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"Are the gods angry?" she said with a laugh as Vesuvius rumbled with warnings advance. I cuffed her behind, but gently, and laughed: "Lady bring me more wine for my morning repast." I had sup'd with old Pliny just the evening before. Admiral of the fleet anchored safely offshore. My vineyards are fruitful, a source of fine wines. and the olives, when pressed, make a spread that's divine. My Villa is handsome, and I own many slaves. so you see I've no use for their Jesus who saves. The top of the mountain disappeared in a blast Our homes are laid siege to with pumice and ash. The women are screaming I hear a child cry. I hear prayers vainly offered to an uncaring sky. The air is quite thick My lungs are oppressed. My Villa is burning along with the rest. With a cloth on my mouth, I race to the shore, hoping, dear Pliny, to see you once more. I look on with horror as burning stone blocks my path I crouch by a wall as my last moments pass. * * * * * The Archeologist tutted "Well, who have we here? "Clearly no slave from this ring it appears." " I am Lucius Flavius." My Lemure would remind. but I'm like a statue and mute for all time.
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Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
Lucius Flavius, Last day at Pompeii
"Are the gods angry?" she said with a laugh as Vesuvius rumbled with warnings advance. I cuffed her behind, but gently, and laughed: "Lady bring me more wine for my morning repast." I had sup'd with old Pliny just the evening before. Admiral of the fleet anchored safely offshore. My vineyards are fruitful, a source of fine wines. and the olives, when pressed, make a spread that's divine. My Villa is handsome, and I own many slaves. so you see I've no use for their Jesus who saves. The top of the mountain disappeared in a blast Our homes are laid siege to with pumice and ash. The women are screaming I hear a child cry. I hear prayers vainly offered to an uncaring sky. The air is quite thick My lungs are oppressed. My Villa is burning along with the rest. With a cloth on my mouth, I race to the shore, hoping, dear Pliny, to see you once more. I look on with horror as burning stone blocks my path I crouch by a wall as my last moments pass. * * * * * The Archeologist tutted "Well, who have we here? "Clearly no slave from this ring it appears." " I am Lucius Flavius." My Lemure would remind. but I'm like a statue and mute for all time.
First person fictional tale of the last day of Pompeii as see through the smug and self satisfied eyes of Lucius Flavius.
john-f-mccullagh
Written by
63/M/American
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
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