A young man dies and is transported all the way back into Ancient Sparta. Underneath all the bravado is a now failing nation after over extension from the Peloponnesian war against Athens. Will the man save Sparta and forge it in his desired image? Or will Persia, Athens, and other city-states or empires crush them! Contains portrayals of real life leading figures and gets to the nitty gritty of the often disgusting and disturbing life's people suffered through in Ancient Greece. Expect a new chapter a few times a week. Total world count 30,000 Cover: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/87186942776359625
CRASH
"Someone call 911!"
People ghastly yell and cry around me as I lay on the road after getting hit by a Ford truck and each breath becomes fainter and fainter.
"My Son!" I see my dad running to me with the rest of my family close behind, Is this the end of my life? I had so much more to do…
"D-d-d-ad am I going to be okay?"
"Yes son, don't close your eyes!" Everyone around me starts screaming for help and the rest of my family also centers around me as every single second comes by harder and harder. Until I close my eyes for the last time and everything falls silent.
.
.
.
"Is this death? just silence..." The peacefulness is suffocating and painful...
.
.
.
"Child you are not too worry"
"Is that a voice?" I start to look everywhere in this abyss until suddenly a pure light shines through, piercing my eyes and making me look away.
"I don't understand, why just why did my life end like this?" I scream for a response and the blinding light dims allowing me to eye the 7-foot figure in front of me. A beautiful feminine body and face with ever-expanding wings of pure glowing white an angel through and through.
"Child this is not your end this is just your beginning." the angel says to me lightly, so light it is hard to hear.
Everything then disappears and I close my eyes praying for the angel to explain more…
Until
I open my eyes again
I am being held and my vision is limited
I see my small arms; I must be a baby again
I just died yet... I'm here?
I just turned 18 and received a full-ride scholarship to the college of my dreams
I was supposed to do great things... but I lost it all through death.
Wait, maybe this is another chance, maybe this is my new journey the angelic spirit is talking about! Maybe I'm reincarnated back when I was a baby, if so I can make sure our family invests in Tesla or something bringing us the richness we never had!
Suddenly someone begins speaking! I try to see the person that is speaking yet my infant eyesight renders me unable to do so. The language is completely foreign to me as well, maybe I just have to relearn English? Albeit that doesn't make sense..
*Dumps*
I scream and kick as a form of protest while being submerged while the taste of wine enters my being. I double-check and taste it again and indeed it is wine. I doubt my parents would ever do this. Maybe this isn't reincarnation? Am I in hell then it would make sense for this situation but I thought I lived an honest life and the angel told me this was just my beginning.
They continue talking in a language I don't understand. As I am held in the wine bath by these strangers, I feel multiple hands testing me.
I start kicking at the men and biting so I can be taken away from the wine and the hands to try to start my new life with peace. The strangers continue speaking in an alien dialect until I am then released from the wine but now I feel as though I'm being transported somewhere else. They travel for several minutes, I act calm and try to look around yet can't see anything useful with my limited senses.
All the voices begin to resume their muttering until they completely stop walking. They all speak hard and gruff, seemingly taking whatever is going on dead seriously. Then one of them gets close to my face and I see their Mediterranean features and wearing a Corinthian helmet! This can't be happening. My family would never do this.. does this mean I've been reincarnated with some type of cosplayers? Maybe my parents just had some very weird habits before I could start to remember, yet only one thing is for certain and that is I'm hungry and this feeling is horrid.
I begin to claw at the man wearing a Corinthian helmet carrying me and once I'm put down, I arch my brow inward and start kicking and punching air fiercely hoping to retrieve food. Yet I stop once my senses kick in at the acknowledgement the only food I will be able to have comes from a woman, not a filet mignon or even Tofu.
The men continue to mutter all in varied tones of praise I reckon. They pick me up and I get brought back to my original surroundings and am placed in a woman's arms presumably my mother's.
She speaks in seeming words of praise like the men from earlier, her voice having a tone of masculinity. After she finishes speaking and places me in the arms of a man in spartan armor he then speaks passionately to me. He raises me high not with a smile but instead with a sad face, the man then leaves the house with me in what could only be described as an ancient crib.
I fall asleep due to my infant urges and accept my current predicament. Perhaps this is just a rocky start to my new beginning. The next day then follows and I am picked up and fed by my mother. It is deeply embarrassing to have regressed to this point if only I could've spawned in as at least a 10-year-old.
Father remains nowhere to be seen as I am switched from the hands of my mother to instead to another young woman. The woman cradles me extensively allowing me peace in what seems to be a completely different world. From my limited senses, everyone wears simple cloaks and the houses hold nothing modern.
As the weeks go by I begin to pick up on more social cues between my mother and what has come to be my main caretaker. Her name seemingly being Anastasia and she calls my mother by some honorific following with the name Laurel. As my sight grows the furniture around me presents soft and comfortable shapes none being plastic or modern all being wooden or leathery. The walls all being dried mud and the ceilings seemingly being clay.
I must not be reincarnated in my world! Is this potentially like one of those anime with magic? Perhaps I'm in a different time period if so I will be at an advantage due to my studious background.
The weeks turn into months and I can begin to understand phrases and the social hierarchy between the two women that care for me. Anastasia mainly cares for me and does all the duties of the house while Laurel, my birth mother mainly practices instruments like a lyre. She also bosses Anastasia around and frequently yells clear profanities at her, sometimes even dealing out a smack.
Laurel even begins to purposefully put me in the dark but whatever method of parenting she is trying to place on me holds no use. My face turns to stone as I just find the darkness as a playground for my imagination. She turns proudly to me though after she finishes her parenting every single time and then she leaves me with Anastasia.
Eventually, my legs grew strong enough to allow me to walk. On this monumental day of my newfound freedom, I walk outside with the supervision of Laurel.
.
.
I look out and see everyone wearing the same cloaks as we do. Not just that but the aged men wear Corinthian helmets the same helmets worn from the 300… Am I in Sparta? I turn to Laurel and she makes a rare polite face.
"Ma-ma we Sparta?"
"Yes, my son!" She picks me up proudly and then quickly puts me down.
I sit in disbelief…