The Lord's Prayer

This story takes place in Salem, Massachuttes during the Salem witch trials, the character has the name of one of the many victims, but this story is fictional for the most part. It is based on historical facts and inferences. The Salem Witch Trails were

 

 

Elizabeth lay huddled against the wall in the murky cell, her eyes staring longingly at the dancing shafts of light fighting their way through the barred window high above her head. She pictured what was going on outside her cramped cell, her young daughter playing in the dwindling colors of the day, her husband diligently plowing the fields with their choclate calf, the two of them sitting down for dinner, both staring at an unoccupied seat, as empty as their eyes. Elizabeth shook her head of these painful images. She did not wish to remember, memories were too painful.

 

Her mind unwillingly flicked back to the scene in the church that morning, when the brats from Salem were writhing in falsified torture. The youngest was no more than a babe. All the members of the congregation had been forced to touch the girls, and it was the brats that randomly decided who lived and died. The oldest one had stopped writhing when she was grasped by Elizabeth's outstretched hand. For only when a witch touched her victim did the spell stop.

 

The groaning of one of the mindless wraiths in the cell brought her back. Some of the newly accused were not yet used to the new chains, which encircled the wrists and arms of every woman in the cell, constricting their veins to stop their craft from still torturing the afflicted girls.

 

The wind blowing in from the high window brought the stench of the cell full force into Elizabeth's nose. The overflowing chamber pot in the corner, which was only within chain's reach of three women, di not help the smell. The other women did not seem to notice, too far gone in their self-pity to see their soiled, threadbare clothes or pale, gray flesh.

 

Only Elizabeth still saw the sunken eyes and yellow teeth in the pallid sunlight that managed to crawl into the cell. Outside the thick walls, she heard five bells toll in the church tower. Five more witches would die tomorrow. Part of her wanted it to be her, while the part of her that still remembered her daughter prayed that she could stay invisible for one more day. She begged God to spare her, to let her raise her daughter.There was no sign or word that he had heard her pleas.

 

Exhausted from nothing but breathing, Elizabeth fell into a dream haunted by crazed girls, swinging bodies, and the call of crows. The creaking of the door freed her from her otherworldly nightmares, though bringing the promise of new. The women cried out and tried to crowd the door and the man, their chains clanking softly as they snapped taut.

 

"Back, you vile demons!" the little man spat. He held a parchment in his hand, the list of the dead and soon-to-die.

 

"I need Elizabeth How!" he cried, as if the pitiful groans of the women were deafening. Elizabeth shuddered at the sound of her name, but her traitorous body raised its hand, and the man worked his way through to get to her. Behind him, the door disappeared in a mess of heads and arms.

 

The man unlocked the chains that bound her ankles and wrists to the wall, but kept the manacles themselves on her hands. She pretended not to notice that he flinched when he brushed her arm. Wordlessly, he hauled her back through the crowd of flailing wenches and called out four more names, of which Elizabeth had never heard of or cared for.

 

"Follow me." he said shortly to the line of women that fell into place behind him.

 

If Elizabeth could have seen this pitiful line, then she would know that all the hags looked the same. Each had long, scraggly hair falling loose from a sloppy braid, flesh hanging from their bony limbs, and sunken black eyes that already wore the glazed over sheen of death in them. But alas, she could not see at all, and thought only of how to free herself. The line slowly stumbled up a short set of stairs, and above her, Elizabeth heard a scream of a woman. As she neared the openness of the day, she heard another scream, and shortly realized that it was herself.

 

Her arm instictively came up to shield her eyes from the explosion of sunlight that blinded them for the first time in months. Her chains clinked a mocking laugh as her eyes filled with tears, her thin arm doing nothing but block out a slash of color in the sky. The man did not even turn back or slow down, he still pushed them along mercilessly, his face blank.

 

Elizabeth could do nothing but follow the faceless form of the hag in front of her. She felt weak arms pulling her up, strong arms pushing from behind, and rough wood under her bare feet. Suddenly, the wood moved, knocking Elizabeth to the floor. Her head hit the back wall of the box that held them, and she lay still for a moment.

 

The clopping of horses plodding on a dirt road in front of her told her that they were in a wagon, and after continuously blinking, she was able to make out a few details in the grain of the wood. She could only bring her eyes up a small portion of the way, but she saw enough to know that a tall, luminous platform stood before her, and there was only one thing in the world that could be.

 

Through her tears, she could make out the form of the gallows illuminated by the fire of the rising sun and a velvet pink sky that slowly chased away the remaining stars. She heard a crowd cheer as the wagon rolled into the clearing, and her eyes shot up to the stands across from the gallows.

 

Everyone was expected to come, or else face the accusations of witchcraft by their neighbors, who may have once been their friends. Only a portion of the crowd did not cheer, sitting the stiffly, solemn and grim. Thos people were there only as a chance to see their loved ones once more before they were hanged, and avoid the same fate for themselves. Elizabeth's searching eyes did not find the faces they saught, and she returned to staring at the floor of the wagon, unable to face the crowd.

 

All too soon, the clack of the hooves on the ground stopped and the back hatch was creaked open. Standing, the witches were pulled out of the wagon and onto the sandy dirt of the ground. The heat of it warmed Elizabeth's soul only slightly, but enough. As they were marched up the steps to face the single rope hanging from the rafter, the cheering stopped.

 

The crowd watched excitedly and the others pawed at teary eyes. Wasting no time, the minister read the accusations and offered the witch a chance to repent, or in other words, name another as guilty in their place. One of the women spat at his boots. She was taken first.

 

Stumbling up to the center of the platform, the coarse rope was thrust on her neck and pulled tight. Within moments, the creak of the wooden lever unhinged the trapdoor beneath her feet and she flew downward, only to be bounced back up by the rope. She did not die immediatley. She swung there lazily while the rope crushed her windpipe. After all while, her choking sounds died down, and with one more twitch, she was dead.

 

The monsters in the crowd cheered, while one woman let out an agonizing cry. She swiftly ran out of the stands and out of sight. The next woman was pushed forward. Once more, the wood creaked and there was a sickening snap, then cheers. Nobody cried out for this one. Elizabeth could no longer watch, but yet could not turn her eyes away as the other two fell through the trapdoor.

 

Finally, as the last one was cut down, Elizabeth was pulled forward. Large hands shoved her, and she stumbled into the center of the platform.

 

She stood proudly, gazing at every face in the crowd until she saw what she sought. Her little three year old, Molly, was reaching out for her, tears streaming down her face. "What a world when children are forced to watch such displays." Elizabeth thought. Suddenly, the girl escaped her fathers grasp and ran to the railing at the front of the stand, clutching the wood with her grubby hands.

 

"Mama!" she called mournfully, as the thick rope was shoved over Elizabeth's head and pulled tight around her throat. Instantly, her husband John's hands were wrapped around Molly's body and he pulled her back.

 

That single word was all that was needed to shock Elizabeth out of her uncaring state of mind, and without thinking, she mumbled the words in her hoarse, cracking voice. So often had she mouthed them in church, now they came naturally and thickly.

"Our Father, Who arth in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven...." she chorused, a gasp arising from parts of the crowd. No witch can say the Lord's holy words. The minister looked baffled.

 

"Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation...." she continued, unable to stop. A cry rose up from the crowd as the noose was still not released.

 

"Let her free! Let her free!" they chorused together, demanding her freedom. Still, Elizabeth mumbled the prayer.

 

"For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the...."

 

Suddenly, as she mumbled a loud "Amen", the creaking of the straining wood told her that there would be no mercy, and the squeak of metal dropped the floor beneath her. Swiftly, all the colors of the crowd and wood mixed and flew upward. Then, everything went black.

 

 

 

Dedicated to the victims of the Salem Witch Trials in the Year of our God, 1692:

June 10:

Bridget Bishop

July 19:

Sarah Good

Elizabeth How

Susannah Martin

Rebecca Nurse

Sarah Wilds

Aug 19:

George Burroughs

Martha Carrier

George Jacobs

John Proctor

John Willard

Sept 19:

Giles Cory (pressed to death by stones)

Sept 22:

Mary Esty

Alice Parker

Mary Parker

Ann Pudeator

Margaret Scott

Wilmont Redd

Samuel Wardwell

Reviews

[Calypso]

Very good.
This reminds of of the Crucible . I can't remember if it happened in the play, but in the movie they were saying the Lord's Prayer when they were killed.