Just A Whiff of "Blood Roses!"

Hello everyone!

So I pulled "On The Precipice" a few days ago because Tristan had so much more to say than I could put on this blog. He's a demanding fella. So I have been quietly typing away on my word processor, letting his words and thoughts translate through me. I changed the title and started fleshing things out  to hopefully turn this thing into a full length novel (or at least a novella). So here is a sample from Chapter 4! Enjoy!

 

A massive paw swipes down at a girl. She is only just faster than the animal. She narrowly avoids having her arm torn to pieces. The girl dashes to the other side of the room. In her attempt to escape the animal catches the edge of her dressing gown, reeling her in by the flimsy fabric. She’s scrabbling, trying to find purchase in the rug with her nails, screaming all the while. Hot tears run down her cheeks. She’s screaming, kicking at the animal. It grabs her ankle and roughly pulls her toward itself. It has her pinned to the floor by her wrists. Claws like daggers, digging into her flesh. She can feel it’s hot breath on her face, and her blood trickling from the punctures. The animal bares its teeth; it knows it has her. In a desperate move she kicks the animal in the stomach. A whoosh of air escapes its mouth. The jolt loosened its grip just enough for her to get an arm loose. She doesn’t hesitate. She draws back and punches the animal in the eye. It yelps in pain and lets her go, it’s claws tearing a sleeve from her dressing gown in the process. Her opening is a small one. She scrambles to her feet and launches herself away from certain death. The fire has gone out, the room is black as pitch. She can’t find the exit. Instead she tries to find a place to hide. Behind her she can hear furniture being ripped apart in apparent frustration. She picks a direction and runs, hoping to find cover. She doesn’t make it far before the animal is on her again. She lets out a scream as she’s knocked to the floor. The animal is standing over her; poised to kill. She throws an arm out, searching desperately for anything that can be used as a weapon. The animal is tearing at her gown stripping the material from her body. Her collar is buttoned up around her neck, protecting the vulnerable pulse beneath. At last she feels metal under her palm. She gets a firm grip on her club, closes her eyes and swings with all her strength. Her aim is true despite the dark and she connects with the animal’s temple. With a grunt it keels over to the side. She doesn’t wait to see if it’s dead, she just runs full speed in the direction of the door. After a moment of panicked pawing at the wall, she finds the handle. She won’t stop running until she makes it to her bedroom and barricades the door behind her.