My name is... Well. In hindsight of my current situation, I guess my name is probably pointless to know.

Standing in front of me is a seven foot tall Polar Bear. I can feel the heat from its breath against my face from this distance... Yeah. It's bad. The smell is rancid, like that of a decaying animal... Its usual white coat of fur is tinted with a shade of red. This specific shade of red was produced by my once dear colleague. Rachael. Poor, poor Rachael. I say ONCE dear colleague because she is now torn into several bits and pieces and strewn out on display.

We were trekking through dense snow when suddenly we were attacked from behind. Sadly Rachael insisted on walking behind me, in order to trace my steps, so walking was easier on her through the foot deep snow. I didn’t even hear it coming. All I heard was Rachael’s ear piercing scream and a sudden squelching noise. Startled I stood stock still for a solid 30 seconds before turning around.

In a pile before me is Rachael. What’s left of her anyways. The bear is already digging into her chest cavity and making quick work of it. Looking up at me it lets out a deep snarl and stands on its hind legs clearly preparing to attack.

The ironic part of all this is that Rachael and I had come here, to a remote part of Alaska, in order to study these giant bears. We were doing this through a Biology Graduate Student program for the University we attended together. The funniest part of it all (I have an odd sense of humor) was that these studies were meant to collect data to help preserve the creatures. Isn’t that just great?

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Thinking back on that I sudden come to a realization. I need to run. Fast. Turning around I begin sprinting as fast as I possibly can through the thick snow drift. I know I won’t outrun the beast. Polar Bears, despite their massive size, have a top speed of around 40 kph or 25 mph. I’ve always loved carnivores so I’ve spent a majority of my life studying them. Knowing that I can’t outrun it and that running could potentially invoke its wrath, I stop and turn around to face my death.

Swiveling around awkwardly in the snow I’m faced with my demise. What I come to see is a hulking bear mere feet away from me and approaching quickly. Gulping I suddenly wish I could be stronger and faster. I want to be a survivor. I want to survive.

Unfortunately, I can’t be so lucky. A sudden roar and an impact, and I’m on the ground beneath the mass of blood sprayed flesh that makes up the beast. A sudden ringing noise follows and I realize the animal is biting onto my head. My entire head is inside its mouth. A grinding noise and an incredible pain commence as the bear gnaws viscously on my skull. Suddenly I’m screaming, violently flailing trying to fight the giant brute off of me. My screams begin to halt as I run out of air in my lungs, my skull creaking in protest. Suddenly there's a slight pop followed by a crunch and darkness. The last thought that passes through my mind is, “Why couldn’t I be born a predator.”