I held it with a hand, and felt it shiver in the frosted cold of early October morning. I held it, the long, sinuous and rubbery form of what looked to be a black and purple armed snake against my body, and wrapped my jacket around it, to keep the warmth close. As thick as my arm, perhaps as long as I was tall, it was not a snake, for it had not hissed, bit, or done anything to me when I approached it, near a burning wreck of a meteor. Its arms clenched to me when I bent to study, and it drew to me, wrapped me, held me and shivered.
I had panicked, but as it did not bite, squeeze, or attack beyond wrapping me, I chose to just hold it, while it leeched heat from me. I was glad my jacket was warm, and long, and covered me against the cold – for I was chilled enough. The thing held me, small claws digging into my cotton shirt and the tail end tucking up, and wrapping about my hips and thighs. It had an odd scent, like oil and latex and melted rubber, but a heady pungency of reptilian musk. Still I held it, sat against the brown grass and back to a tree in full fiery molt, and waited for it to let go.
The meteor was a silver and black shade, half melted from the heat of entry into the atmosphere, but oddly smooth along the back. I could not move closer to investigate it, nor would have even if I’d wanted to, for it was still hot from thirty meters away, where I had found the creature, the mutated snake of unknown shape. The head rested upon my breast and the eyeless shape was long, mouth opening into three splits to take a breath, and I saw the many teeth, sharp and back angled, meant to grip and bite and pull in, or so I guessed. The edges of the mouth were deep red, against the black and purple of the body, which felt oddly slick, like sweating plastic.
In time it lessened the grip on my thighs, enough that I could stand, even with the extra twenty five kilos of creature clinging to me. The small hands, of which there were six, held onto me like a raccoon held onto a tree, and it burrowed against me, against my belly and chest and around my neck with its own, keeping there to drool onto me with the open gasp of its breath. Each wheeze was pained, each whisper raspy, even as the pointed tongue flicked up against my ear, tasting me, but not biting. It was cold, the sun was setting and it would begin to rain, if the silver-gray clouds ahead were honest.
The walk was difficult – it had been a long climb to the hill top, and a longer walk into the depths of the thick bramble woods to find the smoldering meteor – and even harder when I had to carry a strange creature on me. The mouth gripped my shoulder without piercing, and it drew its head from my jacket to study without eyes, mouth opening to hiss in a breath, and head swiveling as though it had no spine – and for all I knew of this snake thing, it did not. But it did not bite, and it was too weak to be a threat – so I did not pressure it to leave, nor do I think I could have even had I wanted to.
The walk home was quiet – not even the crackle of sticks as I walked would dare to echo through the quiet woods. I rose and climbed the steep hill and passed the clusters of rock that the moss did not try to grow to, not this late in the year. I ascended up the hill as sprinkles of water wet upon my face and brow, and I hugged the jacket tighter around me, as the creature ducked down and hid from the sting of cold. I looked up to the trees, their bows bent under a coming wind, and the heady rumble of storm not too far distant begged me to hurry. I was squeezed tighter, enough that I had to gasp to take a breath – though I was sure it was the tiredness from my walk. Still I strode – passing to the crest of the hill, where I paused to look down – the pathway different than I recalled. I could spot home, a small trailer on an unremarkable plot of land. My father was not there – and I was glad for it.
Entering up the three steps, I pulled the door open and looked inside – where the dim light could barely pierce the curtains and smoke-stained windows. I stepped past the threshold and entered into the den, where the old shag carpet clung to my damp shoes, and the mismatched furniture troubled the eyes. I walked past, into the kitchen – I was hungry, and I was sure the creature around my body hungered as well. I gazed into the fridge – the brittle yellow handle crackling as I pulled at it.
There was little to eat, and less to share. I took a beer from the fridge and a cold hock of ham – this I warmed onto a plate in the microwave, which the creature shied its face from and buried down into the front of my shirt, making me jump. I felt sticky from the touch, but didn’t wrestle it off of me – it still had a small shiver, and felt cool, as though it were recovering from hypothermia. Not a fun thing.
The meat was drawn out, hot, and the creature perked up and lifted its head from my shirt, to draw forward and take a breath of the heated food. It lunged, dragging me with it, and buried its face into the meat, the sharp teeth cleaving through the meat and devouring in great chunks the food. It unwrapped me as it ate. I popped the beer tab and took a swallow – it was horrid, but cheap. I shouldn’t have been drinking for another five years, but, since when did that actually matter?
The creature ate – juices streamed the side of its long, smooth head, and its throat and neck bulged with the great slices of meat it ate through – even the bone began to slide down the throat, where it took it completely in, like a snake would. Soon, nothing remained but the plate, which had been licked clean of the ham soak. A small sound, like a belch, left the snake thing. Did snakes belch?
Water. I felt thirsty – and the beer, already drunk and giving me a mild tingle at the back of the scalp, wasn’t cutting it. I pulled out a glass and a bowl, and filled them both from the tap – which seemed to fascinate my blind companion. It drank from the bowl with long swallows, gulping down like a dehydrated man. I swallowed in turn, finishing my glass, then refilled for another go. The snake coiled its mouth around the tube and began to drink when I pulled the glass away, and didn’t stop for a full half minute. Thirsty guy.
Guy. Somehow I knew it was male. All my instincts told me that. I slid an arm around the suddenly very heavy creature and tried to lift it – and it slithered about me, distributing its weight and letting me carry it to the bedroom – where it slithered onto my bed, and I, kicking off my boots and slugging off jacket, joined it. I felt the chill in the air – and the creature was more than content to coil up against me, holding me, hugging me, sliding across me. It enjoyed my company, or simply savored the heat of my body. The six arms wrapped around me, the hands held me, and it laid its head under my chin, content.
I felt dizzy, and then I felt tired. And then I slept, held in alien arms.
I awoke before dawn, alone. My shirt clung with sweat and my pants were tangled around my knees, as was my blanket strewn along the bed. I kicked off my jeans, and sat up – rubbing my thigh with a hand. I felt a few bumps in the flesh and looked down – scratches near my inner thigh, red marks that did not hurt, but tingled. Goosebumps tickled where I touched – and I tried to shake it off – while making it out of the bedroom. The creature was not with me – I was alone in the bedroom, and I heard the buzz of the old television from the living room. I stepped out to investigate, and peeked around the corner to see the ophidian curled up in front of the glow of the screen, flicking its tongue and seeming to listen to a myriad of noise, the white snow of no station.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked, and came near to sit beside the creature. It drew to me, head on my thigh as it bent, restful now. I lowered my hand to touch the back of its neck, and caressed slowly. The texture was smooth, more slippery than it had been when I first met it, yet warmer, fuller. I caressed it slowly, drawn to the mysterious and magnificent sense of its being. I felt comforted, my thoughts taking on a warm tingle. I felt good, as good as I had been in a long time.
A hand fell to rest on my side, another to touch knee, a third lifted to shoulder. I looked upon the six limbed creature, and drew a long touch across one of the splits that made for the curved mouth, and stroked down to the tip, then back up. The mouth opened and drew my finger in, a coiling tongue sliding across my hand to squeeze once.
“What are you?” I asked softly. The face of the creature drew higher, and it rested before me, the mouth hovering near my own. I could smell the muskiness of its breath, the scent of the meat it had eaten a few hours earlier present. The breath blew across my own, and I stared, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks. It exhaled again, a tingle running through my scalp. The hands were on me, all six, as it drew over my body, and held, pinning me to the couch.
The jaws parted widely, wider than a snake, wider than any creature of the earth, and the three sectioned jaws closed against my face, gripping, biting with teeth and suckling at my face to draw out my breath. I felt a surge of panic, then a wash of heat – as the two senses of fear and wonderment battled through me. The body coiled and nestled atop me, the length of its figure pressed between my legs, against my breasts, over me, atop me, coiling me and surrounding me with him. I felt dizzy still, as the teeth gripped but did not break skin, as the tongue fluttered into my mouth, and wetness crossed my sense of taste. The buzz, like good whiskey and bourbon, went through my body, and I arched up against him, gasping for a breath that I could not get, subsumed by his being, and consumed by what he was, which I had no words for, but knew it right to be where I was. I tasted his venom, and I savored it, I loved it, I drank of it greedily. I was his.
Quivering, my body shuddered against his when he drew back from me, leaving trickles of blood on my cheek and chin and jaw, where he had bitten. He drew back and studied me through no senses I knew of, holding me with a coil of arms and serpentine wonder. My body was aflame, hot and wet and electric.
I felt my stomach burn, and the heat radiated through me, when he drew me up to sitting, and withdrew his uppermost hands from my shoulders. Head tilted, he studied me, giving me a moment to think where it would count. I did not want to – I felt lost without him. Whatever he was, an alien from distant lands, an entity from other worlds, a demon or god, I didn’t have any reason to care, or words left to question. I was held, and nestled against. It felt good.
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