Charmer by Chris Stout

Author:Chris Stout
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christopher Stout
Published: 2014-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

*** Bonus Material! ***

I hope you enjoyed “Charmer.” Below is the short story that started me on my “snake story” kick. It’s experimental and a bit depressing, but it was a jumping-off point for stories like “Charmer” and “The Medusa,” the latter of which was published by Fantasist Enterprises and (as of 2011) is still in print. I hope you enjoy it. As always, thank you for your support.

THE SERPENT AND THE ANGEL

By CHRIS STOUT

I’m walking along The Bloody Lane at Antietam Battlefield. My girlfriend Annette is with me. Ahead of us, a gaggle of school children squeal and shove each other, dutifully ignoring their teachers and the park ranger, who is gamely explaining the significance of this section of hallowed ground. I roll my eyes and grumble in disdain. I hate snotty kids. “They should show a little respect. People died here by the thousands.”

Annette laughs at their antics. “They’re only children, John. And besides, I think the men who died here would rather see these kids playing than mourning.”

I shrug. Maybe so, but I still don’t like them.

My attention is diverted by a small garter snake weaving its way along the stones and pebbles lining the path. How it survived the kids unscathed is something I’ll never know. I bend down and hold out my hand.

The tiny serpent hesitates in front of this new invader, but - sensing no danger - it continues on its path and glides over my fingers. I raise my hand to study the creature. It threads through my fingers, over the index, under the middle, over the bare ring finger and wrapping around the pinkie. The snake pauses, not sure where to go now that it’s run out of things to hold onto, and looks around. It seems to enjoy this new view, and rests on my hand, occasionally sniffing the air with a flick of its tongue.

Annette’s hand presses down on my shoulder. Startled, I jump. The snake drops to the ground and beats a hasty retreat into the tall grass along the road.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I put my hand over hers and smile. “It’s okay, love.”

Annette is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. Whatever we might disagree on, that fact always brings me back to a state of wonder. She’s much too good for me. Annette was born in Germany, and with her long blonde hair framing finely etched Teutonic features, she is probably the kind of woman Hitler was hoping for. Yeah, the analogy sucks, but it’s true. Besides, Annette is dating me. I haven’t murdered six million people yet, but I hate kids. Hitler was rumored to have loved them. Puppies too. Go figure.

“I thought you were going to start a conversation with that snake,” Annette says, kneeling beside me.

“I was. We were talking about you.”

“Really? And what did this snake have to say about me?”

“He wanted to know how someone as beautiful as you got stuck with me.”

Annette laughs, rich and full.

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