Pyromaniacs

Date: 6/10/2016

I get off a train with several other people my age and our objective is clear: set the town on fire. The town looks like Boston during the American Revolution era. We get off running and begin throwing matches at conveniently placed wicker strings and pots of oil. I reach for an oil pot, light it on fire and toss it at a wooden building that the flames soon begin to seize. I go to grab another pot but before I can, someone from my group tosses an already lit pot and it explodes with burning oil and bits of glass hitting my right arm. It doesn't hurt but I'm self conscious of the scarring. We all run down to an elevator and I look at the scarring in disgust. When the elevator opens, we're surrounded by police. They take us to the end of a hallway with a bunk bed, closed double doors and a large open window over looking a gorgeous view of the sea and a cliff in the distance. It looks tropical. They confiscate our cellphones and tell us that if we cooperate and tell them who told us to do this then we'd be let go. For some reason they can't get the charge to stick and they give us back our cellphones. One of the guys with us, a slender man in his early twenties with medium brown skin and an afro takes the phones and jumps through the window into the sea in order to erase the memory off of our phones. I begin to exit through the double doors when the police come running and tell us to stop leaving. Two more guys run past me to escape. I stay put and go back and join the one man and woman left with me. Me and the guy sit on the bottom bunk with one another and lament our situation. Since the phones are gone, the physical evidence to help exonerate us is gone as well. We ask to make a deal so we can submit a written testimony. Suddenly while on the bed I remember that my messages backed up to my Dad's phone which somehow fell to the side of the bed conveniently. I reach across the guy who's laying down next to me to grab it. Our faces get close but I pull back after feeling some tension. He says "sorry" and "how was I suppose to know?". Immediately I lean down and kiss him. Both of our lips are chapped but the kiss is electric. We pull away from each other and I see a page he's written about me in a journal. It reads something along the lines of "Not even the six gods could take me from you or stop me from loving you the way I do." in elegant cursive. I then woke up.