My sister Hailey and I just got back from school. We did our homework and
chores, then we got bored and we built a time machine and went to the time of the Salem
Witch Trial that was in 1692 because we were curious and wondered what it was like in
those times. Once we got there we tried to blend in, but it was hard because we couldn’t
sit with the men because the men sat on one side and the women had to sit on the other
side, we had to hide emotions like excitement, fear, or anger, was discouraged and
disobedience was severely punished. Also we had to make sure to attend church because
it was the law. We had to be like everybody else. We barely play games because they
believed that game was a sinful distraction. We had to follow there laws like attend
church, work hard, and they had to repress their emotions or opinions. The hard thing for
us was that we had to ignore the people that suffered from a sick child or failed crops
because they believe it was God’s will. They also believed that women, children, and the
insane was the most weakest people that would carry out Satan’s work, which they
thought that people that followed Satan were considered witches. They believed that
sleeping in church and stealing food as a sin, so we had to try not to sleep in the church.
One night Hailey and I walked to the farthest place to talk to each other and made sure to
be quiet so no one found out about us. “How terrible this is for the children and the
adults,” Hailey whispered with tears coming down her face. “I know,” I whispered,
holding her as she cried. “It is and I have a feeling that it’s going to get worse,” I
whispered, “a lot worse.” Hailey looked up with her tear stained face. “What could be
worse then this?” she asked. “I don’t know, we’ll just have to wait and see,” I whispered.
The next day, in January of 1692, the daughter of and niece of Reverend Samuel
Paris of Salem Village became ill. When they failed to improve, the village doctor,
William Griggs, was called in. His diagnosis of bewitchment put into motion the forces that would ultimately result in the death hanging. The first person to be hanged was
Tituba, a slave of Reverend Samuel Paris. When we say her hanged, Hailey and I hold
hands and masked our faces from the people. May your soul rest in peace, Tituba I
prayed in my head. They hanged nineteen men and women, and seventeen died in prison.
Once it was nightfall Hailey and I went to our hiding spot. “You were right, Ginelle, you
were right about it getting worse!” Hailey whispered. I frowned. “I know and I wish I
was wrong. All those poor souls when they didn’t do anything,” I said while tears
streamed down my face. “I will never be able to forget those poor victims dieing because
of all those people,” I said, ”why can’t they first listen to them before hanging them or
put them in jail to die?” Hailey came up to me and hugged me while crying. “I’m
terrified, Ginelle, and I hope my prayers I said in my head reach them in heaven,” she
said, crying more into my dress. “I know. I hope mine reach them too,” I said, looking
up into the stars and full moon that was shining brightly. “Me too,” I whispered again.
In June 10, 1692, we watched another person get hanged to death, Bridget Bishop
was her name. How sad it is to watch these people die because they seem different and
was social outcasts. Then it was a sickly old woman. Don’t these people have any pity for
anyone of these peoples death? I asked myself. While they got hanged my sister and I
held hands and prayed for these victims, while hiding our emotions so we wouldn’t get
persecuted too. These Puritans’ are just evil little devils themselves, I said in my head, they had to much religious tolerance and are just persecuting these people without hearing them out first. I turned away from the hanging corpse and took my sister to the
ocean. We looked out into the ocean’s horizon watching the sun go down. “Hailey, these
people are getting worse and worse killing off their own kind without caring,” I said.
Hailey stared up at me with tears coming down from her blank empty eyes. “Actually,
when I went for a walk I heard girls crying out the peoples’ names and they seem
tormented about it too,” she said, “probably because their young just like us.” We turned
one last time to see the ocean. “I hope this ends soon,” I said with a few more tears to let
out. We walked back to our house to get some sleep so we didn’t sleep in the church.
Before I went to sleep I prayed to God to end this and take care of those victims up there.
But the days got worse. In July 19, 1692, Sarah Goods, Elizabeth How, Susannah Martin,
Rebecca Nurse, and Sarah Wilds got persecuted. Then in August 19, 1692, George
Burroughs, Martin Carrier, George Jacobs, John Proctor, and John Willard got
persecuted, then in September 19, 1692 Gilles Cory got crushed to death. I bite my lip
when I saw his eyes full of fear and confused and then he was crushed and I had to hold
from crying and running to him. When I say that I wanted to barf and run from the scene
but then I know they would think of me and my sister as witches so I stood still with
blank eyes and face. Then on September 22, 1692, Mary Esty, Alice and Mary Parker,
Ann Pudeator, Margaret Scott, Wilmont Redd, and Samuel Wardwell got persecuted. I
knew my sister and I wouldn’t be able to handle anymore of it so once it was dark we ran
to our time machine and went home at the same day and time that we started our
adventure. Once we got home and came out of the garage our mom came up to us.
“Where have you’ve been? School was over a couple of hours ago!” our mom said. Good,
I thought, she can’t remember us being gone for months. “We went to a friend’s house
to hang out. I’m sorry I didn’t text or call you about it.” I said and my sister and I hugged
her and we were crying. “What’s wrong with you two?” she asked, while holding us and
trying to calm us down. “We just missed you, mom,” I said smiling up at her. It was the
truth we missed our mother and life. “Well you two need to eat dinner and go to sleep,
it’s still a school night,” she said. We ate dinner and did the dishes and went to their room
to go to sleep. “We should go to the library and see what happened in the end,” I said.
Hailey looked at her. “You can,” she said, “but I won’t because I don’t want to think about it anymore or remember any of it.” She turned around and went to sleep. I thought about everything that happened and then finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that happened when
we went in the time machine. Then I noticed all my friends’ were staring at me in the bus. “What’s wrong with you, Ginelle?” one of my friend’s asked, “You’re awfully quiet.” I
smiled at them and said, “I’m alright.” They looked at me more. “Really,” I said. They
looked at me one more time and was finishing their earlier conversation. There’s a
diversity of people that can’t experience this pain yet, I thought, and I can’t let them
know about it either. Once it was lunch, I went to the library and read a book that was
about the Salem Witch Trial. “As years passed,” I started reading outloud, “apologies
were offered and restitution was made to the victims’ families.” I stared at the words a
little bit longer, then I shut the book and cussed under my breath. “They owe more than
just apologizing and giving restitution!” I almost screamed. As I walked out of the
library, I thought of all the names of the innocent lives taken away by their own kind.
Sarah Good, Elizabeth How, Susannah Martin, Rebbeca Nurse, Sarah Wilds, George
Burroughs, Martin Carrier, George Jacobs, John Proctor, John Willard, Gilles Cory, the
thought of him made me shiver and tears come down my face, Mary Esty, Alice and
Mary Parker, Ann Pudeator, Margaret Scott, Wilmont Redd, Samuel Wardwell, and all
the others that lost there lives. They should have more than apologies and restitution.
They should take their own lives and know what it’s like to see no one cry for them or
scream for someone to stop. I stopped and shivered from the memory of those blank eyes
and tears flowing down their faces before getting hanged or crushed. I stopped and did
silent prayers and wiped the tears before seeing my friends, and walked away from the
information, but not the memory’s.
THE END
View User's Journal
 |
He's all Viking! lol
