Haizea García Olaetxea 4A

Beatriz the stake

My name is Maria, and I am the sister of a woman who was accused of being a witch during

the infamous Sugarramurdi witch trials. It's been years since she was burned at the stake,

but I can still remember the pain and heartache that I felt when she was taken from us.

My sister, Beatriz, was not a witch. She was a healer, someone who used her knowledge of

nature to help others. She knew which herbs to use for different ailments, and she had a gift

for soothing the sick and injured. But to the authorities in our town, this made her suspicious,

and they began to spread rumors about her.

It all started when a local woman fell ill, and my sister was called to help. She used her

remedies and was able to nurse the woman back to health, but the authorities saw this as

evidence of her being a witch. They accused her of using magic to heal the woman, of

making a pact with the devil, and of being part of a coven of witches who were causing harm

to the community.

My sister was a gentle woman, someone who never wanted to hurt anyone. But as the

rumors spread and more people accused her of being a witch, she became more and more

frightened. She knew that she was in danger, but she didn't know what to do. I remember her

coming to me, tears in her eyes, begging for help.

"They're going to accuse me of being a witch, Maria," she said. "I don't know what to do. I'm

not a witch, but they won't listen. They're going to take me away, and I don't know if I'll ever

come back."

I tried to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be all right. But I knew that the

authorities were not to be trusted, and that they would stop at nothing to find evidence

against her. It wasn't long before my worst fears were realized.

Haizea García Olaetxea 4A

One day, my sister was taken from our home, dragged away by a group of men who claimed

to be authorities. They accused her of being a witch, of using her powers to harm others,

and of being part of a coven of witches who were causing chaos in our town. I watched as

she was taken away, tears streaming down my face as I realized that I might never see her

again.

The trials were brutal, and my sister was subjected to all kinds of torture and humiliation.

They searched her body for the "devil's mark," accused her of making pacts with the devil,

and forced her to confess to crimes she had never committed. But my sister was a brave

woman, and she refused to back down. She knew that she was innocent, and she was

determined to clear her name.

But it was all for nothing. The authorities had already made up their minds, and they were

determined to punish her for crimes she had never committed. She was sentenced to death,

and I watched in horror as they burned her at the stake, her body consumed by flames as

she cried out in pain.

I was devastated by her death, and I knew that our community had lost a kind and gentle

soul. But I also knew that her legacy would live on, and that her story would inspire others to

fight against injustice and cruelty. Even now, years later, I cannot forget what happened to

my sister, and I am determined to keep her memory alive. She was not a witch, she was a

healer, and she deserved to be remembered as such.