“A Look At the Colonial World Through the Eyes of….”
I am a criminal. The offender of a treacherous crime. I swear I’ll never do it again though. Just one little mistake, that’s all I made. I was hungry and I didn’t know what to do! My husband spends his nights away at the tavern while me and the children sit at home and starve! We just wait in our tiny house and hope that someone will notice our flat stomachs and help. We’re in the middling class but that doesn’t mean that we don’t struggle sometimes. I miss my children and I miss my small home. I sit in the jail cell and I wonder if the jury will have any mercy.
I’m Allesandra Caller, I come from a wealthy family back in England and they sent me across the sea in hopes of me starting a new life and finding love. I did! I found it and I started one, but then it was all just ruined because of my urge to grab that food off the table. This jail cell, it’s awful! I can hear the cries of other inmates next to me, and the small droplets of water hitting the stone cold floor as they leak from the ceiling. The smell is just horrid. The mix of mold and rust from that leak and the smell of 3 or 4 people in here who haven’t bathed in who knows how long. This place is lonely. I long for my life back as I sit on this cold floor and watch as my dress slowly collects dust. I wonder and worry what my life will become. That is up to the judge and jury of course. I wonder what they think of me. If I am to be executed, will my husband even care? Or will he just find a new wife to ignore? Will he make of effort for our children? Or just get a nanny while he’s at the tavern? I worry not only for what my life holds but for my children’s too. What will happen when I’m gone? What will happen when I’m no longer here to raise them and advise them as they become young adults? Who will help them when it’s time for them to marry and to work and bear children? Who will be there? Not me I’m sure. I’m ashamed of myself and I can’t stand to look in the mirror. To see what I turned into sickens me. To see that a good young girl like myself has turned into a rotten criminal! What was I thinking? There was no way I possibly could have gotten away with it, and a part of me knew that but yet, I still did it.
I look around at the other criminals in here. One old slave woman who was accused of poisoning her masters food after they found him lying dead on the floor. The other, a petty thief who has gone around scamming people to give him money. The last is a peculiar old witch. She was accused after her neighbor was found muttering weird words and having sudden contortions. She’s sure to be hanged. I look at her in her ratted up dress and all the grime under her fingernails and the knots in her hair and I wonder how long she’s been in here. How long has she been kept in this horrid cell. Maybe I should ask her. I know there’s a strict rule of no speaking but I don’t see any guards around. “How long have you been here?” I say just loud enough so she can hear. She turns in her cell and looks me right in the eye.
“Why does it matter to you?” She snaps with a glint of cruelty in her eyes.
“Sorry. Just trying to make conversation,” I reply. I pick up that she’s not in the mood to talk so I shift around a face my back to the bars.
“I didn’t do it,” I hear. I turn back towards the old witch and notice that the glint of cruelty in her eyes has been replaced. Replaced with something that looks like fright. Maybe sorrow. Possibly guilt. “I can’t control what my neighbor says and does. The juries insane if they think I can.”
“You’ve already had your trial?” I ask quietly.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She says as that cruelty creeps back into her expression.
“Then why are you still here?” I ask but I’m not sure I really want to know.
“I’ve been waiting for my execution. It should take place any minute.” She says as tears come into her eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I respond with sorrow. From the corner of my eye I see the jailer walking towards us, keys in hand. He must be here to take her. Quickly I make a shushing movement with my hand and hope that the old witch catches on.
“Silence inmates.” The guard yells making me nearly jump out of my dress. He goes through his keys and sticks one in her cell slot. He grabs her by the arm and leads her out the cell. He mutters something evil to her but I can’t quite make out what he said. The old witch looks at me with tears in her eyes and I decide to give her a smile and blow a kiss with my hand just so she can have a little happiness in the last bit of her life. She returns my smile but is then yanked around the corner and that is that last I see of her. The last I’ll ever see.
I move to wall so I can just rest my head on it. I don’t notice I’m crying until a tear falls onto my hand making me shiver. I think of my trial date and wonder when it will be. To my surprise I see the same jailer walking down the hall but instead of walking to the witched old cell, he stops at mine. “Miss Caller come with me.”
“Ms. Caller,” I correct him.
“No talking,” he snaps. He leads me out the hall and I’m with the cool breeze of autumn. He leads me to the courthouse and I realize that we were on our way to my trial.
We enter the courthouse and I immediately spot my children. Front row. I don’t see my husband though. Oh there he is. Flirting with some young girl. My eyes burn a hole through him with jealousy and he suddenly turns around and flashes me a look of sorrow. It wasn’t sincere sorrow though. It never is. I go and take my seat and doze off as the trial takes place. “I sentence you to a 20 dollar fine. Can you accept and pay this punishment?” I think to myself and cry a little. I can afford that but it means no food for my children for at least 4 or five days. I shake and shudder and finally lift my head to answer.
“No” I whisper quietly.
“Very well then 20 lashes on the back.” The judge announces which shakes the room. I freeze in my chair and suddenly can’t breathe. Then it all goes black.