The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Fight to Survive
by Jaime Johnesee
I was currently locked into a death match in a warehouse that I’d been looking at renting. The space seemed like a good fit. I liked that I had pier access, which lessened some shipping costs. It fit my needs perfectly, and it included an elegant library in the basement that was climate controlled.
But, it was the display case that attracted my eye. Oh, how beautiful all of my favorite things would look in a case like that; on view for the world to enjoy. I liked the idea of that. In a quick moment I had that library designed exactly the way I wanted.
That was then, this is now; and now had me scrambling for purchase on the gorgeous terrazzo floors as I ran from a stray rottweiler that surprised me in what was to be my warehouse.
As it leapt for my throat, I threw myself backwards and to the left, his jaws latched on to my left breast, tearing and ripping into flesh, muscle, and fat.
He shook his massive head trying to pull me down and, when he failed, he let go; just enough to bite again with a better grip. Again, he shook and tried to take me down. Again, I stayed upright and tried to figure how to get out with my breast and life intact.
Six times in the span of thirty seconds, he bit and shook me, trying to get me down for the killing blow and my punching the side of his head did nothing to dissuade him. I knew if I fell, I was dead.
He attempted to readjust his bite a seventh time and stumbled on the slick floor. I hauled back and punched him in the nose as hard as I could. He fell back whimpering, gave me his belly, peed, and ran outside. I stumbled to the door, leaving a bloody handprint behind, as I looked to see where the dog was; out in the parking lot, chasing a butterfly.
I closed and locked every entry point to the building. Only when I felt safe did I look down at the shredded mound that was my breast.
I was alarmed by the large tears in my flesh as well as the yellow-white fat and blood that erupted forth from those wounds. But the slow blood flow told me nothing major had been damaged.
I pulled my ruined tee shirt off and held it to the bleeding bites. Then I looked for my cell phone, found it, and called 911.
The operator assured me they were sending an ambulance and asked where the dog was, I told her what I’d last seen and how bad the wounds were, then I sat down and worked on controlling my breathing while I began processing my emotions.
Author’s note: If you know the movie and its song I am referencing in the title, you rock.
Fiction © Copyright Jaime Johnesee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from Jaime Johnesee:
Neck-deep in the hunt for members of Americans for a Were-Free America, Sam discovers she’s not the only one on the prowl. The horrific crime scenes the FBI stumble across tell Sam that whatever is pursuing her enemy is more vicious and cold than even this most extreme of hate groups. Forced to protect the very people responsible for training murderers, like the infamous Grisly, Sam uncovers a nefarious plot wherein AWFA has been trafficking shifters and vamps into the sex-slave trade. Can she save the very people crying out for her blood? It’s a risk she’s willing to take.