Mountain of Doom

It’s a typical day in beautiful Pompeii, in the year 79 _A.D. The main street teems with people—women swishing by in long robes, men in tunics, children with leather sandals that slap against the hot stone streets. Vendors shout for your attention, offering slices of juicy melon and sizzling hunks of roasted meat. A parrot calls out from the shoulder of a shopkeeper. “Salve!” he squawks—“hello” in Latin, the language of the Roman Empire.

You’re surprised by how modern this ancient city seems. It has a library, theaters, and grand temples. You stop at a market, where you sample dozens of delicacies. Don’t you want to try some roasted mice stuffed with nuts and rose petals?

Now look at the beautiful marble and bronze statues across the street. These monuments, which stand throughout the city, honor the mighty emperors who built Rome into one of the most powerful empires in the world.

By now, you’re thirsty, so you stop at a public fountain made of carved stone. You scoop up the cool water. No wonder Romans are proud of their water. Nowhere else in the world has such a sophisticated system of aqueducts—underground tunnels that deliver fresh water to fountains, bathhouses, and homes.

As you rest by the fountain, an enormous man lumbers past, his arms scarred, his muscled legs thick as tree trunks. This man is a gladiator set to do battle that afternoon in Pompeii’s amphitheater, a stadium that holds 20,000 people.

Romans love to watch gladiators attack each other with fists, swords, clubs, or knives. Sometimes contests are staged between men and wild animals, such as lions and bears. If these blood sports sound gruesome, that’s because they are. Gladiators often die in the arena.

Maybe by now you’ve noticed it: the massive mountain that looms behind the city. That’s Mount Vesuvius. You haven’t given it much thought, and neither have the people of Pompeii. Why should they? It’s just a big mountain, silent and still, its gentle slopes covered with trees and vineyards.

Except Mount Vesuvius is not just a mountain. It is a volcano. Vesuvius sits atop a crack in Earth’s crust—the hard, rocky layer that covers the surface of our planet like the shell of an egg. From miles below, molten rock, or magma, seeps up through the crack.

The people of Pompeii have no idea that an enormous lake of magma boils under Vesuvius, steaming with explosive, poisonous gases. How could they? Vesuvius has been dormant for 1,500 years. There is not even a word for volcano in Latin.

But now Vesuvius is waking up. For months, magma has been rising through the center of the volcano. Pressure is building. A catastrophic eruption is coming.

For the past few weeks, strange things have been happening. Talk to the farmers who tend the vineyards. They’ll tell you about a pungent smell—like rotten eggs—wafting from the mountaintop. Is it a warning from the gods? Like the ancient Greeks before them, the Romans believe that gods and goddesses control everything in the world. Some say that mighty Jupiter, god of the sky, is angry with the people of Pompeii. Nobody understands that the terrible smell is sulfurous gas, part of the explosive brew simmering inside Vesuvius.

Meanwhile, extreme heat underground has dried up springs. Goats and sheep are dropping dead on the mountainside, their lungs seared by poisonous gases. Most alarming of all: Small earthquakes rumble through the city, an indication of growing strain on the land. These are all signs pointing to an imminent eruption. The people of Pompeii should have evacuated days or even weeks ago.

If only they understood.

So what are you doing standing around?

You should run. Now!

But it’s too late.

BOOM!

A powerful explosion shatters the air. The earth shakes violently. People tumble to the ground. Horses and donkeys scream. Birds scatter by the thousands. You see a terrifying sight: a gigantic column of what appears to be gray smoke spewing from the top of Vesuvius.

It isn’t smoke though. The intense heat produced by the eruption has turned millions of tons of solid rock into superheated foam. The foam shoots 12 miles into the sky. When it hits the freezing air above Earth, it turns into tiny pebbles called pumice. The pumice spreads out, carried by the wind, and pours down on Pompeii.

Mixed with hot ash, the pumice falls with painful force and clogs your nose and throat. Many people flee. Go with them! Push your way past the donkey carts, and get through the gates of the city. Grab hold of the hand of a little boy who has become separated from his family. Keep moving. The farther away you get, the more likely you are to survive.

But not everyone flees. Some decide to stay, to guard their homes and businesses. Crime in Pompeii is bad. An abandoned home or shop will almost certainly be looted. People hide in their homes, believing that this strange storm of ash and rock will soon end.

They are wrong.

The sky turns black. Hours pass, and the weight of the pumice causes roofs to collapse, trapping people in their houses.

Then, more terror.

As the volcano loses energy, the molten rock and ash mix together to create boiling waves that rush down the mountain at 180 miles per hour. This burning, poisonous avalanche is known as a pyroclastic flow. When it hits Pompeii, death comes swiftly.

Over the next few hours, millions of tons of ash and rock fall on the city.

In the weeks that follow, people search Pompeii for survivors. There are none. In fact, the entire city seems to have vanished. Pompeii is buried under more than 10 feet of rock.

Soon, Pompeii is all but forgotten.

You survived your day in Pompeii. You are one of the lucky ones who made it far enough to escape being crushed or burned. But before you go home, let’s take another trip, to the ruins of Pompeii today. The ruins lie near the city of Naples, Italy. For nearly 1,700 years, Pompeii lay quietly buried. It was rediscovered in 1748 and has been under almost constant study ever since.

The layers of pumice and ash that fell on Pompeii formed a shell over the city, preserving it as a time capsule of Roman life. Over the centuries, archaeologists have unearthed dazzling treasures, like jewels and silver dishes, statues, and mosaic artwork. They even found the remains of a basket of eggs and a bowl of chicken soup.

As you walk through the ruins of Pompeii, you can admire what is left of houses, shops, and temples. You can almost hear the voices of the citizens. And you can see Mount Vesuvius, silent and still.

But don’t be fooled.

Vesuvius has erupted more than 30 times since Pompeii was destroyed—the last time in 1944. These eruptions were small, but scientists have no doubt that the volcano will erupt again, possibly with the same explosive force as it did in 79 _A.D. They worry about the millions of people who live in the eruption zone.

Will there be enough warning before the next big explosion? Or will people suffer the same fate as those in ancient Pompeii—swallowed by fire, buried in ash, and lost to time? 

Mackenzie Carro: Why did you want to write about Vesuvius?

Lauren Tarshis: Vesuvius is a fascinating, terrifying, exciting, unexpected, shocking disaster story, but it’s also so much more! It’s a window into almost everything we know about ancient Rome: what people wore, what they ate, what kids played with, what their homes were like, how people worshipped—all because of what was discovered when Pompeii was excavated.

Carro: How much research was required?

Tarshis: A huge amount! I actually went to Pompeii. As a researcher, you can learn a ton by watching videos, reading books, interviewing experts, and going to museums. But I benefited so much from actually being there: walking through the streets, looking up to see that volcano above me, and trying to imagine how it could shift from this peaceful mountain into a monster raining down death and destruction.

Carro: How did you decide which details to include?

Tarshis: A challenge for writers, especially when you love your topic, is that you want to tell your readers everything. But I kept asking myself, “What is necessary to tell this story?” I’m writing a four-page article, not a book. I’m not making a movie. I also knew that my article would be designed to give a lot of sensory detail. Understanding what your author’s purpose is before you sit down to write helps you decide what details will best support the journey you want to take the reader on.

Carro: Speaking of journeys, why did you choose to write in second person?

Tarshis: The coolest thing about being in Pompeii was that feeling of walking in the footsteps of the people who lived there. I wanted to give readers the experience of being there. I felt that second person would deliver that connection in the most powerful way.

Carro: It totally works, by the way. It’s riveting.

Tarshis: Oh, I’m so happy!

Carro: Why is it important to learn about events from the distant past, like the eruption of Vesuvius?

Tarshis: There are so many reasons. First, they help us understand where we are today. I want readers after they read one of my books or stories to think, “How does this impact my life today?” I also think learning about the past builds empathy. To feel the flesh and blood of those who lived before us can help us understand that they were human beings—just like us.

Carro: Any advice for kids who want to write historical stories?

Tarshis: Look at your journey through history—your research journey—as its own exciting experience. Learn all you can. Then as you’re writing, put yourself in the chair of your reader. Ask yourself, “What’s going to make my reader want to keep reading and then want to learn more on their own?” That will help you create something interesting and exciting. 

This article was originally published in the March 2020 issue.