Flavia's Paterfamilias: A Narrative Fiction

“Flavia, your father wants you,” Drusilla, her tutor and maid, says. “He says for you to come to his study immediately.” Flavia nods and the sound of her footsteps linger long after she walks to her father’s study. The paterfamilias is the most important member of the family, the father figure, and he has the last word. Her father, the pater, is Cato Equitus, a successful plebeian merchant of wine. She finally arrived at her father’s study, and she knocks three times on the door. “Come in,” he speaks. She walks in. He lays down his scroll, and sighs.
“Salve, father,” she announces.
“Flavia, come here,” says her father. He takes an object out of a small, black box. “Here,” her father instructed. “This belonged to your mother. It should …show more content…
The sky is turning black, not the soft, velvet, black fabric of the night with white embedded pearls. No, this is a demonic, black shadow, looming over Pompeii. This is the shadow looming over Flavia, Drusilla, and countless others. It stays there, effortlessly. Then flakes of hot, burning cinders, trailing streaks of red in the pitch-black darkness rain down onto the ground. Rocks still pelt them as everybody runs away, as far away as they can. Ash floats, in layers of suffocating material in contrast to the fast, free falling cinders. The ground beneath them groans and shudders as if the Earth is awakening from its slumber. Then the shadow crashes and slides down the slope, rushing through the maze work of the stone …show more content…
Screams of terror fill the air. Flavia runs with them, but she feels the need to catch her breath, to slow down, to lie down, to sleep…
The ring on her finger becomes deathly cold, and a chill floods her body. She comes to her senses. Flavia can see her Drusilla’s mouth moving, but she can’t hear it over the roar of the usually peaceful volcano. Drusilla points, and Flavia runs in that direction. Her lungs heave and heave, but somehow, the ring gives her strength. Up ahead, she sees the raisin-cake dog with a companion. But by then, she starts stumbling again.
She looks around while she’s running, and she sees bodies in a fetal position, curled up on themselves. In a start, she realizes something’s missing. Drusilla is gone. She stops for a moment, but somehow, the ring on her finger heats up and it becomes a bit easier to