P.O.V. QUINTUS
The entire village is pandemonium as the world ends. I swivel around in panic, scouring the streets for a familiar face- somewhere, anywhere- but it is to no avail. People are running as fast as their legs can carry them and all of the faces blur together. Where has Mother gone? I have lost her in the crowd. We must get home to Father. He has stubbornly decided to remain inside of the house during what is most definitely the world’s destruction. In his justification, though, he did believe it was only a reoccurrence of the great earthquake he lived through before my birth. Yet, the earth is not only quaking, but Mount Vesuvius is spitting fire! What have we done to anger the gods enough for them to make a mountain spit fire?? I do not know, but I know that if the Fates have destined this to happen, there is no escape from death. Is this an entrance to Pluto’s Realm, the Underworld? Does he not have enough shades to suit his fancy?
I wonder how Herculaneum is faring. They received the shorter of two short straws, for liquid fire is descending onto the village from their side of Mount Vesuvius. They surely must be fleeing from uncertain death as well. The muscles in my legs ache, but I refuse to let myself stop sprinting. All of the others are either running away from their inevitable deaths or their lifeless bodies are already vacant. Pompeii is in turmoil. I am the only one running in the opposite direction from the crowd. I must reach Father at home before it is too late. Mother and I had planned to return to our home in an attempt to convince Father to leave with us, to escape from the orange flames consuming the city. But somehow, Mother had gotten lost from me somewhere along our trek through the flaming streets. I once more scour the crowds for my beautiful mother, but if she is there my eyes cannot find her. She remains alive, I can feel it in my heart. She is out there somewhere, looking for me. I swear to myself, I will find her. I will search until I see her face again, perfectly alive and overjoyed to see me. She will hug me, and there will be tears of joy in her eyes at the fact that we both remain alive and reunited. But that will come later. First, I must find her.
Suddenly, I am ripped from my thoughts as the skin on my forehead burns with a blinding white hot pain. I cry out and fall to my knees, my hand instinctually reaching for my face. My hand burns at the point of contact, and as fast as my hand arrives, I pull it away. I look down at my fingertips, and they are covered in ash. I had burned myself many times in my childhood, but never such as this. As I look up, I see what appear to be black snowflakes descending from the sky, and I know that this is ash from the fiery mountain. Fear catches in my throat and my life flashes before my eyes. I am now surrounded by a cloud of thick, black, flaming hot ash. Pain, all I can focus on is the pain. My body trembles along with the quivering ground, and though I try, I cannot subdue my screams of agony. My hands shake, and I panic. The ash additionally thickens and I can no longer see anyone or anything. I scream through clenched teeth and fall to the ground as the intensity of the pain more than triples. I drift in and out of consciousness. I grope my mind for a lifeline, but all I am able to grasp is empty air. I war within myself, attempting to somehow hold on to the consciousness that is slipping away. But the will to live isn't enough this time. As my cries subside and I drift off into blissful death, I am lulled into eternal sleep by the howls of others suffering the same fate as I.
P.O.V. CLEMENS
I stare at the crumbled wall of the house in horror, and my eyes attempt to avoid the pale figure of Master Caecilius’s corpse beneath it. Tears stain my cheeks, and my hand tightens around the ring. Master Caecilius’s last words had been to request that I give his ring to Quintus, his only son. I will fulfill his dying wish if it is the last thing I am ever to accomplish. Before his unfortunate demise, he had been so kind to me. I was always the subject of the other slaves’ envy, for Master Caecilius was selfless and altruistic, benevolent and benign. I have yet to meet a more good- natured and charitable man than Master Caecilius. Only days ago, he had granted me my freedom, but I had remained by his side. Even in his death, my loyalty towards him prevails. As the ground shook and the wall had tumbled upon him, I had been there. I had stayed through the tremors, the fire- spitting mountain, the suffocating smoke. I had brought Master Caecilius his final glass of wine as his life had withered away. Caecilius had been more than a master, but a friend I had respected and trusted. And now he is gone, and all I have left from him is memories and a dying wish. I can see the ash covering the distant streets, closing in on me little by little, and there is minimal chance I may escape with my life, even if I begin sprinting now. Quintus is likely in the cloud of ash, and if I am to die anyway, why should I not attempt to find him to present him with his father's ring? Apart from this, I will never be able to pass on in peace if I leave Master Caecilius's dying wish unresolved. I take a deep breath and walk towards the cloud of ash, step by steady step. The ash moves forward quickly, quicker than my feet can move.
