I look out the van window. The skyline casts dark shadows across the mountain. The bright stars illuminate the faces of people around me. The creeping pull of sleep and nervousness counterbalance each other as we head up the steep slope.

“Are you sure this was a good idea” I whisper to my mother.

She looks at me like I’m crazy, which I might be at the moment. How hard can it be. Bike down the tallest volcano in the world, at three AM, in the butter cold. Piece… Of… Cake…

I gave in to the idea of doing a morning tour of the mountain and then bike down but I was having second thoughts.

After what seemed liked forever, we arrive at the top. I survey my surroundings. Aside from the concrete parking lot all you could see is rock, a small gift shop, and endless clouds in endless directions.

Shivering as I get out if the van we over to the bike rack. I stream down the hill the wind tugging and yanking my fair, pulling them every way possible. The curving path headed down the volcano, not to steep, but wasn’t flat out either.

As morning passed by, the gripping sensation inflated my stomach and I called out to my parents if we were getting close to breakfast.

We stopped by the edge of the road so we could figure out an appropriate café or somewhere to eat at.

We ride down the volcano a little bit more and as we are turning into the driveway I totally miss seeing the rock that is right in my path, and watch the word do a backflip as I crash into the ground.
Instantly the world melts together blending in making it a world of shadows.

I wake up to see me in a hospital with the people x-raying my wrist. My head pounding, and wrist throbbing, I can’t exactly remember what happened.

I leave with a big sigh of disappointment as I lug around this heavy cast. Feeling broken on the inside and the outside I crawl into the car, wanting nothing but sleep.