Remember Me
By: openbook
I watched with heavy heart
As my mother prepares to die
Accused of a crime that she did not commit
But it doesn’t matter
They say she is guilty.
I want to run.
I want to hide.
I want to cry.
But I can not.
I watch as our friend, neighbors
All like family stone my mother.
Abigail Williams throws too,
She turns as a rock she threw hits my mother.
A sweet smile on her face,
This is her fault,
Her and Betty’s,
They were the ones who accused my mother.
A fire swells in me
I want her dead
I want her to burn
My sister beside me cries into my shoulder
She is only twelve.
My mother stands on the platform along with the other convicted.
Her hair askew
Her face dirty
Her dress is wrinkled.
“Those before you today”
The council man said
“Have been, accused, tried, and found guilty of witch craft.”
“ARE YOU SO SURE, DO YOU KNOW THAT YOU HANG INNOCENT WOMEN.”
Someone shouts
Me
He continues
Ignoring me
“Our Father, which art in heaven. . . .”
One woman’s voice rings loud and clear.
No witch could say those words
Hope wells in my heart perhaps my mother will be let go.
Not so
A short drop and a sudden stop.
I close my eyes and imagine better days.
My first memory is off my mother
She holding me as she gathers herbs from her garden
Fever racking my small body.
I remember the warmth that flooded through me as she
helped my sickness.
I remember the night my sister was born
How my mother almost passed
I held her hand through the night
Telling her to not give up
A tear slides down my cheek.
Another fall
Another crack
I open my eyes
My mother is on the stand
She looks at us tears stained her face
‘I love you’
She mouthed
Yes
That was the answer but my throat wouldn’t work
“REMEMBER ME”
The words ring load and clear
“REMEMBER ME”
I will always be here
“Remember Me”
She falls
She dies
Abigail turns back towards us
And evil gleam in her eye
I glare at her
I want her to die
I want her to burn
I want her to feel
The suffering that she will always cause me
I grip my brother’s hand
The only thing that keeps me from lunging
But she falls
Twitching and screaming in pain.
Everyone turns fear in their eye
Her father rushes to her side
“Who is doing this to you?”
“Them”
She raises a finger to you and our brother and your
sister, who is staring wide eyed
“Them Alec, Jane, and Sara Good.”
Shock replaces anger
“They are mad that you killed their mother
That you in accusing their mother as a witch
That that would make them bastards.”
“It is them who hurt me.”
It is not true
You with to say
But your throat is dry
And why would they believe you
Abigail Williams has convicted you
She has already accused one
Who was found guilty?
You know now that you will die
For no reason at all
Jane and her brother stood looking out the window at the humans in the street below. Their hands clasped like they had been so many years before.
“Remember me” their mother had said.
But they did not.