mediae
i'm on top of the world hey! (he / she / they)
Hey! I wrote this as a piece for English Homework; but I wanted to post it here to see if anyone had any suggestions to improve on it in future!
A second Pompeii. That’s what the experts had said, but, like always in this new age, everyone trusted their own instincts more than the ones of the professionals. A fool’s mistake really. The smoke was said to billow over an area larger than three London’s stacked back to back and laid out across the floor; it had the potential to be an extinction event, but no one had listened.
The boy who cried wolf summed up the situation pretty well. Someone high in power, one who controlled all the cards, handed out the chips, was the King sat on a throne of deceit and lies had continuously fed inaccuracies to the public from the shadows, cultivating and growing them to be hateful of the hand that fed them, their saving grace. A cruel, undermining, horrendous plan, but one that worked nonetheless. The world grew cold and callous, spiteful of those telling the truth, simply because they couldn’t sift through the ones who were trying to help them, couldn’t pan for the gold within the sand.
To the sinners and the saints, whether those were accurate descriptions anymore, choking ash and burning sludge wouldn’t tell the difference. To it, they were just things in its way. Those caught in the hellfire wouldn’t make it out, that much was plain to say and see.
The event started on Monday, with people going around just like normal, walking their ways and staying out of one anothers. They didn’t interact further than an accidental nudge, a muttered half apology, then passed on their way. Funny, you don’t realise how much you actually need the comforting embrace of another until you realise you’re seconds from no longer being able to feel anything. The human embrace would soon be removed for the kiss of flame, the smoky silent words of ash and the bubbling, crying embrace of molten matter.
The event took a sharp turn when the smoke came in and seized the atmosphere, lifting and lifting until it took the form of a more circular area of ash around two miles in diameter, blanketing and suffocating the sky. The ash cloud continued to rise from the mouth of the volcano, but the fire in it hadn’t yet taken hold, hadn’t shown its true destructive colours. At the outskirts of the ash cloud, understanding slowly that it would continue growing, slowly consuming, that running was an impossibility, people met, started small gatherings, sharing their fears and what little hope they had left with those who had reached out for them.
There the human embrace started, coalescing and connecting. Hands grabbed unfamiliar hands, people clutched complete strangers, desperate for some sort of respite from the horror about to unfold around them.
But that had been the plan all along; get people to fear the world around them, then offer them sanctuary. Offer them a plan, an escape. After all, when faced with their own death, people would do anything just to get another shot at life, a second chance.
And they did. In an instant they ran in and they fell in love with their saviours, their protectors, the ones who promised them a better life, one where they lived and would never know pain or terror again. That promise was what swayed people into falling blindly into the arms of these new world dictators. People, instead of running from the next disaster and uncovering the deceit, chose to trust the ones promising them better days. And the survivors, after all, have the advantage. They’re the ones left to spread further, more benevolent ideas of their saviours, their protectors. They’re the ones left to keep the fire burning, when their new community starts to falter.
And so the lie repeated and spun, the man-made event forming the catalyst for a new era, forming the new change. The inherent deceit would toil away, burning in the hearts of man as the destruction of the volcano had done, flickering and glowing ever brighter, the pure euphoria of succeeding and winning the fuel to keep it alight.
A second Pompeii. That’s what the experts had said, but, like always in this new age, everyone trusted their own instincts more than the ones of the professionals. A fool’s mistake really. The smoke was said to billow over an area larger than three London’s stacked back to back and laid out across the floor; it had the potential to be an extinction event, but no one had listened.
The boy who cried wolf summed up the situation pretty well. Someone high in power, one who controlled all the cards, handed out the chips, was the King sat on a throne of deceit and lies had continuously fed inaccuracies to the public from the shadows, cultivating and growing them to be hateful of the hand that fed them, their saving grace. A cruel, undermining, horrendous plan, but one that worked nonetheless. The world grew cold and callous, spiteful of those telling the truth, simply because they couldn’t sift through the ones who were trying to help them, couldn’t pan for the gold within the sand.
To the sinners and the saints, whether those were accurate descriptions anymore, choking ash and burning sludge wouldn’t tell the difference. To it, they were just things in its way. Those caught in the hellfire wouldn’t make it out, that much was plain to say and see.
The event started on Monday, with people going around just like normal, walking their ways and staying out of one anothers. They didn’t interact further than an accidental nudge, a muttered half apology, then passed on their way. Funny, you don’t realise how much you actually need the comforting embrace of another until you realise you’re seconds from no longer being able to feel anything. The human embrace would soon be removed for the kiss of flame, the smoky silent words of ash and the bubbling, crying embrace of molten matter.
The event took a sharp turn when the smoke came in and seized the atmosphere, lifting and lifting until it took the form of a more circular area of ash around two miles in diameter, blanketing and suffocating the sky. The ash cloud continued to rise from the mouth of the volcano, but the fire in it hadn’t yet taken hold, hadn’t shown its true destructive colours. At the outskirts of the ash cloud, understanding slowly that it would continue growing, slowly consuming, that running was an impossibility, people met, started small gatherings, sharing their fears and what little hope they had left with those who had reached out for them.
There the human embrace started, coalescing and connecting. Hands grabbed unfamiliar hands, people clutched complete strangers, desperate for some sort of respite from the horror about to unfold around them.
But that had been the plan all along; get people to fear the world around them, then offer them sanctuary. Offer them a plan, an escape. After all, when faced with their own death, people would do anything just to get another shot at life, a second chance.
And they did. In an instant they ran in and they fell in love with their saviours, their protectors, the ones who promised them a better life, one where they lived and would never know pain or terror again. That promise was what swayed people into falling blindly into the arms of these new world dictators. People, instead of running from the next disaster and uncovering the deceit, chose to trust the ones promising them better days. And the survivors, after all, have the advantage. They’re the ones left to spread further, more benevolent ideas of their saviours, their protectors. They’re the ones left to keep the fire burning, when their new community starts to falter.
And so the lie repeated and spun, the man-made event forming the catalyst for a new era, forming the new change. The inherent deceit would toil away, burning in the hearts of man as the destruction of the volcano had done, flickering and glowing ever brighter, the pure euphoria of succeeding and winning the fuel to keep it alight.