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The heavy doors of the monastery opened. The rusty hinges creaked quietly. Shadow of a young girl in black & white dress slipped through running frightened. The nun knelled, made a quick cross sign on the chest, whispered a short prayer and stood in front of the statue of Jesus. All shaking, she timidly approached the wax figure.


The nearby candles pierced the darkness, revealing her chestnut-brown eyes. Swollen puffy lips. Warm crystal tears fell on her pale porcelain face. The high collar covered the fresh scars of what had just happened. Under the thick uniform slowly trickled large drops down her legs. MADDALENA was still moist from the sin.


The windows silently listened to her words, praying the Almighty for her last, seventh forgiveness. The eyes of the icons stared relentlessly at the beautiful infidel as if all was decided. For her uncontrollable thirst for sinner lust the only salvation was at the stake.


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