Essay by PaperNerd ContributorHigh School, 11th grade February 2002

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Salem Slaughter Village Hi my name is Roger Williams. I am 17 years old. My life in Salem, would be considered my many people, a very interesting life. I life with my father and two sisters, Hannah and Abigail. This witch craze is driving me insane. My mother has already been hanged for suspension of being a witch and I think they are after me next.

It all started on a cold Friday morning, the year 1692, in which the whole town was talking about being corrupted by witches. I was walking down the road in our old-fashioned village. There was a crowd around the home of the Reverend Samuel Parris. There was a woman in front of a screaming crowd. She had touched a baby and then it started crying. They suspected she was a witch and put her to trial. He hands were tied up behind her back with a worn out rope around her neck.

She was pale in the face with a dusty, long, flowered dress that had obviously been through a lot with the rips and strands of thread hanging down. There was a tremendous amount of fear in her eyes and spread all over her face. As they rose the rope to start to hang her, she exploded with a blood curdling scream that could have been heard a mile down the road. Her face with disbelief, she slowly came to her traumatic death.

I stood up in front of the crowd and voiced my opinion, which obviously wasn't accepted by very many people. I heard screams out in the crown accusing me of being a with. That was very hard to belief because, due to popularly belief, witches were more likely to be female. It was amazing at many of the looks that I got from the crowd. Not one person had any sympathy in their eyes for me. They were filled with anger, thinking their village was being corrupted with witches. My trial was to start tomorrow morning.

It was hard to sleep that night. Just knowing that I might be set to death in the morning. When I finally fell asleep, I was awoken by a man standing above me telling me to get up because the trial was starting. I rolled out of bed, blurry eyed and hair sticking up, I put on my black suit with a white shirt underneath, trying to look the best as possible. I walked to the wooden platform in the middle of our village and slowly walked up the steps, not knowing what to expect. As I stood there waiting for there decision, my hands were sweating and my stomach was turning. When the judge stood up to make his call, everything seemed a blur after that. He decided to give me the water test.

I thought that the water test was the one in which I would be thrown into the lake. Much to my surprise, they decided to give me the boiling water torture to make me confess. They tied my hands in a brown rope in which my circulation in my fingers were gone. They warmed the water to a constant boil. They lowered me into the steamy water and all I remember after that was my skin slowly starting to melt off. I never confessed of being a witch, because I knew I was not. The torture lasted about 45 minutes. I died a slow and much painful death.

After the witch accusing finally ended, in September of 1692. The town began to get back to normal. Governor Sir William Phip returned from a visit to Canada and discovered his wife, Mary, had been accused of being a witch. He demanded that Chief Justice Stoughtan stop the trials and release accused witched from prison.