Goody Charity Moss

The End Justifies the Means

Since she was suspected of witchcraft, it was time to put Charity Moss into the barrell.

The hill in Denonville outside of Plymouth was steep and rocky. Residents called it Demonville Hill for its devilish incline.

The test was simple. Put Charity in the barrell, roll the barrell down the hill.

Stop the rolling at the foot of the hill just before it crashed into the bay.

If it did crash into the bay, well, that would tell you something as well, wouldn't it now.

Nobody was about to jump in.

Both ends of the barrel were left open. Charity would have to make choices..protect her head or her legs. She was going to need her hands.

They pushed the barrel down Demon Hill.

From the outside it looked frightening as the barrell picked up speed and ricocheted from boulder to boulder.

The view  from inside was much worse.

Chastity could feel the battering as her downhill journey bruised and sliced into her body, broke her nose and opened her scalp. She heard her ankle snap.

Still she rermained purposeful,,,reaching, reaching, reaching even as her fingers fractured.

The pain was one thing. The speed was another, both terrifying.

In a desperate act of survival. She pulled herself totally within the confines of the barrell.

Eventually, the barell came to a crashing halt.

Goody Moss was unconscious within.

The magistrates removed Goody from the barrell and began the counting process.

Any more than three stones gathered on the way down Demon Hill would prove her innocence.

The counting process didn't take long as the barell was empty.

Judgenent was made.

Goody was thrown broken and unconscious and weighed down by boulders into the bay where she disappeared immediately from view, never to be seen again.

One less witch, the righteous congratulated themselves.

Goody had clearly failed the test.

A rolling Moss had gathered no stones.