Sunlight filtered the the low hanging branches of the big cypress tree. Glinting sunlight danced on the pale dusty earth before the broken and worn cement porch. He rested on the third step, feet on the second; one small hand gripped the hot metal rail, while the other lazily traced the cracks, exploring for exposed cool rebar. Behind him, a low hum issued from the fraying screen door.
Voices. Angry voices. The muffled sound swirled through the hazy and already hot morning. Mammá and pappá were fighting again.
He tried to appreciate the sounds as the mixed with the gentle chiming of the refreshing breeze and the leaves. Chickadees and sparrows seemed to try and provide harmonics, but even their song could not veil the harshness of the tones.
Their arguing always stirred feelings- bad feelings, and he did not like it. He did not like to feel at all. At times like these, he left. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but mamá always found him in short order and returned him. To him, disobedience was the price they paid for their negligence and arguing.
With a hop, he was off the steps and headed towards freedom and fun- at least for a little while. He landed on the dirt path, and dust exploded up around him, spinning in the air around. It was his earthen cloak that he donned anytime the opportunity for adventure arose.
With a few sure steps of his short legs, the boy stood before the embankment of the road. In short order, he clambered up and over, staining his Jean shorts and yellow t-shirt with the green residue of grass. Ahead of him lay the woods of cypress, and through their foliage thick and intertwined limbs passed no sunlight- or at least to his childish mind.
The shade of these woods felt like the blanket of night in his imagination. He stalked through the underbrush, dashing from tree to tree; an invisible hunter. He pretended to be many things as he went; the leader of an expedition party, a ronin, a spy crossing into enemy territory, even an array of monsters and beasts stalking unwary travelers.
His favorite thing of all to pretend to be was a reptile, like a snake or komodo dragon. To his young mind, lizards were the definition of cool. It was something his parents only lightly tolerated, as his mamá was very superstitious of anything akin to serpents. He was too young to understand the stories and analogies of old, so to him she just felt mean and wrong. Snakes were cool. Cool things couldn't be bad.
He continued for about four minutes, pawing through the low ferns that crowed the criss crossing exposed roots. This time he was a dragon, hot on the trail of a hapless morsel- maybe a sheep, or perhaps a stupid girl. Maybe even Mariá from first grade. She didn't like snakes, either. At this point in his journey, the details mattered little. It was all just pretend till he reached his destination.
Soon, a soft murmur could be heard joining in with the song of the leaves. Shortly, the boy found himself clambering up a small bank of large stones. The stones emerged from a steep hill which appeared as though some giant had scooped half of one face away. A gentle stream of water tricked from the moss covered stones in the cutaway cliff, and poured down the hill and into the woods.
A hidden waterfall. His personal sanctuary. Quickly he took his customary perch upon one great stone that stood alongside the stream, not far from the miniature rock pool at the base of the falls. Then, he fell silent. The boy sat as still as he could for a child and pressed a little hand over his mouth to better quiet his breathing. He knew this place was not his sanctuary alone.
In time, his patience was rewarded with the soft rustle of brush being disturbed. A glint of dusty emerald appeared from the shadow of the underbrush. Martin's heart began to race as he recognized the rhythmic ruby flashes emanating from the emerald spade.
A snake had come to visit him; his most precious companion of all. The spade shaped head pressed forward into the clearing revealing a graceful thin body. Her whole length was the same dusty green with clean gold stripes down her back and side. She was a young garter snake, and to Martin she seemed perfect.
Hypnotized, he watched as the snake pressed forward along the rocks. She stopped for a moment at the burbling streams edge. Then she lowered her head and slithered into it the water where she coiled herself up to refresh and away crickets.
Once the snake was still, he allowed himself to breath. Slowly he laid out across the rock, stretching towards the still reptile. Very delicately he moved hand towards her, keeping low to the ground. The snake warily turned towards the movement, her tongue flicking even more rapidly. Just as she began to uncoil and lean away from the hand, he pounced.
In an instant both his hands were wrapped around her coils. He gripped the writhing creature firmly but gently. She snapped impotently at him, her grasshopper crushing jaws unable to harm him. They did little more than cause him to flinch.
He turned quickly from the stream, clutching his prize. He decided she would be his new companion. He would call her Eva and she would join him on all his outings to this place from now on. He had a twig box prepared beneath the stoop where no one would find her.
“Martin.”
A familiar voice, one that was unwelcome here. A shiver ran up his spine. It was Mamá. She was not supposed to be here. Not this close to his sanctuary. Martin gritted his teeth. She couldn't be allowed to find this place.
Quickly, the boy dashed into the woods heading diagonally towards the house. He gave the direction he her the voice a wide berth. The snake in his hands flailed even more angrily at the sudden locomotion. He had to get back to the house and hide her before his mom could see what he'd caught.
He ran as fast as he could towards home, holding the little snake close. Beneath his careless feet the twigs snapped and the kicked aside branches hissed furiously. The calls of his mother changed from fearful to that of rage. She seemed his name, and he could hear her heavy steps pounding after him.
Reality began to glitch. The world seemed to list to the side. The trees began to repeat as though he were caught in a loop. The details of the woods, the warmth, the sounds of life all became a hazy soup. The sounds of his mother were distorted as though he were hearing her from the bottom of a pool. But still they came closer.
All at once a clawed hand grabbed his shoulder hard and he was forced to come to a skidding halt. A second hand grabbed hold of him and he was forcibly spun around. He stared at his mother's face through the mist. Though she seemed to be fading away, he could still make out the smeared makeup and tear stained eyes.
“Martin.” She said this time more calm. Then there was an ear splitting screech as she saw what the boy was holding.
Long manicured red nail lashed out, clawing at his prize. The motion caught him off guard and left bright and painful marks on his bare arms. Martin yelped in surprise and fell back into emptiness. His consciousness held on just long enough to see the beautiful snake hit the ground- followed instantly by a murderous red satin house slipper.
Doctor Santiago awoke with a start. He always did when he had that dream. And lately, that was pretty often. Sitting up, he glanced at the clock. The ugly red letters stated it was 2am. He didn't have to work yet for another five hours. All the same, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.
Throwing back the covers he decided that he would get another alarm clock, one with a less unpleasant face. Red seemed to make him anxious these days.
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