Not admitting to sin and failure had been a burden for Biggus. He had been sent back into a world that was foreign to him in every way.
As he sat in the Plaza De Monte he couldn’t help but remember the days of his youth when the Plaza was a buzz with market stalls and at one end famous orators would gather to sprout their current views on the Empire and those who governed it.
But this world was bizarre. People seemed happy to just sit around and drink from cups filled with the foulest of substances called coffee.
Often people came up to him speaking in strange tongues and made him stand along side them while another foreign speaking person held up a small thin rectangular object and he didn’t know what it was but was very important to them.
Afterwards some of them gave him money, at least he assumed it was money with the odd word Euro on it.
He couldn’t understand why no one spoke good Latin, some words he recognised as from his time but there seemed a conglomeration of voices and words that right at this moment he was feeling particularly despondent. And he couldn’t find the bath house that he was sure was in the eastern corner of the plaza but now there was a food house serving round flat bread with toppings of different kinds on it.
It was all so puzzling to him that he concluded this must be hell and that every one here along with himself was waiting for some sort of delivery from this hell hole. Though no one seemed very bothered by their predicament.
He did have a pretty good idea as to why he was here and promised himself that next time death greeted him he would certainly remember to pay the ferryman.
Written for: http://channing.info/wp/2015/08/31/kreative-kue-40/