The Undocumented Story of Sarah Williams:

September 20, 1692



“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Exodus 22.18


Chh. Cckchh.. The sound of crunching leaves under my aching feet and my panting was all I

could hear, but I knew they were coming for me. They’re coming to bring me back; to murder

me.

“Run! Run faster!” I told my legs, which felt like large piles of jelly. They did not listen. I fall to

the ground; my legs had finally given out after 2 hours of racing.

So many thoughts were running through my mind. “How can they think I am a witch? How do

they know God is displeased with me? They cannot know if God wants me punished.”

I can see the glow of fire from torches in the dark distance, through the trees. I hear the voices

of my neighbors, who used to be friends of mine, but now want to burn me at the stake. I must

get up. I must run away, but I cannot get my legs to move. Their voices keep getting louder, and

I know they are getting closer. I try to use a tree as a shield, but when they get close enough, I

am sure they will see me. Maybe I should turn myself in, plead guilty to witchcraft…

“Sarah! Sarah Williams! We’re going to find you, you witch! Tis better to come forth, than to be

found.” shouts the short fat man in the front.

I hear the voice of a once close friend, Abigail Wells, “Sarah! Please come out! We want to help

you!” As comforting as it is to hear, I know it is a lie. They want to help me into a noose, to

see me hanged. It was she who accused me of being a witch in the first place. How could she

do such a thing? A pure world is what they want, then let me be. I am gone now. I will never

return.

They are right near me now. I stand and walk from behind the tree into the front of the crowd. I

hear a large gasp from all of them in unison.

“Well, well… Have you come to face your punishment, Witch? Or were you coming out here to

make a new deal with the Devil?” asks a smirking John Hawthorne.

“I made no deal with the Devil. I employ no creatures. I harm no person. I was falsely accused!

I lived my life well, and took no temptation of the evil beings in this world. Strip me! Shave me!

Search me! I have no mark from Satan. But, do not punish me, for I have committed no crime.”

“The guilty party runs.” He laughs.

“As do the terrified innocent,” I plea.

“But, I will check you for the Devil’s Mark, myself. Apprehend her!”

They place heavy chains around my ankles and shackles around my hands and push me towards

Salem. The 3 hour walk was dreadful. Two men attached to my arms the entire time and there

was nothing but silence amongst the crowd. I did not look at anyone, though I felt everyone’s

eyes on me.

As we reached Salem, everyone ran out of their homes, even the children. Every person in

the village was watching me. As if I was terrifying. They took me to the meeting room to be

examined.

Abigail shaved all of the hair from my body except for my head. Hawthorne stood in front of

me as I was completely nude. I felt disgraceful and discomfited standing there so vulnerable.

People pointed out every freckle on my naked body.

“What about this?”

“John, could this be it?”

“No, no! Leave! I have found it and I must test it to prove it true,” Hawthorne alleged.

Everyone walked out of the meeting room and soon it was only him and me. Alone. He looked

me up and down. “It is a shame,” he says, “to be so young and beautiful, but to be a servant of

the Devil himself. To put such a delicacy to death should be a sin in itself.”

“Thou shalt not murder.” I spit at him.

He grabs my arms forcefully and gets within centimeters of my face. “It will be a pleasure, I’m

sure. Do you feel pain? Do you bleed? We will find out now, won’t we?”

He takes a pin and sticks it into a small mole on my breast. “Aahhh!!” I scream loudly. The pain

was near unbearable; a shooting pain that ran all the way through my chest and to my back.

With the shackles around my wrists, and chains still on my ankles, I could barely move which

caused me to fall backward. John came down to the floor and got on top of me.

“What are you doing?!” I requested.

“It would be a shame for something this pure and lovely to be hanged without being properly

used.”

“Get off of me!” I yelled.

“Stubborn? I will see to it, you enjoy this.” He took off his trousers and undergarments.

He had to un-chain my feet and before he came back up, I kicked him in the face and ran to

the door. The spot on my breast was bleeding and leaving a small blood trail down my body. I

ran through the village, still completely exposed. I made it to the woods and kept running. This

time, no one was going to follow me. I am no longer an accused witch. I am now just a woman.