8:30 a.m.
Poppilia Cicero's head throbbed. She forced heavy, swollen lids open. Hundreds of people were lying next to her on the floor of a crowded room. She surveyed their sleeping bodies with horror. Most people were covered with gashes, bleeding from places all over their body. Children had torn garments wrapped around their wounds, crusted over with dried blood. Poppilia touched her own face, wary of what she would find. A delicate touch to her forehead revealed a deep, inch long gash. Blood flaked off at the gesture. Soot rubbed off of her blackened cheeks, leaving her finger coloured dark grey. A stinging came from patches all over her arms and legs and feet- burns. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, the previous day's events striking her like a lightning bolt. Augustus. Where is he?! Popillia groped along the wall, trying to find a handhold so she could support herself as she shakily stood up. Her once cream-coloured woolen toga was torn and covered in dirt, ashes, and smeared blood.
Limping over to a window, she pulled aside a sheer curtain billowing in the breeze. Across the ocean, stood a town buried under ash.
Destruction, she thought. And I was the cause.
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A/N: Hey guys! Mackenzie here. I'm starting a new book- I think it'll be a short story, but who knows? Sometimes I tend to get carried away. :) Anyways, click that yellow star if this interested you. Thanks lovelies!
YOU ARE READING
Ashen
RomanceAs the daughter of a well-known senator in a small Italian town, Poppi Cicero leads a quiet, boring life. That is, until she meets Augustus, who captures her curiosity. When she finds herself drawn to him, she digs deeper into his past-and finds som...
