He tore out its windpipe—mercilessly; then, Tangor threw blow after blow-(how could he still fight he pondered), he had now, his hand off its throat. They both fell one onto one another, Tangor on top of the Hyena, and the Hyena screamed a low, low, very low grunt, with its cold gray eyes possessed, staring into Tangor’s, a grunt that could be heard even in the ground under the feet of Tangor.

Tangor was now free from the beast, as it lay down to die, and it grunted again, and again, and died. Tangor stood up, victorious from the battle, victorious from the creature’s grip.

Now came a giant snake, with a swing of its back-tail it smashed into Tangor’s side: the snake took the breath away from Tangor, as he leaned over to fill his lungs once more, getting ready for the second battle; the snake, now leaned over Tangor like a wildcat, silent, motionless, its teeth dropping lower to within an inch of his face: a slight grimace on his face, the snakes face, the snakes bulk was slow in movement, and before it could do any real harm Tangor saw it coming: escape was on his mind nonetheless. He bent his knees back, and with a force never knew he had, he kicked the snake away just below its head, as powerful as it was, it simply moved the snake a feet, no more...from him the battle was won (I suppose you could say), for the snake simply found the Hyena easier to eat, and with out a fight, and thus, moved toward him, and swallowed him whole.

There was one more creature to fight—standing by as if it was in line, on the waiting list for him to fight (‘odd,’ Tangor thought: one creature after the other to fight, this never happened before, never like this anyhow); his pistol was on the ground, this long legged lizard moved like a windmill, with a heavy wind propelling it, fast, quick, swift and heavy<: hence, he hit the lizard on the head with is fist, several times, like a mad man: one two three four...he crushed it to its lower level. Then he woke up from his nightmare, only to find himself still in his spacecraft.

“By Jove!” he said, “it’s just a dream.” Realizing this was just a dream, he turned to seek a glass of water, looked out his window, saw the moon (Ice-cap, still half frozen the way he left it a few hours ago), he looked about from his porthole, no creatures were lurking out there, he looked about on his spacecraft: “Yaw...” he concluded, “Just a dream, by —Jove!” He paced the ship’s length, caught his breath once more: I suppose thinking, or thanking someone, it was not real, this nightmare, but perhaps, wishing it was true so he could be out of his ship once and for all, this tomb of a ship, 180,000-miles from Ice-cap, and 250,000-miles from Moiromma. He was a man of adventure, but here, isolated on this ship, he felt like a bee caught in honey.

Note: 11/17/2005

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

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