Perception

It slithered from under the brush, making a shuffling sound that sent a trickle of fear zigzagging down my spine.

I hated them.

Just the thought of them made me shiver.

I worked hard to overcome my fear of them, but since I'd been lucky enough to avoid them, I considered myself lucky—until today.

Today, that vile thing came out from hiding and moved across the back of the yard while I stood, as if my feet were anchored in cement, and the tremors rushed through me.

I blinked, my mind racing. Taking a deep breath, I pivoted and ran to the house.

Crashing through the back door, I yelled. "Mama. Mama! I saw the whole thing!"

My mother, elbows deep in a bowl of dough, looked at me with the most bewildered expression, grabbed a towel, wiped her hands, and rushed over to me.

"What did you see? What happened?" she asked, turning me around to examine me.

"It was horrifying!" I shouted, the trembling still making my limbs shake.

Mama's pale blue eyes scanned me from head to toe in case she missed something on the first inspection. "What was?"

"The Scarlet Kingsnake."

Mama chuckled and headed back to the counter. "Blair, I know it seems scary, but that snake is harmless. You stay out of his way; he'll stay out of yours."

"It was fifty feet long!" I protested.

Mama shook her head. "They are not that long."

I moved beside her, the trembling now subsiding. "It sure looked that long."

"How long do you think the table is?" she asked.

I glanced at our dining room table, trying to gauge its length. "Twenty feet."

"Blair, it's eight feet. That snake is about twenty inches."

"You always said I had a wild imagination," I muttered.


Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
WC: 298