A/N: Little blurb about Giles Corey's death scene. Seriously, it's really short. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Mr. Giles Corey or any of The Crucible.
As if breathing wasn't hard enough, they just had to add more weight. "I shall never confess!" I screamed at them, using whatever strength I had left. But it wasn't much.
Black spots began to cloud my vision. I could feel the strain of my lungs to breathe underneath the tons of rock they dropped on my chest. The blood was rushing to my brain, throbbing with a discomfort I had never known before.
"You can be free, Giles Corey. Just confess!" A magistrate screamed from the near-background, but it sounded like a breeze to me. Like the summer grasses blowing in the wind, promising a better harvest of wheat the next year…
"I am not a witch! I will not confess! And I pray God will have mercy…" I was interrupted by more weight, but I continued to speak, "On my accuser's souls. For I have sinned, but I shall not speak falsely now. I am no witch!" I shouted with as much volume as I could muster, but I doubt it sounded anything more than a whisper of a dying man.
"Confess, man!" the man I knew to be none other than Reverend Hale cried, with an unmistakable concern present in his voice. Hale sounded as if he was about to break down in tears, the agony of the situation weighing him down. Destruction of witches…but at what cost?
Another boulder suddenly dropped onto my chest. I gasped audibly, finding it hard to take short breaths anymore.
I shook my head in response to Hale's demand. Another rock. "More weight!" I yelled. They complied. "More weight!" Another stone. "More weight!" I could barely lift my chest now. The black spots from before were growing, as if the darkness would finally take me. Voices were echoing around me, but I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't hear anything except the sound of blood coursing through my veins. I couldn't hear anything except the sound of my straining heart pounding, struggling to beat once more. I couldn't hear anything except the sound of my wife welcoming me home, my sons playing in the distant fields, my livestock begging me for attention. "More weight."
I tried. I tried to be a good Christian man. I wanted to be right by God. I thought He would be happy I reported my wife's suspicious activities. It's funny how your clearest moments in life come right before there is nothing more you can do. My wife was a good woman. I was a fool. I tried. But I failed.
My vision turned black, but my heart seemed as white as ever. "More weight…" The final rock was set upon my chest.
There was no more black. Only white. Immense white. I was not a witch.
A/N: See? Short. Review if you have time. I posted this for own enjoyment, really.