Snake

*Prior stories - Flight, Shadow, and Brick connect to this one*

Snake

Elisha Roth pressed her soft, brown crushed-velvet purse to her stomach as her date, Rowan, swung his car around an awkward, looping turn. She'd already calmly but firmly reminded him about the double-yellow lines.

"Man, these drivers tonight, huh? All over the place", he commented and snickered. She glanced over at him with a single, arching eyebrow raised but said nothing. As a final scare, he made a left against oncoming traffic, which called forth a shrieking chorus of beeps he didn't acknowledge. When he rumbled to a stop on some gravel next to the disabled parking spots, Elisha finally released the breath she'd been holding.

She reached for her door. The latch clicked but refused to open.

"No need to rush just cause we're parked, babe."

Letting out a sigh, Elisha turned to Rowan. He had his dirty-blond hair slicked into an bird's nest crest. She tried the shadow of a smile on him before announcing, "Yeah, we're parked. We're here."

Rowan gave her a slow, wobbly nod then looked at the tan, brick building in front of them. "Yeah, this. This here. It's the oldest theater in town. A hundred years old. And the best shows for your money." His voice rasped a little.

Widening her eyes, Elisha pulled on the latch again. After a few, lingering seconds he finally unlocked it. His eyes still on her, Elisha waited to open the door. Stepping out, her black dress-shoes scruffed on the loose gravel as she stretched her legs.

The oldest theater and the oldest part of town. She cinched the beaded, metal strap of her purse tight against her black blazer and fiddled with the mocha collar of her turtleneck sweater underneath. Dusting off her matching pants, she scanned around.

Looming, concrete beams supported solar panels draped over the parking lot and cloaked in dense, black shadows. Stark, useless white blooms washed out whatever else Elisha could see. She rubbed her forehead and held several long blinks.

"Whatcha looking at?" Rowan seized her shoulder.

Glancing at his fingers gripping her blazer, Elisha cleared her throat and pronounced, "Nothing. Just my eyes bothering me." She bent away from his grasp to fish something out of her purse.

He watched as she put two drops in each eye and asked, "You wear contacts?"

Blinking to clear her eyes, she shook her head. "No. I have glasses but I only need them for reading."

After a quick snort, Rowan gave a snickering chuckle. "Then you don't need them. Chicks don't look good with glasses anyway. They're always like...'oh oh I can't see. I need these big things.' Always an excuse to complain about shit or keep a guy away." His voice rattled about like the gravel they were walking on.

Elisha tightened her jaw but dressed it up in a smile. "Right. I don't need them. And I'm ready."

Rowen looked her over from top to bottom. He loomed like a human door which gradually stretched open to let her advance towards the theater. His hand hooked around her left shoulder and they walked across the parking lot.

Once they were inside, Rowan seemed to relax. He let his grip on Elisha wane but she didn't stray far. Several dozen people clustered around the box office. Some of them looked like hawkish professors, others appeared to be rotund theater critics, joined by an assortment of beaming, bright grad students and raccoon-eyed older women.

A poster set on a display easel outside the door to the main theater read, 'ONE MAN SHOW - Riese Quiller Performs The Snake's Dinner'. The main image was just a painting of a green, banded snake coiled on a large, tropical tree branch like a garden hose.

As Rowan was given their ticket stubs and two playbills, Elisha held her arms and asked, "So...have you seen this performer before?"

"Never. Oh, I've been around here lots of times. Lots of shows. But not this one."

The playbill was thin. Actor and crew, some social media info, a single abbreviated review, and several ads.

The only description of the play was simply, 'A captivating journey through history which blends story, fear, magic, and family.' Stuffing it in her purse, Elisha asked, "So you get tickets here a lot?"

Wrapping his arm around Elisha again with a quick sniff of her hair and a smile, Rowan told her, "Yeah. It's real nice, especially in the back. A lot of privacy."

Elisha let her lip dip. "Oh. Hopefully I can see well enough. I wouldn't want to have to put my glasses on."

Clearing his throat, Rowan smirked and firmly assured her, "It's not that far. You'll be fine."

When they let everyone in, Elisha saw the theater was even smaller than she expected. The walls were black with curtains. Seats went right up to the stage, a small platform in the center, and stretched to the walls. In all, she figured there couldn't be more than a hundred chairs. Light, whistling music wafted from the overhead speakers.

A rainbow of circular lights decorated the center of the stage. Dense, fake jungle vines laced around the façade of a house.

Rowan led her to a place almost in the back row. She glanced at the nearest person, several seats away, and gestured to a closer row, remarking, "Those chairs seem nicer."

Holding a silent glare on her, Rowan took a deep breath and coolly-responded, "Sure, babe."

Even though the row was closer to the rest of the crowd, it was still largely-blocked by the black railing they used to climb up. Rowan slipped into the aisle seat and pulled her close. Elisha retrieved her smartphone and entered a quick text message, which read, "I'm at the old Downtown theater with Rowan Platt, my next-door neighbor at the apartment complex where I just moved in. He lives in 301."

"Who are you texting?" Rowan cracked the fingers on his free hand as he leaned over her screen.

Elisha swiped back to the home screen. "Just some theater fans I know from work. I should take some pictures before the show starts."

The gravel in Rowan's voice remained, even after he cleared it. "Whatever....makes you happy, babe."

Biting her upper lip, Elisha's phone camera flash joined others. When Rowan glanced away, she turned off the flash and 'click' sound before snapping a quick photo of him in profile. Then, gradually, she remembered to breathe.

Slipping her phone back in her purse, she put on a nice face, smiling for Rowan as he kept her locked in place. She made small talk with him about his apartment. She'd only seen the interior from across the hall. She asked about places to eat which might be open once the play was over. She briefly stumbled over her own words but Rowan didn't comment on it. He mentioned a few places in passing but didn't seem to show any interest in them.

Returning to her playbill, Elisha read on the back of the flap, "Madelyn Oats says this is a 'mystical journey which makes you question your place in the universe'."

Rowan puffed and asked, "That some actress?"

"Reporter."

"Hmm", was all he said to that.

Elisha kept quiet and Rowan didn't volunteer any words. Before long, the house lights dimmed, except for a single, white beam focused at the lip of the stage.

A tall, thin man, who wore a formal, black suit and a black-and-white mask covering most of his face, bowed and proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen. Children and grandparents. Mothers and daughters. Fathers and sons. Honored guests, one and all. Thank you. Please, settle in as I hope to delight and terrify, inform and bedazzle, and most all...tell a story."

Elisha brushed her hair back over her ears and tightened her shoulder. Rowan didn't look at her but his grip remained firm.

Elisha's eyes widened, then squinted, at the figure on stage. She considered retrieving her glasses but left them alone. She listened as the performer's voice carried on its own and through the speaker boxes in the wall.

"In practically every form of folklore, we are the smallest children of the gods. Afterthoughts, experiments, blessed with limitless potential but cursed with short-sightedness. Born to fly in the sky but still groveling in the shadows of the earth. Shaping the world with our words and our fists. Searching for the sight and comfort of each other but lost in our own reflections. This is the story of humanity, where it started and where it's going."

The performer tilted his head up in their direction. With his mask, she couldn't be certain he was looking at them but she could feel his eyes on her. They felt familiar.

She squinted again, trying to tease out what details she could but the sudden crash of thunder and theatrical flash of lightning interrupted her focus.

The performer raised his hands up and spoke about the ways people believed humanity was created. Lights played across the stage as he described each, focusing on male gods first. Then, with a plunge through the plants ringing the stage, the performer vanished. After a few moments, a female performer emerged wearing the same mask but clad in a flowing, sea-green dress. A long, dark sea of hair spilled over her shoulders.

Elisha heard Rowan chuckle to himself as he remarked sharply, "One man show, my ass. No crossdressing is that good." She didn't even glance in his direction despite his fingers still gripping her shoulder. She was entranced by the performer. The crowd, with light murmurs and clapping, tried to figure out the theatrical slight-of-hand.

Not missing a beat, the female performer spoke of creator goddesses, putting special attention on Aztec mythology and Coatlicue with her skirt of snakes. As she twirled, the fringe of her dress swirled, as though alive.

"Life and death. Mother and murderer. Consumption and new life."

Rowan groaned beside her but didn't say anything else. His nails felt especially rough through her blazer but she didn't complain.

After a gloss of so many creation stories, the performer then began to tell a new one about gods from far-off lands.

In telling about them, she shifted between a petite woman with only a cropped frame of hair around her head and a looming, thin figure which looked like it was standing on stilts. The murmurs settled on polite, regular applause as Rowan fidgeted.

"They traveled and searched. Sought and seeded. They came upon small lizards, unremarkable in any way, and fed them their ambrosia. They grew and loomed and ruled upon this world. And, when they were ready, they harvested them."

A handful of snickers replaced the murmurs. Elisha and the performer both ignored them as Rowan added a mocking snicker of his own.

The tale followed a series of different creatures, some that Elisha didn't recognize, until it finally came to small tribes of people huddled around a campfire. The reddish-orange lights in the theater gave the same flicker. Elisha could almost smell smoke.

The performer spoke about this gift as if it were wine from the king's table. The tribes quarreled and killed for a single drop of that ambrosia. They drank the river of life till they vomited over bridges by the river side. His arms wriggling, the performer mimed, "And the snakes of the river swallowed it up."

Those immortal, powerful snakes took on the human shape of lovely brides and mythic warriors. They gave birth to other myths, the performer suggested. With props, he hinted that not only snakes but other beasts of the land swallowed up what humans had tried to gorge themselves with. And so, they became like them.

When it came time for the harvesters to see their work, these creatures, who had been fed and culled time after time through history, rose up with their human kin and dashed the gods against the Earth, letting their blood flow "like primal colors against the ground". The smashing of a darkened coconut illustrated this point.

The female performer spread her hands over a global painted on the stage with colored lights. "Blue like the waters and the sky, flying, flowing, healing, and stealing. Green like the ground, changing, sharing, tearing, and bearing. Red like the fires within, burning, turning, toying, and destroying. And on and on..."

Though there were many more detours along the story, what Elisha gathered best was, despite the kinship of the animals infused with the spirit of man and man fighting beside animals, the common enemy sentiment only lived as long as the common enemy did.

Though she expected a vegetarian or "be kind to nature" sentiment, there was no clear resolution or proclamation. Animals ate people and people ate animals. More than anything, she noticed that the danger of man from man was reiterated the most. Also, whenever the performer looked up, she noticed it always included a glance in her direction.

At the closing of the play, despite the murmurs and chuckles, it received rousing applause for the spectacle alone. Elisha caught quick speculation from the nearest audience members about prosthetics and makeup and other ways of making a man look like a woman or a woman look like a man.

"I'm done with this. Let's head out and beat the rush, babe."

Before Elisha could counter that she wanted to wait and see if there would be a Q&A after the performance, she felt a sharp and painful poke at the base of her neck. For a split-second, she tried to convince herself it was just a spring poking through the old seats but the warm fingers moving it around told her all she needed to know.

People were looking in their direction, she knew she had to use that.

"SPIDER SPIDER! OH MY GOD! SPIDER! EEEEEEEKKKK!" It was a gamble. He could've silenced her in an instant but she knew he was too careful to just slice her open in public.

Rowan's hand darted away and retreated to his pocket, like he'd also been bitten. Flailing, Elisha tumbled over the seat in front of her and batted at her hair and clothes. She didn't need to be any more theatrical than that to get the attention of the room. A pair of ushers helped her to her feet and an older lady asked if she was alright.

Nodding, Elisha scanned the floor and her seat instead of making eye-contact with Rowan. She could play dumb.

Ideas for what to do next whirled around her brain. She needed to send a message but without alerting him.

He'd put on a public face again, one full of concern, confidence, and normalcy. For the sake of the crowd, he asked, "You okay there, honey? It didn't bite you, did it?" His voice was free of the usual rumble. It sounded lighter and softer.

After making a show of feeling around her neck and pulling down the collar, she apologized and claimed she just needed to use the restroom. An usher directed her to it but Rowan slipped out of his seat and loomed by her side.

"I'll take you, hun. You get cleaned up." He still walked in her shadow but he didn't have a grip on her.

The restroom was in a long, narrow hallway through a side exit. Elisha slipped in first and kept her gaze on Rowan. She could catch him off guard.

Hand beside her purse, she held her breath, tensed up, and backed away. When an older woman from the other side of the audience stepped through, she relaxed and put on the kind of smile someone would expect her to show. Behind her, an older man, with beefy arms and several, faded tattoos under his thick, uncovered arm hair, emerged. Rowan lingered, his once-friendly features constantly-tightening like a hangman's noose. She could see something shimmering in his left hand as he glanced between the couple and her.

Elisha gave them no signal anything was wrong. Since the women's restroom was one at a time, she let the old woman go first, leaving the old man with her and Rowan. He wasn't much taller than her but he had the squint and steel of a retired soldier. After regarding both of them with a steady gaze, he made some small talk about the play. He thought it was a lot of nonsense, alien gods and animals as humans, but was quite impressed with the performance, pondering, "You really think it was all that Riese fella? Or maybe he has a sister?"

Rowan gave a quick shrug and Elisha cleared her throat, offering, "Dunno. It's probably like a magic trick. It was fun though."

As soon as the old lady exited, Elisha grabbed for the door. Rowan caught it. He gazed into the small room and looked down at her, asking, "You gonna be okay in there...hon?" A few rumbles of gravel returned to his voice. Elisha smiled broadly at the couple and Rowan as they navigated around each other in the narrow space.

Once inside, Elisha firmly clicked the lock and slumped in place. Her entire body gave a crack, like she'd finally stretched after an eternity of holding still.

Looking around the room, she saw why Rowan let her in without complaint. The only way out was a tiny, frosted jalousie window, the slats skinnier than school rulers, rusted-shut near the ceiling. It was at least seven feet up with nothing around for her to climb. She gave a single, morbid chuckle to herself.

Standing before the mirror, she peered into her reflection. Stern, blank, strong. That's what she told herself. Her lips, decorated with a borrowed shade of pink, were not trembling. Her straight, brunette hair, burrowing into her turtleneck, was not drenched with sweat. Her hands, nails bitten to the nubs, were not shaking. And her blazer and pants, her armor, didn't make her feel like a child dressed in her parent's clothes.

She watched her eyes as she splashed her face. Everyone else saw dark-brown gems with vast, perpetually-wide pupils. Not her. She shut them and splashed herself again before ripping a length of brown paper towel off an exposed, standing roll. When she was done dabbing her face, she noticed the end of a muffled noise.

Facing the door, she stuck her hand in her purse, swallowed, and quietly popped the lock so it made as little noise as possible. Whipping the door back, she stood behind it and waited...

When a confused, female voice inquired, "Huh? What's wrong?" Elisha emerged from behind and explained, "Sorry, the door was sticking. All yours." While the young woman in the hallway raised an eyebrow, she didn't say anything.

Once she was alone in the narrow hallway, Elisha scanned both ends. A man exited the other restroom. Not Rowan.

The way back to the main stage branched off into storage rooms, which looked like they hadn't been disturbed recently. Past the other bathroom, the corridor branched out to a fire escape, steps leading upstairs, and a backstage area. A smear of what she hoped was red paint practically pointed backstage.

Stepping slowly, she avoided an area of stage construction and storage to enter a series of dressing rooms. Her eyes settled on the only shut door. Even though it was closed, she could smell something sweet and warm with a wretched aftertaste wafting through. She didn't give the smell a name but all the hairs on her neck begged her to flee.

Doing her best not to breathe, she cracked open the door and peered inside. Just a split-second of light was all she needed before she ripped the door shut and staggered over to a table. She gripped her mouth to keep from vomiting. The feel and taste of sweat invaded as she braced herself against a mirror. It took a few, precious moments before she could stand on her own.

Working quickly, she immediately accessed a broom closet and grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and a pair of gray, nitrile gloves. She sprayed and vigorously cleaned the knob she'd opened, then cleaned the bloodied wall, and returned to the dressing room. Digging around, she found some shaving cream and applied it to the remaining, bloody stain.

Before returning to the main hallway, she checked for video cameras she might've missed and tucked her hair deeper inside her collar. She walked back calmly to the main theater.

Inside, the crowd had thinned. A few people were laughing to themselves as ushers and stage hands gestured to the platform. One phrase she caught again and again was, "It's all on Riese. We don't know the tricks."

She performed a look of concern directed at where she'd been sitting but didn't ask if anyone had seen the man she was with. Instead, she leisurely made her way to the box office and out the front door. No one stopped her or called for her. She walked back to the car.

She found Rowan leaning against it with his arms folded. His jacket had the collar turned up so it almost surrounded his head. She shook her head and sighed. As she approached, he waved at her and responded, "Thought you fell in. Ready?"

"I am." She walked around the side of the car and opened the unlocked passenger side. Rowan joined her in the driver's seat a moment later. He checked his mirrors, secured his seat belt, and made sure Elisha had hers on before he carefully reversed.

Elisha snickered to herself and asked, "So...how long are gonna stick to this charade?"

He turned his head. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I saw what you left behind in that room."

Merging cautiously onto the main road, Rowan sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I much prefer to clean up after myself."

"I got rid of the Rowan's blood on the wall", Elisha replied.

With a little 'tsk', the driver assured her, "You didn't have to do that. I appreciate it though."

"No problem, Riese. Do you prefer 'Riese'?"

Making a left, Riese Quiller gave a quick shrug. "Names feel so ephemeral and frail, like skin. You try to hold onto one for too long and it begins to hurt. Call me whatever you prefer. What about you? Prefer Elisha or Sabel?"

"Elisha. But just for tonight. Being Sabel reminds me....reminds me that losing Rowan is going to be a pain in the ass tomorrow."

Riese lifted a hand off the steering wheel, for just a moment, before his attention returned to the road. Eyes wide, he slammed the brakes on Rowan's car to avoid another car making an illegal left turn. He instinctively darted an arm out to keep Elisha from being jerked forward.

As they eased back into their seats and the other driver received a downpour of well-deserved honks, Riese asked simply, "Nancy?"

"Of course. Not like childhood friendships matter to her. Once the queen bee, always the queen bee."

Awkward coughs and silence followed as they merged onto the freeway. In the darkness filled with harsh lights, Elisha told Riese, "Your play was interesting."

"Thanks. It's still a work-in-progress. Still digesting a lot of...ideas."

Whistling through her nose with morbid amusement, Elisha inquired, "...'Digesting', huh?"

Arching his eyebrows, Reise noted, "Naturally. It is 'The Snake's Dinner', after all."

Rolling her eyes, Elisha left it at that and checked the playbill in her purse. After a minute of staring at it in the dark, she critiqued, "You know, playbills aren't supposed to have reviews for the show you're about to watch."

Rocking his head, Reise nodded and admitted, "Yeah. If there's another showing, I'll have to remove that. I added it in there for you."

"So, you knew I was coming..."

"And Rowan. I made sure of it. Free tickets from a lovely co-ed around campus where he liked to...browse." Reise spat the word out, like a belch of disgust.

Fiddling with her purse, Elisha asked, "And what about me? You gonna peel me open too?"

"My god! Of course not!"

Reise's tone made Elisha pause. She expected a chuckle and a scoff but he responded with raw, appalled horror. She looked away and lowered her purse. The rest of the trip was quiet, with only the regular rumble of the road to break the silence.

When they pulled up to her apartment, Elisha unlocked her door and hopped out. Reise called after her, "Wait! Sab...Elisha. Just a minute. Please."

Turning on her heels, Elisha lingered by the window as Reise rolled it down. He spoke softly, "I'm sorry again...how tonight went. With the plans you and Nancy arranged and...everything else. But when I saw him beside you...with those cold eyes, I felt nothing but instinct. You understand?"

Nodding to herself, she answered, "Yeah. His essence was red. I knew what he could do every single moment I looked at him. But I had it under control. There was a plan to capture him and..." She trailed off with her palm outstretched.

Reise finished for her, "And? And what? Nancy gets another prospect to twist around her finger. She has enough. Some things...just need to die, so we all can live."

With a shrug and a look towards her apartment, Elisha told him, "Well, goodnight Reise. Thanks, I guess. I'll figure things out."

Leaning out the window, Reise looked at Elisha even though she refused to look at him. "Goodnight, Elisha. Remember, if you ever need help, you know how to reach me."

"...Yeah, I know...I know."

She watched the car pull away and, gently, whispered, "...Goodnight, mom."