The nightmare of the real

A person’s first reaction on awakening from a blow to the head is usually to vomit. This fact occurs to me as the scrambled eggs and crisp bacon I had not an hour ago make their grand reappearance to the world. It turns out breakfast for dinner had not been a good idea.

I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and look up. The demon possessed girl approaches me. The previously white lace of her dress is now covered in dirt and grime from our struggle.

Another burst of her augmented strength and she has me up against the dirty brick wall, her snapping jaws hungry for the kill. She is driven by equal parts instinct and hate. She must kill me and, as life leaves my body, feast upon my very soul.

I expect the process would be quite horrible so I intend to make sure she does not succeed. I struggle, but she holds me tight. Access to the gun hanging in a dark brown leather holster beneath my right armpit is out of the question. My eyes leave her macabre face and come to focus on the fire escape landing above us.

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