The 28th day of September, 1692

Dear Diary,

My uncle's slave Tituba from Barbados is, from what I have heard from Betty dear, acquainted with spells and enchantments, I think I will proposition to her to make a curse upon that cold woman Elizabeth Proctor. Maybe I shall invite the other girls as well, in case we get caught of course then the blame can be forced on others and I will perchance be spared the indignities of a whipping or worse, the charge of witch craft. For indeed that is a most horrible and evil charge.

The 29th day of September, 1692

Dear Diary,

I saw Ruth talking to Tituba, about why each of her mother's children were born fine pink flesh, but soon enough withered into her hands and decayed. She has begged Tituba to speak to the devil and ask who is doing this to her mother. It took some persuading and begging, but Tituba eventually gave in. I stepped in on them, and both of them jumped high like jack rabbits. I told them that I wanted to attend it too, and in fear that maybe on chance I would possibly rat them all out, they agreed. Tituba speaks Barbados, Diary. I am sure it is one of the many tongues of the devil. I am sure she knows magic and incantations of all sorts. So I lower myself to her and I begged her for a charm. A wonderful charm; that shall bring John and I together. This charm shall rid the horrid woman, Goody Proctor of both of our lives, leaving him and I to come together. I shall go and dance with the demons tonight. I shall go and speak with the devil himself, if it would bring John and I together.

The 1st day of October, 1692

Dear Diary,

I finally did it, my girls and I; Mercy Lewis, Betty Parris, Mary Warren, Ruth Putnam, and a few of the other girls all went into the woods and summoned the spirits of Ruth's baby siblings and I made a charm to kill that frozen woman and for the love of the village's one and only John Proctor.

Why John, must you push me away so, I would love you like no other, please return my feelings for you. I have resorted to witchcraft for you to notice me, notice the woman I have become, but you do not believe me and you stay with that old woman Elizabeth, the woman who has scorned me, probably because she knows of my love for you, she sees me as a threat. Elizabeth can only do so much for you, she will only be how she wants, but I will change myself into any form you want, I can be any type of person if it will make you happy. I write in this parchment because I cannot convey these feelings to anyone else without ruining your name, I am willing to do so much at the cost of my freedom, my soul in order for you to remain the man I oh so love.

I would not even care if you were to know I committed such an act, if you were to read this then you would know how I feel, and then you may just grant me my one wish to have you to myself.

Anyway, disaster struck; just as Mary Warren stripped bare my bumbling uncle came upon us. Betty flew into a passion and immediately quieted and went into a deep slumber, the villagers all fear for her life. However we all know it is an act to cover her embarrassment for being caught.

Uncle brought in a young priest from Beverly, he is supposedly an excellent witch examiner. Both he, Uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Putnam all came to examine Betty today and began mentioning the villagers crying witchcraft. Apparently Ruth has had the same symptoms as Betty has. I began to fear for my life, for it is a hanging for a person who has committed witchcraft, only a whipping for dancing. Luckily through a bought of quick thinking the blame was placed on that slave woman, Tituba. She confessed to witchcraft and after naming a few of the more recluse members of the community of consorting with the devil I saw my chance. This was how I could rid the world of that woman! So quickly I proclaimed my love for God and admitted to casting spells, and named a few women I have had previous disagreements with. I'll work my way up the ladder and then I shall dance on goody proctor's grave along with John of course.

If I see John I will confide in him, he deserves to know that soon his salvation will come and he will be free of her frigid hold.

This is all I can write for tonight, I can here someone walking down the hall; I leave with one wish, please, John Proctor, love me as I love you.