1546 c/o P P Bloxham

Anne Aksew, burned at the stake

the devil’s tongue licks her feet. it is incredibly hot.

the devil has a really, really, really hot tongue. he’s a real piece of work, the devil. he’s really into it.

he licks all up her legs, between her legs, her stomach, hands, arms, up to her breasts. his mouth is all around her. he is eating her. melting fat, bubbling skin, carbonized bone, she is being chewed in the devil’s mouth.

she is pork. A beating heart, firing nerves, popping eyes and boiling organs. she asks for it to stop. it doesn’t.

this is exactly the sort of thing that gives the devil a boner. he keeps going.

there are tiny flakes of her on the wind.

She sitting in a chair in a meadow, long grass, the sky is purple, the wind is cold. She looks out over gently rolling hills. She says a very quiet prayer. She hopes the devil hasn’t swallowed her forever.

A man is walking, a mile away, he is shouting from time to time. It sounds like he is calling to Allah.

“Allah!” “Allah!” the poor man has lost his God in this meadow.

He climbs the gentle incline towards her. She watches him get closer, closer. He walks towards her chair.

“Hola.” he says when he gets close.

He is rough, sweaty, dirty, he smells. He looks very tired.

“Hello.” she says. “Do you speak English?”

“No.” he says. “Why, are you English? How did you get all of the way out to this horrible place?”

“You do speak English.” she says

“Were you on a ship? Have you seen Ana?”

“You’re speaking English!” she shouts

“No I am not! Where is my wife?” he says

“If you’re not speaking English then why can I understand you?” she asks

“Because you’re speaking Spanish!” he is annoyed now.

“I haven’t seen your wife” she says.

The Spaniard turns away, he starts back down the hill. “Ana!” he shouts. “Ana!”

She watches him go down the hill, calling for Ana.

“Hello.” a soft voice says. She feels a hand on her shoulder.

There is a blue man standing next to her.

“Namaste” he says.

The hand on her shoulder is glowing. It is starting to rain.

She looks at her shoulder. She looks into the man’s face. He gives her a gentle smile.

“I just burned at the stake.” she says.

“Uh oh.” the blue man says.

He makes a worried face. He turns silver. He grows long white hair.

He sits down and gazes out over the hills, brushing his hand over the tips of the grass.

There is a moment of silence.

“Are you ok?” the silver man asks apologetically.