Cold Blooded

Cold Blooded

By Gail Baker Katz

Slowly he raised his head above the water line as he heard her splash into the river. Nightfall was beginning. He could feel his body chilling as the sun started down. This was his favorite time.

He had been here waiting for this splash for hours now--waiting for her. She seemed like such a juicy morsel, vibrant and so full of life. He had gotten used to this type of female at his home in Florida. Often these women chose just this special place to splash and play.

He would spy on them but was afraid of their noise and laughter. Once one of them saw him and screamed. Several must have pitied him because he found them leaving food out for him. His favorite was the leftover chicken from their picnics. He was not too proud to eat their leftover food. Oh sure, he could and often did get his own food, but the freebies were always nice.

He could hear her let out a small groan of pleasure as she began swimming. He looked at her once more and then began moving towards her quickly and quietly. Best to surprise her—always effective. The darkness helped hide him as he began to move faster. He was almost touching her. He could feel his body quicken in response to her smell as he came closer.

In one swift and deadly movement he bit her and dragged her down. But she was too big. He let her go and bit her again and yanked her back down deep into the water. She stopped screaming that second time. Her body poured blood all over his head. He shook her body one last time and ripped a leg off, swallowed it whole; then an arm.

Satisfied finally. Feeding was over for the night. The alligator swam away.