I wonder if the shape of her faith was apparent as her body melted in flame. Wreathed in glow and ash, she is said to have emerged unsinged. Arms pulled wide in beautiful mockery. No one scraped the boiling pitch from her throat. It is likely Reperata was no more than fifteen when they folded her body into martyrdom. Do you think they took her tongue? Slipped it from her mouth to be put on a high shelf, proud of the work they were doing. The Romans were always so good at taking. Maybe they left out how she refused to surrender her body, and so history has left very little of her. All that remains is magic, mysticism. When they took off the witch’s head, I wonder if she was ready to die. About the Author: Nicole Inge is a MFA candidate at George Mason University. She works for the Fall for the Book Festival, teaches creative writing to elementary schoolers, and writes about the monstrous feminine. Her work has appeared in Remington Review and Moonchild Magazine.
Links: twitter.com/thefinalnicole instagram.com/thefinalnicole
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