The Crooked Snake Pt. 2

Previously…

"A moment later, salt, as if from a shotgun, burst through the bedroom doorway. It was fired across the room, shattering the window at the opposite wall. Pits appeared in the wall and curtains around it. Nick looked back in horror from the window to the empty hallway for the rest of the dark hours. Once the sun rose, he left the house."

He hadn’t felt safe enough to shower but he did change his clothes. Nick immediately hopped in his small sedan and looked up the closest hotel. Less than 5 miles. He pulled carefully out of the driveway and paused before shifting into forward gear. He looked over at the window that showed into the living room. The black curtain sat unperturbed. He waited as long as he could, sure it would shift. Nothing. Nick put the car into gear, it complained of its age, then followed the map.

Driving was a chore. Micro-sleep threatened him at every stoplight. He rolled down the window and allowed the freezing morning air to sting his face. The hotel came into view. Nick breathed a sigh of relief. It was a crusty rusted building but that was irrelevant. Nick slid into a spot and headed for the lobby. A raven cawed as he passed, as if it had been in his ear. He turned rapidly. It sat on the hood of his car. The raven was a massive thing, clearly older. Placid black eyes stared at him. It made a sound like a gulp or a purr. Then, it opened its wings. At that moment, Nick wasn’t sure if it was bowing or getting ready to attack. It took flight with a ruffling grandeur. It regarded him with a final caw caw. He watched it fly into the distance, grateful for the unbearable weight of his new lonesome identity.

Nick turned toward the lobby again. He was greeted with merciful warmth as he opened the heavy glass doors. The lobby smelled like strangers. Images of different families and couples played in his mind. A dad’s impatience was etched into the weaving scents. The notion of fatherhood scratched at the hole in his heart. He approached the faux wood counter and waited. After ten minutes of suspense and eye contact with the bell, the clerk walked through a door behind the counter.

“Hello, sir.” She smiled at him cheerily. Before he could respond, she was looking at the 24 inch TV on the end of the counter. The woman shifted half her weight onto a stool.

“Just need a room for the day.” He said.

“‘Till noon or tomorrow?” She asked without taking her gaze from the television.

“Tomorrow.” He said, pulling his wallet out from his back pocket.

“$66.61” She said. Nick swiped his card and refused to let the thought bubble up.

“Thanks.” He said when the prompts on the screen were finished. She handed him his keycard.

“Around the side, stairs are on the right, fourth door on your left.” She said to the small television screen. She spared a smile, only tilting her face in his direction, without taking her eyes off of her soap opera. He wasn’t able to reciprocate. Back to evil twins and infidelity, he thought. He began to walk away.

“I was on the streets for 6 years. Addicted to whatever I could get.” She said with a blank expression, continuing to watch the program. Nick stopped in his tracks. He turned his head to see her. She said, “You’re going to be okay.” Then shifted her gaze back to him with a sincere smile.

“Thanks.” He continued toward the hotel hallway.

Drunk lovers caressed, tearing at each other as Nick turned to go down the hotel hallway. He continued past, averting his gaze. His steps were a patter on the short carpet, each step releasing a fragrance of mold and multitudes. The harsh white light of the morning sun assaulted the hallway from a window at the end opposite of Nick’s approach. Click click, one of the incandescent lights of the hallway complained, having been in constant use for unknown years. Nick accidentally slid against the wall in his pseudo trance. The smell of new paint sickened him, given the precarious constitution of his sleeplessness.

One tired light flickered. Even the sunshine seemed to abandon that section of hallway in its absence. Something stirred in the momentary shadow, a beckoning dread wearing the facade of modern construction. Four lights away. Don’t be four lights away. He prayed to his keycard. The sound of multiple heavy electronic door latches released in synchrony. Five individuals crossed sporadic thresholds into the hall. Each of them casually looked down, around, at one another, but none to his approach. They filtered into the hallway, turning in his direction (and the only method of egress) at varying speeds. Stomach acid rose to his throat as the swarm meandered toward him. His eyes darted from one to the next, searching for signs of crimson skin or a gaze of dark water.

Nick froze in place. His mind raced with options. Primarily, he was telling himself: these are regular people in a hotel for people. Try as he might to self-soothe, he couldn’t convince his legs to take a step forward into the net of them. Regular people, he repeated. The first assailant passed him, an unsmiling middle-aged man, watching the wall rather than meeting the eyes of Nick or the wrestling lovers. His stomach dared to settle for the moment. He broke through his fearful hesitation and took a step forward. Nick looked up, straining his facial muscles to appear calm and even. Another step.

The remaining pedestrians stopped in simultaneity. Nick’s heart lit with a pang, skipping a beat. RUN! His inner voice screamed. Numbness climbed the nerves of his legs. Sweat began to coat his entire body in a suit of terror. A person in the back turned around, she laughed and said something to an unseen presence in the direction of the open door she had exited. Another, in front of her, walked over to the side of the hallway and began to tie loose shoelaces. The person in front of him put a phone to his face and began to speak. The final one laughed to himself and turned around. He walked back toward his room.

Nick’s attempt at walking was an ambling throw of one leg over the other. The numbness abated after considerable effort. He arrived at his door and realized he had forgotten to track which light his room was under. That would be crazy, he assured himself. Nick slid the keycard through the slot in the door handle. Beep, green light. He walked inside, without regard to the hallway lights.

He entered, white linens on a king sized bed. It smelled of rose and apple. Shower or bed? He asked himself. Nick stared back and forth between the options. His sleep deprived mind couldn’t seem to make decisions anymore. He waddled over to the bed and collapsed.

A Dream

“Frighted lamb.” A booming voice through the void. It was accompanied by an echo of angelic choirs. Its timber carried into their song.

“Oh no, please.” Nick said, he covered his ears and closed his eyes.

“Confess your fear.” The entity sang. But he could not respond under the mass of its presence. Nick could only consider the statement.

“I should be afraid of you, I guess.” He responded, opening his eyes. The same angel that had haunted him before stared back at him. Nick’s eyes were pouring tears upon looking at it.

“You should fear nothing.” The angel spoke evenly.

“Why is there a demon after me?” Nick asked.

“A demon?” The angel held a hand to its chin in consideration. The elegant long digits caressed his smooth, brilliantly shining face for a moment.

“Didn’t you send it?” Nick asked, suspicious.

“No.” The angel turned away from him. His brilliant multi-colored wings swayed in the eternal breeze caused by the distant storm. They were deeply scorched throughout, leaving bald points of seared muscle and bone. “We will not speak again. My birth is nigh.” In a hideous instant, the storm surged impossibly toward them. Nick felt like an ant caught in a hurricane. The entity disappeared within the swirling clouds and lightning.

Nick woke up, his pillow was drenched in tears. The blanket weighed down his tired body, a humongous white quilted thing stuffed with down. He tucked within it and ignored the light coming in from the window. He felt the piercing intuition of something’s eyes on him. The sensation of static or sensory noise. Nick peeked from under the blanket. The ‘demon’ was standing at the foot of the bed with its arms crossed. His heart started beating painfully hard. Nick focused on his breathing and sat up.

“Hello.” He offered.

“I take it you’ve come to some sort of understanding?” It was speaking eloquently with his voice this time. Its features were easier to perceive. Nick noticed it had his hair on its head now. Still crimson. Still horned. Lets go hear someone’s sins, it thought at him, wearing a devilish smile.

“I need to sleep.” He responded aloud.

“Whose fault is that?” It sneered. “Besides, you’ve been sleeping for hours. In a few more it will be dark.” It said the last part as if it were titillated with the concept.

“What’s important about the dark?”

“A mystery. Don’t you want to find out?”

“Can other people see you?”

“You can’t see me. Your spirit has become so dense there’s a lensing effect.”

“That means I can see you.” Nick stated. His tone indicated gotcha. Its smile dropped and it raised its head in defiance.

“I’ll see you under the Moon.” It said in a grotesque and deep tone. It was unlike any of the other voices it had used. It vanished.

Nick let out an exasperated sigh. Still sitting up in the soft bed. He tapped the Selenite crystal hanging from the chain around his neck. Banish mode on, he thought. He meant it. He thought twice and instead grasped his necklace with his full hand. He took comfort in the data of its effect. Nick imagined a stream of power from his head and heart leading up his arm and into the necklace. He felt the normal tingling, energetic sensations in his hand. It was a drastically different perspective now that he had seen a real effect. Just some rocks and intent. As of yesterday, Nick had been a practicing skeptic. Now, he was either a full believer or fully mental.

Nick allowed himself to fall back into the blanket’s embrace. Within a moment, his mind was eager for more sleep. With the crystal in his hand and a promise from the dream angel to not come back, he slipped into unconsciousness.