The humid night was clear, the stars above plenty and the moon full. The reverberations from frogs croaking intermittently broke the relentless din of crickets stridulating. A catfish meandering around created a bubbling commotion as it journeyed too far into the shallows and had to whirl back into the pond.

 Face up, spattered with dirty water and blood from a yawning head wound, Cliff lay motionless. Even the biting mosquitos did not give cause to a response. The reeds spiked up all about the body, which gradually faded beneath the surface, as his head rested nearer the muddy shore.

 Abruptly, ferociously, his eyes jolted open revealing lightning bolts of blood vessels across their reddened pink surface. Cliff sat directly up, gasping for air. Not far away, the sound of feet crunching through the field of tall hay loomed in his direction. Vaulting forward, hysterical, he jetted toward the sound, shrieking with a bloodcurdling fury.