Morning skies lead down bright and alluring upon vast waves of rolling fields that blew in autumn winds, joyous birds sang their freedom from escaping the cold winds for the warmer south ahead of them as they flew into the heavens only to be lost in the horizons glow.
Nevertheless, darkness still cascaded the autumn trees to lay chillfully on a condemned dark hill as it pedestaled a wasting away tree where an unkindness of black ravens sat, where they were perched in hunger for a meal they hoped would come tumbling by as wounded prey; so, the wise birds sat with their jet heads tilted around with coal eyes aimed at the ground peacefully with nothing else to do with their lives except to wait until they got fed with flesh.
Where this ash tree stood in sadness, and in misery with coiling branches that twisted low to the ground like a necklace on a maiden's neck; it was being surrounded by a bittering cloud of mist around its dying trunk that was forming to be the tree's near reaching final breath.
Though, alone and so old with hardly any company, a top of the lonely hill where it was only visited very few times by the people down below to be a village; now approaching the tree, a trail of torches lit out from the bleak cloud that made the ravens quiver is disbelief for seeing human faces come too close towards their grounds uninvited, and yet they cawed of joy because they knew what this outcome would be.
"Is this where we hang her?" A juryman asked, standing beside the judge of his court, a torch in hand that he had in a well tightened grip; the flames pierced his once innocent eyes that were now only blinded by the blaze of rage he held in his hands with responsibility, and in his soul he had full regret of his decision, but he knew very well this was inevitable no matter what outcome his malice swelled heart was going to be many hours before in court; even now, he still feels disturbed of the being he had become in only a short time, and so he looked to his judge with an ill stomach.
Without a response, the judge stepped forth towards the ash tree to place his gloved hand on the face of the tree's dying, once beautiful trunk to only grin in an unpleasant satisfactory as the juryman watched him, "Yes, bring Mistress Wilmot here beside me so she can see what happens to those that stray from the righteous path of God."
And so, the lit trail of torches that turned out to be the townspeople of the great Puritan colony that was Salam, Massachusetts, now bringing their 3rd victim to the tree of ash and decree, they parted on both sides of the shoulders of Mistress Wilmot whom was about to meet no god at the end of her tunnel when death closed around her.
Mistress Wilmot, a beautiful maiden with long curling auburn hair that she had rested neatly upon her shoulders, she wore a dark black dress that didn't even come close to match her compelling beauty that she was known for in Salem.
The young beautiful maiden refused to whine even while her salty tears trailed down her rosy cheeks because she knew how unjust this all was.
Dead silence came upon the Salem people as the men stared in a final awe at her so they could remember her gorgeous complexion that they had also once compared to as a rose; unfortunately, the Puritan women that weren't as beautiful, were all dressed in even worse ragged clothing compared to  the silk black dress the assumed witch was wearing that still made her splendid to see that made the other woman envious because they all knew they'd never compare to her alluringness.
Tied around Mistress Wilmot's wrists were braided ropes that were too tight on her frail hands that her hands were almost turning blue, the maiden slowly began to weep after seeing the ash tree, or at least to its purpose..the hanging tree.
"Is this where you lead me over that hill, to my death?" Mistress Wilmot wailed for mercy after, "Please, I beg you not to hang me like the other two you've let decorate the gates of our village!"
She cried more for herself and over the nightmares her own people have started ever since the people of Salem first walked on the new world's soil, "This is unfair and all of you know it to be true!-I see it in all of your eyes behind the flames of your torches!"
  "Silence foul maiden!" The judge exclaimed, tugging her forward towards the tree then placing her hand on the trunk of the ash tree, "This is where you hang so then you may see heavens shining star so then you can witness what you'll be missing once the shadower man takes you under the ground to hell."
Mistress Wilmot pulled away from him then retracted her hand in horror, but accidentally collapsing on the ground to glare up at the Salem people whom she couldn't believe would do this to her; her mother, her aunt, little sister that was only seven and her little brother that was five years younger than her sister that was held in his mother's arms because he was two.
"Mother, please tell him to stand away from me and to let me walk alongside you all down the hill back to our village!" Mistress Wilmot begged.
Mrs. Hayes, Mistress Wilmot's mother, turned her and her other family member's backs away from her other daughter to shun her, they all became silent to prove how serious they were over the crime she had committed...
The auburn-haired maiden crawled on her knees, uncaring of her silk dress to be soiled in the ground until she made her way to a man's feet, " Dawson Bailey, my old secret lover, I beg the' to not let them string me up like Miss. Clark and Mrs. Alexander!" She cried up to him, trying to beseech him by hugging his leg like an infant child to the already wedded man that stood beside his confused wife.
"You whore!" Mr. Bailey's wife screeched down to her like that of a raven that also did their part in yelling at Mistress Wilmot.
Almost perfectly synchronized, the ravens crowed down to her, the adulteress that it has now been revealed to be was her crime to have a hidden relationship with a married man; so the blackbirds sang their hatred down at her hungrily, still waiting for their meal.
Mrs. Bailey stomped back with her hand gripped around her husband's arm to drag him away out of Mistress Wilmot's reach, which made the young belle whine even more.
Now having to see enough more than he needs to, the judge grabbed the girls shoulders to drag her back to the tree on her heels, "Stop this now witch, your curses and divine beauty cannot save you here at your final resting place. Tie her up, Salem!"
Of course, the strong puritan woman was the most violent to fight over the rope in hopes to be one of the first to string up the more beautiful woman they were all jealous over.
So, eventually, the dangling noose was up on one of the ash trees branches chin level in front of Mistress Wilmot.
 The maiden stared at the noose with no fear, she touches her stomach tightly because of what she was hiding, that she would protect even after her grave.
Mr. Bailey had not known, and so he looked away as Mistress Wilmot let the judge and the court member step her onto a stool with her head inside the noose.
Mistress Wilmot looked around all of them while the noontide sun began to crawl through the trees to pour down on everyone like a ray of red blood, "Fools." She stated to them darkly because she knew no matter how hard she cried this wouldn't end for her until she ironically ended at the ash tree, "Everyone of you are going against the belief you have in the sky, but you do not read the books closely and that is your punishment until my life is avenged by someone that'll spite you all!"
"Witch, witch, witch, witch!" The Salem people chanted at her, waving their torches and pitchforks like the mob they were.
"There will be a day when my death and the two other 'witches' sentences will be vindicated upon the town of Salem, to languish in my wrath so that they too will feel the same unjust pain as we feel as of now.." Her voice trickled off in the very slight drops of scarlet blood that escaped her rosy lips, "Salem, I curse you with all my strength to suffer five years after you've reached your witch count of nineteen or twenty, because in my eyes I can see this will not end until superstition of your good people will slip away into nothing but a nightmare to others of the future; I curse you to have longing guilt, broken hearts, scandalous secrets and worst of all, since this is what Ms. Clark, Mrs. Alexander and of course myself could never have during our unfair trials, I also curse you to never have a single ounce of trust in your lying town of sickening people that they too all hide one secret after another.." Mistress Wilmot's voice choked out, "So any spirit, friend or foe, let my curse be so.."
"Hang the witch before it is so!" The judge roared, knocking the stool out from under Mistress Wilmot's feet completely to the point she couldn't save herself.
The black ravens crowed with glee to know their meal has come finally right beneath their talons on the low branch she hung from; two or  three ravens toppled down on her branch to sink their dark appendages into the branch to wobble onto her shoulders to wait for her scent of death to be noticed through their beaks.
A shake in the ash tree made it obvious that Mistress Wilmot was no more at the end of her rope that wore even around her pretty neck to look like her own personal jewelry.
A quick and unsettling sense of pain struck inside Mr. Bailey's heart after he managed to stand aside from his now blissful wife as he gazed upon sadly at the woman he truly loved that was really Mistress Wilmot, the claimed to bewitch.
Yet, his actual usually bitter wife who was always jealous no matter who a random maid was, Joan Bailey, whom Mr. Bailey noticed was staring in awe at how promptly easy it was for just a few seconds on one line of rope it took to kill Mistress Wilmot for good as she still hung on her own sickening beauty of braiding; according to Mrs. Bailey's logic, hers and Mr. Bailey's marriage was in no harms way to be tampered with by a witch anymore that wouldn't dare try to bewitch her husband from now on because she knew it would be handled just as easily by the same townspeople she lived in town with.
Though Mistress Wilmot was innocent she was still put to death because of her beauty and crime of adultery with Mr. Bailey; but before her, there were two other beginning accused witches of Salem that were, Miss. Clark and Mrs. Alexander who were hung away out of sight and out of mind unless any lyncher of those mobs could boldly tell where they hung separately around the outskirts of Salem where no one dared to find, or else it would be counted as a dance with the hooved shadower man himself that lived as well outside of town in the woods alone unless he was accompanied with his wicked conjurers.
  "Salem we must go before the other witches of this wood awake from their traditional nightly slumbers, or else they'll try to repay Mistress Wilmot's claim with a promise of our blood in exchange for her life that the shadower man has taken. So, we must go back down towards the hill we came." The judge demanded towards the mob of people, "Come now, make haste quickly now!"
The crowd left gleefully as they all replayed the image of hanging just another ordinary witch in the attempt of justice of God, sentenced to hang to adorn the darkened tree a gift of some kind of the beauty of Mistress Wilmot on its branch.
Still hungry and wasteful, the ravens frolicked around the swaying fully deceased witch in hopes it was time for their long-awaited snack..but, before they could sink in their beaks into her flesh, her final vengeful words hung out of her lips just like her neck on the rope.
On the ground below her swaying feet was her long, stretched out shadow that was joined by the Ravens, that all swarmed her in only just a distorted figment of hungry deathly birds, that were grateful for a meal that they had at last after an hour of waiting...