SNAKEBIT: Prelude to War

“You been bit before, Pa?” Geoff asked.

“Naw.”

Geoff snatched up the headless snake to toss after its missing head, but Valentine stopped him.

“Hold on.”

Geoff stopped.

His father took the limp thing from him and slung it over his shoulder. “’Swasteful. Snake tastes mighty good.” Valentine picked up his musket, hauled up their catch, and strode off toward home. Geoff scrambled to catch up.

Sometime later, he saw Valentine smile. “Naw, I ain’t been bit. Seen others to it though. Some as died…” His words trailed off, but he continued walking, leaving images just hanging there for Geoff to ponder, for what he considered a very long time.

“Some didn’t?” Geoff asked. His father rubbed his neck.

“Sure’n they wished they did. Point is, they weren’t…They weren’t never the same after bein’ bit.”

A ten-year-old can think of a lot of things when it comes to “never the same.” Geoff had to ask. “Never? What happened? What happened to ’em?”

“Turned ornery.” Valentine looked deep into his son’s eyes to ensure that he understood. “Turned plum crazy. Such like to turn the air blue over the littlest thing. Had me a dawg ’fore you was born. Got snakebit once. Don’t know how he survived, but he did. Weren’t never the same.”

Many more steps were taken in silence as Geoff waited for Valentine to continue. “Growled at the sun.” He mumbled, “Snarled at the moon.” He stopped to stamp his foot for emphasis. “I seen him bark his fool head off at a rock in the road once—a rock! Weren’t no critter, no bug, no bird about. He just set to hatin’ that there…rock.”

Abruptly Valentine picked up the pace again. Geoff struggled to keep up.

“’Ventually he like to bit yore mother. That’s when I put him down…Snakebit!” He made the word a curse.