March of the Accused

I climb up to the stand, my feet trembling with every step. It takes all of my strength not to fall to the ground or faint. The eyes of the people follow my every move, some of them containing malice and hatred, others kindness, although they do their best to hide it.  Standing straight, I meet the judge's severe gaze, prepared for what I knew was to come.

"Mary Elizabeth," the judge began, his voice rumbling. "Thou hast been accused of witchcraft. If thou decide to plead guilty, and confess, thou wilt be given a chance to repent your sin. If not, then the sentence is death. What say you?"

My tongue feels dry in my mouth. I open my mouth, close it again. Then I speak. "I am innocent, your honor."

The crowd begins to murmur, excitement building for what they know the judge will say. "Then, Mary Elizabeth, thou shalt be hanged for witchcraft at noon today."

It was then that the courtroom seemed to explode in a series of jeers and wild gesticulations. Some scream for me to burn, others, to drown me in the river. Unable to control the masses, the judge dismisses the courtroom, and I am lead away to the prison cell where I will spend my last hours. In that cell, I have much to think about. Where I keep going back to is where it all began…

I was helping to care for a sickly woman in the village. Herbal remedies were my specialty, and I had cured many patients before her. I recognized the sickness she had, and treated it as such, doing the same that I had before; using the plants I knew would work best. She got better, and was back on her feet and about the village within two weeks. All she could talk about was my herbal remedies, and how they saved her life. It was enough to make me blush.  However, things took a turn for the worse. She got sick again, severely sick. I treated her again, but to no avail.

The woman, Anna Nestor, died during the night. The next morning I found her dead. When I reported her dead to the local townspeople, the rumors began to fly.

Witchcraft, they whispered. It must be witchcraft. The herbal remedies I supposedly used to cure her were meant to poison her. No one bothered to remember the others that I had cured, the only patient that mattered now was the one that I had killed. So they brought me to court, charged me with witchcraft and murder against Anna Nestor, the woman I had worked to save. I pleaded innocent, what I knew was the truth, what I hoped everyone would see was the truth. But their madness could not be cured, and so here I sit, recalling the past.

I start when the prison guard comes over to my door. "It's time to go, Miss Mary," he says, his glare cold.

Standing up, I find that the trembling in my limbs has gone. A strange peace has washed over me, and I feel light, almost as if someone is carrying me. The feeling stays with me, shields me from the jeers, the piercing stares of the crowd. It accompanies me up to the scaffold, where I am left to stand on my own as the noose if put around my neck. I am strong enough to stand on my own now, and I look out to the crowd defiantly as I say my last words as the platform falls.

"I am innocent."