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The last chapter of the novel 'The Crucible'.

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Abigail's Flight From Salem The Last Chapter of the novel 'The Crucible' 'Here. Now. It's all clear,' whispered Abigail coarsely, choking back a cough. Mercy squeezed through the small gap in the fence to join Abigail the other side. Together, grasping each other's hands for comfort, they darted through the trees, into the forest that served as a barrier between the sea and Salem. They ran along a faint path of trampled grass, till they arrived at a clearing, the same clearing where they and the others had danced six months ago. They stopped at the edge, panting for breath, with the moonlight streaming in through the gap in the trees illuminating the way ahead. They gazed around in silence, till Mercy sniggered. 'I was just rememb'rin' the time we danced, and Parris,' she paused, smiling in amusement, 'and Parris, he saw me dancin' naked!' 'Aye, and dear Betty,' said Abby, 'she were too young, we should never have let her come.' 'That were wierdish, though. She lay on her bed, frozen, whimp'ring for her Mama. Aye, that were wierdish.' 'Mary meant to tell-I know it. I remember her words even now, 'Witchery's a hangin' error', 'it's a sin to conjure',' Abby imitated, with a likeness that caused Mercy to shiver with remembrance as it all came back to her head. ...read more.


They walked for an hour, hardly talking. Their shoes pounded on the dirt track road, with an urgency that urged them to walk faster. They reached a turning to a farm, and turned down. 'I'm goin' to talk to the farmer,' said Abby, taking control. 'Stay a few metres back, but still in view.' Abby strided on up to the door and beat her fist on it, before Mercy could argue. 'Good Sir, we have been travellin' for over a week now, and our bodies are weak. We had to leave our small village as Mercy, this girl here, she was found guilty of traffickin' with spirits.' Abby's voice deliberately started to crackle, as if attempting to hold in her tears but not very successfully. 'She was so weak; I felt I couldn't leave her to run away by herself, if she didn't, she would have had to face the rope, and I care for her, I do.' 'Aye,' the farmer said, nodding. 'And so you gave all up for this sinner here.' 'Aye, 'tis right good Sir. My name will be soiled in these parts, but Mercy would never have made it to Boston by herself. I felt it my duty as a friend.' ...read more.


It was Abby's imagination that had lied them through, it was Abby's determination that would get her to Boston, it was Abby who could look after herself, not Mercy. She could never give in to Abby, so she turned dejectedly back down the long straight road and started to walk the long way back to Salem. She dragged her feet on the ground, wishing she hadn't said anything. She was tempted to run after her, but it was too far, and that was exactly what Abby wanted. Abby, meanwhile, was far in the distance. She sat down on a boulder by the side of the road to rest her aching feet. She closed her eyes and thought of Boston. She imagined the skyline view, the way it had always been described. A big town, busy with people, no one would know her name, or what she had done. She was about to start a new life. She could smell all the market fish, and could hear the buzz of noise from the inhabitants. The place was alive with colour, she had left Salem, and its old wooden buildings, her mud covered clothes, faded in time. Her life seemed awash of brown and grey, but now as she thought ahead, she dreamt of the exciting new start, about to begin. ...read more.

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