Thirty Eight
DOI:
https://doi.org/10.15353/et.v2i1.7350Keywords:
Julius Caesar, Everyday Life, Rome, Short StoryAbstract
Being the farming man he was, his language was not of an educated nature—rambling and stuttering, and certainly not lacking in inconsistencies.Yet, for all this, Gaius swore the shadows in the cubiculum were moving, taking shape and morphing into figures. The flickering light of the oil lamp hardly illuminated the room, projecting the boy’s imagination and soon changing into something else entirely.
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Copyright (c) 2026 Kate Coffell

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