The Misunderstood and Other Misfit Horrors

by Jason Brannon

  The reverend motioned to one of his congregation, and the little girl with blonde ringlets joined Webster on stage. Webster kissed the little girl on the top of the head and made her face the crowd.

  “No,” Connor whispered.

  “This is Virginia,” Webster said as his congregation continued to dance and to tempt fate. “She’s been sick for a very, very long time. Was born that way in fact. But I would venture to say that she has more faith than anyone in this room and triumphs daily because of it. Let her be an example to us all.”

  The little girl readily accepted two writhing cottonmouths and held them up for everyone to see.

  “Sssssssnakesssss,” she said in a long, drawn out voice.

  Connor stood up with the intent of helping the little girl, “And what was her sin?” He felt two hands clamp down on his shoulders. The deacons glared at him and showed him their tobacco-stained teeth.

  Realizing that he was a prisoner here in this church, Connor sat down and watched in horror as Virginia lost her grip on one of the cottonmouths. The serpent hissed and sank its fangs into her. It was only a matter of seconds before her eyelids fluttered and she fell to the floor in the grip of a massive seizure.

  “God won’t let anything happen to her,” Reverend Webster explained. “Our faith will guide her through.”

  “She needs to go to a hospital,” Connor shouted. His voice was buried beneath the din of so much shouting and praising.

  “Hospitals,” Webster said, spitting the word out. “Why are people so quick to dismiss God in times like these?”

  “God invented common sense so we wouldn’t pick up snakes that are poisonous,” Connor said.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  Connor swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what kind of answer would be satisfactory here.

  “I believe in a higher power, yes.”

  “But do you believe in God?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you believe in Satan?”

  “I believe that there is evil in the world.”

  “If I could prove to you that Satan exists, would that lead you to believe in God?”

  Conner was nervous, he noticed men moving closer to his pew. He didn’t know how to answer.

  Webster smiled and motioned to his deacons. “Open the Penance Pit,” he said.

  “No,” Becca said, snapping out of the trance-like state she’d been in. The snakes squirmed in her fists. “Don’t put him in there.”

  “I’m trying to save your boyfriend’s soul,” Webster said.

  Becca didn’t seem quite so nailed to the cause anymore. She looked at Connor with tears in her eyes. It was enough to make him uneasy and a little scared.

  The deacons did as they were told and began moving some of the pews around. Although he hadn’t noticed it before, Connor realized that there was some sort of trap door set into the floor of the church.

  “Don’t worry,” Webster said as one of the deacons raised the door to reveal a pit full of snakes. “I’ll send Virginia in with you to protect you from Methuselah.”

  Connor started to run, but several men grabbed him and manhandled him toward the pit. It wasn’t much of a fight, and he soon found himself cast into a room full of dark slithering shapes. As promised, Victoria was thrown in with him. She trembled and twitched as the snake’s venom raced through her veins.

  The last thing Connor saw before the door was closed was Becca peering over the edge at him and Webster’s leering face.

  Then darkness.

  Connor tried to remain calm and keep his wits about him, but it was a difficult thing to manage with so many snakes slithering over his legs, up his arms, and across his chest. He wanted to scream so badly but refused to give Webster that sort of satisfaction. His only hope at this point was that Becca had finally come to her senses. Maybe she was going to get the police.

  Amazingly enough he hadn’t been bitten yet by any of the snakes, but he knew that one wrong move could change that. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand, hoping that Victoria was nearby. He could hear her ragged breathing and knew that she wouldn’t last long.

  “Let me out,” Connor shouted. His voice was drowned out by a rousing rendition of “At the Cross.”

  Snakes hissed all around him, and Connor felt sure that one of them was about to strike as he reached out for Victoria. Yet, he didn’t feel the sting of fangs.

  Only the tenderness of Victoria’s skin. The skin was cold and clammy to the touch, still a little sticky from the apples. For a moment, he was certain that she was already dead. Then she spoke to him.

  “Methuselah will be here soon,” she whispered to him in the darkness.

  “We need to get out of here,” Connor said.

  “A serpent tricked us into sin. A serpent can take it away again,” she said in sing-song.

  It took Connor a moment for the significance of that to truly sink in. “You mean that allowing yourself to be bitten by these serpents is your way of repentance.”

  “Methuselah can heal you.”

  “Who is Methuselah?” Connor asked.

  But Victoria didn’t reply. Instead, she lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  Thin slats of meager light filtered in through the cracks in the door above them. Connor squinted and tried to get a better idea of his surroundings, but one of the pews was quickly shifted back into place, effectively blocking out what little illumination there was.

  In those brief seconds before he was plunged into complete darkness, Connor had observed that a set of tunnels actually branched off from the Penance Pit, snaking off in different directions. He had absolutely no idea where any of them could lead, but reasoned that one of them might offer some form of escape.

  Thankful that he hadn’t completely given up tobacco altogether, Connor pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He flicked the lighter and gasped at the moving, undulating mass of snakes that were squirming beneath his feet.

  “Jesus,” he gasped as he looked around for Victoria. Strangely enough she seemed to have disappeared. He scanned the nearby tunnels for any sign of her. There was no possible way that she could have gotten up and staggered out of here in her condition. No doubt the cottonmouth’s poison was already firmly entrenched in her system and debilitating her minute by minute.

  There was no place else she could have gone. Unless...

  Connor eyed the mass of snakes in front of him and caught a brief glimpse of white in their midst. Victoria had been wearing a white dress. The snakes moved around enough to show him another glimpse, this time of Victoria’s pink skin.

  The lighter went out, and Connor used the brief respite to gather his courage. This poor little girl couldn’t climb out of her situation without help. Her parents had brought her here and forced her into this lifestyle, ignoring the dangers. And now she was covered in hundreds of venomous snakes and on her way to succumbing to the cottonmouth’s bite.

  “Faith,” Connor said, spitting out the word like something rotten. This little girl had possessed faith and look at what it had gotten her. Maybe Becca had gone through something similar as a child. Maybe that’s why she didn’t consider this bizarre or bent in any way.

  Realizing what he had to do, Connor flicked his lighter again. Adders, racers, king and bull snakes slithered across his boots and each other. Connor shook his leg lightly to discourage one from crawling up the leg of his jeans. A rattler hissed at him, angry that it had been disturbed.

  Carefully, Connor reached his hand into the working mass of serpents. The snakes parted for him, and he found Victoria’s ankle easily enough. Snakes fell off of the little girl like old scales as he hauled her out. Her skin was clammy and cold to the touch.

  In the church above, the congregation was singing “Shall We Gather At the River.”

  The song made him think of water moccasins. He shuddered and tried to put the thought out of his mind. It was a difficult thing to do when he felt snakes slithering all around him.

&n
bsp; Once Victoria was completely out from beneath the moving wave of serpentine flesh, Connor shook her slightly, in case some of the filthy creatures had found their way into her clothing. A black racer and a dark brown snake with black stripes fell out of her dress. Satisfied that he had gotten rid of them all, Connor threw the little girl over his shoulder and took a close look at the tunnels, hoping to spot something that would tell him which way to go. A faint reddish glow emanated from one. Hoping that it was the last fading rays of the sun, Connor chose that direction and carefully tiptoed toward the tunnel.

  Several snakes struck at him as he walked over, around, and sometimes on top of them. Their fangs were made harmless, however, by the steel-toed workboots that he wore. Knowing that his luck would eventually run out, Connor hurried into the tunnel, breathing a sigh of relief once he realized that there were no snakes this far up. Yet there was something that made him pause.

  “It can’t be,” he said as he surveyed the enormous skin. It must have been twenty-feet long and five feet wide. A snake would have to live a hundred lifetimes to grow this large. Methuselah, he remembered. The name would certainly fit.

  Instinctively, he turned back toward one of the other tunnels only to find that a veritable army of snakes had fallen in behind them, blocking their way. Connor thought about chancing it but decided against it when a line of cobras rose up and began to spit venom in his direction.

  Victoria shuddered in his arms.

  “Just hang on a little bit longer,” he said to the unconscious little girl. “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

  “The exit’s this way,” a husky voice whispered from the opposite end of the tunnel.

  “Who’s there?” Connor asked.

  “A friend,” the voice said. “I’ll show you how to get out of here, but there’s something I need from you first.”

  Connor knew this was a trick of some sort, but there was no other way out. He was stuck down here with the snakes and whatever or whoever this was.

  “What’s the deal?” he asked.

  “Give me your sins,” the voice instructed.

  “I don’t understand,” Connor admitted.

  “You obviously weren’t listening to Reverend Webster when he explained the nature of sin and how it manifests itself in physical deformities and maladies.”

  “I heard it. I just didn’t believe it.”

  “Come a little closer,” the voice instructed. “You’ll believe soon enough.”

  Connor flicked his lighter again and noticed that Victoria’s eyes were rolling back in her head. He gritted his teeth in frustration. There was no other choice. He walked deeper into the tunnel, following the reddish glow.

  “You’ve got what I need,” the voice said.

  “Who are you?” Connor asked.

  “I’m known by many names,” the voice whispered. “These people call me Methuselah.”

  “What should I call you?”

  “How about Father?”

  Although it was clear that the voice was devious and full of deceit, it was also alluring in a strange sort of way. It reminded Connor of stories he’d heard about sirens luring sailors to their deaths. This voice had that same magnetic quality to it.

  He had already prepared himself for the fact that Methuselah was a snake and a big one at that. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was the origins of this particular creature. The serpent sat there at the end of the tunnel, coiled and alert, its eyes looking like rubies.

  “Where did you come from?” Connor asked. “And how are you able to speak?”

  “Where do any of us come from?” the serpent replied cryptically. “As for how I’m able to speak-think about it. I’ve been around a very long time.”

  “I’m not very good with riddles,” Connor admitted.

  “Maybe if I offered you an apple, you would realize who I am. Adam and Eve certainly would.”

  Connor gasped. “Impossible,” he said.

  “Not true,” Methuselah responded. “Give me your sins, and I’ll show you.”

  “Why do you want my sins?” Connor asked.

  “It’s what I live for,” the serpent admitted. “Without sin, I would have no reason for existing and would die. It‘s why I tempted them in the first place. I needed to feed.”

  “Where does faith come in?” Connor asked, trying to play it cool even though he was panicking inside.

  “I’ll heal you and show you the way out.”

  “Are you Satan?”

  The serpent laughed.

  Methuselah opened his mouth to reveal a set of fangs as big as butcher knives.

  Connor screamed, but it was too late to protest. The snake’s fangs driving into Victoria’s limp body and Methuselah’s laughter were the last thing he remembered in the cave. When he woke up, he found himself back in the church, surrounded by the curious. Becca was fanning him furiously with a hymnal.

  “Are you O.K.?” she asked.

  “Have you conquered your sins?” Reverend Webster asked.

  Victoria was in the first pew with a rotten apple. She was going to eat it. Conner tried to stop her but noticed she looked different. The abnormal facial structure and outward signs of her retardation were gone.

  “I told you,” Becca said as tears streamed down both cheeks. “I told you to have faith.”

  “Hallelujah,” Connor said, realizing that the lump in his jaw was gone. “Praise God.”

  The Fourth Key

  Jacob happily accepted the ring of keys from the real estate agent and handed them to Gina. He was glad to see her smiling for the first time in a long time. Neither of them thought they would ever live to see this day.

  "It's ours," she said. "It all seems like a dream."

  Jacob hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Well, technically, it belongs to the bank,” he joked. “It won’t be ours for thirty more years.”

  The real estate agent smiled at the couple and pointed to each of the keys in Gina’s hand. "Let’s get this over with so you two can begin enjoying your new house. This key fits the front door. This next one goes to the garage. The red one goes to the back door."

  "What about the fourth key?" Jacob asked. "What does it fit?"

  The realtor looked puzzled. "To be honest, I'm not sure what door it goes to. There are always a few keys like this on every ring though. They've been there so long that nobody knows what they unlock anymore. Maybe it's the old owner's car key or a key to a safe deposit box. I'm pretty sure it doesn't go to anything in the house. As far as I know there aren’t any more doors that have locks."

  That should have been the end of the discussion right then and there. In fact, it was the end of it for quite a while. Thinking no more about it, Jacob and Gina celebrated that night with a candlelit dinner on the floor of the massive living room. They finished up in the sleeping bag they were using in lieu of a bed. Their lives couldn’t have been anymore perfect at that point. They were in love. They had just bought their first house. Their entire lives were ahead of them.

  But a few days later Gina started sleepwalking, and that changed everything. She had always been a sound sleeper. As long as Jacob had been married to her she had never even talked in her sleep much less taken midnight strolls.

  When Jacob awoke to find Gina’s half of the bed empty, he thought that she might have gone to the bathroom, but he began to worry after five minutes had passed. He climbed out of bed with a groan and went in search of her. He found her in the hallway.

  Her sheer diaphanous gown clung to her sweat-soaked body. Her eyes were closed as if in prayer. Her hand clutched the ring of keys to the house. And she was oblivious to it all.

  Calmly and gently, he took her hand and led her back to bed. They slept through the rest of the night without incident. The next morning Jacob was reluctant to mention what had happened and then decided not to keep the secret when Gina started complaining of a headache.

  "You didn't sleep well last night," he told her. "
You went sleepwalking."

  Gina laid down the spatula she had been using to scramble eggs. "Are you serious?”

  Jacob nodded.

  “Where did I go? What was I doing? I don't remember any of that."

  "You were walking down the hall. You had a death grip on the house keys. You never even knew when I grabbed your hand. I led you back to bed, and you climbed beneath the sheets like you knew exactly where you were and what you were doing."

  "Did I say anything?" Gina asked, a little concerned.

  "Nothing," Jacob said, putting his arms around his wife and hugging her close to him. "Relax and try not to worry about it. It will just take a while to get used to this old house. We’ve been putting in a lot of long hours. You were probably just tired. Forget about it."

  It was easier said than done. Especially when she did the very same thing the next night.

  This time it was Gina's muttering that woke Jacob. He opened his eyes just in time to see his wife sliding out of bed. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she grumbled as if calling out to a visitor at the front door.

  At first he wasn’t convinced she was asleep. Then she stepped in front of a window. A thin line of drool glistened on one corner of her mouth. Jacob quickly realized this was no prank.

  He quietly followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen where she made a quick detour to get the keys. It was uncanny how well she could navigate the unfamiliar house with her eyes closed. Yet she moved around boxes and through doorways as if the place was perfectly lit and her eyes were wide open.

  It was strange enough that she had walked in her sleep two nights in a row, but it was even stranger that she had gone for the keys on both occasions. Jacob remembered the one key on the ring that had no discernible purpose. He wondered if Gina knew what door the key fit on some subconscious level. He decided to hold back and see what she did next.