The year was 2072. Many things changed since the great collapse half a century ago, food, water and warmth became more prized while human life became considerably cheaper. To the first generation born after the end of civilization concepts such as the Internet or smart-phones were just tales told to them by their parents who had lived in a world where doing to bed with a grumbling, empty stomach was considered an unusual occurrence reserved only for the poorest. As time went on and memory of the old order began to fade these old tales were replaced by new and more relevant ones of nature and its horrors. As centralized governments slowly crumbled away, local communities became powerful once more, providing the unfortunate souls born into this world with a modicum of security and stability. Another concept which enjoyed a significant renaissance was that of religion and not the “forgive thine enemies” and “turn the other cheeks” type of quasi-benign belief systems which dominated the old world.  The world had changed, so did it’s gods. The new deities, while retaining their old names demanded vastly different expressions of devotion from their followers; take the story of Abraham and Isaac as an example, in the old days it was a mostly harmless tale often told to children to teach them that, while we may not understand how, God will always lead us on the right path. The moral of this very same tale today has become quite different. In a world where the last contraceptive had been manufactured roughly fifty years ago, the circumstance of having to choose between the life of a child and the starvation of one’s entire family was not an alien concept to most people.
Yara was awoken by the cold. This was far from an unusual occurrence during this time of the year, no one could afford to have a fire burning during the night. Apart from the cold winds and a near constant runny nose there were some benefits to this time of the year; snow had not yet fallen and the supplies Yara's father and her had gathered were satisfactory and they were certain they would have no problem surviving the winter on what they had and should their situation get dire, the option of hunting, while risky and uncertain, was preferable to starving.
Yara and her father were forced to settle on the outskirts of this small community five years ago after Yara’s mother and younger brother had both succumbed to dysentery. After the then seventeen year old girl and her father had to watch them suffer and slowly die in their own watery excrement it became clear that they would no longer be able to to survive on their own. And so they hurried their dead, loaded as much as they could carry into a large hand-drawn cart and, with the help of an old, pre-collapse map, went out into the hostile world to find someone who would let them live amongst them. The .22 LR pistol that had once been used by Yara's great-grandmother in shooting competitions, had proven to be a remarkable deterrent against anyone considering taking what was theirs and Yara's father made sure to always carry it visibly. And so they were finally allowed to settle on the outskirts of a small small town which for many years had been governed by a local church.
The concept of separating the church and the state was one of the many concepts laid to rest after the collapse. In the community Yara was a member of after her brother's and mother’s tragic deaths the church fulfilled much more than the role of providing spiritual support to the faithful in times of need, the duties of all three branches of government were directly controlled by the church. The duties of those living under such a government were, surprisingly, quite few; each member of the community, young or old, male or female was expected to participate in church services at least three times per week (The service on Sunday was mandatory for everyone and neglecting it carried heavy sanctions), paying a small tithe as well was working one day per week for the church.  Of course there were laws to regulate life in the town, but no sin was as severe as blasphemy for it was considered to be a direct attack on the church, and as such, on God and the community. A poor wretch found guilty of this grave offense was usually offered a chance to repent before being publicly hanged on a tree outside of town. An interesting peculiarity of this small town was the fact that other crimes while being punished severely did not carry the death penalty; in the eyes of the church elders sins such as theft adultery or murder were forgivable and could be forgiven by the community, blasphemy however was another matter entirely, it is a sin against God himself and as such only God may forgive it. The church could not allow itself to keep sinners of this sort in their midst. An attack on the church was, after all an attack on the whole community and without the community there could be no survival.
Yara looked around the hut that had now been her home for five years. It was a miserable hovel but she and her father had done the best to make it somewhat livable. A fireplace had been constructed as well as a decent workbench; furthermore, the few items in possession of their family since before the collapse of civilization apart from the pistol that had been brought here were now prominently displayed. There was for instance an old analogue clock, a painting of her great grandmother she had commissioned while studying in what was then known as Italy. It showed her great grandmother standing in front of the Cathedral in Siena; just like her great granddaughter she was of medium height had pale skin, dark brown shoulder length hair and eyes of the same colour.
Yara yawned, rubbed her eyes and counted thirty more seconds to enjoy the last opportunity to feel the warmth of the two heavy blankets. With a sigh she lifted herself from the creaking mattress, quickly put on the old pants that were once used for skiing and snowboarding but would now provide her with enough warmth to survive another early winter day as well as a pair of old trail boots. Water from the kettle placed on the, now burned out stove, helped quench Yara's thirst and water from a bowl next to it helped to wash the sleep from her eyes. Her father, awoken by the commotion greeted his daughter and slowly made his way out of bed as well. The day’s work was already cut out for both of them so without much resembling a conversation Yara put on her jacket and made her way to the door in order to collect firewood.
Before Yara could take hold of the doorknob The same door was kicked open, hitting her in the face and sending her flying backwards against her father. Four constables, assault rifles at the ready rush in and aim them at the pair, after a brief pause the highest rank amongst them started speaking: “Te are here to execute two arrest warrants on behalf of the holy Church on suspicion of blasphemy...” Before he could finish, Yara s father, to whom it now became apparent that this was a matter of life and death for him and his daughter rushed towards the pistol that had saved both of their lives before and was hidden for all these years under his mattress. This time however luck was not on his side; before he managed to aim the small calibre pistol, a bullet of a much higher calibre fired from the FAL of one of the constables, a man in his early twenties. The projectile turned his face into a bloody crater as it entered his head and took a significant portion of his brain with it as it exited. A splash of blood stained the facade of the Duomo di Siena and a small chunk of gray matter now lay at the feet of the smiling young student. Shaken from the loud noise Yara, still held her bloody nose and looked at her father who was now producing a few short gurgles, blood running  out of his mouth and ears before laying still. The dutiful constables had no problems with tying Yara's hands behind her back and escorting her to the town hall (which these days also served as a court house) . While her clothes protected her from the cold, nothing could protect her from the stares and whispers of her neighbours but having just witnessed the death of her last relative Yara paid little attention to them.
The trial, if one could even call it that lasted for little over half an hour; after all, all of the evidence needed was already before the court. A young lad had broken into Yara’s home and had stolen 2 loafs of bread and a cup of flour unfortunately for the teary-eyed girl awaiting her fate before the bench, he also managed to take a particular book. 50 Years after the collapse books were mostly gone from this world either burned as a source of warmth of to eradicate the ideas which they carried. Writing and reading were still, however, skills routinely taught to children, if for not much more than to understand religious texts and laws. Unfortunately for Yara the book which the young thief reported to the authorities (he got 30 strokes of the cane for the crime of stealing) not only contained blasphemous ideas but denied the existence of a God completely. This could by no means be tolerated and so the presiding judge spoke to the terrified young woman before him, her nose had stopped bleeding at this point but the man before her was obviously a greater cause for concern: “The evidence in your case is truly overwhelming and so the law of the church dictates that you shall pay for your terrible sin with your life and the judgment of your tainted soul be left to the almighty. I am, however also bound by law to offer you an opportunity to save yourself from the fires of hell by publicly confessing your sin, honestly praying for forgiveness and dying as a Christian."
With nothing left to do, Yara accepted the Judge's offer. She turned around and addressed the masses that had piled into the court to see the church's justice. With a tear filled voice the girl confessed to possessing blasphemous writings and expressed remorse for her grave sin before the assembly. She then publicly signed a document transferring what little her family had to the church. As it was customary, the repentant condemned was then lead to the Church opposite of the town hall. Before Yara was locked inside for a day and a night to pray for God's forgiveness her hands were untied and she was given her last meal, a Large bowl of hot lentil stew, two pieces of brown bread and a cup of cold water. Although the young woman was devastated after the events of the morning hunger took over and she eventually ate and drank all that had been given to her. After her last meal the condemned was lead outside to the steps of the church where the bailiffs handed her a black, ankle-length penitent’s shift Yara would wear during her punishment. To demonstrate the will to fully a tune for her sin Yara was told to fully undress in front of the faithful and accept the black shift she would pray, suffer and die in. When it was time to remove her underwear the young woman hesitated, no stranger had ever seen her this way and she felt shame raise up within her causing her to blush despite the cold temperature of the early winter day shush was to be the last one she would fully live through. Her hesitation was quickly broken by the stern words of the priest invoking the horrors of hell that awaited those who did not fully repent, as well as the stern looks by the bailiffs. Her honour and modesty forsaken, Yara now stood fully exposed before the crowd, she quickly put on her death-shift and was escorted into the church where she would have one day and one night to pray for forgiveness and think about the noose that would all too soon choke the life out of her.
The reason why hanging became the only manner of execution by the church was twofold; the materials needed to perform such a grim task; Two lengths of rope, one for the tying of the hands and another to bear the weight of the condemned by his or her neck, a strong branch to do the same. A stool or bucket, the church had however recently decided to use a horse-drawn cart which was moved away from under the unfortunate sufferer when all of the pre-execution formalities were carried out and it was time for the prisoner to dance his or her last.
The other reason for which hanging was adopted as a method of dispatching blasphemers was the fact that not many things illustrated the sufferings of hell more accurately than the grotesque movements performed by the hanged as they slowly strangled, their airways closed by the hempen rope. The pathetic gurgles resembled the awful screams of demons and the frequent occurrence of men developing a final erection was seen as a disturbing parody of the deadly sin of lust. Furthermore the pathetic struggles, gasps and gurgles of the condemned as well as the frequent loss of control over bladder and bowels served as an excellent deterrent for those considering going against the teachings of the church.
In her 22 years on this earth Yara had witnessed more than her share of death and misery and thus had become quite desensitized, even the gory death of her father was to her just another event in her soon-to-be-over life. People dying of strangulation were a different story however, she witnessed her first hanging two years after moving to the town. A young man had been convicted of blasphemy after some of his writings were discovered in which he questioned the authority of the church to speak on behalf of the almighty. The authorities could not tolerate such a thing and so the poor lad found himself standing on a stool, hands bound behind his back with a rope around his neck. Yara watched as his face rapidly became red, then slowly turning purple as the rest of his body furiously fought to free itself from the noose which gradually choked the life out of him, forcing his tongue upward and partially out of his mouth. What disturbed Yara the most however were his eyes; desperately fixated on the crowd. The cruel rope had deprived him of the ability to speak or scream and the only thing emerging from his pinched throat was the occasional desperate vocal attempt at forcing air into his lungs. He wordlessly begged for someone in the crowd to cut him down or just grant him a swift death until his consciousness mercifully slipped away. Three minutes later the sharp smell of excrement heralded to the assembled crowd that his soul was now in the hands of God. The image of his face, slowly turning blue, his eyes desperately begging for mercy became a common feature in Yara's nightmares for many nights afterwards.
The young woman was left shivering from cold and fear in the middle of the medium-sized church. It was the only place in town where the lighting still worked and the bailiffs had been merciful and left the generator running throughout the night. Usually when she attended this place it was packed with both the faithful and those who pretended they were in order to further live a mostly secure life under the church's watchful eyes, now there was a deadly silence in the old building. This was it, the last full day Yara would live through was coming to an end and it had finally hit her. She stood in front of the altar where the bailiffs had deposited her, her wrists hurt and bore pale, red marks from the rope that had bound them, her slender naked feet were cold from the gray marble floor she was standing on. Her breath became quicker and she became light-headed. The edges of Yara's field of darkened so she stumbled to the first row of benches where she placed her brown-haired head into her palms and collapsed into a fit of spasmodic sobbing. Her nervous system overloaded with pain, fear and grief of the day and it took several hours full of cries, unintelligible screams of rage teeth-gritting, curses and sobbing for Yara to finally be able to regain some semblance of control over her feelings. The night had already advanced greatly when she had somewhat calmed down, her mind empty, staring at her bare, cold feet. The girl lifted her head and laid eyes on the altar She was never a true believer and the world around her did not make it easy, she had seen every flavour of misery in her short life and had experienced her fair share as well so the idea that an omnipotent all-knowing being was out there and loved her seemed almost ridiculous but also comforting especially when she was younger. Now her agnosticism had vanished, she had only known her father as an exceptionally kind (as much as it was possible in such a world) and intelligent man who would sacrifice everything for the life and happiness of his only remaining daughter, ensuring she was well-fed and clothed even if it meant for him to go barefoot and hungry. The idea that he had been killed by followers of the only true God in accordance with his laws was inconceivable; as he had not confessed and repented, his body would in all likelihood be burned with the town's refuse. Yara had heard the rumours of what happened to blasphemers who would not confess and while she truly dreaded and feared being suspended by her neck from a tree, kicking, gurgling, gasping, her face turning blue from lack of oxygen and slobbering all over herself while those in the front of the assembled crowd were able to catch a glimpse underneath her sparse clothing , it was safe to say that what she would have gone through had she not confessed would have been considerably more painful.
In the corner of her vision she then saw it. Something that she never noticed all of the previous times she had been in this place. Above the entrance of the church, there was a small circular window, just big enough for Yara's body to squeeze through. Hope came into her heart once again, not just hope, raw enthusiasm. Maybe this was not her end, maybe she would be spared from providing disgusting entertainment to her former neighbours, perhaps she could escape her prison, run back to her former home and -provided it was not well guarded or had already been looted- collect some clothes and other items and take her chances surviving in the wild. Granted it was highly improbable for loners to survive on their own in the winter but at least her life would be in her hands again and should she die, she would die in dignity, head turned towards the skies and her last breath be full of cold fresh air and not a tiny last gurgle, signaling to those who came to watch her suffer that the rope had done it's work and no further noises would come out of her mouth and she would soon loose control of her bodily functions. Yara nervously paced up and down up and down the church, her eyes darting around for something that would enable her to climb up to the window which was situated 3.5 meters above the ground. All of the benches as well as the altar and the pulpit were firmly affixed to the ground but before the young woman would have lost all hope again, she noticed through a doorway besides the altar that the sacristy was furnished with a cupboard. Overcome with joy and relief, Yara ran towards it as fast as her bare, cold feet would carry her. She opened it and found several boards inside, packed with richly decorated ceremonial cloaks the church's elders wore on high holidays. Without the tiniest bit of regard for the holy fabric the condemned blasphemer was wearing naught else than her ankle-length penitent's shift, threw the cloaks on the ground and proceeded to push the cupboard under the window as quickly and silently as she could. It was heavy but Yara was far from a stranger to physical labour and so the cupboard, now empty of its Hallowed content eventually found itself against the middle one of the three doors serving as the church's only entrance and exit. The young condemned opened the two doors of the cupboard itself and stood back. "This could actually work", she thought to herself, all Yara would need now was something to break the glass as her unusual exit possessed no handle and was just a circular glass pane in the wall. She did not need to look far as on the top of the cupboard there was an old metal sprinkler which had been used for holy water before the collapse, it would make for a fine hammer. She raised herself up to her slender toes, grabbed the instrument from it's longtime resting place and put it on top of the cupboard. Now it was time for the truly difficult part; with her hands Yara grasped the highest board while she used the lower ones as rungs on a ladder everything went as the young woman intended until she reached the top of the cupboard. A short time after she placed the soles of both of her slender feet on it and the material, weakened by time finally bore the girl's full weight, there was a loud crack and the top collapsed sending the unfortunate young woman falling down, breaking four more boards on her way down. Yara landed on the cold and hard ground and tumbled away from the cupboard. She was stunned and her whole body hurt, when she finally came to her senses she saw the broken cupboard and the, now unreachable window. The poor woman let out a long deafening scream of frustration, fear and sadness as her last bit of hope she clung on to was now lost. Trembling and hyperventilating again, she once more looked at the window and the black sky beyond and fainted with terror. When the unfortunate condemned awoke she saw that the sky beyond had turned from black to blue. Yara rose to her knees and, unable to raise herself to her feet, crawled into a corner and while clutching her knees, her slender toes curled, continued to look up at the window, tears streaming down her cheeks onto the marble floor, eyes expressionless and empty of all fighting spirit.
Dawn broke over the town and three bailiffs unlocked the doors of the church and found the condemned was covering in the far left corner of the church and was shivering both from the cold her shift could not stave off, as well as from the fear of the fact that she would soon dance her last while suspended from a tree with the majority of the townspeople bearing witness to her pathetic struggles. The destruction of church property was noted but no further action was taken. Without ceremony the scared Girl was grabbed by her arms and lifted to stand on her bare feet, the third bailiff then tied her well developed from a whole life of labour arms behind her at the wrists, the thought that she would never see her hands again went as quickly as it came. Yara was then half marched, half dragged towards the plain horse-drawn cart waiting in front of the church. The girl had to be helped on the cart by the bailiffs as she could not mount it on her own with her bound hands. Everything had already been said and done yesterday and all that was left to do is put a rope around Yara's neck, drive the cart away and leave her to perform her last “dance"- as was the euphemism for the desperate kicking which, as the strangulation process went on was gradually replaced by twitching and spasms of a dying organism.
As the cart on which the young woman stood made its way towards the customary hanging tree the prisoner started to panic the realization that in a few moments her worst nightmare would become reality suddenly overwhelmed her body and mind with a high-pitched scream she collapsed on the floor of the cart sobbing spasmodically with fear and regret. The cart was stopped for just long enough for a priest to jump on board and, with the help of a bailiff, helped the sobbing Yara back on her bare and cold feet. It took some words of consolation but she eventually regained the strength to stand on her own but as the leafless tree came with the noose that would in a matter of minutes close her throat forever, the young woman once more lost her composure and leaned over the side railing of the cart (there was no railing on the back for obvious reasons) vomiting the remains last meal onto the frosted grass below. Unfazed by this humiliating spectacle the cart drove under the thick branch and came to a halt when the simple slipknot made from a thick hempen rope was only centimeters away from the face of the condemned who by now had again somewhat regained her composure in the face of death, only wanting her ordeal to end. The town's appointed executioner now jumped on the cart and without much ceremony put the noose around the prisoner's neck with the knot placed behind it. The executioner, the priest and the bailiffs now jumped down from the cart and while the intoned one last prayer for Yara's soul, the executioner took the reins again and waited for the end of the prayer to move the cart away from under the her.
Yara stood there alone, the executioner had moved her brown, shoulder-length hair out of the way when he noosed her. She could feel every little fibre of the thick hempen rope scratching her soft throat, in a matter of moments it would become as unforgiving as iron. Tears ran from her brown eyes making their way to her cheeks and then down to her throat where they were stopped my the rope from staining her black penitent’s gown. Her jaw trembled with both fear and cold but she did her best to keep it under control. There was still some dried blood around her nose from her close encounter with The door. Her whole body was covered in goose bumps and her long naked toes seemed to want to burrow themselves into the floor of the cart to keep it from moving.
“Amen". The hangman shook the reins an Yara's hanging began. The girl made sounds of terror as she struggled to keep herself in the cart but eventually she lost her fight and with a final high-pitched scream she fell into nothingness. There was a gasp and then gurgles wheezing when half a second later the noose took all of her weight. Her hands were curled up into fists trying to overcome the rope that bound them to remove the thing around her neck that was killing her. Yara's  neck appeared to be stretch under her weight and her chest rapidly heaved with the inhuman effort to get air into her burning lungs.
At first the Yara just hung there, her legs stretched as far as she could stretch them, her bare feet pointing straight down In a vain effort to find footing and relieve the horrible pressure around her neck. This lasted for about 20 seconds. Panic set in as the hunger for another breath rose and the condemned blasphemer started to violently kick and thrash causing her to begin to swing on her rope. Once in a while a tortured breath made its way through her constricted throat but as the noose tightened these instances became less and less frequent. After 7 minutes it was clear that oxygen starvation had taken its toll and the young woman's fingers and toes began to twitch, the twitching spread to the rest of her body and at its peak caused as much movement of the dying girl as the beginning of her hanging. After two more minutes all movement started gradually to fade, except for her left foot which somehow refused to follow the rest of Yara's body into eternal sleep. Then it happened Yara's bladder relaxed and its contents flowed down in a continuous stream forming a steaming puddle under the dying woman which was quickly absorbed by the frozen dirt. All movement stopped soon after.
As the law required Yara’s body remained suspended for three hours after she stopped moving. Two bailiffs then took her body down from the tree, undressed it (The penitent’s gown would of course be reused). Her naked corpse was then laid on the cart with which she came here and driven to the town’s cemetery. As promised by the judge Yara received a Christian funeral and was buried with both of her hands clutching a crucifix in a shallow grave. Life went on.