Serena's Diary

A Story by ivyheart

I wrote this as a project for my latin class. It is about a woman whose husband has betrayed her and the "end of the world" (a.k.a. the volcanic eruption of Mt. Vesuvius).

July 6

It has been a little over a year since he carried me over the threshold and into our new house that has been filled with warm words of love. But now a chill has presented itself, creeping ever slowly nearer. Isidorus is hardly around anymore. I cannot question his lack of presence, but it has made its way into my liver like someone has taken a piece away and there is now a hollow space. He should just be working more in the tavern, right? Yes, that is what it is. No need to worry.

July 11

My slaves have notified me that Isidorus has been away for the night. Where ever is he? His absence is worrying me. Is he hurt? Is he alive? Where is my lovely husband? Why won’t he come and allow his exhaustion to trickle away from his body in our chambers? I know that if I was to ever question him out loud, he would get angry, so I mustn’t. I miss the days where he was there by my side, giving me his utmost attention. Now I feel almost as if he doesn’t care.

July 13

He came home today. He came home but he didn’t speak one word to me. Did I upset him? If I did, I don’t understand how I did, all I have done is worry about him. There is nothing I can do but leave him to his thoughts. Maybe I will bring my slave, Gaius, and take a stroll around Pompeii.

Later: Gaius didn’t talk much, so my walk was mostly peaceful. Only once did I have troubles, but he protected me. Two gladiators decided that they wanted to risk coming and trying to lead me away, saying that I was a beautiful lady and that I should be in the arms of a strong, brave man. What nerve they have! So Gaius stepped in and stood up for me. Sometimes I really appreciate the fact that I have kind slaves, maybe they are kind because I treat them well.

July 14

It is very early in the morning, but I have found something that shocks me deeply. A golden bracelet that has “I love you, my slave” scrawled on the inside of it, on the floor of my husband’s and my chamber. He, however, was nowhere to be found. What is the meaning of this? Isidorus loves a slave? He let her come in here? It feels like I have been stabbed hundreds of times. It must be a mistake. I must know, even if that requires sneaking around behind his back.

July 23

I try not and think about the bracelet on a daily basis. It is hard, but it must not be true. Someone else broke into our house and dropped something that might identify them. Yes, that’s it. But…wouldn’t the dogs have barked to warn someone, anyone, that there was an unwelcomed guest? I’m restless with these emotions pounding within every part of my being.

July 30

Today I went to the baths to try and take my mind off of it all by the chitter chatter of gossip slung around here and there, reaching the ears of all. I walked into the building and was warmed by the natural hum of it. Most girls won’t talk about the local politics for too long for it bores them, unlike the men. But I heard a few names drift my way, such as Tacitus, who is well known, and Pliny, who is in command of the navy. However, as I drew nearer to a few girls that bathed in a pool of warm water and sipped wine, I heard my name and there was an instant hush among whose ears had heard and unconcealed stares. The girls in the bath sneered at me and said in a slurred voice, “I hearsss tha yur Isssidoruz lovem another wuuman. I saws them with my own eyesss in an filthy alley behind a tavern. HAHA!” And then another whispered, “I heard it was a slave named Camilla.” I wavered, foot halfway to the ground in the form of a step. Camilla, my Camilla? The one that I grew up with, the one my parents had gotten for me as a playmate. THAT Camilla? Ice stabbed at me, sliced through my veins and ran along with them, carrying the chill all throughout my body in a matter of second. I turned on my heels and ran as fast and as far as I could from that awful place with screeching laughs pursuing me, from the awful reality that pounded in my liver.

August 5

I need to know, I need to find out whether it is true. I don’t care if I will be disobeying his orders. This can’t be happening.

August 16

Today was the day that I asked him about her. I tapped down the colorful mosaic floors that twirled in patterns that made my head swirl, past the frescos of eerily beautiful battle scenes, right into our chambers. She was there, in my bed, OUR bed, with HIM. They were asleep, oblivious to the thunder that had erupted from my very being. For a split second, I let my feelings for her tumble around about me, the memories pooled over, and I allowed the beauty of her touch my eyes. Her smooth olive skin, wavy light brown hair, her small but delicate features. Something inside me tasted as bitter as poison. It wasn’t very long until the lightning inside me had struck, stabbing blindly at anything in its path. I grabbed her arm and drug her from the bed to where she landed upon the floor, screams erupting from her like a wild beast. She dug and clawed at my arm, but I didn’t care. She needed to be away from my husband. He was mine, not hers. The commotion had awoken him. He seized me, ripping me away from her and shoved me as far as he could. “What in the Gods names are you doing here Serena?” he yelled, “Get out! Get away from my Camilla!” Mine, he said “my”. For a second, the world became a mass of blurs, but I managed to hold on. My voice as sharp as ice, I said, “My? When did this occur? As I recall, I am the one you are wedded too, not some slave girl.” He looked to me, to Camilla, and then back again, obviously poised to protect her from me. Then, in the cruelest voice I have yet heard, he replied, “Serena, my dear. You see…I married you as a cover up, and as a way to be able to get closer to my love. My ONLY love. Now I see my cover is blown, so I will have to ask you to leave this house. Permanently.” I could have refused; I could have fought with all of my might to stay. But what would be the point? I am loved by no one. Not my husband, not my best friend. So I gathered my pride and quietly left, only letting the tears stain my face once I was far away from that house and into the streets of this dangerous city. I am alone.

August 18

It is strange to be by myself, out here in the open, where there is a possibility that anything could happen to me. I feel too exposed. It’s not right. I walked randomly, not caring where I went, because I don’t have anywhere TO go. I walked in silence, watching the world around me. Laughter drifted from men who played dice games in a tavern. I glanced into the building and saw that the score on the wall read that they were in a heated tie. I turned my head in a different direction and saw murals painted onto walls, those of which displayed the very same game the men were playing. I decided to keep moving. Past garbage dumps scattered here and there, past little kids playing tag, past everything. It wasn’t long until I found a place to stop, a small, abandoned building that was run down. It looked like it once contained chickens, maybe ones that were used for the fortunetellers. So here I am for the night.

August 21

I have no money, I have nothing. My body is starting to tell me as much. I feel so weak, I can’t go on like this. I feel a thick heaviness closing over me.

Later: I woke up to a sudden start. Gaius has found me; he says that he isn’t supposed to be here. Isidorius has forbidden any slave to come after me, but he came anyway. He says that I am the one he thought of as master, not my husband, so he is here, giving me food that he has taken from the house. He cannot stay though; he has to get back to the house before anyone notices his disappearance. I am grateful for having such a nice slave. Now that my body feels somewhat better, I think I will go for a walk.

August 23

I traveled wherever my feet took me, and surprisingly that was back to my house. The second I went there, I felt something was dearly wrong. Not just due to the fact that my best friend had stolen the one I had once loved. I caught sight of our eldest slave, Minerva, and her expression made me want to cry. I silently walked up to her, making sure no one saw, but made it noticeable enough for her to not startle her. She shook her head and told me, “You shouldn’t be here, young one. Or he will be after you as well. He already got Gaius, for not obeying him. Go, before you will die as well.” I backed up, turned, and fled. He just had to kill everything good in my life, didn’t he? I feel no more kind feelings for him; I wish upon him the same fate that he deserves, one that will end in his eternal slumber. I ran, ran and ran, until I came upon a wall with many graffiti’s upon its smooth surface. I scanned it for an opening and found one between “Crecens publicus cinaedus” and “Liva Alexandro salute. Si vales, non multum curo. Si perieris, gaudeo.” I found a rock and took my anger out of the wall, carving in three white words, “Serena Isidorum fastidat.” Then I quietly said out loud, “Why her? I am better than her, better than anyone. If she wasn’t in the way, I could have had happiness and Gaius would still be alive.” I went back to my little shelter and sat in the same position I am still sitting in. But now I shall sleep.

August 24

The earth rumbles under my body, it reaches all around. It is unsettling.

A few hours later: A huge black cloud that looks like a pine tree had blasted out of Mt. Vesuvius. It is a strange sight to behold. It goes up and up and spreads out, blotting out the skies. Soon it will be darker than night. I need to find a lantern in which I can use so I can write.

One hour later: I found a lantern. I came across it when people were running about, seemingly trying to get away from the city. The clouds are coming closer. I’m scared.

Another hour passes: Rocks of many assorted sizes and ash have started falling from the skies. Some bodies are littered on the ground, eyes glazed and unseeing. Dead. I have caused the Gods wrath. It is my fault. I have caused them to want to eat our whole world up with my wishes and my words. What have I done?

August 25

The skies are still raining debris, and it’s getting thicker. The streets have about a foot or so of it already. I’m in my little run down chicken coop. I see some people carrying pillows over their heads and heading out into the streets. Maybe it would be wise to run, but I can’t. I don’t have the strength to, I feel too hollow.

August 26

It doesn’t matter if I die. The Gods would find me even if I didn’t. Maybe that is why they are punishing us all, to show me that I have no place to run, no place to hide. Nothing lasts forever. The ash that has climbed much higher than yesterday is making my lungs burn, my throat slimy. It’s pressing against the walls of this place. I won’t last much longer either the ash or this structure will entomb me, but I’m not afraid to die. All I have to say is...i’m sorry, and...I wish that the world will be able to live on, somehow, someday. That is all, now, goodbye. It’s time for me to embrace death’s doors.