Tales of Juniper Davidson: The Sword of Biremes

Chapter 3

Well this is boring.
          I had no idea of how much of my time was consumed because of my lack of an iPod. I felt empty without music blasting in my ears as I walked. As a substitute, I decided to hum some songs. Unfortunately, because I could not think of them from the top of my head, I would go from one song to another–almost as if I was creating a mashup.

Wow. I really don't have a life.

          Pumping my arms to the songs in my head, I almost did not see the man in the fedora standing in the alley. Keyword: Almost

          The first thought to run through my head? Who wears a fedora nowadays? I mean, no offense to those fedora loving people out there, but I never liked the look of one. It was much too formal and unnatural for me. Then again, this is coming from the girl who still watches shows like Sophia the First, and Jake and the Neverland Pirates.

What was I taking about earlier? Right. Mr. Fedora.

          My conscience kept telling me to stay far, far, away from this suspicious looking man. I had enough trouble for today. For once, I listened to it. I strayed away from the trail I would normally go on, and made sure to stay away from the alley with that creepy man. However, he just got up and started to follow me.

Um. No. I am not going to get kidnapped today, or any day for that matter.

          Instead of panicking like I wanted to, I continued to walk calmly to my destination—with some twists and turns to try and lose my stalker, of course.

          Thirty minutes had passed, and I was sure I had lost him. I mentally patted myself on the back. Just to make sure, I decided to try something I had read out of a Nancy Drew book.
I rolled my eyes.

Wow. Nerdy much?

          I took out my little  pocket mirror, and angled it to see the surroundings behind me. My eyes widened. He was literally ten feet away, and gaining ground!
         

          We made eye contact through the mirror. My green irises meeting with his violet ones. I quickly looked away.

Wait a second. Violet?

Oh my gosh. I really was dealing with the supernatural here.

  
          A harsh wind blew, knocking off the guy's fedora. Glancing towards the mirror once again, I saw that he had some type of symbol engraved on his forehead in black ink. A ring of diamonds.

              A snake causally slithered from his scalp, occasionally blocking my vision of his (probably) satanic symbol.

My eyes bugged out.

Snakes!?

          A gasp escaped my mouth as my eyes traveled up to his scalp. His hair, well what should have been his hair were replaced with red, scaly, tongue-flickering snakes.

          I have always hated them. Those slitted eyes—that flickering tongue. Their fangs and poison. I hated snakes with a passion, and I definitely wasn't going to stop now. I bit down hard on my lower lip to prevent a scream from coming out of my mouth. A tangy taste made my taste buds go in to over drive as my teeth drew blood.

What was he? Some type of Medusa incarnate?

           I made eye contact with him once more. Emerald meeting violet. I couldn't move. It was as if some unknown force had glued my feet to the ground, preventing me from moving.  
           
The man lunged at me. Snakes surrounding his head like a halo, mouths open and fangs ready.

          I closed my eyes as I waited for him. What was he going to do? Decapitate me? Slice me into pieces? Have one of his snakes devour me whole? Maybe even bite me so that his poison would flow into my bloodstream and watch as I die, slowly?

          Suddenly, I had a vision of myself swinging the hilt in an upward motion, and the man lying in pieces on the ground.

          My eyes snapped open. A calm feeling came over me. It was as if I had no control over my body anymore. You know when you die in Call of Duty and you have the option to watch your comrades fail at killing the other team? You know how it is like you are flying? Well yeah. That is exactly how I felt at the moment. My hands gripped the hilt and slashed it upwards. True to the vision I had a few moments earlier, the man was sliced in little cube–like pieces, along with the street and buildings around me, with a loud rumble.
Luckily, it seemed like I was in an abandoned part of town.

A strong odor filled my nostrils.

Ew.

          I scrunched up my nose and covered it with a hand. A green, smoke–like mist rose from the remains of Mr. Fedora.

          I was covered in purple blood, and my clothes were torn. Somehow, I was not hurt, though my nose would probably need some help recovering from that foul stench that crawled it's way up my nostril.

          I accidentally stepped on a decapitated snake's head, it's face squashed beneath the sole of my shoe. For some reason, I didn't panic.

           I stood still among the ruin that was cause by just the flick of my wrist, tears sliding down my rosy cheeks. I wiped them away with my hand–the one that held the silver hilt.

            I removed my foot from the now smushed snake, and wiped it's blood on the dirt. Looking around, I thought,
" Why am I crying?"  and "What in the name of all things holy just happened?"