“We have to do something about this character.”

“I know, but what can we do? He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I don’t care!” the governor’s voice suddenly rose to a shout in the courtroom, deserted save for three of the usual judges of the witch trials. No trial today. Rays of dusty sunlight were filtering through the room, though they were already fading as the golden orb dipped low on the horizon. “He’s obviously a witch or working for the Devil! Look at his queer habits!”

“Sir? What habits?”

“You blind fool! He hasn’t found a place to live. He sleeps in the streets, washes in the river, and will only eat bread. His clothes are ragged, and his hair is long, wild, and unacceptable. He is constantly speaking to someone. From there, it should be obvious to you!”

“Sir, if I may protest,” replied Reverend Hale, having just entered the courtroom. While Hale had seemingly supported the trial for some time, now, his support of them was wavering, and perhaps even on the verge of snapping all together. “I have watched this man for the few days he has been here. He prays constantly and teachers of the people out of the Gospels. He is no black saint, more likely a holy man than anything else.”

“Holy only to the Devil himself!” the governor roared. “No man of God would present himself so vilely! Sure, he may ‘teach’ from the Gospels now, but it is not the Lord God he prays to, but to his own black God, the Devil! His words will twist the minds of all the people of the village. He must be stopped!”

“Sir, I must disagree,” Hale responded calmly, walking past the bar and towards the judges’ table. “I think you are looking too much into his habits, which though queer are harmless, and not enough into his words, which are deep, meaningful, and very much giving glory to the Lord.”

“Nonsense. Just get out of here, Hale! This is my job, and I will do it with my judgment, not your foolish lack thereof. Goodbye.”

Hale paused for a moment, seemingly on the verge of protest, then sighed and turned away, walking between the rows of seats until he exited the courtroom, letting the doors slam shut loudly. After Hale left, the governor continued, “So, are we in agreement that the man is a threat?”

The two other judges made slight sounds of agreement, which was all the governor needed to plow onward, “Then, it is settled: something must be done about this man. But what?”

One of the others, a short, portly man replied, “Sir, why not just ask the girls if they know of any witchcraft committed by this man... what did you say his name was?”

“Joshua Thompson.”

And Joshua watched in the failing light. Even as he watched the men discuss his fate, the sun sunk down out of sight, bringing the stars to their silvery life, with the loud shimmering they bestowed upon the earth. Joshua stood beside a side window to the courtroom, watching intently. Even as he watched, the governor continued, “Perfect. They’re sure to have heard of something. The man is obviously in some form of pact with the Devil.”

“It’s quite obvious, sir,” agreed an older, thinner man, with wisps of gray hair atop his head, and smoky gray eyes. “Don’t see anyone it could be doubted. Just look at the manner of him: dirty, long-haired ruffian, to say the least. And where did he even come from?”

“Some little backwater town,” the governor answered, scratching his chin as he tried to remember. “I believe it was North Rethtown... or something to that effect. Some little village that no one has ever heard of. The perfect spot to breed witches, it would seem – secluded, unknown, and in the dark midst of some of the stranger forests.”

“Yes,” the portly man nodded, finally looking to be more convinced. “That makes perfect sense. He probably went to the Devil in the woods, and there made his pact. We will have to ask the girls before daybreak tomorrow.”

And Joshua watched his fate be decided. Yet he turned away, sitting by the wall, sure to do nothing to stop it as he pulled the blanket over himself. This would be another option of free will. Joshua would not struggle. He would let his fate hang in the hands of a young girl, hoping for her morals to prevail.

As the moon shone, bitter and white up in the sky, Joshua closed his eyes, trying to read himself for sleep, despite the simple fascination of the conversation within and the stars without. Each star glittering like a little diamond up amongst the Heavens, all to the glorious work of God, while the hideous work of men twisted within, made more sickened by the misguided morals placed therein.

Just then, Joshua caught the final phrase, “Alright, it’s settled. Tomorrow, we will ask the girls if they know of this newcomer, Joshua Thomas, as being in with the Devil. Then we’ll see who this old bandit is working for, and what goal he’s trying for by his ‘teaching’. Salem will be cleansed of this plague of witches, until the very last one is gone.”

And as Joshua felt himself be dangled on a string in the hands of Abigail Williams, he let himself slip towards the comfort of sleep as he heard the movement of chairs inside, and the more casual conversation of the men as they left the building, their footsteps loud and heavy on the floor.

Finally, the doors to the courtroom slammed shut, but the sound was lost on Joshua, who had finally given way into the soft blanket of dreams, with one last whispered word, “Amen.”