Warren strained against the thing's gaping maw. It's mouth stretched abnormally wide, yellowed fangs dripping blood and saliva. Pushing with his forearm underneath the creatures chin, he desperately clutched for his pistol, knocked from his hand when the beast sprung from the darkened barn.
The creature pressed down on him, Warren's strength waining. In desperation he pulled his feet under him, rolling backwards to align his spurred boots with the beast's neck. He kicked out, a rich black ochre of blood fountaining from it's torn throat. Yet still the beast pushed down, making no sound other than the gurgle from his shredded neck. In a final act of salvation, Warren rolled the creature to his side and kicked out again, pulling his legs in close and uncoiling in one quick violent motion. Without the creature's weight upon him, he gained a few precious seconds.
Warren hurriedly stumbled toward his gun, just a few feet away. A maniacal grin crossed his face as his finger closed on the trigger, the smooth pearl handle in his grasp. Just as he turned to the creatures, he felt it's vice like grip around his head, and the last thing he saw was that terrible mouth opening wide.
End of Line.