The Salem Witch Trials « Thread Started on Jun 30, 2009, 12:25pm »
In 1692, when the Americas were still very young, there was a colony of settlers who had volunteered to help their native countries understand a new land and how to tame it. They worked all day and even through most of the night until they were to sleep. They never spent a moment of idle time, they did not waste their days or even their seconds with dancing or singing--for that was forbidden. They worked until their hands bled and their bones ached and to console themselves, they would turn to their Bible in the morning and at night and soothe their souls with words of hope from God.
These people were Puritans.
Were any one of them to slack off, were any one of them to spend idle times of song or dance or even pure laziness, they were severely punished and outcasted by the town as whole, for these were the sign of Satan and had to be removed at once.
The people in this settlement were happy well enough. Nothing was ever amiss and everything went according to plan. The only thing they needed to fear was disease and a possible Indian attack. There was never a thought in their head that there were those among them who walked the Devil's path, but I suppose that was what made the hiding place just so perfect.
This town was called Salem and it was nestled in the tiny coastal state of Massachusetts, and among the well-meaning, hard-working, and oh-so repressive Puritans who dominated this area, there were those that the Bible condemned walking by their side. They were their neighbors, their daughters, their sisters, their brothers. They were their best friends and often times the peace keepers of the town--and they were witches.
At the town hall, their were many trials. Women were berated and stripped of their dignity for being caught singing or dancing or cursing someone vehemently. These women were dubbed witches and hung at the neck. These women, more often than not, were not witches. The ones that walked free and happy secretly performed rituals and cast spells and stroked their pretty familiar in the moon light when no one watched...
And all were happy, as it were...
Until a gaggle of silly girls were caught attempting witchcraft.
Salem was now boiling into chaos so far out of control, nothing could be saved. Hysteria ran rampant through the town. Now all women were being investigated because of the wrath and wicked playfulness of these normal girls who pretended to know who had and who had not walked with Satan in the night. Now, not even the true witches are very safe...
And still Salem bubbles and boils and spits, threatening to scald and burn its inhabitants and then over flow.
[MpB:http://i189.photobucket.com/albums/z175/fallenangel666_013/Black-1.gif]Never start with the head. It always makes them all fuzzy and they can't feel the next hit.
*SLAM*
See? Couldn't feel a thing.
thecheshirecat Administrator Destroyer of the Inadequate member is offline
Re: The Salem Witch Trials « Reply #1 on Jun 30, 2009, 12:58pm »
Morgan Fitch sat behind her house shucking corn. It was grueling work and she loathed to do it, but what must be done, must be done. She had heard a few of the women in town whispering about how idle she was, but nothing could be further from the truth. When she had no chores left, she whiled away her hours with deep thoughts of how to keep herself from seeming idle. It was ever so nice to know that her efforts were effective.
She looked to the sky. The sun had already fell from its peak, but it was still too far from the horizon for her liking. She sighed a long and whistful sigh of want and anticipation. She was impatient for the dark, protective veil of night. She wanted to run to the woods and dance her way to the red-skinned Indians she had once found on the other side, singing all the way. She would trade her shucked corn for beans or possibly some rice--or, if they were even more generous than they had already shown--some of their game. She would spend hours dancing and signing with them and studying their odd and beautiful language once more. It had taken so many long hours and nights and peace offerings to finally prove to them that she was trustworthy. They were very kind people, she quickly found. They were strong and wise. They knew so much more than the Puritans of the more important things, such as life, family, friendship. She was so very fond of those people. They were the only people who knew her for what she was. She never had to tell them. They somehow just knew. She had blessed them a thousand times over for their never-ending hospitality. They had never been so successful with their hunting, gathering, or farming before she, and she was more than happy to do so for them. She smiled as she thought of them.
Her thoughts were interrupted by thundering hooves on the road in front of her house. She watched the road between the edge of the forest's trees and the corner of her home. A carriage trundled past driven by the authorities of the town. They were off to find yet another "witch" no doubt. It seemed the obnoxious Abigail Williams and her band of whorish followers had not yet given up their dangerous power. It was only a matter of time before they came knocking on the door of an actual witch. She supposed she could just cast a spell on Abigail to make her stop, but that would more likely than not cause such disaster in the town. The last thing she wanted was to move. She liked Salem and wanted to keep her peaceful residence here.
To be honest, she was quite surprised the Proctors had not been targeted yet. Abigail had once been the maid of the Proctor home, before Elizabeth Proctor threw her out. She had never breathed a word of why she had thrown the girl out, but everyone suspected. Abigail had had relations with John Proctor, Elizabeth's husband. It was a shocking and saddening thing, John Proctor being such a man of honor and respect--such a good, good man who made a mistake and took a fall like all men do--but there you have it. A man's a man no matter how good he may be. However, Abigail harbored hard feelings. She was in love with John and she hated Elizabeth for keeping him from her. It was all a matter of time, though, she supposed. Elizabeth would get hers, too, poor woman.
Morgan thought once more of the injustice and the immaturity of the girls and sighed. No matter, it was not her business. Until it was her turn, she needn't worry. She looked to the sky and beamed. The sun was much lower than it was before. She picked up the pace on her shucking and softly--oh so softly--began to hum to herself.
[MpB:http://i189.photobucket.com/albums/z175/fallenangel666_013/Black-1.gif]Never start with the head. It always makes them all fuzzy and they can't feel the next hit.
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