Mills Sophia Clare

by Alejandro Hernandez

Throughout the month of May, the Writer In Residence area of our website will feature work by students from EmersonWRITES, a free creative writing for Boston teenagers. To learn more, please read this introduction by Mary Kovaleski Byrnes.

Teachers’ introduction by Sarah Addison

Alejandro was a student in our “Poetry and Fiction Fusion Course.”  The class used history as a jumping off point for creative writing.  On the first day, we took our students to the Central Burying Ground in Boston Common across from Emerson College.  We told them to choose a gravestone and that person would be a character in a new story or poem.  The assignment led to Alejandro’s “Mills Sophia Clare,” an epic and inspired story about an outcast seeking freedom.  Alejandro’s story not only captures a time long ago, but I believe its themes still resonate today.

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Robert:

Anna always seemed to like running off on me. Who was I? Oh just her husband. The man, who happened to wear the pants, but she didn’t pre-occupy herself with those thoughts. She opposed authority and had no sense of superiority, maybe that’s why I loved her? I sat up, and peered through the wagon’s raw hide curtain. The cold air was surely something fierce tonight. I licked my lips and wondered how Anna could just run barefoot straight into the woods on a night as cold as this. It was my duty to protect her so I pulled on my boots, grabbed my shotgun and bolted after her. The air whipped passed my face and branches nicked at my skin. Damn it, Anna. Couldn’t you wait until morning? We were going to arrive in Salem town with at least a dozen nicks and cuts. What will our neighbors think? There she was running, barefoot and wild like she was on a hunt. A wolf howls and she feels the need to follow the sound. We were definitely going to talk about this.

I was trying to catch up to Anna, but she had vanished from my sight. I was nearing a clearing and I slowed down. I proceeded cautiously and surveyed the clearing. The atmosphere seemed to have changed; it felt dark and bleak. Movement caught my eye and I readied my gun. There a black figure darting away, I shot and heard a scream from the other side of the clearing. Anna, I figured, and now I believe I missed my target. I ran over and I saw Anna behind a stump, cradling a baby in her arms and pulling her tight. I was surprised and quickly began to question her. Anna! What did you do? Where did you find this baby? You must return her! After she explained what had happened I wanted to leave the baby right where we found her, but knowing Anna my feelings were ruled out.

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Narrator:

Robert and Anna discussed the fate of the baby girl the entire night, but Anna surely got her way. They took the baby to Salem town and moved into their new home. No one saw how different the baby appeared from the golden haired light eyed Clares; they just saw an adorable child. Anna and Robert raised the baby and they named her Mills Sophia Clare. Mills was like any other child, curious, loving, and full of energy. She enjoyed going to school and doing her chores, but she had a free spirit. When Anna allowed her, Mills would run through the woods howling at the trees. Robert would read to her and buy her things. He loved putting a smile on her face.

Anna raised Mills to the best of her ability. Anna loved her daughter and prevented any harm from befalling her. Times were dark and people were frightened. Rumors of witch craft had spread through the towns. People were being arrested and hunted, men and women alike. No one was safe from accusation. Anna began to be more social and Mills as well, for those who didn’t were more likely to be witches, and Anna wouldn’t let anything happen to Mills. At nineteen years of age now Mills was a woman and obviously growing apart from her parents. She was noticing men and men were noticing her. She was growing apart from Anna, but Anna couldn’t bare it. Her heart broke every time Mills pushed her away. Anna and Robert grew distant and they barely spoke, and if they did it was never about Mills. Anna needed someone to confide in so she went to Robert. She told him about how she felt and he responded with “we have to tell her.” “Tell her what?” Anna was confused. Robert wanted to tell Mills who she was, where she came from, and send her on her way. Mills no longer needed protection as an adult. Robert had resentment towards Anna’s superior role in the household. Robert was fed up, and the sudden interaction between Anna and him ignited a spark in his heart. He had to get rid of Mills.

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Robert:

I stormed out the door and I marched. I marched to the woods where Mills would be at this time of day. I walked with a purpose. I walked to rid the world of a great evil. A real evil that we interrupted nineteen years ago. I saw her at the edge of the woods and I ran to her, and with all the power I could muster I punched her, knocking her to the ground. I watched her squirm and I began to choke her. I felt my hands press against her warm neck, and I squeezed tighter and tighter. Watching as she gasped for air, kicked furiously and gave me that stare, the one she burned me with so many years ago.

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Mills:

My lungs burned for air, and I was denied it. My body craved to fight but he denied me. My father. I would die by my father’s hand. I always thought it might be the witch hunters, or even a fatal fall, not my own father. He screamed at me, “You filthy witch, we should have let you die. We should have never taken you in. You are not a Clare. You’re a witch and you will die, here, now.” My father stripping me of my name and exiling me to death. No. I wouldn’t sit there and take it. My muscles itched as I raised my hand to his throat, but to no avail. I thought back, back to the day when he killed my Aster and what I had done, how I had hurt him. I stared into his eyes and every baneful thought I had filled my mind. I pushed them onto him. I wished and dreamed and then he let go. I gasped for air but not for long. I raised my hand to my father and intently stared him down. He grabbed at his chest as his valves closed. His heart twisted inside of him and he began to drool. A dumb look covered his face and he lay on the ground. Silent, still, dead. I had killed my father, and I felt joy. I rejoiced and all the pain he inflicted upon me vanished. I felt rejuvenated, like his death brought me strength, life.

It was my second day of being married to Justin, and things couldn’t be more perfect. Justin had bought me a dog, and we moved closer into town. I was cleaning the house for Justin to return home, but he was late. I got ready for bed and began to rest. I decided I would wait for him in bed. Justin arrived home and I could smell alcohol as soon as the door opened. Justin was drunk. I was tired and immediately began to fall asleep, but Justin seemed to have other plans. He began ripping blankets off me, and he was pulling at my arms. He held me down and he climbed on top of me and I already knew what was going to happen. My mother warned me of such things. At that moment, I needed her. I missed her. I wished she was there, but she wasn’t. No one was. I began kicking Justin but he didn’t waver. With at least five failed attempts to push him off me he began hitting me, punching me. My eye was swollen and my lip bleeding. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and ran the blade down my neck and said in a drunken drawl, “You’re going to do what I want, and do it when I say so.” Tears ran down my face and I felt emotion running through me. I didn’t know if I could control myself. I wanted him off me, not dead. Not my husband, but I had no choice. It began. He was gasping for air and pulling at his collar. I got up from the bed and ran downstairs. I got away and it stopped. I didn’t kill him. I was relieved and began breathing deeply. I got a wet rag to wipe up the blood on my face and then a hand was choking me and threw me by my hair against the wall. It was Justin, and he was consumed by rage. He jabbed at me with his knife, but his aim was impaired by the alcohol. He was going to kill me. I could taste it in the air. I had no choice. It consumed me and Justin fell to his knees. Justin, like my father, dead. But afterwards I felt good and my wounds had been healed. My strength increased, but I sobbed, until my chest was sore. I lay on top of him, heart broken.

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Narrator:

Anna came to Mills’ aid once again and they wrapped up the mess, but it wasn’t that simple this time. Two deaths in one year warranted a full investigation of Mills, and Anna already knew the outcome would be fatal. She had to get Mills as far away from Salem as she could. Mills and Anna ran to the woods, provisions packed, and Anna sent Mills South to Boston. Mills needed her mother, Anna needed her daughter. They planned to escape to Boston, then from Boston they would go West, away from all the witch hunts. Anna knew Mills was a loaded gun, Mills had no real control over what she could do nor did she understand it. She couldn’t be alone, but she had to go before they came looking for her. Anna reassured Mills that she would be along shortly and they would meet up again in Boston.

Religion, that was Mills answer. The devil was creeping closer to her, consuming her mind and her heart. That’s why she could kill her loved ones and feel nothing. Mills was convinced she was being consumed by evil, she needed to be cleansed and led into the light, and she would. Her journey was nearing an end and she was approaching Boston. Her first stop was the church, where she would be safe. She could cure herself and be ready for her mother when she arrived.

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Mills:

There it is up ahead. My salvation, tears streamed down my face as I busted the church doors open. I threw myself upon the altar and claimed sanctuary. I claimed sanctuary to prevent the devil from seizing me. I screamed, “Heavenly father, I repent! Grace me with forgiveness and cleanse my spirit.” The entire church was disturbed by my presence, but I didn’t care. The priest told me I would be forgiven. I was to meet him after the service and I would.

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Narrator:

The priest mislead Mills, for he was in alliance with Boston’s head witch hunter and they just received word from Salem that Mills was on the run. The two men backed Mills against the altar and said, “Your magic ends here, witch.” Blades were drawn, Mills was tricked, by a messenger of God. Her hope shattered she gave in. She gave in but not to death, to hatred. It consumed her and she let it seep from her pores. She proclaimed, “If it’s a witch you want, a witch I will be.” Mills had simply glimpsed the faces of the two men and they fell to their knees, dead, Mills growing more powerful with each kill. Mills flung the church doors open with rage in her eyes ready to strike down anyone and everyone in her new fight to live. An arrow flew by her ear and when Mills glanced to the right ten men dropped, but before she could turn around an arrow hit her. It hit her dead in the skull and Mills tumbled down the church steps.

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Mills:

I felt the arrow pierce my skull. My world went dark, but my hatred burned bright.

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Narrator:

Men had taken Mills to the common and dug a grave fit for a dog, for that’s all she was to them. They dropped her in the hole and her corpse looked up at the world. The men felt accomplished; their duty was done and they headed to the nearest tavern.

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Anna:

I had finally made it from Salem. I was weary from travel. The hope of my new future with my daughter was driving me forward. I carried myself to the tavern to gather supplies. It was early, only nine or so. I had time to nourish myself and gather supplies. I walked into the tavern and men were crowded around with women waiting on them like a great war had been won. I sat at a table nearby and over heard some of their conversation.

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Narrator:

Anna buried Mills and marked her grave: “Mills Sophia Clare 1673-1692.” Mills was a Clare. When Mills was properly buried Anna was depleted. Her heart was waning and she wasn’t going to hold on for much longer. She lay against her daughter’s grave with her hand face down, as if she was holding Mill’s hand. Anna muttered “I love you.” A hand arose from the soil with Anna’s last breath and intertwined with hers.

Men and women crowded around the grave only to find the body exactly how they left it. A woman lying face up. They threw a torch into the grave and watched the flames rise, hollering and laughing. A whisper pierced the laughter, “I love you too mother,” and the flames consumed all those around the grave. Only a single woman walks away.

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posted by Steve Himmer