Short Story: Blood on My Hands 1

I withdrew the knife and thrusted yet again, this time even deeper.

I had noticed her earlier but pretended to let her lie. As I made my way stealthily around the rocks. She seems to be lost in her majestic world, enjoying the tan of the sun. Then I stepped on a twig, her ears twitched.

My heart skipped a few beats; she rose and made for my direction. I practically had my heart in my mouth, it was a feeling I never had before (at least not in this kind of situation).

With great vigor she leapt on me in my crouching position. I grabbed her head with all my strength; she grabbed me with her paws, driving her claws into my back. The pain surged through my entire being.

I made frantic efforts for the only weapon I had on me. Though naked I was armed with my knife. I drove my knife into her heart, she grunted, her pupils dilated perhaps perceiving the pain and pleasure of the new world. I shivered at the sight of blood, but I was past sanity. I just had to do this. She rolled me over with a loud roar, sunk her fangs into my left shoulder.

I cried in anguish as my life flashed right before my eyes. I withdrew the knife and thrusted yet again, this time even deeper. She convulsed violently as her grips softened and I rode the tides, thrusting deeper. Her gyration urged me on. My heart raced and eureka!

I burst forth…. In tears, pouring as rain. I stood up panting, gasping for air, staring at her lifeless body and the stained sheets. I had lost so much blood and was feeling dizzy. I felt the cool breeze against my numb skin and in one swoop I fell. I lost consciousness but alas!

The lioness is dead.


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