Darkness surrounds me. I do not see whether it is night or day in this forsaken place. The people outside these walls are out of their minds, yet, so are the people inside. They are willing to give their names and others for their own lives. Not me. I will not give into them.
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The jail is overcrowded. People go everyday. Some get tried, some give up, and others get hanged. Most give up and lie to the court, but I won’t. I may hid, but what I say is always the truth. I’m known as a religious man devoted to god and my name will not be tarnished. They had a good try, though.
“Are you a witch?”
“I am not.”
“The truth will set you free.”
“If it is your truth that’ll set me free, then I shall stay imprisoned.”
“Have you walked hand in hand with the Devil? Have you made a pact with him?”
“I have not.”
Then those girls crimpled over yelling, “He hurts us with his eyes!” and screaming in pain.
Hathorne turns to me, “Is this true?”
“It is not.” I said the truth, the girls were, and still are, lying.
“Then why do they scream in pain?”
“I know not why they scream.”
“I will ask you one more time, Jacob Satin, are you a witch?”
“I will answer the same, I am not.”
“Your spirit did not attack Miss. Williams in the dead of night?” Hathorne said, almost as a laugh. I looked at Abigail. Our eyes met and she quickly looked away, doubling over. “Look at me, Mr. Satin!”
“My spirit hath not left my body since birth.”
“Jacob, I’ve seen enough. In a weeks time, within the morning hours, you shall hang.”
The public spoke in hushed voices as I pasted. I came here six days ago. Abigail's lies are killing people. If they are not killed, then their names are. It is tempting to tell Abigail's secrets.
The jail is congested and dirty. It’s wet and smells so much of death that even the rats stay away. Lonely, quiet, and somber are the people as well as betrayed. Now I am among them, for people are untrustworthy. No matter, though.
Sleep does not come easily. Maybe the reason is the chains keep us from laying down. I wish to take them off, but I must take my death gracefully, for my mortal name.
Abigail is getting too much attention and too many people are listening to what she says. The court has now convicted Rebecca Nurse. Ha! The very idea of Rebecca being a witch is laughable. She is as good as her reputation says, although I tried.
The light beyond the door is blinding. They’ve come for me. I am taken by the arms and half carried and half dragged, too weak to walk (Imagine that, a power like me, unable to walk.). They load me on the cart like a common cow. I do not fight; I let it come.
My short ride is over and I am lead up the steps and face the already formed crowd. They will weep at my death. My good name will not be scarred, but what is a name? They do not know the power of a name. Witch is but a title and a name has more power then that; the power to instill fear into the hearts of men. The rope is tightened and I look out at the crowd and smirk. Life is precious to mortals, but for me, I come in and out of it as I wish.
Doubt is on the eyes of the judges. They are wondering whether Satan really come to Salem. They question whether he has really made pacts with people here. Well, it is true. Satan merely changed one letter is his name and every liar as walked hand in hand with him.
“Jacob Satin, you are being executed for witchcraft. May god have mercy on your soul.” I chuckle at those last few words as I fell forward and fell my mortal neck break. Salem is full of God’s light once again, until I am reborn, and then, alas, darkness.