As you begin to dial, you can hear something behind you. You turn around to see a middle-aged man wielding an axe. You retreat, walking backwards into the wall, tripping down onto the hardwood. With a crazed, yellow glint in his eye, the man raises up his axe hand, advancing towards you. "NO!" You scream, holding up a blocking forearm, knowing that it's no protection from an inevitable impact...
THUNK. ZING. THUNK. ZING. THUNK. Red streams, drips, flies, splatters.
Then, nothing.
THUNK. ZING. THUNK. ZING. THUNK. Red streams, drips, flies, splatters.
Then, nothing.