FOREST HOUSE

I was hungry.

I found the house with the door already smashed open, there were claw marks in the mahogany and blood stains on the wall, no survivors in sight.

There was a way that war makes the world a dull experience. In this case I lost my gun and the k-bar was as dangerous as I got.

Whoever lost their right arm in the dinning probablx knew what had happened but I was more interested in the three bowls of porridge.

I already told you I was hungry. Deal with it.

It was fortunate that I heard them before they heard me and I was catching forty winks upstairs after I decided the living room was too exposed.

So I jumped from the window and sprained my ankle, that was when I was spotted.

The thing that came at me could have been a bear but was too tall, had orange eyes and black to be part of God's humor.

I was knocked into the foliage before my k-bar sliced through the fur a trade for the scratch on my shoulder.

If all three find me under this log I could lose a right arm too.

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