Watching from the sidelines, it's almost normal now like Sunday church to attend the trials to watch many women's bodies lifeless being pulled out from the water, or blackened by the flames. You no longer feel any type of disgust from it, the trials have become human to watch rather than let the women live or even protest the act. The men who created the trials have been here in our small town for less than a year and already the trials have become more and more frequent and their excitement has intoxicated almost every other men in this town, they live for it. I wonder how their wives must feel to know, they fantasize the idea of watching women being used and burned for amusement.
The men untie the newest victim passing her to a few other men who put her carelessly on the carriage, I wait for them to leave, but they stand there. Looking, searching. They are talking, silently whispering. me and every other woman around became scared, they start fidgeting and I, myself feel my hands move and battle each other as I try to steady myself. you can sense the fear in the air as we are frozen by their icy glaze.
The men charged out into the crowd, grabbing and dragging women from their husbands, mothers and fathers and children. No sympathy as they hurl them into the back of the cart with the withered burned body. I watch them, then they look at me. We stay silent in a raging silent war, waiting for the first person to make a move. The world stops. Nobody dares to breathe let alone move then all at once the whole world lets out a small breath and the charge at me like a starving animal. I tried to run, but they grab my legs like a snake twisting around its prey and squeezing all the life out of it. They dragged me across the floor, I felt the pebbles and twigs scratch and rip through my skin letting the blood leak out. Four men grab each limb of mine, a place me in the cart with force, I can feel every ache, they bound my hands once they're done, I lay on my back and looked up at the sun as a final goodbye as I know I'll never see it again.
There was four of us if you didn’t count the dead body, scrambled on the floor even though we were out in the fresh air, only the stench of death and decay filled our nostrils. We sit up, shuffling and kicking the body around as we find a way to be comfortable. I recognised, one of the girls, she was the Parris’s family youngest child, Willow, she was a small and always careful young woman, now she just gleams with fear and acceptance of her timely death. She was only, 12 years old. The other two women, I did not recognise, one being in the mid-30s another being mid-40s. Both of them looked emotionless. Not sad nor angry, just there; maybe it’s too much or maybe it’s not enough to send them to dreaded fear and anxiousness. we bumped along, not saying much till Willow, tearfully sniffs as quietly as possible. We look at her before looking at each other not saying anything, we scoot over to her, slowly huddling her carefully, we looked together in that very silent moment, we vowed to stay together to the bitter end.
