I can feel him,
breathing upon my skin
as my soul is clenched,
trembling in the wait.
I know he is out there as his
heat crawls slowly around my fearful
presence. I can't imagine the harm,
the horror he has in mind
for me. I can't imagine the depths,
the depravity of his torture.
As I try to adjust my senses to the jungle,
my hands bleed holding the weapon.
When the dark shadow is in range, I strike.
Stabbing the stiff bamboo spear repeatedly into him,
amid the blood-filled gurgles
and the screeching banshees,
I realized,
I finally and ultimately realized,
that not only did I like it,
I didn't want it to end.



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