Milo and Aleena

Madre, my older brother Milo and I are walking down the street.

It is a cool summer day in August, and Padre is away watching the great games in the stadium!

Madre smiles. She says the games aren't for little girls like me.

Milo says they are for big men like Padre.

I miss my Padre. He is so strong.

When he comes home he takes me in his arms.

He always kisses me saying; Il mio piccolo fiore! (My little flower!)

Maybe he will bring me and Milo something from the game!

It's not fair. All my friends get to watch the games.

Instead I am going to the market to buy food today!

I love my streets. I love my city. It is home! A much better place than where we used to live.

Madre hands Milo and I money and tells us to go buy bread.

Something unusual has happened.

The ground shook again. 

It has been shaking for a few days now!

This time the world shook so hard, the bread we bought shot right out of Milos hands.

We fell to the ground.

His big green eyes are just like Padre's. 

His eyes look worried.  

Why does the ground keep shaking?

No one knows. 

The grownups have seemed to shrug it off. 

They help us back on our feet and Milo takes my little hand.

We must find Madre! I'm sure she knows what has happened. Madre knows everything.

Suddenly Milos eyes grow wide. Voices are starting to shout. They begin to gasp!

The mountain! The mountain is shooting out fire!

A man falls to his knees next to me and starts confessing his sins.

He says we have made the Gods mad.

Why?

My brother grabs my hand again and we flee to find Madre.

Madre! Madre! Where are you Madre!!? Milo screams out.

We dart and zig zag through the growing crowd.

The streets fill up with our neighbors and our friends.

It is impossible to find Madre.

Suddenly I see her! She runs to us and embraces us.

She tells us to come with her.

We run. I can't keep up with her!

My little legs are already tired.

We rush back home.

Days have gone by and we don't know what to do.

Padre hasn't come home.

Madre does nothing but pace around our house rubbing her face. She often sits down and stares out into nothing.

Everyone is shouting and bickering through the nights.

Should we stay? Should we go? Something about evacuation.

What is evacuation?!

The ground shakes all the time now. We fall but get back up.

Our homes and the walls of our city are starting to tumble down.

One morning Madre wakes me.

Padre is here!

Milo and I are sleepy and Padre and Madre are telling us we are leaving our home. I can sense panic in their voices but they look so calm. I don't want to leave again! I like it here.

Padre picks me up and tells me everything will be okay. He kisses me.

I hope he doesn't think I am scared! I want to be brave like he and Milo!

We go out the door.

Suddenly he stops.

Together, we freeze like statues looking in horror above.  

A great big black cloud eats up our sky.

It is so very dark. Dark like night. It's a kind of dark I don't like.

I can hear Madre is crying now.

Suddenly I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't move! The air is stinging our eyes.

Outside our home, Padre holds Madre, me and Milo close and we pray.

His voice shakes, he is still strong to me. I know he will keep us safe. He always does! Padre can do anything.

He speaks to me.  Close your eyes Aleena! Il mio piccolo fiore..just close your eyes. I am here.

I try to but I can't.

There is chaos around us.

Everyone is running and screaming or praying.

Madre calms me. 

She strokes my hair.

She is still crying but she sings us the lullaby she sings every night before tucking us into our bed.

Why is she still so afraid?

I wish I could be snuggled in my bed. I wish this would all stop. What is happening?

Suddenly we feel unbearable heat. I don't want to look but I roll over on my back looking up at the blackness.  

Ash begins to rain down and cover us. I hug Milo tight. He wipes my face and lets go. He climbs on top of Madre to comfort her.  

Then comes darkness.

More days have passed.

The screaming is gone.

The panic has vanished.

The only sound is the silence.

Our city is gone and we are dead.

Years have gone by and I hear digging!

They find my brother first.

And then they find me.

They have not found Madre or Padre.

They say we will be put in a museum!

What is a museum?

We are apparently very important.

We are Milo and Aleena.

The children of Pompeii.

The victims of Mount Vesuvius.

Hundreds of odd looking people come to see us everyday.

Madre and Padre joined us not too long ago!

They have square things that flash at us in their hands.

Some people cry.

Some just stare for a long time.

Some even avoid us at all costs.

A man keeps coming back to look at us.

Milo and I decided to try and whisper our story in his ears.

I think it is working!

He keeps scribbling it down on paper.

He looks funny but I like him!

He says to his friend that he is writing a song about us!

Maybe the people of today will like it!

I hope it is successful.

I hope people like our story.

Maybe.

Just maybe it'll make my people live on.

 

Our home should never be forgotten.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCU7o9sNy6E

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[erinwrites]

I seriously love this so much. Stories about real-life events like this really intrigue me and ignite many emotions in me. You really had me feeling sorrowful when Milo and Aleena (and later their parents) were pulled from the ruins and put on display as if they weren't once people like the rest of us, forced to be exposed to curious onlookers everyday. I know it's a part of the world's history, but we have to remember that these people probably wanted to rest peacefully instead of having the flashes of cameras blind them for the rest of their afterlives. And the tie-in with Bastille was really interesting – I love that song, by the way. Well done!

[Kathryn Smith]

ahh thanks very much! Bastille is one of my favorite bands. Their song is what inspired me to write this up! I wanted to focus on children in particular because it had to be the scariest for them.

[Lorry]

This is absolutely brilliant, putting a real life perspective on a story that we think we know, but comes to life in your story that tells you more about the lives of the real people who suffered such a terrible fate. It is also one of my favourite documentary topics and I have watched countless versions of events that your words here surpass. Excellent.

[....................]

I did not see this coming until you said Pompeii... this took me back to when I studied Roman history and I remember being really shaken by the silent deaths of so many residents of Pompeii.. your story provides a near visceral description from a wonderfully written first person point of view. I am enamoured by this in a sad way... i feel for those who lost their lives and their homes... well-done!

[AaronFreitas]

I love this write! Great work... real life stories are always the best :) Love the pictures you put up also

[wordman]

you write great stories my friend,loved it