Eaten alive
Eaten alive. Think about that for a moment. Think about the utter horror, whether it be crocodile, bear, lion or something you've never seen before. Big cats usually kill their prey first and then consume them in a bloody struggle for the best parts. Not so with bears, crocodiles and other things.
When claws or talons slice open flesh it happens in the blink of an eye. Slice, not exactly, more of a rip that might be infinitely more painful than a knee kissing rough concrete, bouncing, sliding, chewing up flesh, exposing the knee cap.
Knee on concrete is over in an instant, leaving the victim to deal with the lingering screams of damage nerves. Teeth in flesh, tearing, ripping and it's just starting. The suffering and horror are beyond our ability to cope. Insanely fast thoughts run with the pain and panic.
They say the best chance of surviving a bear attack is to play dead. Just let then rip away bloody chunks of flesh and bone. Don't scream. Dead things don't scream. They don't struggle either. They just lay there.
So the bear eats a little, but bears have very short attention spans and soon wonders over to a bush of luscious berries. But suppose this bear was really hungry. You play dead, it continues to eat. Do you begin to struggle when you feel real death straddles up next to fake death?
Are you hard core horror fans satisfied with the picture of the hungry bear, the victim faking death? Nah… I can up the ante.
You were on a walk, enjoying nature, walking with your twin brother. Together you learned how to play T-ball. Then it was the Boy Scouts. A few years later you started building fast cars together. Not long after that a pair of sisters, three years apart, come into your lives. Oh, yeah, that walk, it was a short cut. You were both going to watch the younger sister play in a softball tournament.
Your brother was in the middle of the sentence when he saw the bear cub. He never saw mother bear. She took him right next to you like a Linebacker taking a Quarterback.
Sorry, the blood, the breaking bones, the screams, I had to turn away. Did you run or try to save your brother?
How do you feel about that bear attack now?
SaryBob
When claws or talons slice open flesh it happens in the blink of an eye. Slice, not exactly, more of a rip that might be infinitely more painful than a knee kissing rough concrete, bouncing, sliding, chewing up flesh, exposing the knee cap.
Knee on concrete is over in an instant, leaving the victim to deal with the lingering screams of damage nerves. Teeth in flesh, tearing, ripping and it's just starting. The suffering and horror are beyond our ability to cope. Insanely fast thoughts run with the pain and panic.
They say the best chance of surviving a bear attack is to play dead. Just let then rip away bloody chunks of flesh and bone. Don't scream. Dead things don't scream. They don't struggle either. They just lay there.
So the bear eats a little, but bears have very short attention spans and soon wonders over to a bush of luscious berries. But suppose this bear was really hungry. You play dead, it continues to eat. Do you begin to struggle when you feel real death straddles up next to fake death?
Are you hard core horror fans satisfied with the picture of the hungry bear, the victim faking death? Nah… I can up the ante.
You were on a walk, enjoying nature, walking with your twin brother. Together you learned how to play T-ball. Then it was the Boy Scouts. A few years later you started building fast cars together. Not long after that a pair of sisters, three years apart, come into your lives. Oh, yeah, that walk, it was a short cut. You were both going to watch the younger sister play in a softball tournament.
Your brother was in the middle of the sentence when he saw the bear cub. He never saw mother bear. She took him right next to you like a Linebacker taking a Quarterback.
Sorry, the blood, the breaking bones, the screams, I had to turn away. Did you run or try to save your brother?
How do you feel about that bear attack now?
SaryBob
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