Top of The World

Mateo’s heart raced as he felt his leg sink into the decaying roof, his grip tightening around his camera and a bottle of Coke. The soda splashed, momentarily distracting him from the sharp pain stabbing his thigh. He watched helplessly as the bottle rolled off the roof’s edge.

The sky was a gentle shade of blue, heralding the transition from spring to summer. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and the musty scent of mold wafted to his nostrils. Mateo tried to suppress a groan, his mind racing to comprehend his situation.

From his vantage point atop a groundskeeper’s house, Mateo had aimed to capture the asylum’s vast grounds. Despite the supposed heavy police presence, he’d never encountered state troopers during his previous visits to the old asylum. The vast, overgrown grounds with its towering pines and dense underbrush had always been devoid of law enforcement.

His vision blurred as the pain intensified, but Mateo's thoughts shifted to survival. He had to assess his situation. Slowly, he felt around the spot where his leg was trapped, the sensation of wetness making him wonder if he was bleeding or if he’d spilled his Coke.

Regretfully, Mateo cursed the soda for its role in his predicament. Carefully, he tried to free himself, only to be met with a surge of pain that left him gasping. His attempts to free his trapped leg revealed a rusty metal piece embedded in his thigh.

Frantically, Mateo attempted to retrieve his phone from his pocket, but his trembling hands only succeeded in pushing it deeper into his pocket against the tight fabric of his jeans.

His thoughts drifted to the camera in his jacket pocket. With great effort, he managed to slide it in. Now with both hands free, he carefully examined his leg, revealing the rusty metal and questioning when he’d last had a tetanus shot.

As the sun began to set, casting a perfect light for his intended photo, Mateo felt tears welling up. His fingers fumbled to retrieve his camera from his pocket, but it slipped and fell, adding to his despair.

His pain, combined with the realization that he’d lost his chance to capture the perfect shot, left him defeated. The agony in his leg seemed to have dulled to a constant ache, and Mateo found himself reflecting on his life choices. He contemplated the risks he’d taken for the sake of a photograph and wondered if his luck had finally run out.

The fading sunlight signaled that help wouldn't arrive until morning. With a hoarse voice, Mateo called out for help, his cries echoing through the abandoned asylum. He had never felt such terror before, a raw fear that consumed him.

His realization of true mortal terror left him feeling isolated and vulnerable. Nightfall brought a chilling stillness, interrupted only by the distant cooing of doves and rustling of the pine forest.

As hours passed, Mateo’s fever grew, and he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was comforted by the beauty of the starry night sky, though light pollution muted their brilliance. The panoramic view from the rooftop, despite his predicament, offered a sense of peace and solitude.

Despite his suffering, Mateo found a strange contentment in his isolation. He felt an intimate connection with the universe, a poignant moment of beauty amidst his pain and fear. He contemplated life’s fleeting moments, hoping to survive and learn from his mistakes.

As dawn approached, Mateo's hope for rescue dwindled. Yet, he clung to the hope that he might see another sunrise. If he survived, he vowed to cherish life’s simple joys and to be more cautious in his pursuit of the perfect photograph.

With these thoughts, Mateo closed his eyes, conserving his strength and praying for a chance to live another day.