< Back
There she was, standing in the middle of the Colosseum. The gladiators fought around her. Just then, the man ripped apart the flesh from the tiger he was fighting and the audience showered applause. The man laughed and kept walking through the victors tunnel. Esme followed on her ‘tippy-toes’. There stood a burgundy and gold painted door. The man opened the doors. The room smelled like freshly baked cookies and there it was. Her leg was hurting so she sat on the sofa. She took in the extravagant lifestyle with luxurious furnishing, surrounded by the servants and slaves who were catering to each one of the victors desire.
“I WANT A PARTY!” screamed the young man - approximately in his mid thirties, glowering at an old woman who was like his mum. They both had the same heart shaped face and green eyes. She wore a simple gown with a bonnet and a scarf to avoid the cold. She had a ragged cotton sweater covering her pale skin. The man held a small money bag in his extended fore-arm.
From this situation, Esme derived that the family had taken part in the gladiator event because they were poor. “But son, we are not rich. We cannot afford to serve our guests with the exotic dishes of the day! We are poor and can only dream of such a life.” said the woman. Esme took out her pocket book and wrote down that there were not many rich people in Rome and that there was a majority of poor people. Esme's eyes flickered. A thought rushed into her mind and a chill shivered up her spine. How was she going to get back to town?
Esme scanned her eyes across the cramped but luxurious sitting room. On the desk stood a similar book she had at home. She rushed to the book and took out the similar blue pen. She found a note lying beside it. It read “To get back home, you must find an object which has a hea and a tail but no body”. Esme walked around the room. Could it be a pen? A book? A lamp? She looked at the man. Why did he have his forearm stretched out? It hit her. CURRENCY!
Esme took the money bag. The man didn’t seem to notice and carried his conversation. She tipped the money on the table and took out the coin which was slightly blackened. Nothing happened. She took another one, but again nothing happened. She tried and tried and finally, ZAP! She had vanished into thin air. A swirl of dust leaving her mark.
There she lay on her bed. She looked up, rubbed her eyes and darted to her desk, finding her history book lying on the table. “Time to start writing!” she exclaimed.
“I WANT A PARTY!” screamed the young man - approximately in his mid thirties, glowering at an old woman who was like his mum. They both had the same heart shaped face and green eyes. She wore a simple gown with a bonnet and a scarf to avoid the cold. She had a ragged cotton sweater covering her pale skin. The man held a small money bag in his extended fore-arm.
From this situation, Esme derived that the family had taken part in the gladiator event because they were poor. “But son, we are not rich. We cannot afford to serve our guests with the exotic dishes of the day! We are poor and can only dream of such a life.” said the woman. Esme took out her pocket book and wrote down that there were not many rich people in Rome and that there was a majority of poor people. Esme's eyes flickered. A thought rushed into her mind and a chill shivered up her spine. How was she going to get back to town?
Esme scanned her eyes across the cramped but luxurious sitting room. On the desk stood a similar book she had at home. She rushed to the book and took out the similar blue pen. She found a note lying beside it. It read “To get back home, you must find an object which has a hea and a tail but no body”. Esme walked around the room. Could it be a pen? A book? A lamp? She looked at the man. Why did he have his forearm stretched out? It hit her. CURRENCY!
Esme took the money bag. The man didn’t seem to notice and carried his conversation. She tipped the money on the table and took out the coin which was slightly blackened. Nothing happened. She took another one, but again nothing happened. She tried and tried and finally, ZAP! She had vanished into thin air. A swirl of dust leaving her mark.
There she lay on her bed. She looked up, rubbed her eyes and darted to her desk, finding her history book lying on the table. “Time to start writing!” she exclaimed.