A Trial

• Olivia Williams, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2020

Today’s the day.
Today’s the day the priests are visiting my street looking for any signs of Witchcraft to burn us innocent women. We awake long before any rays of sun dare show themselves to the motionless night. The early hours here in Salem are important to us as we can silently prepare ourselves for this event. I search through my cabinet to ensure I have Bay Laurel smiling holding the still full jar.
As the sun starts peeking over the horizon I carefully open the wooden panels lining my walls. Gently placing any equipment that could expose me to the church onto shelves. Sealing the panel back up I step back admiring my work. Admiration stops as a loud knock comes from outside. I open the door and standing before me is the Town Priest and his workers.
“We are here for your inspection,” the Priest informs barging past me and making himself at home. I curse under my breath and follow him into the kitchen.
“It is quite suspicious that you do not have a husband,” the Priest states,
“He’s not home right now,” I stumble as the air grows thicker, “he’s in a different town building a church,” the three of them look at each other and shrug.
“Very well, perhaps while he’s gone we can teach you proper manners. How about you make tea for your guests?” the Priest smirks.
I turn away scowling. I start to boil the water realising now is the time for action. I slip in the Bay Laurel, relieved to see the water go the stereotypical tea colour. I place the tea in front of the three men, they gulp it down as quickly as a dehydrated animal during a drought. Their faces quickly turn from content to confusion to panic as they start gulping for air.
“What did you do?” the Priest croaks as he falls to the floor.
“I poisoned you with Bay Laurel,” I laugh
“The only way you would know that is if you were a witch!” the Priest cries. He tries to crawl towards the door to get help, but I run and lock the door.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Except six feet under once the leaves take effect.” I chuckle. From the floor, the Priest and his workers look at me in terror realising what’s happening,
“I’d assume that you have three minutes maximum until your throat closes up completely,” I inform. I watch as all three take their last breath. Panic sweeps over me as I realise I now have to take care of the evidence.
I gather the other witches around me as we bury the Priest and his workers,
“Cassia, what if people get suspicious?” one of them ask. I realise I hadn’t though ahead that far,
“We’ll say they drowned, no one will check the river because no one in this town can swim,” I decide. We all agree and continue digging into the ground before anyone notices us.