Robert Snider

United States

Book Nerd. Theatre Geek. Word Dork.

Message to Readers

This is a revamped version of something I published to Flash Fiction a little while back. Thanks for reading, and I hope you like it!

Obsidian Serpent

February 12, 2016

PROMPT: Everyday Magic

    Mae stumbled down the stairs, her hair a bird's nest both figuratively and literally. She opened the kitchen cupboard, snatching her beloved Lucky Charms and an old porcelain bowl. No milk; Mae never liked milk. However, before she could slam the door shut, an image caught her eye like clothing catching onto a fingernail. Seared onto the back of the cupboard was a writhing serpent, black as coal and obsidian. It's sparkly red eyes glimmered like rubies, and its scales were tinted the color of sun-blocking sunglasses. Mae eyes connected with the serpent's rubies, and then, robotically, Mae stretched out her fingers to stroke the serpent. The finger just inches away, a sleepy grin stole across Mae's face, her eyes never breaking eye contact with the snake. The serpent, anticipating its victory, lashed out, emerging from the back wall of the cupboard. It slithered quickly forward, its fangs piercing Mae's finger, taking some of her blood as its prize. The pinch of pain broke the eye contact, and Mae just managed to get a good flick in on the serpent before it re-entered the wall, and dissolved into the woodwork. Mae cursed her stupidity, blaming it on the early morning. She grabbed the well-used and cleverly placed bandages in the drawer just below the cupboard, wrapped up her finger, and trudged towards her dining room table with her long-awaited cereal in tow.

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