A Story Of Two Pompeii Lovers
A Mount Vesuvius explosion, a french bistro, the Messiah's return, and more climactic events.
By Ruby Thelot
Published
The End Times is a column cataloguing the omens of the Apocalypse as they occur in culture.
A million Cassandra’s could not convince me to leave without seeing you. I extended my stay one more night, there were lots of logistics involved: chartering another chariot, dealing with the incessant questions of clerks, sending a hurried letter to my family in the capital to inform them of my delay, but I made it work.
When I mentioned I was looking for an inn, you replied that you had room to spare in your villa; your interiors were beautiful, recently repaired, the frescoes’ vivid stories always stirred my imagination, I spent countless hours perusing the horror-ridden face of Iphigenia being dragged to her death in Aulis, Euripides’ verses would echo through my head as I stood transfixed, my eyes would glide over to the purple Clytemnestra hidden under her a veil of shame. Who leads their loved one to death? I crossed the plaza animated by scores of people eating and drinking.
The clement October weather made it the perfect day to be outside, it was around 1 pm. You met me at the edge. Is there a more wondrous sight than that of a friend? The lively merriment of the city streets was interrupted by the thunderous sound of an explosion, a column of smoke appeared from afar, ejaculating from Mount Vesuvius.