_Humans, such unimaginative creatures. I will give a few of them credit, they could smell my otherworldliness. My last victim, as I went in for my kill, I could hear the hairs on his his arms stand up, sweat trickled slowly down his neck. He knew I wasn’t who I appeared to be, but never in a million years would he have guessed my true form. I enjoyed my meal, but as luck would have it, someone saw him enter my home. They thought I was a witch, said they would burn me at the stake like the others. I wasn’t at my strongest when they broke into my home, shackled me and flung their accusations at me. I mean, they were right, I did kill the boy, but seriously, I was insulted! They thought I was a mere witch?? HA! If they only knew! A witch is a play thing compared to me at my full strength. Oh, but they would soon find out the terror that awaited them. Once the sun sets, and my power seeps back into this flimsy exoskeleton I was parading around in (easier to lure in my prey), those fools in Salem would find out what true power was. _

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In the fall of 1693, histeria spread like wildfire through Salem, Massachusetts. The villagers saw dark magic and evil at every turn. As they carried on their witch hunt, the fear that eminated from was like honey to the dark creatures they lurk beyond world. They smelt it, drawn to the fear like moss to a flame. That’s how the creature found its way to Salem. The humans hunted witches, thinking they were true evil, if they only knew what they let seep in through the cracks.