Abagail Williams

Trials. I was twelve years old when the out break of witchcraft terrified the residents living in

the town of Salem, Massachusetts. Hundreds of people were accused, the majority forced to

deteriorate in jail while their cases were studied and considered for trial. Accused witches were

forced to confess to witchcraft, under the fear that if they did not, they would be executed. The

trials were usually brutal and unfair with the doctrine, “the charged were guilty before proven

innocent, and the only option for their survival was to confess and name their charge. In reality,

there never were any real witches in Salem, it all began with the lies and stories I told.

You might ask yourself “Why did this travesty of justice occur?” Salem was the prime

spot for an event of this capacity. The unfortunate combination of economic conditions,

congregational strife, teenage boredom, and personal jealousies accoun

(including Betty and myself) stories about evil curses and mysterious voodoo from her

Providence’s, Reverend Cotton Mather’s popular new book. The doctor believed that Betty and

In this report, I have successfully connected my prior knowledge of the Salem Witch

wanted to learn what factored the coming of the actual event of the trials. I wanted to create a

because of our accusations and testifications. This horrid time only ended after a complaint to

It all started when Tituba, a slave of my uncle’s began secretly to tell the local girls

was a simple and unextraordinary rye cake with one difference: the afflicted’s urine. This cake

noisily about the house, contorted of pain, and dove under furniture. I, however, was afflicted in

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