This story is based on the TV series not on historical reality.
Also I am Italian, English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, please feel free to let me know them!
I'VE BEEN a bad man, biting the hand of fate
Fighting for freedom, please don't wait
-Hallucinate, Oliver Riot
FLORENCE
Anno Domini 1478.
SILENCE COVERS THE STREETS.
Another body swings in the night and the wood creaks, breaking the unreal stillness.
Florence is a mother who has not been able to protect her children, speechless in the face of violence, too shaken by the events of the last few days to utter a word.
It's an open-air cemetery.
And Fiammetta can't talk, she can't cry or pray, even breathing feels wrong.
Her hair floats, a colored spot in the dark.
It's the same color as blood.
"The hair of the devil" Francesco had once said.
He'd smiled then, but she knew he meant it.
She now also knows he was right: her soul has been stained with blood since the day of her birth, perhaps before.
He was right, cause she has sinned.
She has killed as cowards do: without touching a weapon.
Please, God have mercy.
But there will be nothing, not for her.
She has nothing left now but her wounds and her memory.
As long as her city lives and remembers, there will be no peace for Fiammetta.
She looks at the moon hidden by the storm clouds, pale like the cold flesh of the body swinging above her, bare feet suspended in the void.
There are only the two of them and the slight sway of his body.
She doesn't see his eyes but she knows he's watching her.
She knows he's talking to her.
She reciprocates, lifting her chin to show him she's not afraid.
You could have saved them all.
She should have been there too, swinging in the night.
YOU ARE READING
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