Pain. Sharp, persistant pain pierced his chest. Blood oozed from the wound, down his abs, and onto the floor. He screamed with fright and agony. The stench of blood filled the air. He was loosing blood, too much blood. He ran through the woods as fast as he could, but he wasn't fast enough. The culprit caught up to him in a matter of seconds. He didn't know what else to do, so he fell to the ground and screamed as loud as he possibly could until his lungs were on fire and his face was maroon. It was mid-afternoon, surely someone would be on a trail nearby and hear him.
The huge barbarous man loomed over him as if he were Death himself. "What do you want with me?!" shouted Jack, as he was clutching his still bleeding wound.
The beast of a man grabbed his collar and hoisted him in the air, "You." he snarled. His voice was deep and gravely. It reminded Jack of his Harley Davidson motorcycle, the sound the engine makes. It's a beautiful noise, but it certainly wasn't appealing in this mans hullabaloo voice.
"Then why'd you shoot me?"
"They said alive, your alive." And that was all the troglodyte said to him as hit him over the head with his abominable gun.
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