The parturition was held in a jail cell to a woman bereft of life. The woman of persistent vitality was dead by opinion of the court for all of three years; cadaverous by opinion of the family of her late husband for seven. Only after rebound to a husband was the woman returned to alive, at the time of which she held a berth due to dowry.

Of late, by will of the court, the woman received one-hundred-and-fifty pounds for her endured wronging, one for every ten received to the house who warranted her meritorious to none of her means, none of her belongings.

The town follows but one rule upon the present times; love thy neighbor. That is what they have hung within the chapel, most sincerely, yet it seems amiss that the rule might be followed by all here. Upon my after-noon march, I came across a scene of neighborly exchange in the coarsest hour.

I happened to encounter a man of beef churning the earth. He spoke without keeping over his speech.  

“Take this here for me! I shall take off for a trice.” I tensed with the moment as I had believed he had called upon me, and I should not have been able to wield his farming by my own hand. He had already begun his caper from the field as I regarded a boy approach. He advanced upon the instrument of toil. The boy reared his head and looked about. Worried he may notice my figure and bequest the task upon myself, just as the man before him had done, I tucked behind a feathery bush. Through the branches of my disguise, I witnessed the boy turn upon the contrivance before him and resumed the work on the soil. 

The tracks of the vacant man had been straight as an arrow, deep and powerful. The tracks of the boy were a meandering affair, taking up much room while leaving much to be righted. The deep mounding of the man’s churning was many times distinguished from the boy’s tossing about. Soil seemed to scatter from his underfoot, even as a sheen formed upon the boys’ arms.

Rhythmic thumping against earth echoed across the road to one side. A man with a well-covered and fearful countenance descended from the steed. At the neck of the fields he stood, coat swaying almost with the force to shake the winds. Each step seemed heavy, like the stride of a villain adorned in heavy lead chains, dragging his mane of captivity across the plains. 

No words were spoken between the two. The person of total darkness had nearly made way past the boy whence he spoke; “I think you have made complete of your time here. It is supper time. You should now return to your abode.”

The boy turned away, then faced back. Weak with youth, he called out to the parting man. “Sir, Benjamin made off toward the barn, methinks.”

The man turned to the boy, the winds to his back bringing only the fine hems of his coat alight. A gaze was shared between them, holding the world in silence for every second that makes one moment. The man let out a cold burst of air. “Lad, go home. Your family waits for you.”

The boy looked away from the man and to the ground at his side. The man turned his back to the boy and tread into the frigid wind. 

The man were a good ways away before I regarded the boy take his leave. He turned out of the fields and made his way. Upon reaching the marked end of the fields, the boy stood for a moment and wiped his face with his arm. Had it been sweat or tears, I did not see, for the sharp winds had begun assault on all sides, and my own eyes had become quite foggy from the harsh blowing.

Before long, the boy had made off, and I were left with my own self. I made out of the brush and discovered that I had been adorned in wild sticks ! I gratefully recounted that I had not chosen to dress in the undershirt of wool from the soft wool plants, and had instead gone with my scratchy, old blouse, for the current state of my shirt gave me great excuse for wearing that most favored of my undergarments. I didn’t like the colour of my outer coat, either. Of recent, I had grown to favor yellow and blue, but I had my past garments of what was now less-favorable colouration, and it were a blessing to be rid of the sanctity of even one of those black coats. It were a moment, a phase whence I thought there were no greater colour than black, but that moment has passed. For I am a man of the New World, and I have seen the colours of the great India. I must dress it.

That were all that were in Salem town, though. This had not been like the other colonies of the New World I had seen. This were loud with ruckus at the market, yet quiet with nothing being said. It were like nothing had ever happened here. I liked not one bit of the dull place and took my leave as quickly as possible. Only this one incident had the impact to stay with me. Every time I think of it, I do feel a bit emptied of pleasure. There I have reached my conclusion; there is the New World, and there is the town of Salem.