Corey closes his eyes and allows the sound of the paint escaping the can to be his guide, moving his arms in an almost rhythmic fashion. Images dance wildly in his mind and escape through his hands, painting across the empty canvas before him.

It seems like forever before he finally opens his eyes and stares dumbfounded at the images now on the wall. He allows himself to smile momentarily, before a heavy hand falls down upon his shoulder and grips him tightly, then slams him into the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY?” A deep voice growls into his ear.

“Let ME go fuck face!” He yells as he tries to push back, but finds himself pushed harder against the wall.

“Fuck face? Who the FUCK do you think YOU are, to be calling me a fuck face?” The man growls as he forces Corey’s face harder against the wall. “I could squash your tiny little head against this wall right now, and no one would ever know. So watch what you’re saying princess. Now, what the FUCK do you think you’re doing to the side of my shop?”

“Y-Y-Your shop?” Corey stutters nervously.

“Y-Y-Yes, MY shop! Did I stutter or something?”

“N-No!”

“Good, I didn’t think I did. Now tell me what you’re FUCKING doing painting this monstrosity on the side of my shop, like a certified misfit?”

“I don’t know, it just happened.”

The man relaxes his grip on Corey for a moment and lets out a muffled laugh, before pressing Corey harder against the wall again.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” He asks.

Court closes his eyes and softly prays for this to be a bad dream, but the man shakes Corey violently before asking the question again.

“I asked you a FUCKING question boy! Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“N-N-No,! No I don’t think you’re an idiot, I swear!”

“Then why the FUCK are you treating me like one?”

“I never meant to, I swe…”

The man pulls Corey away from the wall then   thrusts him back into it, “Stop fucking lying to me son! The more you lie, the worse things start getting for you. Now I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me the truth, or I’m going to have to start teaching you a few lessons in manners!” The man hisses into Corey’s ear. “Now what are you doing painting SHIT like this over my god damn wall?”

“I DON’T KNOW! HONESTLY I DON’T! SOMETHING CALLED OUT AND I ANSWERED, THAT’S ALL! I PROMISE YOU, WHATEVER MADE ME DO THIS, IS SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW!”

They both stand in silence for some moments as the man contemplates Corey’s story, “Boy,” he finally says suddenly, causing Corey to jump in fright. “Boy,” he says as he leans in close to Corey and begins fumbling with his pants. “I almost believed you.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Corey screams as his pants drop to his ankles.

“Teaching you a lesson in intelligence boy, and getting a load off as well,” he grunts as Corey feels something hard and big press against his anus. “Don’t pucker you boy, it’ll only make it hurt more,” the man says as he trusts forward.

“A card by any other name, would not be a card,” he says with a thoughtful pause as he looks out into the sea of a few thousand faces, all focused on his every word. He smiles, winks playfully before spinning around and exploding into a cavalcade of roses. The crowd sits in stunned silence, people rush from everywhere in a panic. Whispers start to break out throughout the audience, like a wave it picks up pace until it is a roar, and then he appears back on stage with the a sarcastic smile upon his face to everyone’s amazement.

“But what if a card was something entirely different, and you only assumed it was a card, because that’s what it looked like,” he says as the room once again centres upon him. “Take this ornament,” he says pointing to the massive screen behind him. “To any of you this bauble is nothing more than a decoration to be hung upon your tree come Christmas. But what if it was something entirely different. What if this cheap looking ornament was something wonderful? What if this simplistic looking ornament was something you could not live without?” He says, emphasising each word without a subtle vibration that hums throughout the stadium. The rhythmic wave that flows sends the crowd into a fevered frenzy, hitting every point they were designed to hit, literally making Samuel Wight into a god.

He flashes his million dollar smile as he wizzes around the stage and ignites the crowd in a chant, calling for them to feed their own desires as well as his.

“What if I told you this tiny little ornament, would be the biggest salvation your empty pathetic life would ever hope to find! Would you believe ME?” He screams out, thrusting an ear towards the crowd, who roar with a united “YES!” Back at him.

He touches his chest and smiles softly. “You touch me with your kind words, and I love you all so very much for that. But, what if someone out there, a loved one, a friend, or an acquaintance you hardly know tells you I’m a fraud, a charlatan. Would you believe them?” The crowd roars back with a venomous “NO!”

“What if someone told you that, that little ornament was only an ornament. What if someone told you that, that little ornament would only bring you pain. What if someone told you that I was a liar, and had lied to you not only about this little ornament, but everything I had ever told you. WOULD YOU BELIEVE THEM?”

The crowd erupts like a volcano with a unanimous “NO!”

He smiles and struts across the stage to a podium that stands in the centre.

“This knife,” he says as he turns towards the screen, which now displays a large bladed knife. “This knife will not only set you free, it will change your life. This knife,” he says turning back to the crowd, with a wicked smile upon his face. “This knife will not only change the way those nay sayers feel about the AMAZING ADVANCES what we are ACHIEVING HERE IN THIS ROOM EVERY SINGLE DAY! It will SHUT THEM UP, FOR GOOD!” The room fizzes with excitement, as whispers once more begin to build into enormous waves roaring upon the shore of life.

“This KNIFE will be their END and your BEGINNING!”

“I said it, but he was the one who meant it. You heard it, but instantly regretted doing it. And he was the only one who really wanted it, but never has the chance to do it,” he says with a wild smile upon his face, as he throws himself across the top of the piano like a poorly choreographed show girl. “Is that about as close as you need me to be?” He asks as he thrusts the microphone towards the naked woman who finds herself tied over-zealously to a chair.

“FUCK YOU TRENT, O…” he smacks her in the face with the microphone, deliberately cutting her off at the pass.

“WAH-WAHHH! Wrong answer!” He says spinning himself around like a breakdancer, expertly dismounting the piano and landing clumsily to the floor with his head landing in her lap. He looks up red faced, a smile stretching from ear to ear. “Sorry Miss Miles, I never meant to fall in there,” he darts a quickly look downwards, then looks back up to her. “If you don’t mind me saying, the hedge is in need of repair, and it wouldn’t hurt getting some clippers down there so the pool boy could see what rock he’s licking.”

“Don’t you ever STOP?” She hisses, spitting in his face. Without hesitation he slaps her across the face and grabs her face, squeezing her lips so they pucker up, then spits into her mouth.

“Don’t try and out me, ME!” The venomously growls as he launches himself to his feet, then smiles before bowing elegantly. “There was a time a situation like this would have me all stuff and ready, but I’ve found through the constant years of harassment you’ve given me that I am not excited by any of this,” he says gesturing towards her nonchalantly. “I know that sounds crazy and wild, but it’s the truth. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a fine looking woman who would give any man a sure fire run for his premature ejaculation juice, it’s just not me.” He says with a smile as he dance around the room. “Call me a fool, but I like there to be something more, something real,” he says sliding up next to her. “But don’t let that fool you, because before this night is over I’m going to fuck you in ways you’ve only ever seen on the internet.”

“He’ll stop you before you lay a hand on me, and this tune he’ll stop you once and for all!” She declares proudly. They lock eyes with one another, as they find themselves trapped in an impossible stand off, a war of concentration that only the weak fall fowl to tricks.

He smiles broadly, not breaking their gaze. “How fitting would it be. How grand would your night be, to have him inside you instead of me? Well I hate to break your spirit, but lover boy with the three-and-a-half inch dong, ain’t coming tonight, or tomorrow night. In fact,” he says as he grabs her head and turns it to the left. “He ain’t coming anywhere, ever again,” he whispers into her ear as a screen drops to the ground, revealing a dismembered corps mounted upon the wall.

She screams in terror, while he licks the side of her face. “Wild, ain’t it?” He asks.

The blade slices into Jeremy’s stomach and rips upwards, tearing him apart. Lucas clenches his teeth together, thrusting out of verecourao breath as he is bathed in Jeremy’s blood. He twists his upper half quickly as Roxanne charges towards him. Like a casino dealer the tiny blades spring from his hands, permanently stalling her attack. He digs his left foot into the ground and tightens his grip on the blades handle, as he turns back to defend himself against Glover’s attack. The blades exploded with electricity as they collide. As they stand evenly matched both men let out a growl of ferocity as they stare deathly into each others eyes.

“The student is now the master old man, I hope you’ve made peace with whatever the fuck someone like you holds dear!”

Glover smiles beneath his mask, “You have always been premature with everything you do, like your old man when he came over you mothers lap, you were just lucky one of those impossible moments became a possible miracle.”

“FUCK YOU!” Lucas screams as he draws back and drives his blade down hard upon Glover’s sword, shattering it.

They stare for a few timeless moments before Lucas smiles wryly, then slices the edge swiftly across Glover’s throat. He falls to his knees desperately gasping for air as his lungs quickly fill up with blood.

Lucas draws back his blade, preparing for the kill blow. “Remember how I told you one day I would take your miserable life? Today’s the day!” He yells as he brings the blade down, only his strike to be deflected by the blade of another. His eyes quickly shoot up to meet those of his new adversity.

“Y-Y-You!” He stammers through trembling lips.”H-H-How can this be? I-I, we killed you!”

“A man can be killed by another, a legend lives forever. I stopped being long before I was, and you could never take what was to be,” he says as he thrusts Lucas back and places a hand upon Glover’s shoulder. The two share a moment, touching on another plain of reality. Lucas screams with torment as he drives his blade down once more, only to find his attack refused once more.

“Like an flea to the dog, your existence depends on others to give you life. Without, you are but a shadow, and like all shadows once the light is shone upon you, you cease to be. Let me be the light!” He hisses through clenched teeth, driving strike after strike down upon his impossible blade. Moments quickly turn into minutes as Lucas continues his futile attack, until finally he stands exhausted before them.

“The sword of the believer is much more powerful than that of those who only believe in themselves,” Glover says as he stands whole once more before Lucas, the stranger no longer anywhere to be seen. Glover hold out his hand, “Give me your blade, show mercy upon what you once worshiped and allow your tomorrow to be something worth striving for.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, before Lucas drops to his knees and hands his blade over to Glover’s waiting hands.

“I don’t ask for forgiveness, all I ask if f…” he doesn’t get to finish his words as the blade from his own sword is driven into his skull.

“Forgiveness is for the next life to decide!”

“From the moment that son-of-a-bitch set foot in this town, he’s brought nothing but trouble. It’s vita that we choose the only foreseeable choice, not a choice for ourselves, but a choice for the very existence of the town itself!” Wendy proclaims loudly as she jumps to her feet, the small crowd cheer in agreement, all except Kylie who claps her hands loudly in sarcastic fashion.

“This isn’t reality television honey, this is unadulterated reality where you can’t pick and choose who stays. I know when the cameras were running you were queen, but they went as soon as the ratings did. It wasn’t any one persons fault, it’s just that no one cared enough.”

Wendy rolls her eyes and feigns sticking her fingers down her throat, the room erupts with laughter. “Your opinion is about as attractive as your overgrown bush,” Wendy says with a wry smile upon her face, causing the laughter to grow louder, wolf whistles break out in random union throughout the room.

Kylie’s cheeks glow red, and her brow furrows with focus. “At least I’m not fake, because no matter how much you dress up shit, it’s still shit!”

“Ouch, did I hurt your feelings? It’s the truth that cuts the deepest,” Wendy says with a patronising smile. “Jimmy was never popular, when the so called movers and shakers decided to move him into a more focal character, and show less of MY story was when the show began to falter. Jimmy is the only reason why we’ve been cast aside, extraditing him out of the community is our only option. Once we’ve got the town back on track, and the executives have seen our live feeds,” she sassy flashing a smile towards one of the cameras. “They’ll be back, and so will the world.”

“You’re delusional, the world didn’t stop watching because the shows focus changed, they stopped watching because the town was FUCKING boring. Jimmy was a calculated attempted by the executives to drag people back, and they didn’t want to come, because we SUCKED!”

“Maybe you’re right, if you’re only talking about yourself,” Wendy says as the crowd parts and she sashays her way over to Kylie like she’s walking down the catwalk of a Paris fashion show, she then looks Kylie up and down as she circles her like a shark before finally coming it a stop which ends in a Madonna like pose. “Honey you need more work than trimming that overgrown cootchie, but we can still make you a star. You see honey know I don’t suck, and I know that most of the people in this room don’t either, but you know who does?”

“Jimmy,” Kylie says softly under her breath.

Wendy smiles, “Jimmy is the right answer,” she says as she turns towards one of the cameras. “The tribe has spoken and the vote is unanimous Jimmy, you are the chink in the chain. You Jimmy, are the lowest of the low. The weakest of the weakest.” She says pointing a well manicured finger at Jimmy, who hangs wide eyes and hogtied from the old hangman’s tree that the old swinging judges sentenced many a life to death upon.

“It’s like snow,” Jasmine says with eyes wide and a look of wonder on her face as she turns to Mark.

“If only, snow would be way better than this,” he says as he pulls a pair of goggles down over his eyes and holds a rag over his mouth and nose. “Are your ready?”

The life drops from her face and she looks at him sternly, before pulling down a pair of googles of her own. “Are you sure it’s safe? There’s no chance Clint, or any of his shit-faced arseholes are hanging around?”

“We have to make a run for it sooner rather than later. The longer we stay here, the more of a chance leechers have of finding us. Clint and his pose of wanna be kingpins are the least of our worries.” He relies quickly and with exuberated animation of his arms and facial features.

“Yeah,” she’s says as she looks up at the sky, watching the ash fall. “Where are we going to go?”

“The Drunken Admiral would be the best bet, it’s a defendable location we should easily be able to tighten once we set up camp, and Its also the first place Barney would’ve headed when all this shit started taking place.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She says thrusting her hands on her hips and giving him a fierce look.

“What?”

“The fucking Drunken Admiral ain’t no fucking safe haven dickhead, and I ain’t going there.”

“Jas, you don’t know what you’re saying, the Admiral is probably the most defendable location in all of town.”

“Bullshit! It’s a fucking dump, and besides Barney is the last cunt I wanna see, so pick somewhere else or you’re on your own,” she says sternly.

“But babe, you can’t mean that. The Admiral is the safest place I know, and if there’s anyone you want beside you when the chips are down, it’s Barney. Just give it a chance, please?” He asks, cupping her face with one of his hands.

“Fuck you!” She hisses venomously as she forces his hand away, and gets to her feet. “I’ll be at my mums if you change your mind,” she says as she presses a silk scarf against her face then rushes out of the building and into the street. She’s only a few feet away when she finds herself quickly set upon by a small group of leechers. She screams in terror, calling for Mark to come to her assistance, pleading with him to be her saviour but he does not show. Instead the she is dragged to the ground as the leechers feed. Out of the corner of her eye, while teeth sharp and pointy bite deeply into her flesh, she sees Mark scurry off into the night towards the Drunken Adrmiral, towards his lover Barney, and unfortunately for Jasmine away from her. She tries to cry out once more for Mark to come back, but she finds only a gurgling sound escapes from her throat as she begins chocking on a river of blood that brings to fill her lungs. She stares up to the sky, watching as the very sky itself burns and wishes for the last time, as the leechers tear into her flesh, that it could be snow rather than ash.

They both sit there staring at the egg in silence for what seems like an eternity, until Toby eventually turns towards Mitchell. “So, do you think it really is a dragon egg?”

Mitchell rolls his eyes before smiling broadly, “Fuck yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, Burton could’ve been lying about it being a dragon egg for starters, and then there’s the whole bullshit story of how he came to have it in his possession in the first place.”

“Mate, you are kidding yourself on so many levels. Burton wouldn’t lie to us, because he’d know what I’d do to him if I found out that retard was fucking us around, and why do you think his story is bullshit? It made sense to me.”

Mitchell stares at him for several moments, is eyes widening the longer he stared.

“WHAT?” Toby say, shoving Mitchell away.

“You really are as dense as they all say you are, aren’t you?”

“What the FUCK is that supposed to mean? Who says I’m dense?” Toby says grabbing Mitchell by the collar and threatening to hit him with a raised fist.

“Go on, do it an see where it gets you?” Mitchell says sternly.

“FUCK YOU!” Toby says as he shoves Mitchell away, and quickly clambers to his feet.

“You ain’t my type,” Mitchell says as he springs to his feet and pops a well-placed punch into Toby’s jaw, sending him to the ground in a heap.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU DO THAT FOR?” Toby cries as he grabs his red pulsating jaw.

“Reminding you who runs the roost, do you need more reminding?” Mitchell says as he tightens both hands into fists.

They lock eyes as both boys allow their imagination fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle, and it’s only when the result is obviously a forgone conclusion that Toby pulls his gaze away.

“No, I get the picture,” he mutters underneath his breath.

“Sorry? Did you just say something?” Mitchell asks, as he cups one of his ears with a hand to give the impression of needing an amplifier to hear his words.

“I SAID NO!” Toby yells back.

“I thought as much,” Mitchell says with a wry smile.

Toby screws up his face, then nods towards the egg. “Now what did you mean about Burton’s story being full of shit?”

Mitchell’s smile grows larger as he crouches down beside Toby. “Let me paint the scene for you, just so you can get a really good picture in your mind. It’s midnight, maybe a little later. The moon ain’t out because the cloud coverage is thick, and the moon just can’t find a way to get through. Burton and his mates Bucktooth Clifford and Jerk-weed Jones as out playing knights of the round table, or some nerdy shit like that because that’s what the little poofters do at night. How’s the imagination going, are you with me?” He asks.

“I’m fucking with you, just get on with it!”

“Don’t be so impatient, it’s all about the theatrical valve. You don’t have that, you don’t have anything. Anyway, Burton’s running around after taking a load off one of his boys and falls down a ditch, in said ditch he finds a whole swag of these eggs,” Mitchell says, pointing towards the large glowing egg. “After some nerd study montage the three of them come to the conclusion that the eggs they have found are dragon eggs, and that because you are such a great friend to the three of them, and would never ever hurt any of them ever, that you deserve to have one of these rare eggs as well. Don’t you think, after listening to it as it really happened, that it sounds a bit like they’re pulling your leg to make you look like the dumb fuck you’re proving yourself to be?”

Toby looks over to the egg, and then to Mitchell once more and jumps to his feet. “Those fucking nerds are going to regret THIS!” he yells as he kicks the egg, causing the egg to crack open. Both of their jaws drop open as they stare at the half formed baby dragon that lies lifeless in the remains of the egg.

His hand blindly feel around the cold earth beneath him until finally he feels the rock in his hand, and tightens his grip around it. Mustering up all the energy he can to throw it towards the outskirts of the small clearing he finds himself trapped in. The rock thuds to the ground several feet away from him, and he lets out a stifled groan of aggravation. Minutes pass before he ever so slowly brings his head up from cold wet ground, and looks down towards where it was a few moments ago. The red glistens on the bright white, and he fees what’s left of his stomach churn.

He allows his head to drop back to the ground and stares up in the sky as fresh snow gently drifts down from the heavens above. He allows a smile to escape his clutches as the beauty of the moment take him in its grip, and transports him to another place, one free from all the deludes of time and space. He sucks in a breath and finds himself once more in the snow, his body almost a foreign object to him now. The pain that initially encapsulated his every being now none existent, but with that so is the feeling of completeness. He can no longer feel the aches and pains of time that have been a part of his life for what seems like forever. The pain that was once in his hips that caused him constant distress now no longer a worry. His right foot that always ached right before a storm would hit because he broke it three times when he was seventeen.

Suddenly something pulls him along the ground, taking him through the snow towards some unknown destination. Every now and then whatever is dragging him stops it’s long journey towards where it’s final destination is, and he can feel a tingling sensation from somewhere below his belt. Then he’s torn to the left and then to the right, before being violently shaken like a rag doll, but there is no pain involved. After what his mind perceives as hours, he lifts his head wearily and spies the bloody face of his attacker. They lock eyes for a moment, but in that moment a thousand words pass back and forth between the two.

“P-P-P-Please,” he asks softly, it turns its head to the side and studies his face, then slowly edges its way towards his face. “P-P-P-Please,” he says once more. It stares silently at him, then bears its teeth letting out a low primeval growl from its stomach. It spreads its jaw wide and bites down upon his neck, and drags his half eaten remains towards a dark cave that’s opens out into the snowy countryside.

Tears rush down his pale face, as he fights for every breath. It’s as they get a few feet from the caves entrance that his glassy, almost empty eyes catch sight of the small figures moving out into the white snow and realises what the beast truly has in store for him.

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Jameson says as he looks over the newspaper clippings that cover the wall before them. “Whatever pattern he’s following, it’s going to be a lot more complex than us being able to see it straight away. This guy has clever but he also likes to play with his prey, and right now we’re his prey so this will all be about playing with our heads.”

“What makes you think it’s a he? This all could’ve easily been done by a woman,” a female officer says from the doorway. Jameson and Filtza turn slowly around to face her. “Hallow, Officer Sandra Hallow, right?” Jameson asks with a wry smile.

“T-T-That’s correct sir,” she says nervously.

“Sandra,” he stops and smiles broadens, “you don’t mind me calling you Sandra, do you?”

“N-N-No, of course not sir.”

His smile reaches from ear to ear now. “Thank you, Sandra. Please let me start by saying my mother, is a woman and through spending some seven and a half months, yup I was early,” he says waving his hand above his head rapidly, as Sandra’s face slowly glows bright red. “Through that time spent literally connected to a walking sack of estrogen fluid, I feel that I have a very tight connection with the female community. So please, understand that there is nothing sexist to my way of thinking, because I am almost a woman myself,” he says throwing his hands high into the air.

“I-I-I, I don’t kn…”

He places a hand on her shoulder and smiles softly. “It’s okay, sometimes I can’t find the words either. But then I remember,” he holds up his hand, forming a ‘c’ with his thumb and index finger. “I’m only this close to being a woman,” then grabs his crotch. “And THIS close to being a MAN!” The room erupts with laughter as he moves up beside her, as tears run down her cheeks. “Now go, and don’t let me see or hear from you again, or I’ll do more than embarrass you in front of everyone.”

She rushes out of the room, leaving Jameson to laugh at his own twisted version of self gratification.

“Right,” he says as he turns back to Filtza. “Make a note on the report the Officer Sandra Hallow abandoned her post at zero seven hundred and thirty-six hours, due to what she describe as girl issues,” he says with a smile.

“Sir, with all due respect, I think y…” Filtza begins to say before Jameson cuts him off.

“You DO NOT get paid to THINK Filtza, I DO! So when I say make a note on the report, I expect you to make a FUCKING note on the report!”

“Sir, I am not questioning yo…”

“Then write it fucking down, and let’s move on!” Jameson yells as he cuts Filtza off once more, as he takes a step forward.

“Sir, I do..” Filtza feels the impact we’ll before he saw Jameson swing the punch, the world revolves violently around him as he feels the floor one up to meet his face and then darkness.

“NOW! Who saw Filtza throw the first punch?” Jameson yells as a childlike laugh track begins to play loudly over hidden speakers in the room.

“Hello lover boy, do you still constantly think of my fucking your arse-cunt?” A voice asks.

Jameson spins around as metal spikes attached to chains fire out of the wall and pierce his wrists and legs. He screams in pain as everyone stands watching as he is pulled violently against the wall, impaling him upon more metal spikes that now cover the wall from beneath the newspaper clippings.

The eeriness is only intensified as a breeze tumbles through the playground, and giving the swings a gentle nudge. Lincoln spins around, pulling the shovel high into the air readying it for attack. His heart beats powerfully in his chest as a fine film of sweat seeps from his pours, causing a shiver to erupt throughout his small frame like an earthquake.

“Fuck!” He hisses under his breath as he frantically searched the deserted area for any movement, but the squeaking of the swinging swings is all that seems apparent. He turns back towards the school, letting out a sigh of relief only to be confronted by four unmoving figures standing a few feet before him. He freezes in place, tightening his sweaty hands around the shovels handle, as thick slime drips from the statue like figures mouth’s.

His mind begins to race in several different directions as he frantically attempts to come up with a plan of attack, but the most obvious straight forward approach becomes the only option as the figures launch forward. He swings wildly driving the blade of the shovel into the closest ones skull, it drops to the ground motionless almost instantly. The second one hits him just as he manages to free the shovel to use the long wooden handle as a defensive weapon, holding the snapping teeth of the creature at bay.
After several frantic seconds he forces it backwards, causing it to stumble into one of the others. Quickly he winds up, and swings the shovel like a flat blade, removing its head clean from its shoulders, then in the same motion he swings the shovel back and drives the shovels blade into the third creatures skull.
He has no time to ready himself for the final attacker as it hits him like a freight train, sending them both crashing to the ground. They struggle like a pair of feral cats, screaming and hissing until the creature finally straddles Lincoln and goes in for the kill. Out of desperation he forces his forearm into the line of fire, and the thing bites deeply down on it. Lincoln screams in agony but utilises the few moments he has brought himself to roll the creature over and at the same time pull the now in reach shovel into action, plunging the blade into the things skull.
He flops to the ground exhausted, but knows now more than ever that time is not on his side. He struggles to his knees and looks down at his swollen, puss ridden arm and swallows deeply. Pulling his belt free from his pants he wraps it tightly around his arm just above the elbow, stopping the flow of blood, then takes several deep breaths before using the sharpened edge of the shovels blade to slice his arm free. It takes four blows to finally free the arm from it’s home, then he quickly sutures the wound with torn pieces of his shirt. After several agonising moments he stumbles to his feet, sweat pouring down his brow. He tries to focus his vision onto the school which should be somewhere in front of him, as another small breeze blows through the playground causing the swings to let out a high pitched squeal once more.
He slowly turns around and looks over to the play equipment, only to find himself confronted by a plethora of motionless figures.

“F-Fuck me!” He hisses.