THE LAST JUDGMENT

This short story appears in my fifth book a collection of short stories tittled The Unveiiing. You can read the first 3 chapters of each of my published 22 books on my site with Amazon.com: https://w

 

After a somewhat disappointing visit in Florence, I've returned to Rome in a hurry I dare say, and found myself in some obscure bar, without any entertainment or at least background music; I consoled myself with a goblet of Valepolicela wine, I'm not fond of ordinary Chianti.

I'd enough time to think about my visit at the 'Ofici in Florence, except Botticelli's 'La Primavera' in all its grandeur and a lone Leonardo drawing, I haven't enjoyed the visit in that small museum, as I expected it to be.

At the Academy I've watched with much curiosity and regret the original cracked statue of David by Michel Angelo. It fell long ago by some accident and that statue is some twelve and a half feet tall. I saw a copy of it in Florence main square, I've visited the Jewish quarter; and crossed on foot the bridge over the Arno River, which is used as human dwelling too right above the water �" and that bridge summed up my visit in Florence.

I'm very hopeful that in Rome I'll see much more. But how did I reach that bar wasn't clear to me. I wasn't able to concentrate and plan my next steps, human bustle filled up the place, I felt like being in a beehive. I looked around watching the few human figures close to me, and the silhouettes that were a bit far from me. All of a sudden someone appeared out of the darkness, and reached the table next to mine.

'Senior Buonarotti me dispiace ma lei non ha pagato per la cena de ieri sera (Mr. Buonarotti, I'm sorry but you did not pay last night's dinner).

Before Michel Angelo managed to open his mouth, I rose nimbly to my feet and declared aloud: 'Lo pago io!' (I'll pay it).

'Vabene,' the stranger replied rather satisfied and left, and he disappeared in the darkness.

'How dare you and who the hell are you? But do sit down I've forgotten my purse at home again.'

I sat opposite Michel Angelo, watched his features, his broken nose, his beard and unkempt hair; who would have believed it, me sitting with Michel Angelo at the same table…!

'That was the owner I'm in excellent relations with him,' Michel Angelo assured me. 'But I'm not roaming around with dinero.'

'It's okay maestro Buonarotti, I've settled the matter with him, you don't have to worry at all.’ I assured the great master with a kind smile.

‘He did not smile back just asked me with a quizzical look in his eyes.

'What are you drinking senior hum…?' He asked me intrigued.

'Valpolicella,' I answered briskly, I didn't feel any need to identify myself a mortal that I'm, before the immortal genius.

As soon as I answered him he raised his arm the summoned one of the waiters.

‘Una bottiglia de Valpolicella vi prego.’ (A bottle of Valpolicella please) He ordered the waiter rather briskly.

The surprised waiter met my eyes for a friction of a second, and left without uttering a word.

‘Where are you from seniore, and you didn’t introduce yourself?’ He asked me again and watched me with a suspicious stare.

‘I’m from the holy land and never mind my name, I’m very honored to meet you.’

The waiter returned and put the bottle on the table between the two of us in haste, and left right away.

‘If you’re from the holy land I’m the Pope!’ Michel Angelo uttered angrily as he rose to his feet; he took the bottle of Valpolicella, and vanished without taking leave of me.

‘I was shocked and sat upright on my seat dumbfounded.

A completely different waiter arrived to my table in a lighted up strange restaurant hall.

‘Are you feeling well?’ He asked me in Hebrew.

‘Well yes I’m fine, I anssered him surprised.

‘We thought that you’ve fainted, I was about to call an ambulance...’

‘Oh really, I must have fallen asleep I was exhausted I guess… Fetch me a pot of black coffee and the menu please.’ 

Copyright © Haim Kadman 2013 �" all rights reserved.