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Authors: Garry Kilworth
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stickiness further down. Blinking away the tears of pain I called for the light, which flooded the room.
My right big toe was pumping blood. In fact, there was no toe. It had been bitten off at the root. Blood continued to pour out as I stared, holding my calf, the pain robbing me of any sense of what to do next. I got out of bed and immediately fell over, my sense of balance gone. Blood spurted onto the carpets. I was in shock and decided if I didn’t get help soon I would bleed to death. This made my heart pump faster.
‘Help!’ I yelled. ‘Somebody help me! Help! Help!’
‘Help. To aid or assist; to relieve the wants of; to provide or supply; to deal out; to remedy; to mitigate; to contribute ... ’
The computer burbled on.
‘Call the paramedics!’ I cried. ‘Get me an ambulance.’
I heard the computer fast-dialling . At least help would soon be on the way. I stumbled forward, grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around my pulsing foot. Something flew out of the sheet, digging its claws into my throat. Sharp teeth sank into my lower jaw.
‘Fuck!’ I screamed, grabbing at her and trying to prise her from my face.
She was incredibly strong. She may have only been as big as a rat, but she was a pocket-sized block of ridged muscle. Sheba was a tiger after all, not some puny house cat. Fully-grown her jaws could crack the backbone of an ox. There was power in every limb, every twist and turn of the lithe torso. She scratched and tore like lightning with her claws, ripping skin and flesh from my chest. She bit deeply into my neck, sinking her small pointed teeth close to my jugular. When she turned her attention to my collar bone , and broke it with her jaws, I knew I was in very serious trouble and like to be killed by this vicious little packet of muscle, fang and claw.
I fell on the floor, not screaming any more, for that would have been a waste of energy. This was a deadly fight. I rolled over, my hands seeking something to hit her with. Looking down at her, as she ripped and slashed at my upper body, I could see her eyes were burning with fury. Her bloodlust was beyond control. She wanted to tear me to pieces. In desperation I threw myself front first at the chest-of-drawers, knocking one of my teeth out as my mouth struck a corner, but somehow dislodging the small killer, which flew against the door.
Within a second she was back, a terrifying whirlwind of bloody claws, trying to get a grip on my groin. She succeeded in burying her fangs in my left hip. A bolt of pain went shooting up my body, making me whimper. I gripped her body firmly with both hands and wrenched her from me. She took with her a mouthful of my flesh, baring my hip to the bone. I threw her to the far side of the room and scrambled and crawled into the living-room . This time she didn’t chase after me. I heard her scrambling somewhere.
I was bleeding profusely from half a dozen places when I heard the opening bars to Carl Orff ’s Carmina Burana . Help had arrived. I yelled at the computer.
‘OPEN THE DOOR!’
A moment later the paramedics rushed in and assessed the situation like the professionals they were. In no time at all they had stanched the blood from the worst of my wounds and had me on a stretcher. A drug-punch on my arm and the pain began to subside, ebbing away to some distant place , I didn’t care where . I was on my way to hospital. They carried me out into the hall, towards the lift. One of them reached for the manual button to close the door.
‘I don’t care if anything gets stolen,’ I yelled at her, ‘Just leave the bloody door open.’
The paramedic shrugged and did as she was told.
‘It’s your apartment,’ she said. ‘Just don’t blame us.’
The two weeks in hospital were a blissful rest. I was able to take stock of my life. Krystina, I came to the conclusion, was not worth all the tears. In fact, I had been on the point of dumping her , when she gave me the heave ho. It was only my pride which
My right big toe was pumping blood. In fact, there was no toe. It had been bitten off at the root. Blood continued to pour out as I stared, holding my calf, the pain robbing me of any sense of what to do next. I got out of bed and immediately fell over, my sense of balance gone. Blood spurted onto the carpets. I was in shock and decided if I didn’t get help soon I would bleed to death. This made my heart pump faster.
‘Help!’ I yelled. ‘Somebody help me! Help! Help!’
‘Help. To aid or assist; to relieve the wants of; to provide or supply; to deal out; to remedy; to mitigate; to contribute ... ’
The computer burbled on.
‘Call the paramedics!’ I cried. ‘Get me an ambulance.’
I heard the computer fast-dialling . At least help would soon be on the way. I stumbled forward, grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around my pulsing foot. Something flew out of the sheet, digging its claws into my throat. Sharp teeth sank into my lower jaw.
‘Fuck!’ I screamed, grabbing at her and trying to prise her from my face.
She was incredibly strong. She may have only been as big as a rat, but she was a pocket-sized block of ridged muscle. Sheba was a tiger after all, not some puny house cat. Fully-grown her jaws could crack the backbone of an ox. There was power in every limb, every twist and turn of the lithe torso. She scratched and tore like lightning with her claws, ripping skin and flesh from my chest. She bit deeply into my neck, sinking her small pointed teeth close to my jugular. When she turned her attention to my collar bone , and broke it with her jaws, I knew I was in very serious trouble and like to be killed by this vicious little packet of muscle, fang and claw.
I fell on the floor, not screaming any more, for that would have been a waste of energy. This was a deadly fight. I rolled over, my hands seeking something to hit her with. Looking down at her, as she ripped and slashed at my upper body, I could see her eyes were burning with fury. Her bloodlust was beyond control. She wanted to tear me to pieces. In desperation I threw myself front first at the chest-of-drawers, knocking one of my teeth out as my mouth struck a corner, but somehow dislodging the small killer, which flew against the door.
Within a second she was back, a terrifying whirlwind of bloody claws, trying to get a grip on my groin. She succeeded in burying her fangs in my left hip. A bolt of pain went shooting up my body, making me whimper. I gripped her body firmly with both hands and wrenched her from me. She took with her a mouthful of my flesh, baring my hip to the bone. I threw her to the far side of the room and scrambled and crawled into the living-room . This time she didn’t chase after me. I heard her scrambling somewhere.
I was bleeding profusely from half a dozen places when I heard the opening bars to Carl Orff ’s Carmina Burana . Help had arrived. I yelled at the computer.
‘OPEN THE DOOR!’
A moment later the paramedics rushed in and assessed the situation like the professionals they were. In no time at all they had stanched the blood from the worst of my wounds and had me on a stretcher. A drug-punch on my arm and the pain began to subside, ebbing away to some distant place , I didn’t care where . I was on my way to hospital. They carried me out into the hall, towards the lift. One of them reached for the manual button to close the door.
‘I don’t care if anything gets stolen,’ I yelled at her, ‘Just leave the bloody door open.’
The paramedic shrugged and did as she was told.
‘It’s your apartment,’ she said. ‘Just don’t blame us.’
The two weeks in hospital were a blissful rest. I was able to take stock of my life. Krystina, I came to the conclusion, was not worth all the tears. In fact, I had been on the point of dumping her , when she gave me the heave ho. It was only my pride which
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