S: March 8th, 1692 | I have been in this cell for a few days. I am frightened by my situation. The people surrounding me seem to believe this charade of witchcraft and little girls’ games. I fear there is little hope of a fair trial. It seems that it is now of the up most importance that John shares the secret that Abigail told him. I see no other way out of this mess that will not cost someone's life. I have decided to write John a letter to try and persuade him to reveal the information. It is very likely that I will never have a chance to send this to him. But it does my heart good to write it down. Dear John, The actions of Abigail and her following of young girls are getting out of hand. Their bold lies are being eagerly eaten up by the townspeople like sweet bread. You have a great amount of evidence against them! I beseech you, go to Salem and tell them it is all a fraud. Yes, the girl is revered as a saint now, but you are a respectful man! You have a good reputation and friends who would stand behind you. Yet, you falter to reveal the information that could save lives. I know you still some feelings for Abigail. Why else would you not go now but to avoid hurting her? You see, I have cause for my suspicions. But your own heart will be your judge. I just ask you to do the right thing. Would you have so many innocent women condemned to death because of that whore? I pray that God will show you how to act. If you do decide to do the right thing, be cunning. Abigail will not fall from power easily.
BC: Molly Mokler 3-16-10 2nd Period
FC: Elizabeth Proctor
1: In memory of my beloved John.
2: March 7, 1692 | So many things have been happening lately. I feel I must write then down or I will surely explode with pent up emotions. But I must start from the beginning. It had already grown dark when John came home from that day's work. It seemed like the start of a pleasant evening; the children asleep, the fire crackling in the pit and the aroma of stewed rabbit filling the room. I served John his dinner and we fell into the normal routine of light, casual conversation. But the wall of tension between us was still there, as it has been for many a day. I knew I had made a mistake when I mentioned that Mary Warren had gone into Salem that day. John's face was clouded over with disappointment at my weakness. I explained that Mary had claimed to be an official of the court. John was astonished at this and his surprise grew even more when I told him that people had been arrested. I suggested that he must go to Salem and tell them that it is a fraud. It was clear that he hesitated at the thought of doing this and possibly hurting Abigail. I was suspicious that he still had feelings for her. He must have read my emotions on my face for his anger quickly rose, threatening to boil over like a kettle on the fire. He made it clear that he expects forgiveness from me. Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mary Warren. She claimed to be sick. I did not think she to be feigning illness; her pale, gaunt face proved her claim to be truthful. She proceeded to present me with the most curious present- a small poppet she had sewn in court. It seemed more suitable as a child's play thing then as gift for a housewife. It seemed to be a sort of peace offering from Mary. But for some reason, the black embroidered eyes of that doll filled me with a sense of impending
3: Descriptive writing vividly describes a person, place, or thing so that the reader can visualize the events using all five senses. | dread. Mary suddenly started sobbing violently. She revealed to us that thirty-nine women had been arrested and Goody Osburn was to hang! My heart dropped at the news. She told us that Goody Osburn had tried to kill her many times by sending her spirit out. I suspected this to be blasphemy. John did not want her to go to court again, but Mary wouldn't hear of it. He became angry and reached for his whip. But before any punishment was inflicted, Mary cried out that she had saved my life today. My name had been mentioned in court. I felt as if time had stopped. The room suddenly grew cold. Sweat started dripping down my back. I could feel the coarse rope of the hangman's noose around my neck, growing tighter and tighter, making it impossible to breath. I pictured myself walking to the gallows and Abigail in the crowd, watching with a smug grin. I knew then that John must go to Salem to reveal the information about Abigail.
4: March 7, 1692 | The night of my previous entry was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Mr. Hale. He came bearing news of the arrests of accused "witches." I was shocked to hear that Rebecca's name had been mentioned in court. I was taken aback by Mr. Hale's suggestion that her guilt was possible. The questioning soon began in order to investigate the Christian character of our house. My John had to explain that my illness was the cause of his repeated absence in church. But not all of Mr. Hale's questions were so easily answered. Upon inquiring of our three children, he asked, “how comes it that only two are baptized?" (p.32) John admitted that our newest child had not been baptized because he did not like the thought of Reverend Parris laying hands on our baby. He did not attempt to hide his dislike for Mr. Parris. The conversation then turned a different corner. "Do you know your Commandments, Elizabeth?” (p.32) I assured him, without hesitation that I did indeed. “Let you repeat them, if you will,” (p.33) he said. John went on to do so but could only remember nine. “Adultery, John,” (p.33) I reminded him. I did not know whether or not to cry or laugh aloud at the irony of this. But, even though we answered many questions, it was obvious that Mr. Hale remained suspicious. I became desperate and told John that he must tell Mr. Hale what Abigail confessed to him. When John revealed that the so called witchcraft was only sport, Mr. Hale still maintained some suspicion. But he had little time to accept this new knowledge for Mr. Giles and Mr. Francis appeared at the doorway. "They take my wife. And his Rebecca!" (p.34) exclaimed Giles. This new turn of events convinced me that the whole town had gone wild.
5: Narrative writing tells a story or part of a story and includes dialogue. | My fears were soon proved to be accurate when Mr. Cheever arrived at the door. He had come to take me! The evidence was this: Abigail had complained of a pain in her stomach that night in court. Further investigation revealed a needle stuck two inches into the flesh of her belly. A search of our house turned up the poppet Mary had given to me. It, of course, had a needle in its stomach. I agreed to go with them, but John would not have me go along so passively. He went so far as to rip up the court warren but his irrational actions had no effect. I knew it was useless to fight so I bid farewell to my family I am sitting here in this dark prison cell, awaiting my fate.
6: March 7, 1692 | I still cannot believe I have been arrested. It is almost like a dream or, rather, a nightmare. I have been thinking a great deal on the events that took place the night I left. One thing that John said is still ringing in my ears- “Spare me! You forget nothin’ and forgive nothin’. Learn charity, woman. I have gone tiptoe in this house all seven month since she is gone. I have not moved from there to there without I think to please you, and still an everlasting funeral marches round your heart. I cannot speak but I am doubted, every moment judged for lies, as though I come into a court when I come into this house!” (p. 28) His words hurt a little but they are also somewhat true. Ever since John confessed his sin of adultery to me, he has tried hard to please me. It's as if he is weighing every possible action he could take in his mind and deciding whether or not I would approve. He expects forgiveness, but what if there is none to give? Does he not realize on what level he has offended me? He might as well have said to my face that I cannot satisfy him. How can he have the audacity to take anger with me for my suspicions? Every time he passes that whore in church, he blushes fiercely. And I am to believe he has no feelings left for her. I am no fool! As for judging him, I have not done so. John's own guilty heart has judged him well enough. I am glad he confessed to me but ever since he has, there is a small piece of sadness in my heart. His description of a funeral is accurate. I loved John and he broke my heart. What else am I supposed to feel but sadness? A woman does not feel pleasant and charming all the time. I have the right to express all the many emotions I feel. If only I could make him see this without him becoming angry so quickly!
7: Reflective writing is a practice in which the writer describes a real or imagined, event, thought, memory, or observation in either essay or poetic form, adding a personal reflection on the meaning or feeling of the situation.
8: March 8, 1692 | I have been in this cell for a few days. I am frightened by my situation. The people surrounding me seem to believe this charade of witchcraft and little girls’ games. I fear there is little hope of a fair trial. But thank God I am now pregnant! I shall at least live a little longer, perhaps long enough to see this mess sorted through. But it still seems that it is now of the up most importance that John shares the secret that Abigail told him. I see no other way out of this mess that will not cost someone's life. I have decided to write John a letter to try and persuade him to reveal the information. It is very likely that I will never have a chance to send this to him. But it does my heart good to write it down. Dear John, The actions of Abigail and her following of young girls are getting out of hand. Their bold lies are being eagerly eaten up by the townspeople like sweet bread. You have a great amount of evidence against them! I beseech you, go to Salem and tell them it is all a fraud. Yes, the girl is revered as a saint now, but you are a respectful man! You have a good reputation and friends who would stand behind you. Yet, you falter to reveal the information that could save lives. I know you still some feelings for Abigail. Why else would you not go now but to avoid hurting her? You see, I have cause for my suspicions. But your own heart will be your judge. I just ask you to do the right thing. Would you have so many innocent women condemned to death because of that whore? I pray that God will show you how to act. If you do decide to do the right thing, be cunning. Abigail will not fall from power easily.
9: You must be cautious in how you handle the situation. Be wise in your decision. I do not want to see you condemned. Think of the children and the unborn baby I carry. Please be careful! Sincerely, Elizabeth | Persuasive writing intends to convince the reader of a stated opinion or belief
10: Today I have done a most horrible thing. I have possibly caused my own husband's demise! I could have ended this horrible game of witchcraft had I known what was going on. I was called into court today. I entered the room looking for my husband until Mr. Danforth instructed me I was not to look at anyone but him. I reluctantly agreed. “We are given to understand that at one time you dismissed your servant, Abigail Williams,” (p.50) Mr. Danforth asked. I confirmed this. “For what cause did you dismiss her?” (p.50) he asked. My heart sank. Should I risk ruining my husband to end this game of death and witchcraft? Would my honesty have any effect? “She dissatisfied me. And my husband.” (p.50) I answered. Mr. Danforth wanted specifics. I scrambled for a satisfactory answer that would now reveal my husband's crime. “I came to think he fancied her. And so one night I lost my wits, I think, and put her out on the highroad.” (p.50) I finally answered. But Mr. Danforth was not satisfied; he wanted to know if John had ever turned from me. I stalled as much as I could. “Answer my question! Is your husband a lecher?” (p.50) exclaimed Mr. Danforth. I was trapped in a corner from which I saw no safe route of escape. I decided to lie, may God forgive me. “No sir.” (p.50) I answered. Immediately, shouts erupted from all corners of the room. “Elizabeth, tell the truth!” (p.50) John shouted. “She has spoken. Remove her!” (p.50) cried Mr. Danforth. I found myself being lead forcefully from the room. “Elizabeth, I have confessed it!” (p.50) John shouted. “Oh God!” (p.50) I cried. The room swam before my eyes. What have I done? By trying to protect my husband, I have surely condemned him! | March 9, 1692
11: Narrative writing tells a story or part of a story and includes dialogue.
12: I have lost count of the days | Today, I was once again called out of the prison. I was brought before Mr. Danforth, Mr. Hale and Mr. Parris. “Goody proctor, your husband is marked to hang this morning,” (p.57) Mr. Hale said. I confirmed, with a heavy heart, that I was aware of this. Mr. Hale then told me that he would like to try and save my husband's life. He asked me to plead with John to try and get him to confess. I hesitated at this. But I agreed in the end but made no promise as to the result. I almost didn't recognize John when they brought him in. He looked dirty and tired but I am sure that I looked no better than he. We were soon left alone. “The child?” (p.58) John asked. “It grows,” (p.58) I replied. He asked of the children and then of Giles. I informed him that Giles was pressed to death. I could tell that the news only added to his agony. “I have been thinking I would confess to them, Elizabeth. What say you? If I gave them that?” (p. 59) John asked. I assured him that I would not judge him on whatever decision he made but I wanted him living. “My honesty is broke, Elizabeth; I am no good man. Northing's spoiled by giving then this lie that were not rotten long before,” (p.59) John said. “And yet you've not confessed till now. That speak goodness in you,” (p.59) I assured him. He then said that he would have my forgiveness. Fighting back tears, I told him that I could not forgive him until he had forgiven himself for it is his soul. I also told him that his sin is partially my fault and that he takes my sins upon his. We were then interrupted by Mr. Hawthorne.
13: “What say you, Proctor? The sun is soon up,” (p.60) said Mr. Hawthorne. “I want my life,” (p.60) John replied. Mr. Hawthorne left to fetch the others. John was distressed at his decision. Mr. Danforth soon entered and reported that John's confession must be written and put upon the church. The confession soon began. John admitted to seeing the Devil and doing his work. But he would not speak of anyone with the Devil. Mr. Danforth was dissatisfied with this but forgot it. “Come, man, sign it,” (p.61) said Mr. Danforth, referring to John's testimony. John hesitated and then did. Everyone seemed relieved but that did not last long. John snatched up the paper and refused to let Mr. Danforth have it. John fell into a fit of rage. Mr. Danforth questioned John's denial to the court. “Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I cannot have anther in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!” (p.62) John shouted. My heart broke that moment. I rushed to him and we met in one last passionate kiss. They then lead him away to be hung. “Woman, plead with him!” (p.63) Hale cried out. “He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!” (p.63) I replied. I believe John did what he thought was right. I just pray now that I have the strength to go on without him. I also pray that this treacherous game of witchcraft will soon come to a close after his death.
14: Narrative writing tells a story or part of a story and includes dialogue.
15: I feel as this story is coming to an end. So I will take this journal and wrap it in an old quilt. Then I will place it in the bottom of a trunk in hopes that this story will be found by someone years from now. And that person will prevent something like this from ever happening again.