Short Stories

The Devil's Work

      I walk through the eerily quiet dirt streets of Salem Village. The cold, crisp air stings my hands and nose causing me to pull my shawl tighter around my body. "I shouldn't be out this late," I mutter to myself. A voice responds; "that's true, Miss Elizabeth." I freeze. Did someone catch me? Whipping around, I see none other than my fiancé, Henry Braxton.

      "Henry!" I exclaim, running over to him. "Shhh..." He puts his finger to his lips. "Don't want to wake the village now, do you?" He asks. "Aye," I reply quietly. "Going to visit Miss Marie and Mother Lawley?" He asks again. "Aye," I repeat; getting choked up. "Well, says Henry, "I haven't seen my soon to be sister and mother in law in a while. So, I'll join you." That would be lovely;" I reply, taking his hand as we continued our way down the dirt street, down to the place where my mother and sister rested.

      As we approached the graveyard, tears started to flow down my cheeks. It has been three years since I visited Marie and Mother's grave. Henry bent down and started to whisper a prayer. Sinking down to my knees, I joined him, the tears making my cheeks even colder. Henry stopped; looking at me, he pulled me close and kissed my forehead. He wipes the tears off my face, his hands warm.  "We must go now, before the sun comes up and others find us here," Henry says. "Alright," I reply, forcing a small smile on my face.

     The day of the morrow was Sabbath, and Father seemed more worried about the service than me sneaking out last night. When I had gotten home, Father immediately started to yell at me, worrying about the sins we've committed and God's wrath. His words struck fear into my heart. How was I to spend all day at the service with guilt weighing me down? I grab my shawl and step outside, the sun shining down on me as I proceed to the meeting house.

      As I approached the meeting house, I saw Reverend Samuel Paris shaking hands with people who entered the house. He wore a grim expression on his face; and when he caught my eye, it seemed to darken even more. I seemed to fear this day, more than before, regretting my actions. I quickly went inside, ignoring the Reverend and avoiding all eye contact. Not long after sitting down, Henry and Father
joined me. Reverend Samuel walked up to the podium, and began the service.

      Three hours passed like a blur, and soon after Reverend Samuel's prayers two peculiar girls were brought out. They were muttering strange things and withering in pain; everyone around started to talk, afraid and confused. Reverend Samuel raised his hands to silence us. "These girls are suffering the results of witchcraft," he began; "And for our safety thy all must be tested to see if thy are the devil's work as well."

      People lined up to be tested. By the looks in their eyes I could tell the one emotion felt through the room; fear. I felt it as well. Minutes passed, I was next. I approached the girls, my heart pounding. The girls started to howl, saying I was hurting them. "It hurts,it hurts!" They screamed. "Stop her! Stop that women!" Reverend Samuel's face turned pale. A young woman, Matilda, whom I have known since childhood, jumped up and screamed; "She's a witch! Stop her!" " I-I"m a witch?" I stuttered.

      Father and Henry started to lash out, saying I was innocent. People all around started to talk, clearly afraid of me. "No, no..." I whisper, wanting to run. Two men grabbed me by the arms, pulling me out of the meeting house to where I would be taken to prison. Henry tried to help me escape the strong grip of the two men, but I couldn't. I was too shocked to move. I was thrown into a carriage ready to send me off to my imprisonment. Father was able to get to me before I left. A single tear fell down his cheek. as the carriage pulled away, I heard him say, "live."

      I entered the dark jailhouse, fearing my fate. I was taken to a damp cell, in which held only a bed, thin blanket, and a set of chains. "Get on in there;" the jailer said in a gruff voice, pushing me into the cell. He walked over to me and chained my feet together. the coldness of the chains sent shivers down my spine. The jailer left, without any explanation on how my days would go, which scared me even more. Would I rot alone in this horrible place? I pulled the bed over to me and pulled the blanket tight around me for warmth. Sleep pulled me under in no time at all, hoping in my dreams, I would be free of this place.

      What felt like years passing was only a matter of days; and after a week of being trapped in that horrid place, Henry came to visit. "Henry?" I asked meekly, "is it really you?" "Aye Elizabeth, tis me," he replied. He ran into the cell and hugged me. "Are you alright? They didn't hurt you did they? Thank the lord you are safe!" "Where is Father?" I asked. "Is he alright?" "Your Father...he ...um..." Henry stammered. "What happened?!" I shouted. "Elizabeth... your Father is dead," Henry finally said, sadness in his voice. "No...not again..." I whispered. Henry started to explain. "After you left, they started to test us in a new way. They would launch us into the river. If thy sank, thy was a witch. If thy floated, thy wasn't. As you know; your Father couldn't swim. " Henry stopped, tears in his eyes, "They also canceled the wedding, assuming thy will be dead by the end of the week." By that point tears were streaming down my face. Henry pulled me close and whispered; "don't cry my love." He kissed me. "May god have mercy on thy's kind soul," he added. I seemed shocked his words, Henry left, and I was alone once more.

      Henry's words still haunt me, "may god have mercy on thy's kind soul...May god have mercy on thy's kind soul..." Why did they affect me so? And Father... to think he's gone. Tears came to my eyes just thinking about it. "Get on up and eat your food!" Yelled the jailer, clearly annoyed. His anger took me by surprise. "I've been saying it repeatedly. Listen hear you brat, eat, you need your strength. Your trial is in three days.." My trial...right. He started to walk out the door. The jailer turned around once more, and hesitated. "Girly, survive this for us, alright?" He said leaving me officially. His words...touched me.

     Today was the day. My life could end because of false accusations. Why me? Why? Henry came to take me to the courtroom; in which my trial was to be held He kissed me before leaving and sent me off. "Elizabeth Lawley." Boomed Reverend Samuel, who oversaw my trial. "You have been accused of witchcraft. What do you have to say for yourself?" " I...I..." I stammered out. "Well, speak up!" Yelled the Reverend. "I assume thy would want me to say I am innocent," I say with confidence. "For I am. Does thy assume?" Many people started to whisper, questioning me. Looking around around for others to agree with me, I recognized Matilda. She caught my eye. Her eyes were filled with fear. I continued, feeling guilty. "Reverend Samuel Parris; it was thy's niece and daughter who accused me, correct?" The Reverend didn't reply, his face growing red with anger. "We could all be witches; a-." "SILENCE!" I was cut off by the Reverend. "Guilty!" He yelled. "Elizabeth Lawley, you have been charged of witchcraft and will be hung until dead!" His words shocked me. Dead?

     A day passed since the trial. It was to be the day of my death. Henry has been crying all night. I visited Mother, Marie and Father's graves to say my final goodbye. "I'll be joining you soon." I had whispered to them. This was it. I stepped onto the stand, and let the Reverend slip the noose around my neck. "Any last words?" He asked. "Yes." I reply. "Is this really the devil's work?" The trapdoor fell from under me, and it was over.

      It has been two years since...Since her death. I gripped the flowers in my hand, my knuckles turning white. As I approached the graveyard, I saw the four graves. I lay a flower for Marie, Mrs. Lawley, and another for Mr. Lawley. I bent down to whisper a prayer. Standing up, I manage to say "thank you for being my family." I then approached her grave. Laying the rest of the flowers I whisper; "may god have mercy on thy's kind soul."

                                                                 ELIZABETH LAWLEY

                                                                           1671-1692

                                                                            HANGED