Profile
Prudence Nightingale
Massachusetts Bay Colony, 17th Century
Born to Dr. Richard and Anna Nightingale, Prudence was the seventh out of thirteen children. From an early age she stuck out from her siblings like a sore thumb, ruffling the feathers of her parents and neighbors alike. She possessed no reverence for authority, and would frequently disrupt social gatherings, often by reciting cryptic poetry. She preferred the company of birds, and sabotaged unpleasant conversations by making chirps and caws.
Her shenanigans garnered plenty of negative attention for her family, particularly for her father. He gradually lost the respect of his patients for defending her, despite being the only doctor in the village.
By the time Prudence was sixteen, her rebellious nature hit its peak, and she began dabbling in witchcraft. She would practice spells in the local belltower, looming above the townspeople amongst the company of sparrows and crows. On a cold morning in November, a young man cleaning the church discovered her diary and immediately showed it to his mother. Convinced she was a witch, that night a group of villagers rallied to confront and arrest her–but Prudence was no where to be found. All they could find was a trail of footprints leading into the surrounding forest, which ended abruptly in a clearing. In the crest of the last footprint lay a single feather.
Prudence was never heard from again.
But her father, Dr. Richard Nightingale, began to be followed by a great horned owl. It perched on lamp posts, on porches, and even the windowsill of his office. No amount of shouting or swatting would deter the beast for long. Eventually, he became used to its company, and even began to feed it. By old age, the owl had become his close companion, who accompanied him on long walks through the woods.
Centuries passed, and rumours spread that the village was haunted; whispers are heard in the belltower, and some have claimed to see a girl with long, white hair pacing through the forest. But there is one thing for certain that none can deny–every night, without fail, one can find an owl perched on the tombstone of Dr. Richard Nightingale.
