Sample Writing: Imaginative
‘In times of conflict ordinary people can act in extraordinary ways.’
This sample is an internal monologue from the perspective of one of the young girls in Salem.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. In part I was afraid, but mostly I thought that it was wrong. But Abigail can be really persuasive. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just sport is all,’ she says. ‘Trust me. No one will wise up to it, she says. ‘It’ll be fun,’ she says. And, foolishly, I believed her. I wholly believed in what Abigail told me. That night, when we danced under the cover of the trees and Tituba chanted her Barbados songs, I thought that it was fun. When I cast a spell to make William Smith love me, I knew that I wan’t really witchin’ him – I was only playing is all. And when Abigail drank the blood – a charm to kill Goody Proctor – I only thought it to be some kind of strange sport. ‘It’s just sport is all.’ We thought that we was having fun. But how fast our fun turned sour. And once our fun had gone bad we had to fix it for ourselves. We only thought about doing the right thing by us, didn’t worry none about the others. I don’t understand how we allowed ourselves to become so corrupt. Or why they did not see us for our fraud. I may not fully understand how we came to ruin everything – but we did...
There was Tituba. She was shaking. As she cowered down on her knees her hands trembled like she had caught some kind of fever. Tears poured down from her wild eyes. And there was Reverend Hale. He stood over her asking her questions. All that Tituba could answer was, ‘I love God with all by bein’’, and, ‘Bless him – bless God.’ Then out of the hysterical woman’s mouth came the name ‘Sarah Good.’ That was the moment. That was the beginning to all this deceit – all this evil. Those two words were about to destroy the people of Salem. Only we didn’t know it. We naively thought that we had saved ourselves in that flood of names. Goody Good, Goody Howe, Goody Sibber, Goody Hawkins, Goody Osborne. We kept on naming innocent names. We did it because when panic knocks you off your feet and fear tries to force you to stay down, you will do anything to get back up again. When trouble comes your way all that you want to do is stand up and walk away. And that’s just what we did. We walked away from the accusations of witchcraft, but only pushing others under suspicion. We couldn’t see that our lies were about to ruin Salem, only I should have seen it Tituba’s face. As we blackened the names of so many pure women, Tituba’s face began to lighten. Tears that had once drowned her expression were now seeming to glisten. A smile had set on the spared woman’s face. It was the smile of the lamb that had just escaped the slaughter. It was a smile that we all shared. Aye, we rejoiced because we had saved ourselves from death. But little did we know that there would be a fate much worse awaiting us. I remembered hearing after Giles Corey’s death that someone had thought him admirable for upholding his words and asking for ‘more weight’. We too had asked for ‘more weight’ – only there was nothing honourable about our request. With every innocent name that we called upon, we could carry the weight of a neighbour’s death on our shoulders. Only, at that moment, we couldn’t feel the weight. We did understand the moment we was creating. We couldn’t see that the very words that had saved us would also destroy us.
*
As I gazed up at Goody Nurse, I realised just what I had done, what I had become. I stood amongst the crowd; joined them as they watched on. I found myself staring up at Salem’s most godly woman. The most pure woman to have ever graced Salem was standing on the gallows with a noose hanging by her side. And all that any of us could do was watch. There was something frightfully disturbing about the scene before my eyes. And as the rope was brought up over her head and left to rest around her fragile neck, I remembered the question, ‘Do you not know that God damns all liars?’ Rebecca Nurse was about to hand from her neck and I was responsible. Our testimonies – the ones so far removed from the truth – they was killin’ the people of Salem. I was now beginning to see the weightiness of our ruinous ways. I could feel the weight of the twelve dead resting on my conscience. Twelve dead and three more to soon join them. I could now feel what Giles felt – the life was being forced from me under the pressure of too much weight. We had allowed for our own obsession – our greed – to condemn the lives of innocent others. Aye, we had saved ourselves – our mortal selves. But of what good was it when we had first fed our soul to the Devil? As I looked up at Goody Nurse, I was not only looking towards the death of an innocent woman, but the destruction of Salem’s good spirit. A darkness was coming over Salem. A darkness blacker than any black magic that we could have ever envisioned. We had destroyed Salem with our mendacity. Our actions had become poison. Our self lust had turned neighbours against neighbours. We had removed God’s love and loved contempt in its place. I was now beginning to understand the truth in what an enlightened man had said of our actions - that through our lies we were ‘pulling Heaven down and raising up a whore.’ And what frightened me the most was that there would be no soothing lullaby to awaken us from this nightmare. A troubled feeling swelled within me. We were to blame for this torment. I was responsible for this pain. I had let myself become the flame under the crucible of Salem. And as Rebecca Nurse fell and the noose tightened around her neck I realised that she – the one accused of being a witch – was not damned. Nay, Goody Nurse was not the damned – I was.
This sample is an internal monologue from the perspective of one of the young girls in Salem.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. In part I was afraid, but mostly I thought that it was wrong. But Abigail can be really persuasive. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just sport is all,’ she says. ‘Trust me. No one will wise up to it, she says. ‘It’ll be fun,’ she says. And, foolishly, I believed her. I wholly believed in what Abigail told me. That night, when we danced under the cover of the trees and Tituba chanted her Barbados songs, I thought that it was fun. When I cast a spell to make William Smith love me, I knew that I wan’t really witchin’ him – I was only playing is all. And when Abigail drank the blood – a charm to kill Goody Proctor – I only thought it to be some kind of strange sport. ‘It’s just sport is all.’ We thought that we was having fun. But how fast our fun turned sour. And once our fun had gone bad we had to fix it for ourselves. We only thought about doing the right thing by us, didn’t worry none about the others. I don’t understand how we allowed ourselves to become so corrupt. Or why they did not see us for our fraud. I may not fully understand how we came to ruin everything – but we did...
There was Tituba. She was shaking. As she cowered down on her knees her hands trembled like she had caught some kind of fever. Tears poured down from her wild eyes. And there was Reverend Hale. He stood over her asking her questions. All that Tituba could answer was, ‘I love God with all by bein’’, and, ‘Bless him – bless God.’ Then out of the hysterical woman’s mouth came the name ‘Sarah Good.’ That was the moment. That was the beginning to all this deceit – all this evil. Those two words were about to destroy the people of Salem. Only we didn’t know it. We naively thought that we had saved ourselves in that flood of names. Goody Good, Goody Howe, Goody Sibber, Goody Hawkins, Goody Osborne. We kept on naming innocent names. We did it because when panic knocks you off your feet and fear tries to force you to stay down, you will do anything to get back up again. When trouble comes your way all that you want to do is stand up and walk away. And that’s just what we did. We walked away from the accusations of witchcraft, but only pushing others under suspicion. We couldn’t see that our lies were about to ruin Salem, only I should have seen it Tituba’s face. As we blackened the names of so many pure women, Tituba’s face began to lighten. Tears that had once drowned her expression were now seeming to glisten. A smile had set on the spared woman’s face. It was the smile of the lamb that had just escaped the slaughter. It was a smile that we all shared. Aye, we rejoiced because we had saved ourselves from death. But little did we know that there would be a fate much worse awaiting us. I remembered hearing after Giles Corey’s death that someone had thought him admirable for upholding his words and asking for ‘more weight’. We too had asked for ‘more weight’ – only there was nothing honourable about our request. With every innocent name that we called upon, we could carry the weight of a neighbour’s death on our shoulders. Only, at that moment, we couldn’t feel the weight. We did understand the moment we was creating. We couldn’t see that the very words that had saved us would also destroy us.
*
As I gazed up at Goody Nurse, I realised just what I had done, what I had become. I stood amongst the crowd; joined them as they watched on. I found myself staring up at Salem’s most godly woman. The most pure woman to have ever graced Salem was standing on the gallows with a noose hanging by her side. And all that any of us could do was watch. There was something frightfully disturbing about the scene before my eyes. And as the rope was brought up over her head and left to rest around her fragile neck, I remembered the question, ‘Do you not know that God damns all liars?’ Rebecca Nurse was about to hand from her neck and I was responsible. Our testimonies – the ones so far removed from the truth – they was killin’ the people of Salem. I was now beginning to see the weightiness of our ruinous ways. I could feel the weight of the twelve dead resting on my conscience. Twelve dead and three more to soon join them. I could now feel what Giles felt – the life was being forced from me under the pressure of too much weight. We had allowed for our own obsession – our greed – to condemn the lives of innocent others. Aye, we had saved ourselves – our mortal selves. But of what good was it when we had first fed our soul to the Devil? As I looked up at Goody Nurse, I was not only looking towards the death of an innocent woman, but the destruction of Salem’s good spirit. A darkness was coming over Salem. A darkness blacker than any black magic that we could have ever envisioned. We had destroyed Salem with our mendacity. Our actions had become poison. Our self lust had turned neighbours against neighbours. We had removed God’s love and loved contempt in its place. I was now beginning to understand the truth in what an enlightened man had said of our actions - that through our lies we were ‘pulling Heaven down and raising up a whore.’ And what frightened me the most was that there would be no soothing lullaby to awaken us from this nightmare. A troubled feeling swelled within me. We were to blame for this torment. I was responsible for this pain. I had let myself become the flame under the crucible of Salem. And as Rebecca Nurse fell and the noose tightened around her neck I realised that she – the one accused of being a witch – was not damned. Nay, Goody Nurse was not the damned – I was.