The Threads Of Time

so this is my first story, and this has been bouncing around in my head for a while now. so enjoy!

The cheers around the stadium were deafening as each gladiator was brought out in the colosseum. Some wore old, rusted, and worn helmets that didn't fit, while others had gleaming silver masks fitted to their face that cost more than an average family's dinner. But that did not matter. they were here to entertain the Romans. Us specifically. From the emperor's box, i watched and studied each and every gladiator, seeing some recognisable men, others, strangers. i sat with the emperor, entertaing him with my mind, while other girls entertained him with their bodies. I was his personal friend after besting him in a battle of wits. But the games had begun, and I had to keep careful watch.

The fights were wicked, brutal and gory. Each time I come, I come as a favor for the emperor, and each time I struggle to keep my stomach where it belongs. As the bloody carcass of what was once a tiger is dragged out, a man is pushed in. his mask isnt gleaming, but neither is it carelessly made. i saw him in the lineup, but he was standing next to a man with a more decorated mask. i barely noticed him at all. a lion is pushed out into the ring, and you can see the bloodlust in its eyes. as it circles the gladiator, I notice his weapon of choice. A staff. That was it? there was no way a man could stand up to a wild dog with a club, much less a staff against a murderous lion. the crowd seemed to notice this, and started to murmur in surprise. what was in his head? rocks? cleverness? there was only one way to find out. as the lion lunged, the crowd, as well as I, drew a collective intake of breath as we watched the fate of this poor man, whether he would live to fight another beast, or die at the claws of one.

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