Run From the Rumba

Run. Don't look back; you need to move. RUN.

The voice echoed inside his head, spurring his feet into motion. Smoke clogged his throat, burning his lungs and eyes until his vision was blurred. But still he kept going. Couldn't stop.

He pushed through, his eyes watering and his throat raw from the smoke. He heard a bell ringing and then walked into a counter. “Can I help you, mister?”, a clear voice rang through. “Tell me where I am!”, he croaked. “You’re in Abe’s, of course! Finest Cuban Cigars sale!”

They thrust him down onto a high end leather chair, pushed a lit cigar into his mouth. A lively rumba ensemble popped up out of nowhere and danced sang and played in a circle around him. His head was spinning and his throat burned even worse. “AHHHGHH WAKE ME UP!!!” he coughed.

"NEVER!" they shouted. "You'll never escape this nightmare!" The man sitting in the chair almost gave up when a karate woman came and beat everyone up, saving him. "Thank goodness! Now I can escape the dream!" he said. "What dream?" she responded. "This is real life." *THE END*