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I felt weak and hot, the way one might feel in the Devil’s palm

Thump Thump. Thump Thump. My head pounded with every beat of my heart. When the plane finally slowed for landing I thought that the pain in my head might reside. I was wrong.

I’ve got chills. They’re multiplying and I’m losing control. What invisible spirit is pressing on my chest? Invading my lungs? Strangling my throat? I am not myself…

Damp, I lie on top of my blankets feeling the cool breeze of the fan. It’s cool caress is the only thing that keeps me from hallucinating from discomfort. My skin hurts to the touch as if I have been sunburned, but I haven’t been out in the sun. What wicked thing is happening to me? Am I becoming something else?

I’m weak and hot, the way one might feel in the Devil’s palm or the way Hansel and Gretel might have felt in the witches oven.

By Evan Stark

Eddie Renz is an avid fan of Egyptology, Wilbur Smith and bacon. Not a fan of humility but often finds himself humbled when he is around people who understand numbers like the Fibonacci sequence and Pi.

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