This is a project essay for my Language Arts class, and someone suggested I share it, so, enjoy!
The town was always peaceful, before the whispered rumours started. Myths of witches, creatures of the night who existed purely to torment mortal men. The witches could cause cows to become unable to produce milk, domestic animals lame. sole purpose was to cause mischief and to strike fear into the hearts of the people surrounding them. The people of the New England colony were terrified, and Willow Murdoch's small town to the west of Salem, Massachusetts wasn't any different. Several women, men, and a few children had been lynched and burned at the stake already. The fear that clung to people was almost tangible, and neighbours were turning their backs on their friends, sometimes family if they were acting in a way that even slightly implied witchcraft.
Willow's own neighbour had gotten dragged off to the gallows to be hanged under the conviction of black magic. The poor woman had been reported by her neighbour when he saw a dead crow in her yard, which she had yet to clean up. It didn't take much to be accused of being a witch anymore. It made Willow a little uneasy, despite being quite sure she wouldn't be reported. She was kind to everyone, took care of children if their parents were unable to watch them, and had a friendly hound that protected the town children from predators while they played out by the woods. The town had no reason to suspect her, and the neighbours took liberty in gossiping with her about their worries.
Willow's mornings were short, a small breakfast of corn and a small morsel from last night's dinner, followed by a mug of lukewarm milk. She dresses after eating, and on her way out, she passes the candle lit room leading off of her common room. She had paid respects to it last night after dinner. She takes her hound with her as she walks to the town, surrounded by other churchgoers. A young female with red hair approaches Willow, paying no mind to the hound at her side.
They talk of simplicities and of the young female's baby, their talk eventually petering away to small comments. However, before Willow starts to drift away to seek out other gossip, she whispers,
"What do you think of witches?"
Willow smiles secretly, delighted that the conversation turned down an interesting path. The two exchanged suspicions as they climbed the church steps and walked into the large building, voices hushed as they sat in the pews. The Pastor stood at the podium, with his Holy Bible, waiting for everyone to settle. Willow's hound padded up to the dog at the Pastor's side. No-one seemed to notice the dogs as they sniffed at each other. The Pastor began his sermon, and Willow's company fell silent as to not disrespect the man.
A pew over, another female sat, alone. Elisabeth Waetts. Willow can feel a little burning sensation settle in the hollow of her throat, but she has learned to hide that behind a look of careful concentration. She watches Elisabeth, who looks as if she's twitching slightly during the Pastor's sermon. Willow had suspected the female for awhile now of witchcraft, but had kept it to herself until she had found solid evidence. The twenty-year-old studies the other, with calculating brown eyes. Elisabeth had black hair and bright eyes, with pale skin and a slim stature. The near opposite of Willow, who was brunette with brown eyes and tanned pallor from working outside, and was not exactly slim.
The pastor finishes up with his usual, and Willow watches Elisabeth nearly start writhing in her pew. The brunette almost smiles, and as the pastor closes the bible, all of the people gathered stood and filed out the door in a neat line. Willow met back with the red headed girl, and informed her in hushed whispers about Elisabeth, causing the young female to cover her mouth in horror.
As she hurried off, Willow caught a glimpse of her joining a small group of females, no doubt gossiping about what Willow had just told her. This was how people were lynched, burned at the stake under accusations of black magic. Small talk and whispers passed from person to person, until there was a mass of torch wielding townspeople at your door, yelling witch and heretic as they kicked down the door to swarm the unfortunate 'witch'. If Willow was clever enough, information would be planted in enough people's heads that poor, witch Elisabeth would be burned by tomorrow morning.
When Willow arrived at her home, there was a small crowd of people waiting at her door. A little twinge of fear struck her, but it was quickly stamped out as a young boy ran up to her with wide fearful eyes as he cried out in a hushed voice,
"Ms. Murdoch, is it true that Ms. Waetts is a witch?"
Willow led the boy back to the small crowd, and in a tone that silenced the whispers, announced,
"As I'm sure all of you have heard by now, Elisabeth Waetts is undoubtedly a witch. She twitches and writhes during sermons as though the devil himself is torturing her, and her neighbours' animals have fallen ill from her evil whims."
A horrified gasp swept through the crowd, and mothers clutched their children. One man surged forward, eyes glinting.
"We'll gather a mass, and take the witch to burn."
Willow nods approvingly, and another male jumped in,
"We shan't let the judge hear of this, we must burn her without a trial, before she infects our children and our sick with her witchcraft!"
The others murmured in agreement, and soon the crowd sparsed out, leaving to inform others of the witch, of the night's plan. They'd attack under the cover of night, to catch the witch off guard. Willow and her hound returned inside her home, as the brunette prepared a basket of food to bring for the pastor; she would take a trip to inform him of the burning, and to ask him to attend. A simple basket of homemade breads and fruits, with an apple for herself to eat on the way. She left her hound to stay, hoping the dog would perhaps eat the disgusting mess of chicken rotting in the yard behind her house. It would be safe, it didn't have any bones to harm her hound, anyways.
Willow makes her way back through town, and it is not hard to find the pastor.
"John,"
She greeted, brandishing the basket to him. The young man took it gratefully and with a smile,
"Ms. Murdoch, what is it you sought me out for?"
"There is a burning to take place tonight,"
Willow says with an air of simplicity. John nods wisely, and ventures,
"May I ask which 'witch' we are burning under the moon?"
"Elisabeth Waetts,"
Willow chimes, tossing her apple core aside. It looks almost rotten even before it hits the muddy ground.
"The twitchy girl at the sermon?"
"Yes. I'm quite shocked she manages to get out of bed with problems like those."
Willow sniffs, and John gives her a look. She raises her hands in defence, but doesn't say anything else. The young pastor sighs, but thanks her for the basket, and reassures her that he would indeed show up to help with the burning. She thanked him in return, and then went on her way. She took a walk through the town centre, where she could see James the Blacksmith, hammering away at what looked like a set of new tools for Peters at the edge of town. The old farmer was always misplacing and breaking his tools.
The young redhead from the church was sitting with a few other girls her age, all sewing and working with silks. The redheaded girl waves and Willow smiled back. The brunette passes the single schoolhouse of the town, and she can see the children attentively listening to Ms. Evans, the teacher, read them a book. All of the books that the schoolhouse held had been donated by the rich family out by the church, whose daughter was there currently. The family had really been the founders of this small town, and had given the people enough to get themselves going. That's why they were all well off and not living off of scraps in the dark corners of cities like Salem.
When Willow arrived home, the sun was beginning to sink, the September evening chill settling over the town. The brunette hurries inside, pleased to find that her dog had indeed cleaned up the dismembered chicken from the yard. Willow decided to write for a bit, since she had time to kill before they would storm Elisabeth's household to drag the witch out.
Three pages of a moleskin journal later, Willow was disrupted by the sound of knocking at her front door. She gets up and journeys through her darkened household, passing the candlelit room on the way to the door. She silently wishes for good luck and that there wouldn't be much of a struggle. Upon opening the wood door, she's greeted by one of the young men from the crowd earlier, wielding a torch. The heat of the flame nearly makes her reel back, but she smiles grimly, all an act, and murmured,
"Is it time?"
He nods, and answered,
"We're ready. Lead us on, Ms. Murdoch."
One male handed her a torch, and she sweeps through the crowd, moving easily through the people. Willow leads them through the darkened town, torches in hand. John was walking beside her, James close to his side with a slightly reddened pitchfork. The ends looked as though they had just been pressed inside a furnace. They were all fully prepared to drag the 'witch' out kicking and screaming if they had to.
When Willow brings them all to the dark house of Elisabeth Waetts, the townspeople wait with baited breath, waiting for instructions. The brunette gestures to James, who reluctantly leaves the pastor's side to approach the door, and with a deep inhale, rammed the pitchfork into the door right below the doorknob. Since James was the blacksmith, he had engineered most things in the town, and knew exactly where weak spots were on the doors. There was a small sound of a lock being obliterated by the hot forks of the weapon, and the door swung open. Inside, the house was dark, but lit by red candles. Blankets were blocking the windows, preventing any light.
Elisabeth Waetts comes stumbling out towards them from the kitchen, a knife in hand. Someone shrieks as she flings herself at Willow, screaming something incoherently. The townspeople surged around her, tearing her off of the brunette, who could almost taste the insanity on the female. John began muttering passages from the bible in protection, James taking his place beside him and Willow as they march towards the church, where the burnings occurred. The townspeople had her pressed into a circle in the middle of their crowd, keeping her with torches and messy crucifixes and bible mutterings.
When they reached the clearing with the single charred post, Elisabeth was in hysterics, biting and clawing at the people, who simply waved their torches at her and yelled 'heretic!' At her. Someone was smart enough to supply rope, and they lashed her to the pole, wrists bound behind her back. She was blindfolded after she started to stare at them while screaming, eyes cold, hungry, and desperate. Willow stood on the slightly raised stone slab akin to a pedestal beside the post, and raised her voice to shout,
"This woman is a witch, and we have brought her here to burn the devil out of her before he spreads to infect our children and our sick!"
There was a roar of approval from the crowd, and Elisabeth writhed in an attempt to break free. Willow continued,
"We have seen her heretics and the witchcraft, and this woman has blood on her hands from a slaughtered creature."
Indeed, when Elisabeth had dropped the knife she had been wielding, her hands were bloodied.
"Get on with it!"
A cry sounded from the crowd. Another sounded right after it, words ringing out in the moon-and-torchlit hollow,
"Burn her!"
John steps up, with James shadowing behind him protectively, pitchfork pointed at Elisabeth discreetly in case the witch tried something. The pastor read off passages, to banish the devil from her body, send him back to hell so he wouldn't possess another in the crowd. Elisabeth was screaming, shoulders jerking wildly as she tried to escape. She shrieks as the pastor finishes his passages, screaming,
"It's her! She's the witch! Burn her! Kill her!"
Willow felt a little twinge of fear in her chest, but it was soon dampened by the townspeople yelling,
"Torch her! Burn the body!"
John took a torch from a young man near the front, as James stacked a few logs around Elisabeth. With a cry of, "Leave us, witch!", the young pastor threw the torch down at the logs, which caught aflame nearly instantly. The 'witch' screamed and thrashed as flames climbed her body, the townspeople watching in mixed awe, fear, and a hint of triumph. A young female with strawberry blonde hair and fair coloured eyes claws her way to the front of the crowd, sobbing,
"Elisa! Let her go, she's not a witch! It's her! It's her!"
She pointed at Willow, who had been staring at Elisabeth's burning. The redhead was only ignored, her manic ramblings blamed on grief. Willow remembers her as Lillian Cartwright, Elisabeth's best friend. She could be an issue.
As Elisabeth Waetts' last screams died in a crackle of hungry flames, the crowd tapered down to just Willow, James, and John. Someone had escorted Lillian away. The 'witch''s ashes were being carried off by the crisp wind blowing through the clearing, and John watched as the last of the flames smoldered down to ashes, James prodding the glowing embers with the pitchfork. Willow had a little smile gracing her features, crouching next to James, watching the embers slowly lose their glow.
Beside her, John tosses the bible to the ground with a disgruntled hiss.
"Their concept of religion is ridiculous."
"I'm glad they're so paranoid, or else we wouldn't be able to do this,"
Willow muses, and she stands back up, smoothing out her dress. James makes a rough sound, but then stands as well,
"That's the fifth one this month."
"Indeed it is. We certainly are living in a prime time,"
John chuckles,
"What with the 'Salem Witches' such a heavy concern."
"It feels almost too easy,"
Willow sighs, brown eyes glimmering an unearthly amber. James chortles beside her, and chips in,
"Would you rather it be back when we were hunted down relentlessly?"
"James has a good point,"
John chirps, and Willow rolls her eyes.
"Whatever, you two. Let's scatter before a roamer finds the actual witches."
James and John head back towards the church, but Willow lingers for a little, studying the charred post that had recently just held an innocent woman.
"What was all that blood, anyhow, Murdoch?"
John's voice nearly makes her jump, but she coolly responds,
"Ms. Waetts suffered a harmful disorder. The blood was hers, and the knife she had been using on herself, not some creature."
There's a hum of approval, and then James' rough voice,
"And the neighbours' animals?"
"Yours truly,"
Willow answers with a mock bow, and the two males chuckle. John almost sounds admiring when he remarked,
"You sly fox."
She laughs for herself, and follows them out of the clearing and into the dark night. She returned to her home not much later, after wishing the duo a good and restful night. She plopped herself down at her desk, and opened her journal.
September 15. Victim: Elisabeth Waetts under accusations of witchcraft. Branded a heretic and burned at the stake. Victim total: Twenty and counting.
--WM