It was August twenty-fourth, in seventy-nine AD.
You know, I wasn't having a horrible day. Until Vesuvius erupted on Pompeii, my town. It was around my breakfast time, like eight I think when that goofy old mountain decided to make clouds. I made my family leave to the nearest town. I promised them I'd stay near the edge of our city. Everyone in Pompeii was kind of chill about the clouds, but my family was worried. I'm happy they left though. It was horrible to watch, the destruction of our town was. Very painful too, I might add. AT least I lived.
