Ring Of Fire

What if you were trapped in flames and couldn't wake up? Would you choices lead to an escape, or would they point towards death?

Fire, I saw  the fire before my eyes.  The room was drenched in smog clouds. I had to get out of there fast, before the amber flames got to me. I surveyed the area,  thinking about what had  caused the blast.

There it was! The source of the problem,  a fallen ashtray near the desk.  My fault. I must have smacked it by accident. I like smoking in the office,  in between reads. I puff some smoke out of the cigarette once in a while.  Not anymore.

The door, my only escape was at the other end of the room. Instinctively,  I lunged forward and ran  as fast as my legs would allow me to.  Feeling the heat on my face as I passed through the blazing fire, I  increased my pace and managed to get to my destination. In one piece,  as safe as I could be. My fingers nervously searched for the door handle, a hope I could hold onto. I verified the handle by turning  and twisting it a few times. It was locked. I lifted my leg, swinging it back and forth and hit the door with all my strength. It did not budge one bit.  

 

I hammered my fists against the wood,  scratching with my nails at the surface, expecting it to break before me.   My desperation only left some claw-like marks behind. “Okay, the door’s not a solution.” I pondered over my plan.  The window, that’s it!  But how do I get there without getting all torn up? I lay flat,  my stomach on the floor, my forearms and elbows carrying my weight. Slowly, I crawled forward,  trying not to inhale the toxic air that quickly  dispersed in the room.

Getting up, I built a nerve and   climbed on top of the burning desk. Staying away from the fire, I  tiptoed backwards. I leapt and I could feel my hands touch the window latch. Unfastening it prudently, it opened with a click. That sudden , creaky noise, brought me comfort, brought me hope of survival.

With one foot on the window sill and the other trapped in the scorching flare, I looked at the window then  down upon the ground. I tried estimating the altitude and the direction where I would land. A few meters high for sure. It would ensure me a couple of broken ribs   and some stubborn bruises, but I would still be alive. Better injured and alive than unharmed and dead.  Better safe than sorry. My lungs were burning on the inside, making it hard for me to breathe. I figured it was now or never. My feet left the cold marble, my body curled into a ball, hoping the impact would be less damaging.   Falling,  I was falling freely. It didn’t hurt, I was on paper wings. I was approaching imminent death with a grace never seen before.

I woke up in my bed gasping for air. A hand goes to my forehead. It was wet, covered in sweat.  I was definitely running a high fever. That would explain the painfully real hallucination I had just experienced.   

I had never been so scared in my entire life. That night, sleep did not come to me anymore.

 

Reviews

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

When dreams seem too real, can you really determine between truth and lie? Is it safer to live in dream than wake to nothing? How is it that something that exists in ones mind can façade the illusion of life? Or is life a big dream? All in all, writes like these always keep me content