Chapter 1 - Alone in the Dark

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She lay awake, listening to the wind outside her window and watching the glow of her cigarette as it dimmed and faded slowly, extinguishing the only light in the room. She knew she should be sleeping, but this was turning into another one of those nights. Her mind whirled with random dark thoughts. Far away, thunder rolled across the forested hills. But like every other event of even modest excitement, it had missed Possum Springs. Storms were rare this late in the year, and the chill of winter was obvious in the mornings.

Tomorrow was Sunday though, and she didn’t have to open the Ol’ Pickaxe. But she’d decided she might go in anyway - if only to get out of the house. Sometimes she did that, and she might have a customer or two even though it was supposed to be closed on Sundays. They could certainly use the money. But at least she could stay up a little later and sleep in an extra hour or two.

She heard her father snoring in his room. It was an oddly comforting sound though. One day he’d be gone, and she’d miss that sound. When she was younger, it had ruined a sleepover when her friend couldn’t sleep with the constant low rumble, but she liked it anyway.

She snuffed out the remains of the cigarette and pulled out her laptop. It took forever to start up. She wished she could get a new one, but of course that was out of the question. There were lots of things she wished she could replace in her life. She looked at the drab black dress she wore, one of three, lying on the ground now in a rumpled heap. It had been years since she’d even thought about it, and all it implied. Once it had been edgy and cool, and her Ankh was a mysterious symbol of protest against establishment and religion.

Now it was just another thing, old and devoid of meaning. She wore it because she had always worn it. She put the makeup around her eyes because she always had. She no longer believed even in the power of Unbelief. But things sometimes stayed the same just due to inertia.

“That’s my life now,” she cried internally. “Inertia.”

But no tears would come tonight. She had none left, surely. She’d left caring behind. The days passed now, just waiting for her dad to die - and he wasn’t even sick. Well, not physically anyway. It could be another thirty years for all she knew. She thought about that. Thirty Years. She would be fifty by then. It would take a lot of luck for the store to still be open.

She’d managed alright so far, through very thrifty means and some slightly shady hiring practices. She paid Germ in cash under the table, avoiding Workman’s Compensation, payroll taxes, all of it. And she did have some luck. There was a new house being built down the road - the first in ten years - and she’d convinced the contractors to buy their hardware from her. But there was talk of a big-box hardware store going in by the Ham Panther. If that happened, the Ol’ Pickaxe was ruined. Her customers swore they’d be loyal to her and her dad, but she knew better. They were going over to the Ham Panther to buy their groceries now, so how easy would it be to drop by the Home Badger and get their hardware too?

She wished her father was dead. Then she could fly away. She loved her father. It was a very hard reality - but she was a realist. She loved him, and she wished he was dead.

The snoring stopped for a moment, and she held her breath. But with a snort, it resumed again.

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A tear came to her eye. Crocodile tear. She wiped it away in anger. She didn’t really wish he was dead. She wished her mom was alive. That’s all. But that grief was old and dusty now.

She looked down at her body. The scales glistened in the glow from the laptop screen and she reminded herself of a huge snake, horrible and loathsome. Even worse were the curves that shouldn’t be there for any self-respecting snake. There weren’t many of her kind in town, and those she knew, she hated. Not much chance of companionship in the next thirty years for her. She’d accepted that though… hadn’t she? Sure, guys were such pigs that they’d be more than happy to stick it in her for a lark, but companionship just wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. If she hadn’t gotten over it long ago, she should have. No white knight was going to be coming to her rescue.

She did like Jackie though. Not like that. She was just fun to hang around with. Bea felt like she was somehow elevated, just to be in her presence. Maybe it was just all the college kids too. They had an outward look on life that she envied. She would have been one of them by now, if mom were still around. And who knows? Maybe at college things would have been different. Maybe somebody would honestly be attracted to her - wouldn’t mind the scales. It wasn’t inconceivable. College kids were different. They thought different thoughts, dreamed different dreams. Most importantly, they had hope.

Bea closed her eyes and wiped away another crocodile tear. She thought of Mae. She’d be away at college by now too. Even Mae got out. EVEN MAE!

She looked back at the laptop screen, it’s icons still glowing, unclicked. Another roll of thunder passed by as she looked at Mae’s stagnant chat icon. It was still on her Desktop. Why? She hadn’t talked to her since, like, 8th grade. Oh, they’d say “Hi” cordially enough when they’d passed by on the street, but hadn’t said so much as a full sentence to each other for years. But her icon was still there.

She right-clicked on the icon. Create shortcut, Delete, Rename.

She hovered the pointer over Delete for a bit. Then she clicked the next menu item, and typed “Bitch”.

It glowed at her, renamed now, on the screen. She’d really liked Mae, once. She thought they’d be friends forever. Angus was fun, but she always felt like a third wheel these days with Gregg always around since the two had moved in together. Now Mae was off to college, off to a new life, while the highlight of her week was a day off from the Pickaxe.

Silently she removed something from the drawer beside her and switched it on. Then she went to her Bookmarks and opened a website. For a little while, she forgot about her life.

A very, very little while, she cried inwardly as she calmed back down some time later. Too goddamned little. For a minute the thought of drugs passed her mind. She could certainly see the attraction - but she was too poor for that. And too smart. She set her little something on the nightstand. She’d wash it in the morning discreetly. Her door was locked. No worry.

When she’d closed the website down, she looked at the icon again, and then renamed it back to “Mae”.

Then she closed the lid on the laptop and put it away as her breathing returned to normal. Another rumble of thunder could barely be heard. The storm was moving away, but the wind was still whistling around the old statue of Arnold Applebaum outside her window.

“My only stable friend,” Bea thought as she pulled another cigarette out and lit it. Then she looked down at herself again. The meager light from the window left her only in silhouette. In this light, she thought, she didn’t look half bad. If only she had the nice fur all her friends had, she might be more than just a carnival curiosity - the snake girl.

At least the apartment was warm and the window sealed. She left the blanket off and felt herself cool as her wetness evaporated, all the while making little figure 8’s with the cigarette. She caught the eye of Arnold Applebaum staring at her through the window, and blew smoke rings at him.

“My only friend is a peeping Tom,” she laughed to herself. “Does anyone else know you were such a pervert in life, Mr. Applebaum? Watching nubile young ladies in their beds? You should be ashamed of yourself. Why, just for that, I should get blinds!”

She blew another cloud of smoke at the concrete Applebaum, then snuffed out the cigarette before closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mae.”