Ballad of the River of BloodMature

The conductor beats his baton against the board and is ready to orchestrate his symphony of doom.

Far far away from the great city of Pompei a conductor from the 19th century beats his baton against his board and holds it high above his head. His lips twisted into a smile that defies nature showing clean cut sharp teeth of a shark. He lowers the baton as the drum booms over the city sending ashy shockwaves over the town covering it in feet of debris. He swirves it to his right as the lava pours over the brink and eviscerates that side of the island. He swivels the baton over to the left and that side of the mountain opens up with the force of a horn, sending that side of the land into submergence under the waters of fire. He lowers the baton low and raises it once again bringing forth giant waves crashing with whistle of flutes sending the rest of the stragglers into the devastation that is the end of Pompei. His music has ended and his job is done.

The End

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