Salem

© 1997 A. R. Smith
All rights reserved.

The crowd watched as the preacher poured the lantern oil. A glowing coal was tossed at the woman's feet; smoke writhed upward, and then the coal burst into flame. Like every other, this woman was bound to a stake in the center of the flames, calling to God and thrashing about as the crackle and spit of fire came closer to her. The fire reached for her, incandescent children's hands pulling on her skirt. Her face contorted in terror and suddenly relaxed as she screamed and fainted.

As I stand here, watching you, I remember that there was a time when I could be happy, Mother. I played in the fields like any other little girl. I made wreaths of daisies for my hair. I used to pretend that I would marry Edward.

The crowd stared, transfixed, waiting for the black-clothed body to burn. Children and their fathers looked up to the unconscious woman in a parody of worship. All was silent but for the crackling of wood and the wailing of a baby in the distance.

You see, Mother, I can no longer survive here. The minister is beginning to become suspicious of me. He has his daughter follow me everywhere. She has big, beautiful green eyes that see everything. Not even I can hide everything.

The fury of the town drove the flames ever higher, until the woman's face could barely be seen. She was not burning yet, and the townspeople were tired of waiting. People shouted and screamed, filling the air with fear and rage. Unnoticed by the crowd, a small spark flew up and brushed the hem of the woman's dress.

I wasn't a bad girl, was I? Mother? No, I didn't think so. I remember being a good girl, until you gave me your Gifts. Why did you give them to me then? I was like a babe with a butcher's knife. Did you honestly expect me to have restraint? Were you surprised when Sarah strangled on her hair the night after she cut off mine? Were you surprised when Edward fell onto the pitchfork buried in the haystack? You should have waited. I would have understood it all now.

The tongues of flame conquered her belt and invaded her dress. She awakened for a second, whipping her head back and forth. Instantly, her honey-colored hair became an orange ball of fire. Encased within the roar of the blaze, a small, high wail escaped.

Mother, you gave me the ability to ruin Sarah, and Edward, and all the rest of them. You ruined my happiness. I don't understand why. A child's foolish teasing is nothing compared with a town's persecution.

The woman's once proud, tall body was now a charred and twisted mass. Bits fell, greasy and sputtering, to the ashes below.

It was your fault, Mother. I am truly sorry about this, but I have already used all of the others. I didn't have any other choice. I will not burn. I will miss you, Mother, but I will remember you as you are now: protecting me in death as you could not do in life, taking my place at the stake.

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