I swear I’m not a witch. Witches are daughters of the Maiden, a form of the triple goddess. I was a healer, daughter of the Mother. And psychics where daughters of the Crone. The people of Salem, however, did not know this distinction. Witch meant that all daughters of the triple goddess where classified, if identified, as witches. This also meant that I, being a healer, was currently being tied to a stake. This all happened because a patient of mine overheard me blessing herbs with prayer to the Mother when I thought they where unconscious. Of course, they ungratefully reported me once they had healed fully. Sad, I know. But us daughters of the triple goddess where taught no to fear death, for the goddess would greet us in the After and reincarnate us into a new form. This eased me slightly, but that did not mean I was overjoyed to be burnt at the stake. In fact, I was terrified. Tremmors shook my body as tears and snot mixed on my face.

“Please! Mercy! I am not a witch! I healed that man, you all saw!”

“Lies! The Lord and our prayers saved the man, you sickened him in the first place! An unholy creature such as yourself could never heal!” The town cheered. I was sickened myself. These where the people I had grow up with, healed their whole lives. Salem itself would never have succeeded as a new colony if not for the aid of the daughters. Now we where punished, along with other innocent women. But that clearly didn’t matter to them, for they lit my pyre. I screamed as the flames grew close, lighting my dress ablaze.

“Please! I swear I am not a witch!” Echoed my cries as I burned.

I know this isn’t in old English but I really didn’t want to translate the whole thing. Thanks for reading!!❤️