Prelude: Chaos Before the Coven
At the time, I was living in Traverse City, and we decided to fly out of Grand Rapids for a few reasons: it was closer, it was cheaper, and there just so happened to be an In This Moment concert at 20 Monroe Live the night before our flight. Because going to a concert the night before an early-morning flight screams responsible, right?
Still, if youâre going to trade sleep for something, let it be Maria Brinkâs voice and a pre-Salem dose of theatrical chaos. It felt like foreshadowingâthe kind of omen only rock shows and witches can deliver. đ¤
When the Veil Thins
It was a long weekend with a long-awaited purpose. â¨
I went to Salem for Halloween with my ex-husband and ex-bestiesâwhen the veil is at its thinnest and the streets swell with wanderers, witches, and wide-eyed believers. That year, attendance broke records. After years of pandemic pause, the city came alive like it had something to prove.
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
We stayed in Boston and took the train into Salem each day, joining the sea of costumes flooding Essex Street. Every hour was claimed. Every moment, charged. đ°ď¸
Every morning began the same wayâdetour to Dunkin’, because someone (Luke) refused to face the spirit world without coffee in hand. I didnât complain; they had brown sugar bacon, which was freakinâ delicious.
Calm Before The Storm
Our first stop was Die With Your Boots On, home of my favorite brand Foxblood. The boutique doubles as a gothic fashion havenâpart retail shop, part shrine for the dark-hearted. I wore one of my very first Foxblood pieces, Edith (pictured below), on this tripâa flowing black maxi dress that made me feel like I belonged among the witches. Sadly sheâs gone to a new home after getting too big on me. I regret not trying to take her in, but I take solace knowing she went to a loving home.
Next, we ventured into the International Monster Museum, tucked inside the Salem Wax Museum complex. Itâs an immersive walk-through exhibit that celebrates the creatures of folklore and filmâfrom Dracula to Bigfootâwith animatronics, lighting effects, and plenty of campy charm. It was part horror, part history, and entirely my vibe.
From there, we wandered down Essex Street, weaving through a living Halloween parade of costumes, candles, and chaos. The street itself is Salemâs beating heartâa cobblestoned corridor lined with psychic shops, apothecaries, and museums.
We popped into The Covenâs Cottage, a locally owned witchcraft supply store known for its herbal blends and old-world energy, and Emporium 32, a two-story vintage-meets-macabre marketplace inside the historic East India Marine Hall. Even the mall had its charmsâhidden oddities tucked between chain stores like forgotten spells.
Street performers were everywhere, including the infamous Borah!âSalemâs self-proclaimed head witch whose broom-sharp wit draws crowds year-roundâand a terrifyingly charismatic Pennywise who seemed to float more than walk.
That evening we dove head-first into the spirit of the city at Gallows Hill, a theatrical haunted attraction named for the hill where the accused of 1692 were once hanged.
After that, we headed to Gallows Hill, a theatrical haunted attraction named for the place where the accused of 1692 were once hanged. The show combined live performance, projection, and jump scares to retell Salemâs darker history with dramatic flair.
When the show let out, we boarded the Haunted Happenings Trolley, a guided loop around the city that traced Salemâs witch-trial landmarks and historic homes. Rolling through the narrow streets under orange lanterns felt like time travelâhalf ghost tour, half field trip for the magically inclined.
Fall River Pilgrimage
The next morning, we rented a car and drove south to Fall River, Massachusettsâabout an hour from Salemâon a pilgrimage of a different kind. This wasnât about witches or folklore. This was true crime turned ghost story.
Our destination: the Lizzie Borden House. On August 4, 1892, Andrew and Abby Borden were found murdered in their home with an axe. Their daughter Lizzie was accused, tried, and ultimately acquitted, though public opinion never cleared her name. The case became one of Americaâs most infamous unsolved murders, and the nursery rhyme that followedââLizzie Borden took an axeâŚââcemented her in dark history.
The house itself is now a bed-and-breakfast and museum, preserved to look almost exactly as it did the day of the murders. Walking through its narrow halls felt like crossing into a photograph: the old wallpaper, the claw-footed furniture, the hush that settles when tragedy refuses to leave.
We didnât pay to go into the basement, so we headed to the gift shop instead, where I picked up a Lizzie Borden bobbleheadâbecause what better souvenir from an axe murder site than a nodding figurine? Someone in our tour group who must have gone on to the basement had left their pug in the car, windows rolled all the way down. Naturally, I paused for a mini photo shoot. The little guy looked completely unbothered by the ghostsâa rare, cheerful spirit in a house thatâs seen far too few. đž
We ended the tour at Oak Grove Cemetery, where Lizzie and her family are buried beneath modest gray headstones. People still leave coins, flowers, and even toy axes on her grave. Itâs eerie and oddly tenderâthe way some legends refuse to die.
Afterward, we swung into the Salem Waterfront Hotel & Suites for a broom flightâbeer, not transportationâthen headed to The Salem Night Faire. We stood in line for what felt like an eternity, but once we finally made it in, I was split right down the middle.
On one hand, I was angryâsomething my ex-husband had done or said (or maybe hadnât) was still gnawing at me. On the other, the place was pure enchantment. Lanterns glowed through the trees, fire dancers spun flames into ribbons of light, and the scent of cider and woodsmoke curled through the crisp October air.
The faire was held at Salem Pioneer Village, one of the oldest living history museums in the country. Built in 1930, it recreates a 1630s Puritan settlement with timber homes, herb gardens, and open fires. It also holds a touch of cinematic magicâthis is where Hocus Pocus filmed its opening scenes, when young Thackery Binx chases his sister into the Sanderson Sistersâ cottage.
Standing there, surrounded by flickering torches and music echoing through wooden cabins, it felt like stepping into both history and Halloween myth.
A Symphony of History and Nostalgia
Saturday dawned cold and clear, the kind of fall morning that feels like itâs rinsing your soul clean. We started at the Peabody Essex Museum, one of the oldest continuously operating museums in the United States. Founded in 1799 by Salemâs sea captains, its earliest collections came from trade voyages that spanned the globe. Today, itâs a labyrinth of art and artifactsâAsian export porcelain, maritime relics, textiles, and curiosities from every era. Itâs hard not to feel small in there, surrounded by centuries of beauty and belief curated from the world beyond the harbor.
After soaking in the exhibits, we made our way to The Derby Restaurant & Bar for lunch. Itâs the kind of pub where the locals goâsports on TV, hearty comfort food, and bartenders whoâve mastered the art of friendly sarcasm. I canât remember what I ordered, just that it hit the spot and thawed the chill that Salemâs salt air seems to carry year-round.
From there, we walked to the Ropes Mansion & Garden, built in the 1720s and later made famous as Allisonâs house in Hocus Pocus. The gardens behind it were breathtakingâperfectly manicured paths lined with autumn flowers and lanterns. It felt like stepping into a postcard, one that somehow hummed with magic instead of ink.
After a few photos, we called an Uber and headed across town to Max & Daniâs house, the seaside home that fans of Hocus Pocus instantly recognize. It sits right on the water, framed by wind-bent trees and a view that makes you forget youâre technically still in the same city. We wandered down to the beach beside it and found a small crab scuttling through the sandâour unofficial little familiar for the day.
From there, we headed back on foot and stumbled across the old Phillips Elementary School, the filming location for the high school in Hocus Pocus. The buildingâs no longer in use, but it still has that classic red-brick charm and eerie stillness that makes you half expect the Sanderson Sisters to swoop past on broomsticks.
Our final stop was The House of the Seven Gables, built in 1668 and made famous by Nathaniel Hawthorneâs gothic novel. The house is a masterpiece of preserved colonial architecture with hidden staircases, steep gables, and that palpable sense of Salemâs haunted legacy. By the time we arrived, the skies had started to weep. Rain trickled down the narrow windows, and thunder rumbled softly in the distanceâas if the house itself was sighing.
We took it as a cue to call it a night.
Halloween Day: Chaos Unleashed
Finally, it was Halloween, and we had no idea it would be our most chaotic day yet. This was 2021âone of the busiest in Salemâs history, with an estimated 80,000 visitors packing into the city for the weekend.
We started at the Salem Witch Village, a guided exhibit that walks you through myths, truths, and misconceptions about witchcraftâled by practicing witches who remind you that the hysteria of 1692 was born from fear, not magic. Then came the New England Pirate Museum, a small but fascinating stop dedicated to New Englandâs seafaring outlaws, complete with life-sized ship replicas and tales of real pirates who once prowled the coast.
Next was the Witch Dungeon Museum, a dramatic re-creation of the 1692 trials featuring actors performing the original transcripts before leading you into the candlelit âcells.â After that, we made our way to Old Burying Point Cemetery on Charter StreetâSalemâs oldest graveyard, established in 1637 and final resting place for many tied to the trials. The energy there was heavy, but reverent; the kind of quiet that hums beneath your skin.
We spent the late afternoon at the Salem Witchesâ Magic Circle and Haunted Happenings Market at Salem Common, weaving through booths of handmade goods, food trucks, and the rhythmic pulse of drums echoing from the ritual circle nearby. It was one of those sensory-overload momentsâwitches chanting under a gray sky while the smell of fried dough and incense hung in the air.
As night fell, we headed to the Haunted Speakeasy, a 1920s-themed masquerade held inside Hamilton Hall. The event was stunningâmusic, cocktails, glittering masksâbut I was fading. My ex-husband and I were disconnected, and I let the alcohol amplify that feeling. Just outside, there was a small flea market where we picked up stickers from a little girl named Georgia, who wasnât there that night but whose family proudly told us she designed them herself. I lost one when my laptop flew off my car on I-69, but the other one is still here, on the laptop Iâm writing this blog on now.
After the Speakeasy, we met back up with Luke and Lori. Unfortunately, I donât remember much of what we did next because I couldnât take my phone out in the downpour (meaning no photos to jog the mom brain). I remember being on Essex Street, rain pounding like drumbeats against the pavement, and trying to get far enough away to call an Uber. Every ride was over $100, so we said fuck it and made our way toward the train station.
From the Boston station, we still had to walk a few city blocks to reach our hotel. We were absolutely drenchedâmakeup streaked, boots squishing, bags soakedâand we had to leave for the airport at 4 a.m. Luke and my ex-husband found dryers in the hotel and tried to dry our clothes, but even so, we still managed to set off alarms at the airport the next morning.
When a Place Chooses You
Salem spoke to my soul. It wasnât the picture-perfect trip I had always imagined, but thatâs because I went with the wrong people. The city still worked its magicâjust in a way I didnât expect. It revealed things, shifted things, reminded me what it feels like to be alive in a place that hums beneath your skin.
Someday, Iâll take my girls there. Weâll wander Essex Street with cider in hand, visit the places that called to me, and see them through new eyes. That will be the magical tripâthe one where I donât just visit Salem, but share it.
Though, if Iâm being honest, I probably wonât go during Halloween again. Maybe a week or two beforeâwhen the veil is thinning, the crowds are smaller, and the magic has room to breathe.
Lyrics written by me, plugged into Soniva, and protected under copyright. Please do not copy, reproduce, or distribute without permission. đśđ¤
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