It's the morning of June 10th, 1692 in Salem, a coastal town 17 miles north of Boston in the British colony of Massachusetts.

On a beautiful summer morning, birds sing in the treetops, and a warm breeze skips through the trees.

A lone horse and cart clatters past the thatch conages and clapboard houses of this prosperous and growing town.

On board, behind the driver, a grim-faced sheriff where the musket keeps a close watch on his prisoner.

She doesn't look like much of a threat.

She's 60 years old, and her weathered hands are bound tight,

but the guard knows that looks are deceiving, because this woman, Bridget Bishop, is a witch.

As the sheriff rides along with his prisoner, townspeople lying the street and jeer, but most have already made their way to the cart's destination,

Gallows Hill. The driver whips the horse on if the cart creaks up the steep incline. Up ahead,

a slab of rock shuts out of a slope. An oak tree looms

over it and against the trunk is propped a ladder hanging from a sturdy branch

above a noose.

When the cart arrives at the place of execution,

the driver halls on the reins.

Armed guards hold back the surging crowd.

Some of the townspeople scream insults at Bridget, others pray for her soul.

One man's shrill voice carries above the uproar. He shouts a Bible verse, a command from the Book of

Exodus which he repeats over and over

thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Soon the sheriff pulls Bridget down from the cart and pushes her toward the oak tree with his musket.

As she climbs the ladder, the crowd falls silent.

The sheriff grabs the swaying rope and hooks it over Bridget's head, tightening it around her neck.

...