I always loved snakes until I woke up with one in my bed.

It was my fault, I knew it. I had been too lazy, saying tired, in setting up my sleeping area, the tent cabin. Precautions thrown to the wind with a passing, “snakes are snakes”; a silent rebellious statement.

My leg was aching, more with each pulse of my blood coursing through my veins.

My veins. I wondered how long before the venom got my heart, my lungs, took my life.

Thoughts of tying a tourniquet came fleeting in & out of my mind, but by the time I awoke and realized what the retreating snake meant, I was already feeling the poisonous warmth and was beyond tourniquets, or help.

I always loved snakes...