It was a chilly Halloween morning. I was the only one up that Saturday before dawn. The paperboy slid the paper into the mailbox and I took it in. But before I could shut the door, three of my fellow Crazys came bounding up the steps and onto the porch.

"Good morning, Jessie!" smiled Christina cheerfully. "Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloween to you too," I responded. "Why’d you bring the trunk?" I asked, gesturing to Kit MacGregor and the old wooden trunk, which now held only 157 dresses where it should have 160.

"You mentioned needing a costume for tonight, so…" Kit said. She waved her arm back towards the trunk. "There should be something in there for you!"

For some reason, my instincts told me not to open that trunk. They said I’d regret it. But my pesky inner self argued that maybe I would and maybe I wouldn’t. Deciding that she was right, I dragged the trunk inside and up to my room.

It was 6 pm and time to go trick or treating. Kit was wearing her favorite ball gown, the one she’d made herself. Complete with bodice, skirt, and kirtle, she’d sewn, hemmed, and cut several square yards of material into a stunning number. When asked what she was, she replied, "Anyone I want. It’s Halloween, isn’t it?" That was way too mysterious for me, so I just pegged her as a gypsy and left it at that.

Sarah was Stevie Nicks, white lace and all, from the song "Sarah." Although I could tell that white lace was not her style, I let it slide. Christina, after some help from Kit, was a Septuplet from the Internet Cartoon, "The Carlson Septuplets."* She and Sarah had introduced Christina to the ‘net about six months back. Since then, nobody had able to get her off! I was a medieval lady, in a turquoise kirtle and ocean blue gown. It came from the trunk. Something about it seemed special, but I didn’t notice it then. I would, however, notice when we were out trick-or-treating.

We had just rounded the corner onto Papermill St. when a sparkle caught my eye. To my surprise, the dress was the source of the light! I would have dismissed it as magic if not for the sudden bout of unconsciousness. Down I fell, feeling more and more like Alice in Wonderland with each passing second…

Unfortunately for me, Wonderland wasn’t my destination. I found myself in a dark, smoky cottage. "Hello?" I asked uncertainly. Maybe someone would speak my language.

"Oh, Elizabeth, you’re awake. You had a fall out behind the mill. How do you feel?" asked a peasant woman in a concerned fashion. I looked around the cottage, looking for Elizabeth. When nobody came over, I decided that she was talking to me. This only added to my confusion.

In the first place, I was in a cottage that could only be described as "gross." Nobody seemed to know that my name was actually Jessie. Everybody was dressed… weird, I guess. Like they were all straight out of 1282.

"Wait a minute," I thought. "Straight out of 1282? Oh no… what’s going on! I can’t be stuck back in time!" I ran to the door of the hut. Much to my horror, everyone else was dressed like me, too. I was indeed stuck back in time, in the year 1282

Well, there’s no time like the present for getting things done, and certainly, if I was in the year 1282, the present was now. So off I went to get to know my sleepy village better. Judging from the various names and titles of the villagers, I deduced that I was in England. Everyone that knew me yelled "Hoy, Bet!" I waved weakly back. I kept on walking until I reached the gates of the manor. A sentry, who seemed to recognize me, stood there.

"Excuse me, may I come in? I wish to see the lord and lady of the manor," I explained.

"You, Bet? No, there’s no villagers allowed in. You ken that as well as I, Bet," he chided. Taking a deep breath, I summoned what little confidence I could and concentrated hard on opening the gate.

There is one tiny detail I forgot to explain. Each of us Crazys can work some kind of magic or another. I’m good at all-around magic. Kit sees the future like she’s there already. Sarah weaves prophecies with words. Christina specializes in the home arts- cooking, cleaning, and the like. For some reason, I can grow things, Kit can use them for doctoring, Christina cooks with them, and Sarah identifies them.

Well, this all-around magic was going to have to work now. I closed my eyes and concentrated my mind on snapping the lock. After about 30 seconds, the metal was broken clean through and the sentry gaped at me. "Bet, how did you do that?" he asked. "You’ve turned witch, have you? Oh, no, now I’ll have to bring you up to Her Ladyship and His Lordship. I knew you wanted to get up there badly but to get yourself sentenced to death? Come right this way, Bet, and don’t fight or I’ll have to hurt you," he said in a bleak voice.

Up a winding staircase and through a hall door sat Lady Alanna and Lord Charles. They looked none too pleased at the sight of me, and even sorrier when the sentry explained my "witchcraft," as he put it. As they listened to the tale of the bars snapping and my entry into the long winding pathway leading to the manor, their faces grew whiter and whiter. They called in a priest to discuss the matter. Within an hour, I knew my fate.

I would burn for witchcraft at dawn.

That dawn would be one of the most nerve-wracking I had ever suffered. The sisters at the local abbey were good enough to provide me with a clean muslin shift beneath the gown and kirtle. They expected me to put them on, but I balked. I would burn, as I was, not looking like a reformed Christian. The priest was livid when he heard this. In rage, he threw a silver ring with a dark stone at me. "Wear this, then, in shame, for you are ungrateful and wicked beyond aid!" It was, I thought, a beautiful ring. I kept it safe on my right ring finger.

Dawn’s light was a harbinger of doom. I could see them preparing the stake on which I would burn. First, the sisters had said, my gowns would burn off. Then my long dark hair would catch, melting my face into an unrecognizable blot. My skin would blister and char, and my bones would begin to bow and bend with the heat. This was the fate I had consigned myself to, they said. This was how I would die.

And so they led me to the wood. I stepped up, feeling the confidence that only a doomed creature can. However, unlike my animal counterparts, I faced death with bravery and courage. Soon it would all be over, I thought. I wondered when I would die. Would I suffer smoke inhalation? Would I melt? Would the flames consume my brain? I could only hope that death was swifter than the reading of the last rites, however misguided the priest thought they were, and wasted on an evil woman as I was.

I never regretted asking no absolution from the priest. I stood tall as they lit the flames beneath my feet. As the flames began to lick at my satin shoes, the dress itself took on a sparkle. I remembered it to be a sign that I was going home. Whether the landscape distorted itself from smoke, heat, or time travel, I did not know, but I was going home…

It was dark, and windy, when I came to outside the house that night. Standing over me were Kit, Sarah, and Christina. "Kit, what happened to her?" asked Christina.

"Time travel," she said, one tear in her eye. "Jessie had the misfortune to experience the saddest story of them all. That dress carries certain scorch marks because the owner was burned. The dress went on to become one of the witch’s messengers. The girl did not."

"Wait- you’re telling me I burned at the stake?" I asked. "How did that happen? I’m still here now," I pointed out.