THE MISTAKE

But I was happy that I got to see new pyramids and statues made of stones. The architecture and the sheer size of the monuments left me in awe. How could humans from an ancient time build something so magnificent without modern technology? It was a sight to behold, but my fascination was soon overshadowed by a pressing need—I was hungry.

I was tired from walking endlessly in the scorching sun when I stumbled upon a lively marketplace. The aroma of spices and sweets filled the air, making my stomach growl louder with each passing second. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't resist exploring.

The market was a vibrant spectacle, with colorful stalls lining the narrow paths. Traders shouted to attract customers, while others bargained for goods. The fruits, sweets, and roasted meats made my mouth water. Yet, my appearance didn't go unnoticed. I could feel the curious and suspicious eyes of the locals boring into me.

Crowds began to gather, their murmurs growing louder. I could make out their bewilderment; my strange attire, shoes, and bag must have seemed alien to them. Children giggled nervously before darting away, while others just stared, wide-eyed.

In desperation, I gestured to a man selling fruit, pointing to my mouth to indicate that I was hungry. To my relief, he handed me a large watermelon. The cool, sweet juice was a blessing in the desert heat, quenching both my hunger and thirst. Grateful, I smiled and nodded, trying to convey my thanks without words.

The crowd around me began to laugh, their suspicion giving way to amusement. They seemed to think I was some sort of lost foreigner. The man who had given me the watermelon beckoned me to follow him, gesturing that he would help me.

He took me to his humble home, a simple stone structure with a straw roof. Inside, it was cool and shaded, a welcome relief from the harsh sun. His family—two children and a woman who I assumed was his wife—watched me with a mix of curiosity and caution.

The man sat me down and pointed to his mouth, mimicking speech. Then he gestured to his ears, as if asking if I was deaf or dumb. I shook my head vigorously and, with some frustration, exclaimed, "I can speak!" However, my words seemed meaningless to them as they didn't understand my language.

Realizing the communication barrier, I resorted to gestures. I pointed to myself, then mimicked walking, and finally rubbed my fingers together to indicate money. I tried to convey that I was a traveler whose money had been stolen.

The man nodded slowly, as if he understood. He smiled and patted my shoulder reassuringly. With more gestures, he indicated that I could stay with him and his family. He also pointed to his mouth and ears, signaling that he would teach me their language.

Relieved and grateful, I accepted his offer. Over the next few days, I began to settle into life in this strange, ancient time. The man, whom I now called Ahmed, was patient and kind. He taught me basic words and phrases, and I quickly picked up enough to communicate. His children, though initially shy, warmed up to me and found endless amusement in my attempts to mimic their language.

As I spent more time with my host family, I began to immerse myself in their rich culture, which fascinated me at every turn. The daily rhythms of their lives were so different from mine, yet they carried a beauty that felt timeless. Mornings were filled with prayers and rituals that honored the gods of their land, and I couldn't help but be drawn into the reverence they had for the natural world around them. I marveled at the food they ate—simple yet flavorful dishes of bread, dates, and honey—served with warm hospitality. The marketplace was a lively scene of colors and sounds, where merchants hawked everything from spices to woven fabrics. As I wandered the bustling streets, I learned the local customs and manners, like how to greet others with a respectful nod or the right way to offer thanks. In the evenings, my host would sit by the fire, telling me stories passed down through generations—tales of pharaohs, gods, and the ancient mysteries of their land. These moments, though far from my own time, made me feel more connected to the people around me, and I began to see this strange, ancient world not just as a place I had accidentally landed in, but as a place of rich history, emotion, and experience.

In return, I helped Akil with small chores and learned about their way of life. The simplicity of their existence was both humbling and fascinating. They showed me how they harvested crops, cooked meals, and prayed to their gods.

As days turned into weeks, I began to feel at home. Yet, a part of me longed to return to my own time. My curiosity about their world was now overshadowed by a growing desire to escape the uncertainty of being stranded.

One night, when the family was fast asleep, I decided to try my time machine again. I crept out of the house, clutching my phone. My heart pounded as I turned it on, hoping against hope that the battery still had some charge left.

To my relief, the familiar light-filled portal appeared before me. I stared at it, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through me. This was my chance to leave.

But just as I took a step forward, the portal flickered and vanished. My phone screen went black. Panic set in as I tried to restart it, only to realize that the battery was completely drained.

I sank to the ground, overwhelmed by a crushing sense of defeat. My one hope of returning home was gone, at least for now. I stared at the darkened phone, its once-brilliant screen now a lifeless shell.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I muttered to myself.

For the first time since arriving, I felt truly alone. The thought of spending the rest of my life in this ancient world was unbearable. How am I supposed to charge my phone in a world where electricity hasn't been invented yet? In this era, people rely on lanterns and lamps for light, and the hum of modern technology is nothing but a distant dream. The thought of plugging in a device to recharge seems almost laughable in a time where such conveniences don't exist. The world around me is bathed in the soft glow of oil lamps, and the idea of using anything powered by electricity feels completely out of place. How do I explain the need for a simple power source when the very concept of it has yet to be discovered?

Yet, as I looked at the stars above, I resolved to find a way.

Tomorrow, I would begin searching for a solution. If the people of this time could build pyramids and monuments that lasted millennia, then surely I could find a way to harness enough power to charge my phone. Hope, though faint, still burned within me.

With that thought, I trudged back to Mansoor uncles home, determined to survive and find my way back to my own time.