BULLY

Bang.....

Bang.........

WHAM!

Betting he'd wished he would have passed up the gig.

We meet the young man in distress who goes by Izzy. Only his mom would ever call him by his government. A young film school grad hungry for some real live action.

Sweat trickles down the side of his face, making its way down his shirt.

The heat doesn't make things better while being stuck inside a sweltering cottage. He peeks outside of a window without revealing himself too much. The van is more that totaled. All the tires...flat, both bumpers hang off by a thread. The side of the van is caved in as if it had been in a serious collision on a busy intersection.

Three additional bodies soaked in bloodied clothing and fresh wounds were spread out across the balmy soil.

A director, audio engineer, and onscreen talent. All friends and colleagues of Izzy.

DEAD.

The culprit?

A massive Spanish Fighting Bull.

He stood just under six feet tall and had to weigh about 2,000 lbs. It was much more aggressive then the ones they make a mockery of in those open arenas. This one suffered from extreme isolation. The cottage appeared to be a safe base camp until one minute you wake up before the sun, loading gear, prepping for a two hour drive to do a doc special on ancient mayan civilization for the next three months just to find out you're lodging near a breeding ground.

They never had a clue. Things like this you can't just find on the internet, either you know or you don't. Why would the owners say anything when you can bank all that cash. Few would say greed depending on the perspective but most would debate survival.

As an ambitious videographer this was one of those rare opportunities that couldn't be refused. You'd be kicking and punching yourself if you did.

The Bull continues to circle the van as the scorching sun begins to take it's toll on the animal.

Izzy's guessing maybe he can ride it out for a while long as he remains calm. He's sweating, mumbling, doing more praying than he has since Sunday school when he was just a young boy. He tries to maintain his strength, drinks some water and proceeds to splash some on his face.

He keeps quiet until.,

A loud thump at the door...BANG!

Izzy races to the other side of the cottage.

The door is caved in and halfway off the hinges. Luckily it's solid but it won't take another blow like that.

Izzy has some time as the strike drained a good amount of energy from the bull. It walks away returning towards the van.

He thinks fast.

Searches every inch of the cottage in hopes of coming across a weapon or something he can use as one. He tears through the kitchen but remains outta luck as everything is mostly wooden or cheap steel. Doesn't matter anyway.

Whatever requires close range is essentially useless.

He regroups his thinking and heads to one of the bedrooms. He opens the closet door and discovers an old school bow with a few arrows.

He takes a sigh or relief and agitation all at once. He's never trained to use one before and today's a good day without a choice. He grabs the bow and arrows and returns to the front door.

He's able to peek through it from the previous damage and notices the bull pacing slowly back and forth in front of the van.

This is it.

He musters every spec of courage, opens whats left of the door and steps outside.

Izzy grips the bow firmly in his right hand and withdraws the first arrow from the pouch and does his best to aim. He has distance that would create a good impact from the strike.

He captures the bull's attention as it stares him down. The bull takes it's time and walks towards Izzy.

Izzy attempts to keep the arrow straight and steady. He keeps his focus in between the bull's eyes.

He locks in with one eye closed and....POP.

Silence.

The bull makes a run for it as it seeks refuge.

Izzy's body lays in a pool of his own blood as it rushes from his neck. He places his hand on the wound as it squirts out from between his fingers. Every breath he takes is closer to the last one.

He gazes up towards the sun as a shadowy figure stands over him. Izzy can barely identify who the figure belongs to as his vision is blurred.

The barrel of the shadowy figure's revolver is still smoking as heat escapes from the chamber.

The figure draws the gun and points it in between Izzy's eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED.