the worst headache ever

It was a day just like any other.

I grabbed my freshly waxed surfboard and made my way to the summit of Machu Picchu.  It was a perfect day with not a single cloud in the sky. I followed the one and only trail I knew to the top and after a few hours, I finally reached the peak.

Just then the blue sky turned dark. Lightning snaked its way across the darkness. A large pool of lava began to swell up from the eastern side of the mountain. I sprinted towards the lava with the surfboard tucked under my arm, the ground shaking underneath my bare feet. As I closed the last few feet between me and the bubbling lava, I hopped on my board and slid right into the scorching liquid. I was one with the mountain.

Faster and faster I sped down Machu Picchu. I could hear the birds and the echoing calls of the Alpaca cheer me on. To my left, I noticed a small child, or perhaps it was a midget, holding up a sign that read, “Your limits are illustrations of your weakness.”

I dipped my hand in the lava as I surfed. It felt quite strange. It felt as if my hand was submerged in vibrating iced-water while dozens of slimy earthworms twisted around my fingers. Just then, I heard something fly past my head. I looked around expecting to find something, anything. Before I was able to locate the unidentified flying object, my board reached the base of the mountain. I hopped off and wiped my hands on my shorts. That’s when I heard the whistling sound.

When I opened my eyes it was dark. Like, stare at the back of your eyelids dark. I felt a dull pain behind my eyes and when I tried sitting up a wild throbbing came to life in my temples. I brought my pointer and middle fingers to my head and lightly touched the large bandage. It was moist from either my blood or sweat. Or both. Whatever it was, it had to do with the flying object I spotted earlier. Too bad I couldn’t even figure out what that thing was or how it could hurt me. Oh, hell.. I wasn’t hurt. What am I thinking?

I ignored the pain and stood up. My eyes began to adjust to the dark room and I began to look around for any hints of my location. I heard an engine roar to life from outside the room I was in. It sounded like a small car, maybe even a scooter. Then another engine, and another. Then came cheering and laughing. The laughing wasn’t like any laughter I ever heard. This was hysterical, crazed laughing coming from the mouths of psychopaths. The vehicles outside were peeling out causing a vast spray of rocks and dirt to pepper the outer wall. I shuffled over to a corner of the room and crouched down. That’s when I began to smell smoke.

I didn’t notice the temperature get any warmer or change at all. But that unmistakable scent of smoke lingered around me. Soon after I picked up on the smell, I began hearing the structure creak and moan under some sort of pressure. I stood up and slowly walked around the room with my arms held out. I brushed against a thin pillar that stood somewhere near the corner I was in. For some reason, I felt compelled to put my ear against the pillar. I did. I could hear what sounded like water rushing through pipes. What did all this mean? The creaking became much louder now, banging noises caused me to jump. Then the screams. The screams were muffled at first until the roof gave way and the flames snaked down the walls while several bodies fell and piled into the room.

Some were still alive, squirming around, holding their arms out hoping to have someone pull them to safety. Smoke trailed out of the mouths of those who had enough energy to cry out in pain. Charred, black bodies lay motionless among the suffering. What was I supposed to do? I was trapped. I was finally able to get a glimpse of the room I had been kept in and noticed that it was completely empty except for a single blanket that was now on fire. I had to get away from the screaming. I was driving me mad. I looked up through the hole in the ceiling and saw part of the roof still intact while most of it appeared to have burned away. I could also make out the night sky. My only chance at escape was up. I had to climb, but it was too high.

I had to find a way. I quickly began piling up the cooked bodies on top of eachother. One of the bodies I grabbed belonged to a young woman whose eyelids were burnt off. She begged me to take her with me. I said no.

When I finally climbed up through the hole in the ceiling I immediately found an opening to the outside that I jumped out of. I landed on a pile of dirt and rocks; it was comfortable here. As I stared up at the night sky, the cries of the people burning pierced the silence, rudely molesting the sanctity of the night. I forgave them, for their souls were already condemned. Everything was going well in life. I must confess, my only anxiety is the whereabouts of my surfboard.

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