Probably except my impending doom. But I mean, if a raptor were in my bed, lying on their side, that would probably buy some time to run because it would have a hard time getting upright. Slamming doors behind me, I would frantically think of who to call. The police? No, they'd think I was crazy. Some kind of science organization? Yes!! I pick up my phone and my fingers hover over the numbers.
But...
What if...
This raptor was meant to be kept a secret?
I've loves dinosaurs my whole life, including the cruel, yet absolutely beautiful nature of the way in which raptors hunted and worked together in packs. They were proof that somethig so dangerous could still move so beautifully. I marvel at the idea that such a cruel creature can kill, and be so smart and strategic about it. And it is simply doing what nature had intended for it to do.
The sound of he raptors cries as it scratches at my bedroom door shake me out of my reverie. I put my phone down. Call me superstitious, but if there is a once extinct dinosaur in my house, something inside of me says to not go to the scientists. This is something they do not want me or the public finding out. They would erase my memory, they would find ways to make me forget that I had ever seen such magnificent, supposedly extinct, animal.
Taking a deep breath, I listen as the sound of my lamp crashing to the floor comes from my bedroom. I would have to find a way to capture it without it capturing me. My heart beats in my chest and I bite my lip. This is going to be one hell of a ride.