Fornicator

Hale of Beverly

The pretense of Witchcraft was made known to the middling age Reverend John Hale. He is a man of the settlement Beverly, in the massachusetts bay area. The example of a good puritan man; an acknowledged sinner, for which he confessed every night praying before bed. However, there are some impurities that the Reverend could not ignore; nor could he bring himself to accept in the eyes of the Lord. There were dark and impure thoughts in his head, those that if any person, Lord forbid, were to find out about, would surely chase him out as they did with Ann Hutchinson, and request his head. The Reverend refused to let this predilection get the best of him. He remained a faithful husband to his wife, and although it disgusted him to touch her, he did as he needed to in order to secure his name hold in Massachusetts. Hale knew in his heart that what he was thinking could be a natural byproduct of growing up in a home with only women; however he also acknowledged that in the eyes of the Lord these thoughts were nearly unheard of. For it says, in Leviticus, 18:22, "Man shall not lie with man; it is an abomination." Yet still, he continued his pretense of love for his wife, of a normal sexual desire. His wife had her suspicions of him; whenever she wanted to have another child, he would make excuses to not lie with her, but she didn't dare speak up and tell him of her thoughts; mostly for fear, yet some of her respected him for being the way he was. She knew that any other man would not exercise the idea of not lying with her, for she was truly an English beauty. His unnatural ideas had taken root inside of her, yet again, each time that they fought over something, she had not dared bring up his impurities.

Hale's secret started to take root in him at the age of twelve when he met another boy of sixteen in Beverly. The boy had come to work for Hale's family, as his father had died before Hale was born. Hale would oft stare at the boy through his chamber window, watching him plow the fields. The boy's muscles were indeed very prominent whilst he worked the land, and during the summer, if Hale was lucky, the older boy would take off his shirt to show a glistening chest. Hale has not yet known how unnatural his thoughts at the time were, nor would he know until he was meant to understand the word of the Lord studying to be a Reverend. The idea of this was so sinful, that it was nearly unheard of. If a man was caught with a man, or a woman with a woman, they would be branded a fornicator for life, and have their lives completely ruined by either their lust, or even their love. Hale tried his hardest not to think of how unfair this was, but he was a Clergyman, he need to believe that a man could not love another man. He loved his life keeping his affliction a safely guarded secret, not even breathing life into it by writing about it in his diary. When he would think of his problem, he would remember the faces of the people that he had branded Fornicator, and shamed in Beverly for loving, something so natural to the human psyche. Yet, he knew, he must keep the pretense of a good Puritan man.

Hale packed his witchery books into his carriage, meticulously placing them in order of the date published; he was a stingy man like that. The books proved heavy, Hale struggling to pack each one. He looked to his wife, who stood there to see him off. He flashed her a quick and cold smile, and her thoughts drifted back toward her suspicions. She feared that; and to make clear, she did not truly believe that her husband was anything yet a good man with Puritans morals, he might drift from her in Salem, that he might exercise his impure impulses. However many words she meant to say to him before he left, she stood quiet and held her tongue. She held her son close to her and watched as his carriage left the town, and kept watching as it went over the horizon.

Hale hadn't yet been to the settlement of Salem, the one thing he did know of that town was the famous charities one Rebecca Nurse of Salem was known for. She was a true Puritan; committed only to the Faith and the people, giving her own land and money for the needy and the Church. There were a few other names he had heard of in Beverly, a judge Danforth, the Reverend Parris that called him there in the first place, a rich man of little morality, Thomas Putnam (whose cousin had just recently lost the leadership of Salem to Parris), and an unruly farmer with much sway in the village, John Proctor. Yet, he only truly knew of Rebecca Nurse's abnegation. This venture was to be the height of his career, the only witched girl he had ever dealt with was cured within a week of good hospitality in his own home. Two young girls of Salem were afflicted with the curse, and it was his job to weed out the witch, or witches, in Salem.

The carriage carried him over the hills, going
in the direction of Salem. It was nearly an hour of riding, of which was spent looking over the Bible. Hale has always kept it close, having a good relationship with the lord was important to him in maintaining not only his job, but his sway in the Puritan country. He was reading his favorite book; II Corinthians. The letters of the apostle Paul always intrigued the Reverend, he felt a similar feeling as Paul when he tried to convert the savages, when they seldom did. Hale, in many ways, is much like Paul. He was born again as a Puritan, starting out knowing of his unnatural ideas, and setting them aside for the faith. Hale glances out of the window. It was indeed a frosty December this year, much like all Decembers, the snow fell hard and true and not once faltered. No man was working the field during this month, for he had all of the essentials of surviving the winter and, given that the man is one of the church, would be fed by the Reverend if need be. Children seldom played in the snow; seldom played at all, really, but when they did they would build small fortresses and run around the glistening, powdery snow for hours. The cold was bitter yet, and Hale was wearing not one, but two overcoats to keep him warm.

After about an hour of riding, Hale saw the steeple, the houses, and the farmlands he'd been looking for. He was finally in the town of Salem. There was a crowd of people to meet the Reverend in front of Parris's home. Hale slowly and surely stepped out of the carriage and looked upon the ponderous faces gazing at him. The people were expecting some grand man; perhaps six or even seven feet tall, wearing armor to fight off the witches. Instead, they get a man of thirty-five, no more tall than the next man, yet not as short as a dwarf, plain looking, donning the same outfit as any other Reverend in the area. Hale smiled at the people and began to unpack his books. He reached for them, and struggled to lift them up. Hale suddenly heard a man speak up.

"Here, allow me to help you with that." The man's voice was indeed a voice like no other. Well, the voice was probably the same as every other man's voice in the world, but Hale heard this one speak differently. He nearly stopped what he was doing to look at the man with such a voice, but instead just allowed the man to help him with his books. Again, the man spoke, "These are heavy," he flashed a half smile at Hale.

"Indeed, sir. They're weighted with authority." Hale looked at the man, taller than most, built with large muscles, no doubt from working the rough and course Massachusetts land. The man had long hair, ending just above his chin. He had a slight beard, though not yet grown to full potential. Hale studied his face steadily, and looked up into the man's eyes. The man looked over Hale, at least five inches his senior. Hale was stumbling to find words for the man, and he spoke before Hale could say more.

"I'm Proctor. John. Pleased to meet you, Reverend." Hale shuddered and snapped back to reality.