Part V: Snakes – (Chapter 91)

Family photo of the author (age 4) with an AI overlay

My fear of snakes began after Mother boarded me at Mrs. Mary Lambert’s “Mary had a Little Kid” day and night child-care center.

Mother and Richard Kane, my real father, were going through a nasty divorce; she was supporting us by working nights as a cocktail waitress and cigarette girl.

Nana was paying for my board.

Mrs. Lambert, in her late 40’s or early 50’s, with steel wool hair, swarthy, wrinkled skin, a stringy build, and hook nose, wore polka dot house dresses and penny loafers with white socks bunched to her ankles.

She hovered over us, her arms folded, left hand clutching a pancake turner.

She terrified me.

I resided at the childcare center for only a few months, although it seemed like much longer. The big kids were mean, hitting me and stealing my pee-soaked underpants and displaying them on the jungle gym. The playground, a large fenced-in yard filled with sand, was a military camp for kids: I had to put my dirty clothes into a specified slot (or get a spanking – and I always forgot) and sleep on a folding bed in a large room with about a dozen other kids.

One night, I woke up cold and wet; I got up to tell Mrs. Lambert.

She slapped me, yanked off my wet pajamas, picked me up by the arm pits, and dragged me into the bathroom.

“I’m going to flush you down the hole, you rotten kid!”

She stuffed me into the toilet, butt first; my shins touching my chin, feet pointing into the air, and she flushed and flushed and flushed....

A cold whirlpool tugged at my rear.

I’m going down the hole!

– to God-knows-where, I didn’t know, but it wouldn’t be good.

“I’ll be good, I won’t wet the bed again, please let me out!”

She flushed again. “You’ll go live where the snakes and lizards live, and they’ll eat you alive!”

“NO, PLEASE! I’LL BE GOOD!”

She yanked me out. “I’ll let you go this time, but –” she poked her finger into my chest “– next time, down you go!”

She ran some bath water and washed me up. After changing my sheets, she said, “I don’t want to hear a peep from you until morning.”

I lay on the cot, hot tears on my cheeks, looking out at the blurry crescent moon, wondering why it always seemed to follow me.

Did it follow only me?

Did it follow only bad little girls who wet the bed?

Was it going to tell on me if I thought naughty things?

What were naughty things, anyway?

My eyes felt heavy as I slipped away....

*

A voice calls: “Little girl.”

I wake up and sit up.

“Little girl Samantha.”

The crescent moon.

It wiggles and talks: “I’m going to get you, eat you alive, Samantha Anne.”

NO! I can’t yell. Sticky in my throat.

“I’ll chase you down the potty, follow you until the snakes eat you alive, you dirty little spalpeen.”

PAPPA?

“Your pappa can’t hear you. He’s in Sioux City, a trillion zillion miles away. YOU BETTER RUN, LITTLE GIRL SAMANTHA.”

That old moon cackles and shows two big sharp teeth.

I jump out of bed.

“You can’t hide!”

I run out of the room and down the hall and down the hall and down the hall and down the hall...I keep running, past open doors, and in each window, there he is, laughing and chasing me, and there’s no end to the hall, just open doors and open windows, and I’m running and running, and the open doors and the crescent moon is a blur, and I’ll never stop running...

Because I’m running in a circle now, whirling around like a dark merry-go-round, when, suddenly, I’m outside, and the sun shines and smiles, and the scary crescent moon is gone.

“Mr. Moon had to go to sleep,” Mr. Sun says.

“I want my mommy.”

“Not now.” He points at some sunbeams. “Look over there.”

It’s the playground, filled with water. I like water. “I want to play in the water.”

“Okay. But stay inside the lines.”

The lines, two skinny black lines – I’ll have to walk tippy-toe like a ballerina to doggy-paddle from here to the end of the world.

“Bad things will happen if you don’t stay inside,” Mr. Sun says.

I doggy-paddle and the lines are squished together, and I can’t even walk tippy-toe, and I can’t turn around. I must keep going forever and ever. “I want my mommy.”

“Ha, ha,” Mr. Sun laughs, and suddenly it’s dark again.

It’s not Mr. Sun, after all, just the scary crescent moon playing a mean trick.

“Look down, little girl.”

I obey. The water is gone. There’s nothing but snakes, licking at my feet, rattling and hissing at me.

I can’t move as snakes crawl up my legs.

I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out....

“MOMMY!”