Personal Narrative-Slasher Movies

Wendy watched Ryan from behind a group of trees. He was looking in her direction, however, he was not moving, and he was searching for a sign of her. He must not have noticed where I dashed off to yet she laughed quietly. I fully intend to mess with him. Stepping back a few steps Wendy tilted her head towards the sky and bellows out a horrific scream with all her might. The scream in her opinion was superior to the ones girls furnish in those dumb slasher movies. Slasher in the dictionary showed the definition perfectly.
Plural noun: slasher movies
1. a person or thing that slashes.
2. a horror movie, especially one in which victims (typically women or teenagers) are slashed with knives and razors.
Looking back at Ryan she observed him jump
and turn white as a sheet of paper, running in her direction and screaming her name. She turns left and darts deeper into the tangle of trees not watching where she’s heading; trying to maintain Ryan in her sight and stay out of his sight completely at the same time. Panting and laughing Wendy stops to catch her breath behind a large tree trunk. Holding onto the tree she leans to her right to peer out and see if she can spot Ryan. If she can sneak her way behind him she can jump on his back and scare him another time. Looking around she sees a slow fog is creeping up, this will we perfect for hiding in. Suddenly she is stuck with a case of the giggles; they start out slow and soft but quickly start to come out of her faster and louder. She is unable to stop laughing. Tears are rolling down her cheeks; her sides are starting to ache. Within seconds she stops laughing, she stops breathing. No sounds can be heard, silence engulfs her. Slowly letting go of her breath she was holding she surveys the area around her. What the heck is wrong with me? A sound behind her of a twig or small branch snapping in half makes her jump and turn around. No one is there. Suddenly laughter erupts. The laugh sounds just like her laugh but a little different, almost artificial. Someone is mimicking her laugh. Wendy still is unable to see anyone but can feel their eyes on her. Turning around in a slow circle she cannot see who is laughing or tell which direction it is coming from. An icy chill runs down her spine. A sense of danger has got her on full alert. Movement from high above her in a tree, a large black bird is sitting on a branch watching her. Not just large but massive, with a thick neck, shaggy throat feathers, and a Bowie knife of a beak. His head is cocked to the side like he is listening for something.
He was entirely black, right down to the legs, beak, and glaring eyes; some sort of Raven but somewhat different. He was bigger than any Raven Wendy had ever seen before; and scarier looking too. He emanated menace. He turned his head to watch Wendy. Wendy did not like his stare. This stupid bird is not going to frighten me; but yet he did and he didn’t look stupid. “Scat!” she yelled at the bird and waved her hands in the air franticly, trying to scare the bird away. The massive bird bristles its glossy black feathers; all the while never taking its eyes off of Wendy. I don’t doubt this bird eats rabbits or even foxes, that razor sharp beak would tear into any flesh easily. Slowly the bird spreads his majestically huge wings. What the heck is he doing? Crap I think it is getting ready to swoop down on me like I was a rabbit or fox. “You win, I am out of here.” Shaking all over Wendy turns and blindly runs away. “Please don’t attack me, please don’t attack me” Wendy whispers’ as she runs deep into the fog that is now surrounding her. The bird’s eyes don’t stop watching Wendy even in her departure. Laughter erupts again. After a few minutes the gigantic raven leapt from
the branch it was perched on in a slow flapping of motion. Its flight is buoyant and graceful, almost magical heading upward into the sky. It begins soaring towards Wendy, talons facing forward. It seemed to be traveling at her up to twenty miles per hour virtually without any effort. The talons or claws on this bird are shaped like the toes on an eagle. They are curved and razor-sharp meant for catching and holding its prey. Wendy heard the bird behind her and turned in time to see long talons and a vise-like grip that just missed her head by mere inches.
She can see those claws will inflict serious wounds to anything it touches. Wendy could discern this bird was some kind of master at soaring and hunting prey. At that dreadfully moment Wendy realizes she is the prey. The raven type creature again soars upward out of sight; using the fog and the coming of night as its camouflage. From her left the bird swoops down close to her left ear she can feel the breeze lift her hair, but doesn’t attack. The sound from its wings is loud and haunting. It has a wingspan of seven to eight feet and a wide and rudder-like tail close to that of an eagle, but this is no eagle. She already knows she is going to be in big trouble if he does attack. Wendy is terrified. She doesn’t want to die out here. Turning her back to this thing Wendy is looking around on the ground for a weapon; something she can use to defend herself. The creature circles and soars down at her again doing so without expending inordinate amounts of energy that flapping in flight would require. Wendy spots a tree branch and dives for it just as the bird dives for her. It catches her on her back and digs its claws in, its weight pushing her to the ground. It is slowly walking up her back
towards her head. The bird digs deeper, gripping with its talons into her long black hair and now her head. Wendy shrieked when the talons dig into her scalp. She takes the tree branch and tears at the thing in a frantic frenzy. Wendy is trying desperately to damage this creature. She feels twin needles drilling into her flesh. The creature is ripping and pulling at Wendy’s head. The stick breaks and falls out of Wendy’s hand. Without thinking she reached up and grabs feathers. She yanks her hand back and reaches up again trying for more feathers, but instead of feathers she feels the razor slice from its beak. Screaming she clubs at its head with the side of her wrist, immediately after a rotten pungent odor fills the air. Sparks flicker before her dimming eyes. She tries to keep clubbing it, but her mind feels thick, her hand heavy and slow. Everything goes black.