Don't Forget to Write

I'm Smothered by Snakes

My heart was pounding outside of my chest. I could feel it from my temples to my toes with each shallow breath, as if I had just come up from the deep end of a pool. But it felt good in that way it felt when you were a kid holding your breath as long as you could. I was running through the woods, but it felt like it did before running was an exercise you had to do to stay in shape. It felt more like the kind of running children do in the park. You might remember moments like those, when you're just running for the sake of running, for no reason other than the fact that your legs felt like moving fast and your face liked the way the wind felt on it. In this moment, that's what I was. Young again. A child running through the woods with nothing to do. Nothing to prove. Having the time of my life.

There was a snake on the path. It was thick and long and hissed at me as I hopped to the other side of the trail. I hate snakes.

Soon my legs had taken me far enough away that the snake was out of mind and I was back to enjoying myself. That cool breeze on my face. The blur of greens and browns from the woods around me. The distant babble of a brook. The sound of my feet pounding the dirt. I felt alive. There was a second snake. I jumped to the opposite side again. Two snakes in one day? Is that a bad omen? I kept running, trying to remember how good the wind felt, when a third snake popped up. I stopped in front of it. Now there were dozens of snakes slithering through the trees. No, there were scores. No... hundreds. All of that child-like joy evaporated as I turned 360 degrees to realize that snakes surrounded me. Without much else to do, I ran at a dead-sprint through the path and over the snakes, stomping on them and narrowly avoiding their fangs as they leapt up at me. I hoped the end of the path would open up to civilization, and there would be no more snakes. But the path disappeared beneath the scales of these foul creatures. The branches and trees were turning into snakes, and snakes were falling from the sky. Even the rocks and the clouds and the sun, everything turned into snakes until there was nothing in the world except for a gray sky, a sea of snakes, and me, running through them. There was a stinging in my hand. One of the bastards had finally bit me. It was latched on to my hand, now burning from the poison that they were pumping into my bloodstream. This was it. I would die here, buried and consumed by these ancient beasts.

I jumped up, surrounded my faint gray light and four walls, still confused about whether I was in the realm of the conscious or the subconscious, because I could still feel the burning sensation on my hand. After catching my breath and assessing the reality around me to be sure it wasn't a dream, the burning was still there. I rubbed my hand to find it was moist. Did I drool on my hand? Why was my drool as hot as lava? Impossible.

In the corner of the room behind the head of the bed stood a pipe with a silver cylinder that looked like a tea kettle. It was an archaic steam heater. There were little droplets of water dripping off the side of it from heat condensation. This could only mean our super, Fernando, had turned on the heat for the building.

I let out a groan of disgust towards the cold. Cold weather meant nothing to me except that soon snow would be here and my outdoor activities would be gone. The sun, with its vitamins and energy, would be limited. Along with my happiness. Realistically, I was always a little sad underneath everything. It was an underlying aspect of my personality. But it was always worse in the winter. There were less things to distract me.

If Fernando turned on the heat, it could only mean that the temperature outside was near freezing. I remembered that Denzel was outside last night, much colder than I was. Was he okay?

In the kitchen Bruno was looking through the pantry. He held out his fist for a bump, a greeting we reserved for weekend mornings. I tapped him, and he pulled out the new box of oatmeal. He showed it to me and pointed to himself, asking permission. I nodded, of course. He nodded back appreciatively and made two big bowls of oatmeal. I pulled out the berries and bacon from the fridge. Bruno was beside himself. "Petey, bacon? You got bacon?" He croaked through a gravelly morning voice. "And are these blueberries... organic blueberries? Holy shit."

I nodded and cooked our usual eggs and made the bacon. The sizzling and popping of bacon grease filled the room. We ate in silence, communicating through nods and face gestures about the taste of the oatmeal with berries and the CRUNCH of the bacon. When one has been eating the same breakfast for months, adding something new, even something as simple as bacon or blueberries, might as well have been like adding your favorite dessert. Something new, no matter how small, can change your whole day. Maybe even your whole life.

And, of course, we drank the coffee, and that always made a person's morning better. Especially when you added a bit of alcohol to it. Then Bruno said something, breaking our silence. After what felt like a lifetime of solitude in the library writing papers, I had almost forgotten about verbal communication. It felt like I was in a short film. One without any dialogue, where an orchestra played in the background to match the emotions and thoughts of the characters. All of a sudden the music had stopped and someone had broken the law of silence and said something.

"Sorry, what was that?" I said, shaking myself out of the short film.

"Geez, ground control to Major Tom," he said. Why do people keep saying that to me? "How much time do you think you spend lost inside your own head? ... Anyway, I was saying that Diane invited us to a Halloween party tonight. You wanna come?"

"I hate parties. Besides, isn't it too early for a Halloween party?"

"It's nearly the end of October, everybody just finished their midterms, it's a perfect time for a Halloween party you old grouch. C'mon, we'll have a great time. And your girl Camila will be there."

I sipped my coffee. "Fine, but I'm not wearing a costume."

"Fine. You'll be the only one that isn't though, so you'll look pretty lame."

I shrugged.

"You could always just wrap your head up in bandages again and do the mummy thing."

"Ha."

"How is your head, anyway?"

I shrugged again. "Still hurts. Lots of headaches. But my brain feels normal again."

"Good," he said, meaning it. "Listen, I gotta go out for a while, I'm gonna get myself a costume and do a couple things with Diane. I'll be back in a few hours, then we can pregame for the party."