Witch Hunt

In 1692, nineteen people and two dogs were hanged as witches in the town known as Salem Village. All other characters and events in this story are purely the result of my imagination.

         Drip, drip, drip. The rain is beginning to form a pool on the floor of the room where my brother and I are being held. We have been here for two days now, and I am getting very hungry. Our captors have not fed us, or even opened the door of this room, since they threw us in. I think everyone is afraid of us, but we did not do anything.

         I can see you're confused, so let me go back to when this whole trouble got started, about a month ago.


         That morning seemed to be going just about like every other morning. My brother, Daggs, and I, Moss, were in the barn chasing the neighbor's cat when we heard a terrible scream. Daggs and I are both extremely curious, for dogs that is, so we ran to see what the trouble was.

         The one who had screamed was Mary Smith. She had gone down to the stream to fetch some water and, instead, had stumbled across her younger brother Joseph lying there, dead on the bank.

         When we arrived, Mary was sitting on the ground with Joseph's head on her lap, her body curled protectively over him, her back shaking with the force of her crying. Mr. and Mrs. Smith came running up just a second after we arrived. When Mrs. Smith saw her son was dead, she started crying even harder than her daughter.

         Now, don’t think Mr. Smith was unemotional about this tragedy. He was actually pretty upset too, because he had plenty of daughters, but Joseph has been his only son. Mr. Smith's face was ghost white underneath his long, dark bead, and his hand was shaking a bit, but he started taking control of the situation.

         First, he got his wife and daughter to tone their wailing down to occasional sniffles and sobs, (for which Daggs was truly grateful). Then he picked up his recently deceased son, pushed his way through the crowd of people that had formed in answer to Mary's screams, and walked back toward his house.

         A few people tried to follow the Smith's, but after one look from Benjamin Collins, the broad-shouldered mayor of Salem Village, they all turned around and went off to their various morning tasks with much whispering. Well, almost everyone turned back. Daggs and I were totally unaffected by Benjamin Collins' gaze, so we followed right after the Smith's.

         When we reached the five room log cabin Isaac and Elizabeth Smith called home, we found all the doors firmly shut, but that didn't stop us. Daggs and I quickly dashed to the side of the house and peered through the small window of Mr. and Mrs. Smith's bedroom.

         The scene we witnessed was pretty depressing. Joseph had been carefully laid on the bed, and his mother was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Joseph's blonde hair and silently weeping. Isaac was standing next to the bed opposite his wife; his arms were folded across his chest and his gray eyes were filled with tears. When he began speaking to Elizabeth, Daggs and I could hear their voices clearly through the bubbled glass.

         "How could this have happened to my boy? Look at him Elizabeth. He's just a boy! I need to know what happened, how he died." said Isaac.

         "Isaac, please. You know as well as I do that many times children die young. He could have had an accident or maybe an illness we didn't know about..." replied Elizabeth quietly.

         "An accident! Look at him; there's not a mark on him!" Isaac's voice had slowly risen so that by then he was almost yelling. "And as for his being sick...well, I won't even consider the idea. Joseph was a strong, healthy child. Do you really think he could have been sick and we both suspected nothing? You're just trying to avoid what we both know to be the true cause of Joseph's death."

         "Isaac, would you please..."

         "No, I'm going to say this. Joseph's death was caused by witches. That...that woman who says she's a part of the Crow family. She's the one who did it. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. Think! How many strange things have been happening lately? Don't deny it! The Jenkins' cow stopped giving milk two weeks ago and the Dather's barn caught fire just five days hence. I'm going to tell Benjamin that something needs to be done about her immediately."

         With that said, Isaac fled the room and Elizabeth took her son's cold hand in her warm one and softly whispered, "Oh, Isaac, I pray that you do not accuse an innocent woman."

         Daggs and I both felt worried as we trotted away from the Smith home. Neither of us were sure what would happen to Patience Crow if she was accused of being a witch, but we agreed that it wouldn't be anything good.

         Being only dogs after all, Daggs and I soon went back to our normal routine of harassing cats and playing with the children of Salem Village. Everything seemed very normal at the time, but when I think back on those weeks following Joseph Smith's death, something was different. The men would form groups of three or four and whisper to each other heatedly, and the women all seemed to keep a closer eye on their children. Patience Crow, a teenager ready for marriage, was shunned at the weekly church picnics and the Crow family as a whole was treated a little coolly. Whenever anything went missing or someone's faithful hen missing laying an egg, there was always the same murmured word on everyone's lips: witchcraft.

         About three weeks had passed since the death of Joseph Smith when a town meeting was called. Every man, woman, and child of Salem Village and, of course, Daggs and I crowded into the dimly lit church that was used as a meeting hall to find out what Mr. Collins was going to say. Mothers bounced babies on their knees; an old man near the front coughed; shoes shuffled on the wooden floor. Finally, Mr. Collins entered the church and stood facing the assembled crowd.

         "Thank you all for being here." began Mr. Collins. "A few of you have come to me and made some strong accusations. At the time, I wasn't ready to act, but now so many of you have come to me that I feel something must be done. I now ask these people to come forward: Patience Crow, Sarah Anderson, Hope Jakeen, Rebecca Cuthord, Ruth Cuthord..." Mr. Collins called nineteen names in all. All of them were women. As each one's name was called, she slowly made her way to the front. After the girls were all together, Mr. Collins again addressed the crowd.

         "These nineteen women standing before you have all been accused of witchcraft." A rush of noise erupted from the assembled people. Several of the women standing up front screamed or began to cry. Mr. Collins raised his hands into the air and yelled for silence. It took a few minutes, but finally everyone quieted down.

         "These women will now be held and watched until a decision can be made as to their guilt or innocence and what their fate will be." People began shouting again. Everyone wanted to be heard, and a little pushing and shoving stared up. The boy standing next to Daggs and I accidentally stepped on my tail. I let out a yell and Daggs and I both tried to run.

         Someone called out "Hey! Those two dogs are always around when something strange happens."

         "Yes, they are!" another agreed. "Witches! They're witches!" "Don't let them get away!"

         "What?!" Daggs cried. "We're not witches! We're just curious!"

         "We just like knowing what's going on." I agreed. "That's no reason to call us witches! Please, let us alone."

         But it was no use. Daggs and I were immediately grabbed and carried away with the women to be locked up.


         Well, that just about brings you up to the present. I heard someone say that a judge was appointed and the witch trial began yesterday. I hope this will be over soon. Oh, I hear someone coming.


         "Bring those dogs outside." a gruff voice said.

         Daggs and I are dragged outside. I can see all the women who were said to be witches.

         "I have listened to the accusations of everyone here, and all of you have been found guilty of witchcraft." intones a portly gentleman with black hair. The nineteen women gasp in disbelief. "You have been sentenced to hang until dead."

         All the women are crying. Each of them has a noose placed around her neck. A man walks over to Daggs and I and prepares to fit us with nooses as well.

         "Oh no. Not us. We didn't do anything!" Daggs starts to babble. "Please let us go!"

         "Daggs, my brother, I love you." I yell.

         "May God have mercy on your souls," says the portly man.

         The rope around my neck becomes tight and my story ends.



This is a work in progress. Any comments or suggestions you might have are welcome.