The Country from Hell
Your mind is incapable of thought. All you know is that the walls are flying by you, trying to outrun the furious roar of the dog that fills the hallway like a rush of poisonous liquid. You spring nimbly onto the window ledge, pushing yourself headfirst through the narrow opening.
The sensation is something like a red-hot nail being shot into your foot. For a stupid moment, as the pain in your foot turns your vision crimson, you wonder what you possibly could have collided with that would create such a sensation. It is not until you realize what has happened that you actually feel the pain.
"Owww!" you howl, pulling desperately at the clumps of loose plaster lining the window. The balcony below looks like heaven to you at this moment. The dog is holding tenaciously to your foot, refusing to let go. You pull a little more, but your shirt has become stuck in the window. It hurts! Oh God, it hurts!
You are vaguely aware of Grigor's lithe figure scaling the side of the house, then grabbing onto your torso, pulling you mercilessly forward. You hear your shirt ripping and feel a sharp jab of pain as whatever it was that had your shirt takes a piece out of your abdomen as well. Grigor reaches in over your legs, jabbing at the dog's mouth with a wooden club.
"Help!" you scream desperately into the wall.
"Shut up!" he yells back.
Suddenly you are free. You fall heavily on your arms and your head. Across from you, you see an upside-down linden tree bowing gracefully in the afternoon breeze. Strong hands latch onto you, setting you upright. Grigor's cold gray eyes bore into you. He slaps you hard on the cheek.
"Follow me. We need to get the fuck out of here. Now!"
"But I "
Another resounding smack to the side of your head. Before you know what has happened, you are limping along after him, through small narrow alleys dripping with oily water, past beggars and gypsies and gypsy beggars Looking down at your foot, you see that one shoe is still white while the other is bright red. Your fancy American sneakers. Fuck. Feeling your legs weaken, you are about to beg Grigor to stop for a second when
His fist smashes into your face so fast and so hard that you have only enough time to acknowledge that you have been punched before the whole world turns black.
The sensation is something like a red-hot nail being shot into your foot. For a stupid moment, as the pain in your foot turns your vision crimson, you wonder what you possibly could have collided with that would create such a sensation. It is not until you realize what has happened that you actually feel the pain.
"Owww!" you howl, pulling desperately at the clumps of loose plaster lining the window. The balcony below looks like heaven to you at this moment. The dog is holding tenaciously to your foot, refusing to let go. You pull a little more, but your shirt has become stuck in the window. It hurts! Oh God, it hurts!
You are vaguely aware of Grigor's lithe figure scaling the side of the house, then grabbing onto your torso, pulling you mercilessly forward. You hear your shirt ripping and feel a sharp jab of pain as whatever it was that had your shirt takes a piece out of your abdomen as well. Grigor reaches in over your legs, jabbing at the dog's mouth with a wooden club.
"Help!" you scream desperately into the wall.
"Shut up!" he yells back.
Suddenly you are free. You fall heavily on your arms and your head. Across from you, you see an upside-down linden tree bowing gracefully in the afternoon breeze. Strong hands latch onto you, setting you upright. Grigor's cold gray eyes bore into you. He slaps you hard on the cheek.
"Follow me. We need to get the fuck out of here. Now!"
"But I "
Another resounding smack to the side of your head. Before you know what has happened, you are limping along after him, through small narrow alleys dripping with oily water, past beggars and gypsies and gypsy beggars Looking down at your foot, you see that one shoe is still white while the other is bright red. Your fancy American sneakers. Fuck. Feeling your legs weaken, you are about to beg Grigor to stop for a second when
His fist smashes into your face so fast and so hard that you have only enough time to acknowledge that you have been punched before the whole world turns black.