My neighbour, a tall, bald and fairly muscular
Then, before I’d even thought about
man, looked disappointed to see me. He tilted his
making the first move, he lunged at me.
head back inside the house, as though listening
for something, and then stepped outside, closing
missed) and turned and skidded back around
the door gently behind him.
the fence and into my own yard and ran at full
He noticed the rain then, like he hadn’t
pelt toward my front door. “What you doing?!” he
seen it before, and ran a hand over the top of
shouted as I came to a breathless halt outside
his head whilst holding his other hand out, palm
my kitchen window, a tiny, terrified reflection. I
up. He looked at me again and formed a kind
turned and saw that he’d picked up the block of
of impatient so-what kind of expression – like
wood. “What you running for?”
he sort of knew what this was about, but didn’t
care.
door but it was too late; I slumped down in front
I threw the piece of wood at him (and
I tried to make a sidestep for my front
of the kitchen window and held my arm up as he towered over me, brandishing the piece of wood as though he were about to whack me with it.
He took hold of the arm I was holding up
to protect myself, trapping the blood flowing through it, and tried to wrench me over. I struggled and kicked out at him, all the time keeping a frightened eye on the piece of wood, on the nail.
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