Osborne had married a servant, stopped attending church, and challenged inheritance laws — in other words, she broke the mold.
That was all it took.
The accusations spread like fire on dry wood. More girls began having fits. More women — and soon, men — were accused. Neighbors turned on each other. Old grudges found new life.
What started as fear became frenzy.
By the time the panic burned out in 1693, nineteen people had been hanged. One man — Giles Corey — was crushed to death under stones. Over 200 others had been accused. Dozens languished in jail, some dying before they ever faced a judge.
None of them were witches.
They were farmers. Mothers. Ministers. Children. Midwives. Healers.
People whose only real crime was being poor, or outspoken, or inconvenient.
The town of Salem has since apologized. Pardons were issued — slowly, some not until centuries later.
But the damage was done. The stain remains.
And even now, Salem leans into the legend. Ghost tours. Witch museums. Souvenir shops. Tourism thrives on tragedy.
But the truth of where it began is not about magic or mystery.
It began with fear. With superstition. With unchecked power and a hunger for control.
It began with the decision to listen to fear instead of reason.
It began with a single word — witch — spoken loud enough to silence the truth.
And in that silence… people died.
🕯️ Coming Next Week on SpookFest…
We're taking you deeper into the shadows of Salem — where fear ruled the streets and accusations lit the flames of hysteria. Join us as we uncover the haunted echoes of the Salem Witch Trials and the lingering spirits that still whisper in the alleys of Massachusetts.
From historic hangings to eerie encounters in the old jailhouse, next week’s SpookFest is packed with bone-chilling tales, historical hauntings, and a few witchy secrets the textbooks left behind.
👻 Stay tuned… the spirits of Salem are ready to speak.