March 12th, 1693

Salem, Massachusetts

The wind slapped my face, sending my hair flying everywhere. My dress billowed around my body as I stood on the tall, wooden platform. Townspeople were quickly forming in a crowd around me, some whispering excitedly into their friends' or family members' ears, while others stood with solemn faces. People either looked down at me, as though I was simply scum on the bottom of their shoe; while others respected me and wished me luck in the next life.

I didn't understand what was happening. One moment, I was chatting about the daily gossip of the town with Caroline Summers, my best friend, and the next, I was accused of being a witch. I'm not sure what I did to deserve such a thing, though I can only presume it was caused by someone disliking me and wishing me death. I can't imagine who would think of me like that, but they certainly got what they wanted. I was sentenced to court, and although my family and friends protested everything the judge, William Stoughton, said, I still was forced to take the painful witch tests. I was pricked on a freckle by an obviously blunted needle, and when I did not bleed or cry out with pain, it became evident to the men in the town that I was, indeed, a witch.

So now I stand, awaiting my death. Two guards stand on either side of me, waiting for William Stoughton, the chief justice, to come forward, and start the procedures. My dress, plain and an off-white color, was thin and ripping, from being thrown around by these guards and forced to wear it for days straight. I can't even begin to imagine the appearance of my once bright red hair, or my pale skin. I must be covered with dirt and mud, with hair knotted and ragged. I suppose I truly do look like a witch to everyone else.

A horse's footsteps suddenly appeared, quietly at first, but gradually became louder as they approached the beaten down dirt path that led to the gallows. The horse galloped up beside me, and the very familiar, and quite intimidating, Mr. Stoughton climbed down from it. My heart began beating faster, and I felt myself sweating slightly. I knew this was it for me. Once Mr. Stoughton came, the process ended quickly. I'd seen it a few times myself before, though I'd never known anyone well who had been a victim of it.

Mr. Stoughton dusted his hands onto his trousers, and looked up at the crowd and then at me. He smirked slightly once his gaze fell on me, and he slid his long, bony fingers into brown, leather gloves. He walked at a brisk, determined pace, up to the gallows, directly to my left, and waved to the now louder crowd. The crowd immediately became silent; they all looked up at him, some in awe, others in fear. He turned slightly and met my gaze, still having the devilish smirk spread across his face.

"Miss Viola Barlow, age 17, correct?" He asked, loud enough for the entire crowd to hear. I gulped, probably loud enough for him to hear me, and nodded my head slowly. His smile faded to a more serious face.

"You have been accused of performing witchcraft on the townspeople. After a trial, the jury found you not guilty; however, you had then been tried once more, using our more reliable witch tests. After being poked by a needle on your disgusting witch's teat, you had not felt a single thing, nor had you bled. It became obvious to the townsfolk that you are a witch, and at that, a threat to society." He held his head high as he spoke in a steady, serious tone. I nodded with everything he said, and felt tears form on my eyes. Everything he said was true, and it had happened, but I still wasn't a witch.

"You are hereby sentenced as guilty, and the only punishment for witchcraft is hanging." He then nodded to the guards. One pulled out a stool for me to stand on, and readied the rope, while the other led me toward the stool with a harsh grip. I bit my lip lightly and looked at the crowd, and they all looked up at me expectantly. I met eyes with Caroline and shook my head, feeling the first tear fall from my face, as I stood onto the stool. I felt another gust of wind blow from behind me, and I closed my eyes, taking my final breath, and then-

Whoooosh. An odd humming noise became clear, and a loud thunk became heard from behind me. I opened my eyes quickly, and saw everyone in the crowd with tilted heads, all staring at something behind me. Even Mr. Stoughton, with a look of pure disgust and confusion on his face, stared at whatever was behind me. I turned around, confused, but happier than ever for this tiny distraction.

A blue, rectangular box stood, not too far behind me. It was a bright blue, without a single look of age on it, and there were signs and words written on it. Police Box. The signs on it were too far away to be read, but it was an odd sight to see. It hadn't been there seconds before, and it wasn't big enough for a house. How had it even appeared? The door flew open, and a man came stumbling out, fanning the smoky air that was leading out of the mysterious blue box. He looked up, and his eyes met mine, and then scanned the area. A look of shock appeared on his face, and it was as though he suddenly understood what was happening.

"Oh- Blimey! Well, hello!" He grinned and waved in a loud, yet somehow cheery tone.

*Authors Note*

I've had this story in mind for quite a long time o.o. I'm not really sure on where this is going. I don't have it planned out entirely, but I kind of do know how I want things to happen at the beginning. No promises on this story, I just have been in a writing mood recently! I'm not sure if I'm talented enough to write on here, but if I get feedback, or anymore urges to write, I'll try my best to continue this ^^. Thank you for reading thus far!