Walking to his mother's side, he saw her lying still. Daniel touched her cheek and found it cold and hard. The snake's attack had been for nothing. She'd obviously been dead for quite some time. He covered her head with the blanket that had once been used to keep her warm. Her body would never be that way again.
Perhaps, if it had been a normal evening, he would have allowed himself a period to grieve. Forcing himself to ignore the emotional wave that was working to engulf him, he wiped his eyes and walked over to his brother's side. He deposited the snake there into a bucket, now almost full of dead reptiles. He checked the rag he'd laid on Joshua's forehead earlier and found it dry. Placing his hand upon his brother's cheeks to see if the fever had returned, he discovered it to be as cold as his mother's. Another blanket raised to cover a dead family member.
He left his brother and returned to the chair at the fireplace. Lost in thought, Daniel stared into the flames as his mind flew through the day. It had been normal, as any other, until the incident with the rattlers. None of that made any sense. Snakes acted upon instinct. Their brains were too tiny to do anything else. Yet, these had formed themselves into a fighting unit, he imagined much like the one his Pa had joined to fight in the war. Their actions served a purpose, of which he was unsure. The only thing he was sure of was that his brother and mama were dead, and that he was alone, miles from the closest neighbor. It was too much for his young brain to handle. He broke down and let his emotions flow.
Sometime during the night, he'd cut off all but one oil lamp to reduce the fumes. There was no way he intended to open the front door and watch more snakes rush inside. The warmth of the fireplace soon took over and sent him into the world of dreams, and nightmares.
He saw himself and Joshua playing outside, chasing each other around, as the sun settled in the West. Both laughing and wearing huge grins, they hadn't a care in the world. Their pa was coming in from the fields and Mama was fixing an evening meal that smelled so good people's mouths in the next county were watering. The two boys wrestled on the ground for a minute, but Daniel turned it into a tickling match and showed no mercy on Joshua, who kept proclaiming, “I gotta pee, I gotta pee” between fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Then, a shadow came over them and a giant rattlesnake used his coils to cave in the house atop Mama. It then shot out and swallowed Pa in one bite. It was coming for the two boys, its black eyes turning demon red and blazing more and more the closer it got. It struck, grabbing Joshua, but missing Daniel as he rolled off to the side. It coiled back into strike position, its rattle sounding like a thousand locusts invading the prairie. Its tongue flickered as it savored the smell of fear within its prey. Daniel had run out of options. He was the target, the prize, the winner's trophy.
The giant struck—Daniel rolled aside to escape the attack—and fell out of his chair. Gathering his senses, he shivered as the chill of a sweat soaked shirt sent goosebumps up and down his back. The sun of a new day was beaming in through the window, warming that which sat in its rays. Yet, the room was cold. He turned to see the fire had died. He rushed to get it going, fearing a rattlesnake would drop from above any second, if it hadn't already done so during his slumber.
Searching the room from his chair, his mind and eyes played tricks and the shadows began to move. He picked up the hoe and beat the visions of serpents gliding around the corner and slice the demons sliding through the stucco walls. Yet, no blood did it draw.
He walked to the window and focused on the dirt and weeds next to the house. No movement and no snakes—just strong wind stirring up dust. Fifty yards away a couple of prairie dogs were nibbling on some brambles and keeping a lookout for insects. Everything looked like just another morning.
Should he open the door or not? The water was gone. In his panicked search for serpents, he'd knocked over the bucket holding the little that had remained. Thirst wasn't an issue yet, but it soon would be. Plus, the livestock in the barn needed food and water. He couldn't ignore them. They might be able to go a day or two, but sooner or later, he'd have to tend to them.
Placing his shoe less than half an inch from the door's edge, he released the latch. The force of the outside wind took hold of the door and pushed it against Daniel's foot. It didn't budge. With greatest care, he slid his foot back in quarter in increments until he could see the front of the door sill through the crack. There were no snakes—only the pebbles and stones he and his brother had gathered to make a walkway to the house.
He continued inching open the door until he had a clear view of the yard. Nothing. Reaching down, he picked up two buckets by their handles and grabbed the hoe in the other. Step by step, he moved cautiously to the well. After filling the two buckets, he picked them up to start his trip back, the hoe clenched in his armpit. On his second step, a rattle sounded.
To his left, a small prairie rattler sat coiled and ready to strike. Giving it wide berth, he slowly proceeded, only to find another blocking his path back to the house, and then another, and another. They had formed a border he couldn't cross, one that led straight to the barn. He attempted to retrace his steps but discovered the ones he'd passed had fallen in behind—eliminating that option—and were moving forward.
The closer Daniel got to the barn, the more rattlers lined his route. Veering too close to one side or the other, brought a warning strike, sometimes too close as the serpent's snout would bounce against his leg. It was if he was running a gauntlet, but one aimed at herding instead of injuring. They wanted him in the barn, that was clear. He had no choice. Whatever awaited him would have to be dealt with when he got inside.
The barn door was still open from the night before, when Joshua had first hollered for his help. The thought of his brother sent his emotions running wild. Love was replaced with sorrow, and then anger. Although his mama had taught vengeance is the Lord's, somehow, he'd find a way to get even first—or die trying.
Tentative, Daniel stepped inside, jumping away from the pile of boards where the large rattler hid yesterday. The hogs and cows were restless in their stalls, hungry and thirsty he bet. Still carrying the buckets of water, he decided to pour them in the animals’ troughs. Leery of putting himself in a good spot to be attacked, he kept a keen eye on his surroundings. After dividing the water among the livestock the best he could, Daniel opened the rear doors of each stall to allow the animals a chance to escape. None of the snakes had entered from the front during his time inside, none that he'd seen at least. Skeptical of that continuing, he decided the center of the barn floor would be the best position to man a defense.
Minutes crept by. Daniel had to keep turning to keep from being ambushed from the sides or rear. The rising temperature invigorated his captors, slithering among themselves, and never leaving the positions they held by the front door.
Daniel had stopped trying to figure the whole thing out. It didn't matter what or who was controlling them. Maybe it was an act of the Devil—maybe God. Mama and Joshua were dead. He would probably follow. There were too many for him if they all attacked at once. A solitary bite would do the job. Anything more would simply be overkill. Either way, he didn't look forward to it. One thing for sure, he'd go down fighting, killing as many as he could!
A strong gust of wind slammed the front door shut. A cow bellowed out and Daniel jerked around to see if it had been attacked. Beside him, a long, thick body dropped where his shoulder had been seconds before. It was the huge rattler he'd tried to kill yesterday!
Daniel leapt back, narrowly escaping the venom filled fangs of the striking monster. Instead of coiling up, it serpentined with tremendous speed, it's body barely avoiding the hoe's iron blade. The snake shifted directions faster than Daniel could swing, all the time getting closer to the boy.
His shoulders ached and his fingers throbbed from the repeated impacts of the hoe against the stones that covered the barn floor. But, he couldn't stop. This snake had chosen a surprise attack and had failed. Now, he planned on the element of surprise shift
ing.
Maneuvering the attack back to the stall area, the snake followed with untold aggression. Success of strikes no longer concerned the animal as it pursued the target. Blinded by its madness, the triangular head shot out over and over, sometimes missing by feet, other times by inches. Its rattle echoed the ferocity and desperation to sink its fangs into the young flesh ahead. The rattler wasn't frightened of the boy's larger size as others of its kind were. Aware it's bite held the messenger of death, bravery wasn't an issue.
Daniel circled away from the stacked barrels and sacks of grain as the snake reached them. The snake struck out as the boy chopped down with the hoe. Daniel's swing hit the grain bag to which it had been aimed and lodged itself deep inside. Yanking back with all his strength, the bag fell off the wooden barrel and atop the squirming serpent, pinning it to the floor. It desperately tried to free itself, but the iron blade fell too soon. Once the attacker, the large serpent found freedom from the grain bag, as only its bottom half lie beneath. Determined to kill, the snake tried to continue the attack, but only wobbled from side to side, unable to use its coil to push forward any longer. Another swing and the head was split from snout to neck, it's brain destroyed.
The sound of vibrating rattles outside the front door ceased, leaving only the sound of the wind droning around the building.
Daniel dropped the hoe and stared at the body on the floor. He had no questions as to why, only a sense of relief. Two warriors had fought to the death. One lie dead. The battle was over.
He walked over to the wall and took down a bridle. Walking out the back door, he whistled loudly, then again. A plow horse trotted to meet the boy and gave no resistance to the bridle Daniel pulled over his head. After leading the horse to a wooden fence, the boy climbed to the second rail and mounted the bare back. Jabbing his heels into the horse’s ribs, the two faced the wind and trotted across the prairie.
Daniel was familiar with the way to the closest neighbors. He'd traveled there with his pa many times. They were friendly, God fearing people, always willing to share with a neighbor. He knew they'd help him if they could.
His leg throbbed and had begun to swell. The fangs had delivered their venom just before the grain bag fell atop the snake. Perhaps, the neighbors knew of some remedy that he didn't to keep him alive. If not, he would soon be with Mama and Joshua. They hadn't heard from Pa since he'd left for the Yankee Army. He'd never thought of it before, but maybe he had been killed in battle. Mama had received a letter that looked official but had never shared its contents. She hadn't been the same since.
A dizzy feeling was setting in as Daniel spied the neighbor’s sod house as he rode over the rise. A huge amount of smoke billowed out of its chimney. Funny, it’s not that cold a day. What could cause them to have that big of a fire going?
* * * * *
(1) Note: The method of treating snakebite used in the previous story is no longer an acceptable method. Please consult the medical information available concerning snakebite treatment in your area of residency for proper methodology.
* * * * *
“Like that one?”
“I have to say, it was much better than the first one you told. You know I hate snakes, don’t you?”
“Most people do.” Gabriela grinned and licked her paws. “I find them interesting creatures. They’re really kind of beautiful and they get a bad rap most of the time. Kind of like black cats. And, I’m an expert on that.”
“So, what’s up next … something just as good or even better?”
“I think I’ll tell you about my second life. It’s better than the first for your purpose of entertaining the readers. Ready to go to the mountains?”
Big Feet Minus Expensive Shoes
Back in the 1960's, I lived with a man named Bobby Howard in the hill country of Eastern Kentucky. Bobby wasn't a bad person but let us say he wasn't the most intelligent of all my owners. Today, we would call him a hillbilly. Back then, he called himself a God-fearing common man. For all his faults, he did attend church every Sunday. Afterward, Bobby would stop the old pick-up about five-hundred yards down the road and sell his moonshine out of the back. You might say he loved spreading the Holy Spirit as well as the spirits of the still.
Bobby lived in an old shack that had sheltered his kin for almost a century. Rotten shutters missing hinges hung awkwardly, the roof leaked into pots and pans each time it rained, and broken boards all over the porch made walking a hazard. So weathered was the exterior that a coat of paint wouldn't have helped much, so my owner didn't bother. He'd found the benefit of sheet tin and how simple it was to slap a sheet over a rotting section of the wall. This kept out most of the cold winter winds and could be pulled off to admit cooling breezes during the summer.
I spent most of my time in the barn where the mice thrived. Between the grain spilled on the floor around the cattle feeders and the slop that sloshed out of the trough for the pigs, the mice filled their tummies and grew nice and fat. I never had to look far for a meal and had to eat in moderation to keep my figure. Nothing worse than a bunch of chubby, laughing mice scurrying away because one is too fat to chase them. I can still hear Bobby's voice warning me, “Girl, iffin' you get any fatter, the mice are gonna catch you and have barbecued cat for their dinner.” Like I said, not my most intelligent owner, but his point was well taken.
One late fall evening—after a particularly wonderful meal of the fattest two mice I'd ever seen—I was snuggled up between bales of hay in the barn loft keeping nice and warm. Through the cracks in the side of the building, I was mesmerized by the flickering of the fireplace flames inside his home across the barn lot. The flames, dancing in the shadows, looked so alive. So hypnotic were they that I couldn't take my eyes away. A slight breeze through that same crack brought in the sweetest smoke my nose ever had the pleasure of inhaling, if inhaling smoke is one’s thing.
Behind me, the rustling about of mice pulled me from my dreamlike state. Not just one or two were moving about, but all that resided on the far side of the building were stampeding across the floor—heading in my direction! Remembering my master’s warning, I readied myself for an attack. I wasn't going to end up as an all you can eat buffet. If they were massing to make a purge, I would be ready. I eased out of my warm, comfortable bed to face the onslaught—claws extended.
Onward they came—the sound of hundreds of little feet running up the ladder. I had faith I could withstand an attack of ten, maybe even twenty of them—not the mouse population of six counties, though. I searched around for a position they'd have a hard time reaching to make their attack on me. Sadly, I accepted the fact that I was in as good as place as any. If it came down to it, I could always jump down and escape from the barn to the forest close by. But, before it came to that, I'd make sure to kill a few for principle.
It was then my nostrils noticed a mixture of the smell of rotten potatoes, skunk scent, and roadkill odors from outside. Horrible as the smell was, my attention perked to the deep grunting—guttural noises—that accompanied the stench.
The mice and I lined the loft rafter beam, all seeking to know what the source of this disturbance was. Most of the rodents were perched on their back legs, ready to scatter at the first hint of impending danger. Yet, curiosity’s hold kept them from finding safe hiding. Somewhat expected—me being the supposed “curious one”—it was doing the same to me.
Thousands of muscles tensed as the small entry door banged open. Many observers backed away from the beam’s edge—ready to get a head start if hiding became a necessity. Waiting on what was to appear became more than just a curiosity—it was potentially a matter of life and death.
It was then a gigantic, hairy manlike creature squeezed through sideways, barely making it inside. It stood tall and straight in the moonlight—its head almost as high as the rafter upon which we sat. The creature sniffed the various smells of the barn and its occupants—somehow able to distinguish them from its own pungency—before suddenly hopping at us
watching.
Wasting no time, I returned to my hiding spot between the hay bales, along with twenty or thirty of the mice that had been nearby. Multiple grunts in quick succession followed. Damn, it's laughing at us! That damn thing scared us just to play around.
Not entirely certain of my analysis, I crept out, cautious of my bravery and curiosity landing me in trouble. Peering from over the edge, I watched the beast stroll over to the hog stall and snag one of the newly born piglets. The high-pitched squeals of its prey ended quickly with a head twisting and a neck snapping. Not satisfied with one, the beast grabbed another and repeated his actions. Backing the remaining three babies against the outside wall, the mother faced off against the ruthless monster—warning snorts threatening a forthcoming battle should it decide to attempt another murder. She'd been caught by surprise and shock as the first two had been taken from her and wouldn't allow a third without a fight.
Fifty yards away, the front door slammed shut against its door frame. Running footsteps neared and the barrel of a shotgun nosed inside. Seizing the two dead piglets by their hind legs in one of his humongous hands, the beast covered the distance to the door in three huge strides. I sat stunned as the monster grabbed hold of the shotgun's barrel and yanked it from Bobby’s hands. Tossing it aside, he roared, defying my owner to face him barehanded. God-fearin’ Bobby, showing all the intelligence I failed to give him credit for, turned and skedaddled back to the house.
Gabriela_Tales from a Demon Cat Page 4
