Diary of a Salem Villager Sample Journal

August 27^th, 1692

I ran into John Proctor today and was happy to see him despite the fact I hadn’t seen in town in months. I asked him about his wife, Elizabeth, whose presence has been missing in church. Although many of us aren’t fans of Reverend Parris’ fire and brimstone sermons, people have been whispering that the reason Goody Proctor has not attended church is because she caught her husband together with Abigail. Although God advises us against casting the first rock against rumors and accusations, I feel the rumors are well founded in this case. A lot of the adults in our village don’t really know the teenagers in our village. During daylight, they see them attending to their chores, they see them carrying their bibles and know that all of them know their psalms and gospels. Some of the youth are not at all who they appear to be. Adults don’t see this, however, because they rarely congregate with those younger than themselves. We see and hear things that elude them because they’re busy with their adult affairs. John Proctor said he was on his way to Reverend Parris’ “home.” He heard Betty Parris, the reverend’s 10-year-old daughter, to be mysteriously ill, along with the Putnam’s daughter.  I know Abigail is now living with her uncle, Reverend Paris. I wonder if John Proctor is there to see Abigail? I wonder if the rumors about the two of them were true, after all. I think John Proctor is a good man. He might not be a perfect Puritan, but then again, who amongst us is?

Another thing that’s made today noteworthy is the talk of witchcraft festering in Salem. I’ve always felt there were two sides to this town. There’s the side that exists during day time. The side that shows people working and trying hard to live harmoniously. It’s the side that reflects how much God’s presence radiates into our lives, just like the sun. But it’s not all God and light in Salem. Life is tough here. Most people only care about themselves and how much land they acquire. There are good people here, though, like the Proctors and the Nurses, but I sometimes feel they are the exception rather than the norm. People gossip about each other behind backs and in the shadows. I feel, secretly, they don’t really love their neighbors much the way God would want us to; in fact, I believe some take a perverse pleasure in seeing their neighbors succumb to misfortune. So long as misery doesn’t touch them, personally, and so long as they’re reputation and status are respectable compared to others, they go on about their day praying to God and showing up to church. There are two faces to every villager here, just like there’s two sides to this town. Darkness falls, this town is no less holy than the forest outside our gates. Come darkness, I’d wager some of our neighbors are no better than the heathen savages who live in the forest. At least they make no secret about who they are and what they are about. That’s not true of us, at all. We have two faces. We sin as much as we pray. Even the reverend. His daughter and Abigail, give me a break.

I heard from Sam Thorne, who once liked Betty, that he has seen Abigail and some of the other girls in town go out the village and into the forest at nights. He said he’s seen Tituba with them. We all know Tituba has knowledge about the supernatural, Voodoo they call it. I wonder if something happened in the woods? I wonder if perhaps the rumors of witchery are true?