Fiction inspired by the incredibly addictive game, Temple Run
The air was dank but cool – a contrast to the fetid all-embracing warmth of the heavy air rising from the steamy swamp outside. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the inside of the temple. The light from the large door through which we had entered had petered out once we had taken a couple of turns in the labyrinth. I wish I had my flashlight – “You don’t need it. All you need is to walk in, pick up the idol and walk out,” was what the man had said. I wished I had listened to my instincts instead of him. Of course, he was the boss – he was the one paying me to do this, plus he was the one with the helicopter that had dropped us off a couple of kilometers away.