I am Pompeii. I stand in silence, under the Italian sun. My stone streets are filled with visitors who wander through my ruins, staring at my dilapidated houses, crumbling temples and decaying theaters, long emptied of their original owners and inhabitants. My walls had sheltered around 35 generations of Greeks, Etruscans, Samnites and finally Romans, before falling to the great disaster. The tourists adore me, praise me and gaze at me in awe, exploring every single inch of me.
But once, I was not a ruin. I was once alive and vibrant, with my streets full of laughter, life and commerce. Yells of joy, and the voices of merchants trying to sell their goods echoed through my streets. Soldiers marching through to other cities with their armor clanking passed through my boulevards. Countless Greeks, Romans and other races lived inside my houses and carried on the affairs of life. But, all that changed when disaster struck.
The Disaster
In 79 CE, Mount Vesuvius, the guardian of the city changed into a cold-blooded monster. The autumn day started with the mountain burping out thick ash in the sky. A loud rumbling noise emanating from the depths of the mighty guardian terrified the people and before long, huge fireballs got launched into the sky. Thousands of kilos of rock and ash fell down on me, obliterating my buildings and killing many people.
The air grew dense with each passing second, suffocating all those who tried to flee. My streets, once teeming with life, turned into rivers of thick, black terror, echoing with the cries of agony and desperate footsteps that died away until there was nothing. Roofs buckled under the sheer weight of crumbling ash, walls trembled and collapsed, and flames engulfed what was left. My temples, which had once been dedicated to the gods for safekeeping, were helpless against the wrath that the mountain had unleashed. Hope was consumed, the light died out and all that remained was darkness and despair.
Buried and Forgotten
When finally the mountain grew still, I did also. Buried under meters of rock and ash, I slept soundly, my voice silenced and my splendor forgotten. Centuries passed, and I lay forgotten beneath the earth, intact to the ravages of time, waiting for that day when I would be unearthed. Thus, I lay for many years till I was almost wiped out from the memories of people.
Memory Carved in Stone
Now I rise once again, however not as the living city I once was, but as a memory carved in stone- a quiet observer of both the beauty of human existence and the swiftness of its ruin. Those who walk my streets now walk among ghosts, listening for distant echoes of laughter, commerce, and sorrow carried on in the Italian breeze.
Writer : Aadarsh Nair
Grade : 10 (Year 2025)
Place : Melbourne, Australia
