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deadjosey:

It’s 1692. Our little town of Salem has been turned upside down. My neighbor Sarah was about to be hung. She had been accused of being a witch. Poor girl. She did nothing wrong, really. Her only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stood away from the crowd of people who screamed and encouraged the coming of her death. Big mistake for them, I’d say. They’ll understand when they get accused as well. Reverand Parris met my unwavering stare. He had made so many mistakes, all of them because he chose to listen to Abigail’s stories. His eyes were clouded over and he seemed to be in a trance.

deadjosey:

My daughter loves collecting dolls. She doesn’t really enjoy playing with them, but she could look at them, admire them and talk to them for days. I arranged them in a room we didn’t use anymore, and she spends at least half of her day there, with them. I didn’t have a problem with that, the only thing that bothered me was that she god bored very easily and she was always asking me for a new doll. She always told me to get her something special, different from the others.

deadjosey:

I have always felt that the ocean held mystery….dark and foreboding. I inherited a small cottage on the Atlantic shore from my uncle and would spend weekends there to get away from the daily grind. Although I would enter the waves and laugh with friends, I always felt myself hold back a little, unsure of the dark waters around me. It was not the sea life that I feared, it was the realization that the ocean was a vast graveyard of lost souls….countless shipwrecks through the centuries, plane crashes and the drowning of nameless others.

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