Taste of Italy

C H A P T E R t h r e e

                                                               . . .

     Just like she thought, the Colosseum was packed. People sprawled out everywhere—whether they were locals or not, Iris saw strangers taking pictures and videos of the architecture, themselves, and everyone else. Just like any other kind of tourist attraction.

But she was the only one that wanted to savor the moment, the exquisite life within the walls of what used to be destruction. Of course, it was no secret that men died as they fought to the death within the stone restrictions; terrifying games were played in front of crowds that would cheer on the obliteration.

In the mornings, men killed or were killed by animals, and near midday, prisoners were executed. Near the end of the day, it was man against man. Outside of the stadium, such killings were made for war. But within the arena, the bloodbath became entertainment. Iris, though interested in such abhorrence, shuttered at the thought of the terror.

All she could imagine were the fights between mankind and animals. She thought of what it would feel like if she were in the audience. Would she have cheered on such violence?

She thought of no reasons how anyone could tolerate it; why would they murder others for entertainment?

Perhaps she didn't have enough information on the background? Or such findings were never brought into the "sunlight"?

Instead of being in the ocean of crowd, she thought of what it would be like to be the one in the challenges. Having the blood of a lion stain her skin and clothes; or her opponent, lying on the ground, surrounding themselves in a pool of red liquid dripping out of his sliced neck, and her taking his sword for victory.

No, I can't see it . . .

Kelly tapped on her arm, probably to see if she were still alive. Iris immediately realized that she had her palm on her cheek. Like usual, she was overthinking and imagining life in a different perspective.

"You know, it amazes me that no one has kidnapped you because I'm sure if they did, you wouldn't even notice." Kelly chuckled. Iris found it offensive as it wasn't her fault for going into deep thought. She couldn't help it. Daydreaming became a part of her that she couldn't get rid of.

How could she, though? The mind could be a wonderful place to be inside of, especially as a writer. "Normal" people didn't have a creative mind when it came to some sort of art; and for those that did, their minds easily wandered off into the sunset, out into space. Never to be heard from again. Their bodies would linger on earth, but they were elsewhere. Their conscience was somewhere else in the universe, probably going through black holes and nebulae, landing their minds on Mars or some faraway planet, outside the galaxy.

The continuing thoughts rambled inside the brains of those that daydreamed and it wasn't their fault. Some may have thought it was, but no one could control such an amazing gift.

Containing daydreams was like concealing the biggest personality trait someone could have.

Iris's creative process went all over the place and she easily lost track of time. "I would notice if I got kidnapped," she defended herself. Maybe she would? Wouldn't it be hard to not know if you were taken away?

"I don't think so," Jane interrupted. "See, when you start looking at random things in silence, you go off into a whole other universe. I've seen you stare at blank walls for thirty minutes, probably without even blinking!"