Tituba

“It’s my turn tonight,” Abigail whispered, “it’s my turn.”

Four young girls and a servant sat huddled together around a warm stove in the kitchen of Reverend Parris. Dinner was over and a stack of pans and dishes sat on the cupboard waiting to be washed. A hungry dog scratched at the door, begging for his scraps.

“We have to hurry,” Betty said and rushed to the window. “Father’s walks haven’t been as long in this weather.”

The servant retrieved a small mirror from a drawer and placed it on a shelf by two dripping candles. She then produced an egg from her apron. Carefully, she cracked it and let the white seep slowly into a water-filled glass. The glass was placed before the mirror.

“What do you want to know tonight, Miss Abigail? The profession of your future husband, maybe,” the servant suggested.

“No,” Abigail replied, “I want to know my own future.”

The little circle of ladies stared intently into the mirror at a spot directly behind the glass. The atmosphere became tense as the cold wind howled through the cracks in the log walls and the candles flickered, almost going out. They all suddenly turned their heads to the door. The dog had become frantic in his efforts to get in and caused the bolt-latch to rattle violently.

Shivering, Abigail turned her attention back to the mirror. The eleven-year-old girl grew pale at what she saw.

“It’s a coffin!” she screamed. “I see my own death!”

Abigail collapsed to the floor, convulsing in seizures.

On February 29th, 1692, an arrest warrant was issued for Tituba, the Arawak slave of Samuel Parris. Her confession to dealings with the devil began a mass hysteria in Salem Village that resulted in the imprisonment of 150 and the execution of twenty.