There was nowhere left to run. Completely surrounded, Julie put her hands up. "Don't shoot," she called out, knowing it was useless. The natives didn't speak her language, and they didn't take prisoners. The first of the arrows took her square in the gut, and two more quickly followed. Julie grunted and clutched at two of the shafts buried in her belly, and three more thudded into her back. This brought her to her knees, and the next two arrows struck pay dirt in her chest. She slumped to the ground and began writhing in the soil, and everything began to fade as she heard an eagle cawing in the distance. [i]I'm sorry, mom,[/I] she thought, as she lay dying, and she listened to the eagle's cries. The sound of the majestic bird washed everything else away, until the dream was gone and the cawing became her beeping alarm clock.
Julie yawned and stretched, and remembering her dream she ran a finger gently across her clitorus, moaning softly. She often dreamed of her bloody demise, and it typically left her hot and bothered, yet it was always such a huge relief to wake up. Peculiar, that, she thought to herself as she climbed out of bed. Death was a subject she pondered often, particularly since her brother's premature end, and it scared her. She found it difficult to believe in a benevolent god when her brother had met such a horrible and unjust fate, and the thought of eternal non-existence was bone-chilling. Still, it fueled her libido in strange ways.
Flinging open her closet, Julie paused to admire her reflection as she did each morning. She knew she was beautiful - everybody told her so - and she saw no shame in taking pleasure in that. Her dark brown hair lie tussled around her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkled amid her round, creamy cheeks, her pink lush lips played at half a smile, and her soft, young, full-figured body gave definition to her pajamas in all the right places. It was a good day to be alive.
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