The Serpent's Tale

Chapter 1: Mysterious Mythologies

"I never understood why she wore overalls" thought Franz Dalembert. 

Franz was a Haitian with unusually long limbs and unusual height as well; Franz was around six feet five inches and some Haitians joked that he fed from the leaves of trees when he was really hungry. 

Franz gazed at Chantale, a stout and vociferous girl, who dawned overalls and ordered some young boys to fetch more water from the nearby river. 

Both Chantale and Franz were young adults and both had recently survived a devastating earthquake that had shaken both their town and peace of mind to the core. Their town wasn't too far from Port-au-Prince, the capital city of Haiti, and they both knew all too well of the destruction that had taken place. There town had been hit hard; no houses were erect, debris was the new grass, and the smell of dead bodies lingered in the air.

The town was under a massive reconstruction all funded by the blood, sweat, tears, and time of the town members. 

Franz approached Chantale and threw his lanky arm into the air, "Hey!" 

Chantale waved back and placed her hands on her hips and said, "What a miserable lot we are." 

"We still have our lives" replied Franz, but Chantale averted her look to the piles of rubble that obscured the horizon, "I'm not sure how valuable that is these days."

 Chantale had a certain indignation in her eyes as she spoke, "While we and countless other Haitians are struggling to survive and rebuild our homes, our President simply ignores us! He hasn't said a single word since the earthquake" 

"He could be injured like many others are. I heard the national palace collapsed in the catastrophe" reasoned Franz.

 A smile began to form on Chantale's lips, "That means he has nowhere to hide, which means that if we were to speak with him he couldn't refuse!" 

Chantale began to march towards the tent her folks stayed in. 

Franz followed behind her and pleaded, "I don't think the President has time to speak to us, he probably has his hands full with the earthquake and all," 

"Don't bother trying to change my mind Franz, I'm headed for the national palace."

Chantale's mother was an older woman who failed to age gracefully. Her wrinkled and frail hands twisted around a coffee mug that survived the tragedy, and she brought the cup to her lips. Franz and Chantale sat on the floor across from the woman. 

"I've made up my mind, mother. Preval can't continue to ignore the pain we all are suffering. I'm going to tell him exactly how I feel and then tell him what he needs to get done and how soon too!" 

Chantale's mother had no outward reaction to her daughter's assertion. The woman lowered her coffee mug and stared into the empty cup, "How do you plan to get to the national palace? You don't own a car, and I heard that the earthquake has allowed prisoners to roam free. What happens if you run into a criminal?"

 Franz interjected, "I'll be there." 

Chantale rolled her eyes and flexed the budding muscle in her arm, "I'm strong enough to protect myself." 

Her mother placed her cup down and nodded her head. Franz felt an ominous stir in the room. "Well, I'm pretty certain I can't change your mind, so I'll give you advice instead" her mother croaked. 

"This isn't going to be one of your tales again is it?" Chantale bemoaned. 

Chantale's mother, like most older Haitians, loved to tell stories of preternatural events. Chantale was gullible as a young girl and always found herself petrified by the fictitious and imaginative stories that fled from her mother's mental story book and rewrote themselves in indelible ink on Chantale's mind. 

Chanatale was older now, however, and learned long ago that her mother's stories were more of an attempt to frighten her away from some decision rather than a genuine sharing of an urban legend. 

Yet, Chantale and Franz were never the same after the woman told this particular myth. The woman told them an old tale that claimed that multiple underground tunnel systems ran beneath Haiti. 

The underground network was used by the Haitian government to spy on the various departments outside of Port-au-Prince. What was chilling about the story, however, was that subways weren't the device being used to channel spies beneath the earth, a snake was. 

Damballa, the serpent god and oldest god in the Vodun pantheon, was believed to be the vital piece in this underground network.