more creative non-fiction

Names have been changed….
A Day in Prague
While they were climbing the steep hill that led to St. Vitus’ cathedral in Prague, Elder Beck began to seriously regret the decision to bring his bag.
“I’m sorry you guys,” he mumbled, “I know President Russell told us not to bring bags. I can’t believe I left it there!” The worst he could imagine was that someone had stolen it.
As they approached the cathedral and nearby Prague castle they noticed an unusually large crowd. “Huh, that’s funny,” Elder Beck said, “there weren’t this many people here before.”
They all seemed to be congregating around something. A deep sinking feeling rushed into his heart. “oh no…”
They ran in for a closer look. The crowd was standing in a large circle and everyone looked on in the same direction. Elder Beck immediately recognized the object of their attention.
He knew what he had to do. He slowly approached one of the Prague royal guards.
He cleared his throat, “um excuse me…”
“We cannot talk to you right now, there is a bomb threat. Can’t you see that!”
“Yes… well… that is my bag…”
“What!! You come with us!”
The guards grabbed a hold of him and hurriedly dragged him to the interrogation room not far from the cathedral. The room was suffocatingly small and Elder Beck could barely see past the bright light that was dangling back and forth over his head.
“Who are you?” They shouted.
“I… I’m American, I’m serving as a missionary in Russia and I’m here to renew my visa. I just left my bag here on accident I swear!”
“If you are American show us your passport!”
“I don’t have my passport.”
“What do you mean you don’t have your passport? Where is it?”
“I don’t know….”
The guard slammed his fist on the table and leaned in closer, attempting to garner some new information from Elder Beck’s eyes. “You don’t know?? How do you not know where your passport is?”
“Well, we all gave our passports to some lady in the airport… we are supposed to meet her at six o’clock tonight to get them back… but I don’t know who she is or how to get a hold of her. ”
Unfortunately for Elder Beck this all sounded very suspicious. However, after another series of interrogating questions the police finally realized he was just a dumb kid who had forgotten his bag and let him go. As the police escorted Elder Beck back outside, he mumbled shamefully, “So… am I going to get my bag back?”
The guards said, “oh yes… you’ll get your bag back.”
Meanwhile, back at the cathedral the crowd was continuing to grow. They watched the mysterious bag with eyes wide open, anticipating a grand explosion or an exciting arrest.
With a push from the guards Elder Beck began the long lonely journey to the center of the crowd. Somehow the hundreds of tourists who had gathered managed to remain deadly silent. Elder Beck had only the laughter of his fellow missionaries to comfort him as every eye focused on the seemingly ignorant American. He hung his head and watched the ground, counting the cobble stones as he went along.