Author's Note: This is a FanFiction of A Break With Charity by Ann Rinaldi. If you find this story interesting, then I would suggest you go straight to the library and check out her book. Sure it's historical fiction, but let me warn you, the character development and human doings in this book would astound even the people who hate history. 100 serious!
Setting is during the
witch hysteria that broke out over Salem, Massachusetts in the late
From Chapter 22: Under the Hanging Tree. Most of it is similiar to what Ann Rinaldi wrote (mainly to say I shortened her chapter with the same train of conversations..just in shorter terms (my words) and some changes), but in Chapter Four, I did something different.
Light in the Shadows
Every creepy sound that rose to my ears asked me why I could ever be so stupid enough to come to this godforsaken place. Every groan of the old tree I leaned against sent my mind reeling back to that cloudless day when Rebecca Nurse and Bridget Bishop swung from this same tree.
I drew my knees into my chest, shrinking myself into as small a ball as I could possibly manage. I made nary a sound in this process. Eyes were staring at me from the woods. They glowed in the dark. Any other day, my mind would have registered these eyes as deer eyes, but today my mind thought otherwise. They were the evil eye.
I crawled deeper inside myself, searching for pleasant memories that would drive the pain away. There were none. Ever since the beginning of the circle of girls, I knew there was something inescapably wrong with them. Remembering now how I always wished to join that circle, I now shiver. It is because of that circle of girls that our Salem Village comes to a cease. Where before each day draws on long and boring, now crowds gather at Ingersoll's Tavern to hear news of the next witch. Each day, the girls are brought here to perform their acts. And I know they are only acts.
I groan now when the tantalizing breeze tugs a strand of my hair free from its bondage. Where is Johnathan? He was late. Oh. If he isn't coming in one more minute I am going to march straight out of this place. I am going to march through the dirt road I have come through, and I will go straight home where Joseph and Elizabeth Putnam offered me shelter during this time of chaos.
my family all fled when Ann Putnam accused my mother of being a
witch. She didn't stop there. She went on to my father, and Mary,
who is just about to marry Thomas Hutchinson, escaped with mother and
father fearing for her arrest. But I feared no one. I stayed.
Inside, I felt that all this was my fault. The witch trial, I mean. How? I don't know. But I do know that I am part of it. A play doesn't work if only the main characters rattle along on the stage. All players must cooperate. I am a player. …And I'm afraid. Dead scared.
The dark is drawing closer now, and more owls coo in the distance. They screech "Who? Who?" I shiver. It were almost as if they were convicting the next witches. "Who? Who? Who?" Who would be next? Who else would die before this witch hysteria is over? Who? I stifled a sob when no other sound met me other than my own labored breathing. Where is Johnathan?! I clenched and unclenched my dress, crumpling the fabric. But for all my nervousness, Johnathan didn't come.
Just then, the glorifying sound of carriage wheels pounded into the dirt road accompanied by the braying of mules. My heart skipped a beat. Johnathan. I stood up and peered into the darkness. From the scant light I had, I saw a bobbing light in the distance. Yes, there he was. Sitting there in the front of the carriage. I ran down the hill, running until I could run no more. There I waited for Johnathan.