Page 34 of The Neighborhood Witch

The crowd’s whispers and murmurs filled the air. The gavel struck thrice more.

“Order. Order.”

The room fell silent.

A man at the table rose and proclaimed, “The court calls on William Anderson.”

A man in his mid-thirties stood up and marched to a chair set before the table, holding his hat.

“Do you, William Anderson, proclaim before God that you shall tell the truth and only the truth?”

“I shall,” he responded and sat down.

“Please recant for the court what you witnessed the accused of doing,” the judge commanded.

William shifted in his seat as he gathered the words needed. His eyes focused on Johanna’s horrified expression. “Your honor, I returned to the barn to get my pitchfork to help work in the fields. That’s where I found her. She was laying on top of my wife, Abigail, trying to—”

He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I found her trying to remove the clothes from Abigail and have her way with her.”

Gasps and rising murmurs broke out in the courtroom. The judge beat the gavel to regain control. “Order. Order,” his words flowed out to fight against the crowd noises. “There will be order in my courtroom.”

The room fell silent again.

“I must have disrupted her spell because Abigail looked at me and pleaded that Johanna bewitched her.” William leapt to his feet, pointing his hat at Johanna. His eyes blazoned with anger. “I knew she was a witch. She lives alone, unmarried. She is the witch who lives in the woods. She’ll bewitch all of your wives too. Maybe even your husbands as well.”

The crowd erupted in noise once again. The gavel knocked against the wood to silence them.

“Thank you, Mr. Anderson. You’re dismissed.”

He strode back into the crowd and sat down next to Abigail. Her gaze was still forward. Her bonnet shielded her eyes from Johanna’s terrified face. Tears streamed down her face.

“The court now calls on Abigail Anderson,” an elder’s voice commanded.

Abigail sat there for a moment and then stood. Her headremained low, unable to look at Johanna. She trudged toward the chair and addressed the town elders.

“Abigail Anderson, do you proclaim before God that you shall tell the truth and only the truth?”

“Tell them the truth, Abigail. Tell them,” Johanna blurted out.

“Witchcraft,” a voice yelled as the crowd erupted into noise once again.

“Order. Order,” the judge yelled.

Abigail raised her head. Her eyes reddened. Her lips pressed firmly together. Johanna saw the deluge of emotions on her face. Her eyes locked with Abigail’s. She wondered if Abigail wanted to tell the truth, or even if she did, she would lie as to not suffer the same fate.

“I do.” Abigail’s words were barely audible. She sat in the chair, lowering her gaze back to the floor.

“Please inform the court of what transpired that day,” an elder’s voice instructed.

Abigail sat in silence, her gaze unmoved from the spot on the floor.

“Please inform the court of what transpired that day,” the elder repeated.

Abigail remained silent.

“I won’t ask again,” the elder threatened.

Abigail raised her head and locked eyes with Johanna. A tear rolled down her face. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

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