The Snake

A snake hisses at my feet, a reminder of its constant presence. He is smart and cunning and craves only to make me suffer. I walk quickly to keep it at bay, but it catches up and nips at my heels, his sharp yellow fangs cutting the back of my feet. Its sleek, slimy-looking body taunts me as it slithers through the blood flowing from my heels. His beady green eyes pierce through the back of my head, further threatening me for my defiance. When I try to speak, he wraps himself tightly around my neck, putting a lump in my throat and pain in my chest. His aroma forced itself into my nose, compelling me to smell what I can only identify as a rotting animal, putting an atrocious taste in my mouth. It needs to see me struggle and feeds off making me panic. I snap. I grip his scaly body in an attempt to pry him off me. I cram my fingers in between his cylindrical body, layered on my shoulders. He fights back, sinking his fangs into my skin placing poison in my veins. I remain in control and throw his limp body to the ground revealing the soft belly that lies beneath. He writhes and jerks in an attempt to flip himself right side up. Before he can, I stomp my foot onto his small, unexpecting head, but he will always be with me, through his venom, coursing through my veins.