Okay, I got the idea for this fic because my school is doing The Crucible as their play, and believe it or not, I'm in it! It's essentially my fanboyish version of "What if The Crucible had a (relatively) happy ending?"
Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Crucible. If I did, I'd give Willard (my part) scenes in which he actually sits down. My feet have been so sore after rehearsal...
On with the fic!
The Crucible Epilogue
John Proctor ascended the gallows silently, his hands in chains. Neither he nor the woman standing next to him made any sort of sound.
Ezekiel Cheever stepped forward, unfurling a scroll. He read aloud, "On this day, the 19th of August in the year of our Lord 1692, John Proctor and Rebecca Nurse are hereby decreed to hang for the crime of witchcr-"
BOOM! An explosion of black clouds burst through the crowd. Spectators fled the scene, coughing and gasping. Cheever whipped around. "What is this?" he exclaimed.
When the smoke cleared, a gaunt, hooded figure dressed in black was seen shuffling towards the gallows.
Cheever had never looked more frightened in his life. "P-Proctor, what is this?" he stammered. "Have you called this upon us?"
"No!" Proctor yelled. "This-this thing has nothing to do with me!"
The figure stopped, slowly raising a hand towards the prisoners. "Prooooooctooooooor…" it moaned.
"Proctor, I demand you call back this spirit now!" Cheever shouted, his voice becoming high and shrill.
"I swear, I did not call this creature!" Proctor stated angrily. He turned to face the figure. "What do you want with me?" he demanded.
The figure raised its hand. "Come."
All eyes were on Proctor as he hesitantly strode down the gallow's steps. He approached the figure, who took his wrist and started guiding him into the woods. No one moved, afraid of what the figure would do if they tried to stop it.
"You cannot escape, Proctor!" Cheever called, his voice tight with fury. "No matter how many demons you summon, we will crush them all! Do not count yourself safe!"
000
Safely in the woods, the figure drew Proctor to a halt. Reaching into its sleeve, it pulled out a key, which it used to unlock Proctor's chains.
The cuffs fell to the ground. Proctor rubbed his wrists gingerly, glaring at the figure. "I hope you do not expect a word of thanks. You have only served to accuse me further of witchcraft. Now tell me, who are you and why have you saved me?"
The figure appeared to study him, then spoke with a new, familiar voice. "You know me, Mister Proctor. I no belong to His Majesty, and I know you good man."
"Tituba?!?" Proctor exclaimed, eyes wide in shock.
The figure pulled back its hood, revealing the Barbadian woman. "You very smart, Mister Proctor," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"But how did you create that smoke?" Proctor asked. Tituba opened up a hidden pouch and pulled out several small black spheres. "I no work for His Majesty, but I pick up a few Devil tricks," she grinned.
"Why did you save me?" Proctor questioned. "That would be my doing," a new voice rang out.
Abigail Williams strode into the clearing. "Excellent work, Tituba," she said, tossing her a coin. "You may go now."
Tituba caught the coin and heaved with joy. "I be going home," she whispered to herself. Then she was off, tearing through the brush.
"Abby, whatever you are thinking, it is reckless," Proctor said urgently. "Have you not seen what you have caused already? Go and leave this town in peace."
"That is exactly what I plan, John," Abigail stated, her eyes sparkling. "Only you are coming with me."
Proctor stared at her for awhile, then turned away. "No," he stated flatly. "I will not allow you to drag me any deeper down, Abby. Leave me be."
Abigail sank to her knees and grabbed his hand. "I never meant it to go this far, John!" she cried out in anguish. "I will not see the only goodness in this world taken from me!"
"I have robbed my uncle. I have enough money to get us and my friends to England. We can start a new life, John, just the two of us! Forget Salem and your black-hearted wife. Please, John…We have each other, what else matters?"
Proctor was deep in thought. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly turned to face Abigail.
"Yes," he stated. He then leaned forward and kissed her as hard as he could.
They broke apart, Abigail beaming with joy. "Oh, John," she sighed, "you have never kissed me like that in all the time we have been together!"
"No I haven't," Proctor stated loudly, "have I, Mister Danforth?"
Abigail whipped around to see the Deputy-Governor staring at them in shock.
"Now do you believe I am a lecher?" Proctor demanded.
Danforth pointed straight at Abigail. "Marshal, arrest this girl for fraud and lechery! Marshal, where are you? Marshal!"
000
Several miles away, the man in question was lying facedown in a ditch, a flask clutched in his hand. "Take me too…Majesty…" he mumbled.
000
"Oh, never mind, I will do it myself!" Danforth strode over and placed the shocked Abigail in Proctor's chains. "Abigail Williams, you are hereby arrested on several severe counts of fraud…"
Abigail snapped out of her trance. "John, help me!" she shrieked. "You cannot leave me here like this! John, after all we have been through, all we have done…"
"Keep talking, whore!" Proctor yelled. "Every word you say only further damns you!"
Abigail howled in rage as Danforth led her away.
000
Three Weeks Later
Proctor walked inside his kitchen, coming to a stop beside Elizabeth. He moved his hand around the newfound curve of her midsection. "How long did you have to wait before they let you out?" he asked.
"About a week," she answered. Proctor smiled. "You must be more heavily along than I thought."
A knock sounded on their door. Proctor went to answer it and found Danforth and Parris standing there. "Can we talk, Mister Proctor?" Parris asked hesitantly.
Proctor ushered them in. "How can I help you?" he asked curtly.
Parris stared at his shoes ashamedly. "We…wish to apologize," he stammered.
"Based on the evidence of yourself and Mary Warren, the court has realized that no count of witchery took place and that we have been condemning honest men and women," Danforth stated.
Proctor smiled grimly. "Aye. Mary was quite eager to talk after hearing Abigail had been chained. Fear brings out the very worst in people. But you know that already, Mister Danforth."
"We have issued a full pardon to everyone imprisoned on account of witchcraft, and sent our condolences to the families of the hanged," Danforth went on.
"What of Rebecca Nurse?" Proctor asked.
Danforth hesitated slightly. "I…am sorry, Mister Proctor. By the time the court had received the new evidence, it was too late for her."
Proctor bowed his head, eyes closed as he remembered the woman who had taught him so much.
At last he straightened up. "You still have not told me your purpose in coming here," he stated.
"Due to the nature of our involvement in these trials," Danforth continued, "myself, Mister Parris, and Judge Hawthorne have all been removed from our posts. My last official duty is to find someone to take my place as Deputy-Governor."
"We wish to nominate you, Mister Proctor," Parris piped up.
Proctor stared at them, shock written on his face. He then turned away, his face wooden. "I cannot," he intoned.
"Proctor, you don't understand!" Parris cried out. "We are humbled here before you! Please, give us some dignity to hang onto by accepting our offer!"
Proctor turned to them, his gaze intense. "It is you who do not understand, Mister Parris," he said, "I will not be a part of any government, or any community, for that matter, that condemns innocent people based on fear."
"Elizabeth, Mary, and myself are leaving Salem tonight for Boston," Proctor finished, his face expressionless.
Danforth looked long and hard at Proctor. "I see," he said finally. "Well then, goodbye, Mister Proctor. God bless you."
With that, he turned and left through the door, Parris scurrying to catch up.
Proctor remained there, staring into the night. Elizabeth came up behind him. "We are ready to leave, John," she said.
000
Proctor, Elizabeth, and Mary hurried out of the house, Proctor locking the door behind them.
A carriage drew up and stopped right beside the house. Proctor reached into his pocket and gave several coins to the driver. Elizabeth and Mary began to load the bags on top.
"Proctor, wait!" A man hurried over towards them, clutching a battered Book of Spirits and a Bible in his hands. "Might you have room for one more to Boston?" he inquired.
Proctor smiled. "I believe we do, Mister Hale."
With that, all four of them climbed into the coach. The driver cracked the reins, and the carriage set off, towards Boston and the brighter future that lay ahead.
The End
In character? Out of character? Just don't know? Well, be sure to tell me in a
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