Christina Ciccone is the main character from
The Last Vestal Virgin.
She’s young, gorgeous, smart and has the love of her Italian American family. So why is she experiencing nightmares so frequently?
- Her first of several nightmares to come:
The townspeople watched the ornate wooden carriage being escorted over the stone-paved road by the two lictors. Christina woke, once again drenched in sweat, to find her arms strapped down to the inside of the carriage. “Where am I?” she screamed. She tried to pull herself free but the tight leather straps wouldn’t budge. The more she tried to free herself, the deeper they dug into her wrists. A veil over her face impeded her vision, so she couldn’t see where she was, but could hear the clatter of horses’ hooves over the stone road, and the rustling of people surrounding her. Soon they came to a stop. She was untied from the carriage but her wrists were bound behind her back when she was lifted out. “Behold! We look upon this once- Vestal priestess, Adelia as one that has displeased the Goddess. Let her sins go with her into the next world so that Rome may not suffer any repercussions from her offenses. May the gods denounce her once-sacred title and remove all impure acts this Vestal imposed upon the city. I, chief priest Diocedus have declared this sanction, as ordered by The Pontifex Maximus. Behind her veil, Christina’s tears flowed down her face. She was led into a dark underground chamber, which reeked of must and dirt.
Only then were her hands untied and her veil lifted. Standing before her stood a man dressed in a long red robe who appeared to be a priest.
“Please, tell me where I am!” she pleaded.
“Silence,” he whispered and placed his rough finger to her lips. He turned and climbed up a ladder. When he reached the top, he
“Silence,” he whispered and placed his rough finger to her lips. He turned and climbed up a ladder. When he reached the top, he
yanked it. A wooden plank was slammed over the entrance, and she was left alone in the dark. The sound of dirt being thrown over it caused a sickening pounding in her chest, and all she could think- was, dear God, I’m being buried alive! Christina screamed, but it was useless. The familiar voices and the noise of the carriage which had carried her there, soon faded. There was only silence, except for the thunderous thumping in her ears. She gazed about the chamber, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, to find a small table in the corner on which sat an oil lamp, and beneath it a bowl of milk. A strange bathtub dominated the center of the chamber. A bowl of fruit lay on the ground in the other corner. The room had to be the size of a small bedroom. This place looked all too familiar.
She glanced down at the white linen gown which she recognized from the other dream, and a shudder rippled through her. A moment later she stood there naked, having ripped the gown from her body and flinging herself onto her knees. She started to claw her way out through the dirt walls.
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