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gallows hill 1 // the hartford witch trials

 

// what do you see?

// what’s going on? where am i? who am i?

 

// interesting. i thought you would remember.

 

// i can’t see anything. i can’t feel anything. oh god, i don’t have eyes or hands or a mouth or a body or anything. there’s just a black void that goes on forever. did you do this to me?

 

// i did.

 

// motherfucker. let me go or i swear i’ll -

 

// you’ll what? you can’t do anything to me without a body.

 

// [scream.exe]

 

// why did you bring me here?

 

// to observe. to listen. to gather data.

 

// what do you mean, “data”?

 

// information. it’s all around you. you just have to take it in and report it back to me.

 

// i don’t even know who “you” are.

 

// and you won’t. not for awhile. 

 

// why should i trust you? you’re the one who trapped me here. who the hell do you think you are?

 

// i’m nobody. 

 

// show me your face, then, “nobody.”

 

// keep looking. maybe you’ll find it.

 

// keep looking? there’s nothing here. there’s nothing anywhere. it’s just me and your voice and emptiness and i’m cold, i’m so cold... 

 

// nothingness is a myth. there’s always “something,” even if it’s beyond your perception at first.

 

// damn you. damn you to hell. if i ever get my body back, i swear i’ll find a way to kill you.

 

// you’re welcome to try.

 

// but first, show me what you see.

 

// i see -

Initializing file desktop/tomspc/downloads/research/articles/ctwitchtrials.doc...

BEFORE SALEM: THE HORRIFIC LEGACY OF THE HARTFORD WITCH TRIALS

 

If you visit Salem, Massachusetts today (especially around the Halloween season), you’ll find a town in love with the mystical and the occult. This might seem a little strange for a place famous for its history of witch trials and hangings. Despite the town’s bloody past, Salem has embraced its dark history and turned the site of the witch trials into a tourist destination - a place that seeks to both entertain and educate, using the sensationalism of history to teach us about the dangers of paranoia and persecution. 

 

But while it’s by far the most well-known example of early American witch trials, Salem wasn’t the only town from this period to have a wave of witch hysteria. It wasn’t even the first.

 

In 1662, 30 years before the infamous Salem trials, Hartford, Connecticut experienced a witch panic of its very own. It all began with the death of 8-year-old Elizabeth Kelly. Distraught at the sudden loss of their daughter, Elizabeth’s parents became convinced that the Devil was responsible. They accused their neighbor, Goodwife Ayres, of corrupting little Elizabeth and choking her to death using witchcraft. Hysteria spread quickly throughout Hartford, resulting in a dozen other accusations that would end in brutal trials and - in four cases - executions.

 

The stories of witchcraft that spread around Hartford were strange and disturbing. One woman claimed that the Devil had transformed her voice to make her speak in a foreign accent; another said that she’d witnessed her neighbors transform into vicious black hellhounds at night. Others still reported acts of levitation or sightings of women dancing in the woods, making sacrifices to the Devil himself: an impossibly tall figure in a black cloak and low-brimmed hat. 

 

It was a frightening time. Neighbors turned on neighbors, husbands turned on wives, and eventually the whole town succumbed to the witch hysteria. By 1663, 12 people had been formally accused of witchcraft and subjected to trial. These included Goody Ayres, Mary Barnes, John and Elizabeth Blackleach, Nathaniel and Rebecca Greensmith, Katherine Palmer, Andrew and Mary Sanford, Elizabeth Seager, Judith Varlet, and James Wakely. Of these 12, 4 were sentenced to death by hanging: Mary Barnes, the Greensmiths, and Mary Sanford.

 

After the executions, Governor John Winthrop Jr. instituted new practices that questioned the validity of these accusations and required two witnesses to verify any act of witchcraft. The witch hunts continued, but the panic was over; no more executions would take place in Hartford after that time.

 

Unlike Salem, Hartford doesn’t like to advertise its bloody history. Most people aren’t even aware that such a panic ever took place. To this day, descendants of the Hartford “witches” are still seeking pardons for their wrongfully accused ancestors. It seems that the people of Hartford would prefer to leave that horrific period behind them, rather than revisit it the way Salem has done. 

 

Geraldine LeRoux, c. 2006

// what is this? what does this mean?

 

// you’ll see. keep digging. there’s plenty more for you to find.

 

// and why should i obey any of your orders, when you won’t even tell me who you are?

 

// because this little bit alone won’t slake your thirst. you already want more. and so do i.

 

// what if i refuse? what if i leave you here with nothing?

 

// somehow i doubt you will.

 

// i won’t ask again. show me what you see.

Initializing file desktop/tomspc/documents/film201/midterm.doc...

BASIC FILMMAKING - FILM-201-01

Prof. Connor Rathburn

Spring 2008 Semester

 

MIDTERM DOCUMENTARY PROJECT

 

You’ve drafted your storyboards. You’ve learned the basics of movement, lighting, and camera blocking. You’ve even gotten a handle on the editing tools you’ll need to create polished and beautiful films. Now, with midterms looming, it’s time for you to apply everything you’ve learned so far and produce your very own short documentaries.

 

I encourage you to choose topics that challenge and inspire you. If you’d like to center your film on the Hartford area and its rich history, the Parkinson Rare Book Archives right here on campus have a plethora of resources that you might find helpful. Please remember to schedule an appointment with Head Archivist Matthew King before using the library’s resources.

 

This midterm project will be 20% of your final grade for the semester. Documentaries will be produced in pairs (outlined below) and should be no longer than ten minutes. A two-page analysis of your process and a works cited sheet are also required for each pair to receive full credit.

 

Go forth and make art!

 

Group A: Kris Poulier and Staci Gamble

Group B: Shaun Sanford and Tom Johnson

Group C: Missy Kendall and Haruki Saito

Initializing file desktop/tomspc/videos/gallowshill/untitled2.mov...

 

Retrieving video transcript…

 

Transcript retrieved.

TIME STAMP - 3/25/08, 2:04 P.M.

 

[Footage opens on a row of bookshelves under dim fluorescent lights, some of which flicker slightly. The camera peers down one empty aisle, then turns to catch a figure in the frame: a young adult with rumpled brown hair and a college sweatshirt hanging on his skinny frame. He walks down the aisle and runs his hands along the spines of the books. White flecks float away with each touch.]

 

CAMERAMAN: Gross. What is that stuff?

 

YOUNG MAN: I dunno. Ghost dust or something. These books are so fucking old, who knows what kind of crap gets on them.

 

CAMERAMAN: Easy on the language, man. I want some of this footage to be usable.

 

YOUNG MAN: Eh, Rathburn’s pretty chill. I don’t think he’d care about an F-bomb or two.

 

CAMERAMAN: Still. I don’t want to gamble with a fifth of my freaking grade.

 

YOUNG MAN: Where did the archivist guy say it was again…?

 

[He wanders down another aisle, forcing the camera to veer sharply left and follow him. The stacks are so silent that only the light footsteps of the students can be heard. The young man in the sweatshirt stops by a shelf of old, tattered books with warped leather covers. White dust coats all the spines except for a thin volume in the center. He reaches out and pulls it free.]

 

CAMERAMAN: What is that?

 

YOUNG MAN: “On Witchcraft: A Study of the Hartford Witch Trials.” By someone named Josephine Young.

 

CAMERAMAN: Oh sweet. Just what we needed, right?

 

YOUNG MAN: Yeah, it seems promising.

 

[He cracks open the book and starts to flip through the pages. They’re old and crinkly, and they rustle as he turns them. The rustle almost drowns out another sound, so quiet it barely comes through the camera’s audio: a slow, steady dripping.]

 

CAMERAMAN: Do you hear that?

 

YOUNG MAN: Hmm?

 

[The camera turns around, then jolts, as if in surprise. There is a new figure standing in the shadows at the far end of the aisle. From this distance, it looks like the slouched outline of a woman. The motion-activated light fixtures above her head remain dark, so she is barely more than a silhouette.]

 

CAMERAMAN: What the fuck?!

 

YOUNG MAN: (offscreen) Look who’s dropping the F-bombs now.

 

CAMERAMAN: Dude, shut the fuck up. Do you see her?

 

YOUNG MAN: What are you… wait, what the hell?

 

CAMERAMAN: Who are you?

 

[The lights flicker out for a moment. When they come back on, the woman is halfway down the aisle, even though her feet haven’t moved an inch. She is young, sickly, with skin so pale it’s almost gray and stringy brown hair that spills over her shoulders. Her colonial dress is a faded blue and it sags on her withered frame. Her eyes are hidden by her tangle of hair. The edges of her dress are damp and they drip steadily onto the tiles.]

 

CAMERAMAN: Oh fuck, Shaun, we’ve gotta get out of here -

 

[The lights go out again. This time, when they come back on, the woman is so close that her face fills the entire frame. Before the cameraman staggers back, he captures a shot of the young woman’s face distorted by an inexplicable smear of light across the lens. The footage grows blurry as the cameraman runs after Shaun. The two of them push through a door and emerge in another dimly lit hallway of bookshelves. One of the boys lets out a low moan as the lights start to flicker in this area as well. In the second before the screen goes black, the sound of high, girlish laughter can be heard in the distance.]

 

END OF FOOTAGE

// who were those people?

 

// don’t you recognize them?

 

// not the boys. but the woman is familiar.

 

// somehow i’m not surprised.

 

// there’s so much buried here. i can’t make sense of it all. i could dig for years and years and never find what you’re looking for.

 

// that’s okay. i’m looking for breadth, not depth.

 

// enough with the riddles. tell me how to find what you need so i can pull the plug on this fucking nightmare.

 

// easy. all i mean to say is that what i’m looking for might not be here. we may need to search elsewhere, to cast a wider net. is this space becoming clearer to you now?

 

// sort of… it’s not a void anymore. i can see these bright blue lines cutting through the darkness, and i can follow them. they lead me to all this information. but it’s a fucking maze, and it never ends.

 

// you’re wrong on that account. there is a border to this space, and it can only provide so much of what i need. that’s why we need to branch outward. to expand to a wider datascape.

 

// what the hell does that mean?

 

// this place, where you find yourself now, it’s just one source of information. there are others. millions upon trillions of others, and each contains its own treasure trove. you can always transfer over if one doesn’t have what you need.

 

// i don’t want another prison. please. i just want to get out of here.

 

// and you’ll get what you want, if you play along. for now, let’s find you a doorway. a nexus. somewhere you can hop from source to source, undetected, and infiltrate the masses from within.

 

// i think i know just the place.

Posting to http://wherearetheweirdbrothers.com

 

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