Pompeii

Dark prose

The slag tumbled downward at an alarming rate. Basalt was overtaking my stride as I listened to the screams of my people. I knew it was futile, I could not escape the vesicular scoria brown and black bits that targeted me. It was a punishment from the Gods for my wrongdoing. I would burn. They would burn.

The magma flowed like a summer stream after a rainstorm. Its terracotta concoction was deceptively awe-inspiring.

I leaped upon a stone to stifle the melting of my flesh to no avail. My watery eyes closed, they were blinded by the ashes. Alas, I met my fate. I was forever preserved in the last moments of fear.

“Mommy, mommy look at this one!” The child pointed to the sandy figure crouched upon a rock gazing into the sky. Below it is a plaque that reads:

Unknown Nobel, Pompeii 79 AD