There is a man in the field. He’s armed with a chainsaw. Armed for what, he doesn’t quite know. It’s only now beginning to dawn on him that he doesn’t even know what he’s doing there or how he got there. He tries to piece it together but he’s unable to. All he knows for certain is that his name is Jack, the chainsaw is in his hands, ready to cut through what man or beast tries to attack him. By golly he hopes he doesn’t have to use it. He wishes someone came up to him and explained what the hell was going on.

Jack begins to look around desperately, bewilderment clawing at him, gnawing at him as his perplexity grows. Suddenly, the field begins to turn purple. Jack fires on the chainsaw in a nervous panic, checking to see if it works and it actually can protect him. He hears the ripping of chain moving against the blade. He chops off a knee high weed that he remembered being green just moments ago. It severs from the stem instantaneously.  A purple juice oozes from the laceration and falls on Jack’s shoe. None of this was making any sense and his heart is pounding inside his chest sending waves of discomfort throughout his body.

Everything in sight is now a shade of purple. He looks at the languishing rays of sunlight emanate from the setting sphere of conflagration. It was going to be dark very soon. It was getting dark in the distance and everything in sight was purple. The darkness in the distance was creeping in on him and the purple was disappearing into it like smoke dissolves in the air. He was still desperately looking around in all directions to make some defining observation whose inference would enlighten him. What good was a chainsaw going to be if he couldn’t see where it needed to be facing.

He can hear bats screeching above as the darkness envelopes everything but a circle around him, a few feet in diameter at best. A full extension of his chainsaw bearing arm rotating like the minutes hand of a clock was all the purple that remained. Blood is rushing through his veins like a gravity train and his pulse is elevated to scary altitudes. If it wasn’t some fierce monster’s claws, a seizure would kill him sooner. The chainsaw wasn’t going to protect him from a seizure.

Quivering, Jack closes his eyelids shut. If this was a dream, it better end right about now if not sooner. Breathing heavily through his mouth, dry as a rusk, he clutches the chainsaw, his faithful companion in his time of need he opens his eyes gingerly. There it was, standing before him – that ghoulish monstrosity, nearly eight feet taller than him staring him down with its beady, glowing eyes. Jack cringes as the entire aura congregates into his frame of vision. One of two things were going to happen, he thought in the fleeting seconds that elapsed – He was either going to be devoured whole or he was going to hack down whatever this was into as many pieces as he could till the blades were too blunt to cut. He fires up his weapon and begins swinging away like his life depended on it.