The Viper King

I push myself up from the ground, brushing the dirt from my jeans and curse Timmy Smith’s name. Why must the biggest middle school bully be here at the town carnival on the same day as me? Someday Timmy Smith will get what’s coming to him. The stupid bully.

My stomach lurches as I instinctively reach for my neck. Relief fills me. The pendant is still there. Grandmama gave it to me before she died. My mom says I can’t wear it. She says it’s too creepy. Maybe she will still be drunk on the sofa when I get home so she doesn’t bust me wearing it.

Walking forward with my head lowered and trying to forget Timmy Smith, a high-pitched voice ahead catches my attention.

“Enter if you dare! Are you brave enough to face……the Viper King?”

Behind me, kids laugh. A glance over my shoulder shows Timmy and his stupid friends heading my way. Turning to run, my body smashes into the Halloween Carnival ringmaster. He grabs me before I fall. We lock eyes. Chills run through my body. White paint is smeared all over his face, his eyes surrounded with black. His dark tuxedo is smeared with dirt. What is this guy? My gaze shifts to an easel standing behind him. The painting it holds is grotesque. A chaotic mass of vicious, snarling snakes, tangled in a pit. They seem to be coiled, prepared to strike at one another.

He bends over, moves his head before mine, and says in a squealing voice, “You little boy! Do you dare enter the darkness to witness the Viper King?” His hands wave in the air like a magician performing at a show. His breath smells worse than Grandmama’s body when I found her. He shoves me. “You are not worthy. Leave now.” He turns away, preaching his Viper King line to some other adults walking by.

Timmy is getting closer. Now I know a few things. I am not afraid of the dark, and I’m not afraid of this Viper King guy, but Timmy Smith - he is a different story. Pushing the old tent flaps aside, my choice is made and I step into the darkness, hoping the foul smelling man doesn’t notice.

I move from the entrance to the tent’s outer edge, just in case Timmy follows and hear a zipping sound, followed by a loud click. The ringmaster’s body is almost invisible as he walks towards the center of the tent. His dark outline bumps into several people until he finally climbs atop what appears to be a milk crate. That is when I notice how many people are in here. People are jam-packed inside this dark, stinky tent. This Viper King guy must put on some show!

People complain. First about the stench, and soon after about the unrelenting darkness. I hear the ringmaster begin to speak. I don’t know what he is saying. It’s not English. Is he praying? I jump as a bright flash pierces my eyes, flooding the tent with light. Did someone spark a flare in here? Shielding my eyes with my hands, I glance around, afraid to move. People seem to be locked in a weird trance. Their eyes remain fixed on the light. Then, the darkness returns just as quickly as it left. The tent becomes dead quiet.

A man screams. A woman screams. I hear a slurping sound. Everyone beings to scream. An adult shoves me to the ground. He is trying to run, but there’s nowhere to go. My fingers touch something sticky and warm in the dirt. A woman’s hand appears before me. I grab it. As I stand up, I shriek. Her eyes are missing. She claws at tiny worms writhing inside the empty sockets. She screeches.

“Oh great Ssathoros, Demon Lord of the serpents, we are here to serve you! We WILL be one with you!”

A tall shadow appears, blotting out the tent’s canvas. The chanting lady’s head disappears, and her lifeless body flops onto the ground before me. I stumble backward into a man. I turn and look. He scratches at his face, his nails leaving crimson trails in their wake. I think he is peeling off his skin. Halloween haunted carnivals are supposed to be fun. This is not fun. Should I leave?

The man is now missing strips of skin on his face. He screams, “Ssathoros, I give myself to you, oh great one!” Something large, shrouded in shadows, lifts his body up into the air. He is gone. I hear the slurping again, then crunching. A tug pulls on my jeans. It’s a girl, maybe a little younger than me. She is crying.

I stoop to my knees and tell her it’s okay.

“Adults do this to scare each other. They think it’s fun. We will be alright. It’s fake.”

I think to myself; I hope it’s fake. Gosh, this had better be fake.

The girl wraps her arms around my body. She is trembling. My instincts tell me to pull away because girls are gross, but I want to be brave. The shadow returns.

Huge, sharp teeth appear out of the darkness and snatch the girl’s body from my arms. I hear the slurping and crunching again. A small, stumped hand falls to the ground next to me.

I let out a scream that was as loud as any scream I’ve ever unleashed. This is not a Halloween haunted carnival. This is real.

A woman beside me cries out in agony, and as I turn to look, bile rises in my throat. Half of her head is missing. I can see her brain. Then, the massive fangs re-appear from the darkness, ripping her away.

The screams are getting louder. I look around, eyes wide, filled with fear. Only a few people remain, and they continue to chant those strange words. I hear a whimper in the corner and take three steps. It’s Timmy Smith. He is sitting in the dirt. His knees are pulled up to his chest, and he’s crying. I pee my pants. I don’t know what to do. But I will not let Timmy Smith see me cry.

The shadow on the canvas returns. It’s the shape of an enormous snake, and it’s slithering toward Timmy. I don’t know why, but something inside me tells me to help Timmy. Despite being a stupid bully, I know I must help, so I try to shield him.

The snake’s body is huge and black. High in the air, near the top of the tent, its head appears, and it gradually lowers towards me. Its yellow, glowing eyes bore into my soul as it draws closer. The creature’s enormous mouth opens, showering me in blood and small body parts. The world around me turns red. Two large fangs pop from its mouth. Its head rears back to strike. My neck begins to burn as the snake’s head approaches. I clutch my pendant. It feels red hot, almost scorching my hand.

I twist my head away and shut my eyes as the snake’s mouth descends upon me. A hideous scream jolts my eyes open. Timmy is gone, and I am drenched in blood. I look left, right, then up. Timmy’s body dangles above me, impaled on one of the snake’s enormous fangs. He cries out in agony as the creature snaps its head, launching his pierced body high into the air. His body flips twice and falls into the awaiting maw of the giant snake. I cover my ears to drown out the slurping and crunching sounds of Timmy being devoured.

My neck burns even more as the creature lowers its head in my direction once again. Its glowing eyes light the ground at my feet, revealing two headless bodies. Tiny snakes slither and wiggle in and out of their hollow neck cavities.

The creature speaks with a hiss.

“Bow to Ssathoros, the Demon Lord of SSSerpents, sssubmit to me, and I will sssspare your life.”

My hand shoots up to my neck and I rip away the burning pendant. It hurts so much. The snake’s enormous body slithers away from me. I shake the pendant in my hand, but it doesn’t help the burning.

The painful sensation forces me to open my palm, revealing the skull pendant. A brilliant red fills the skull’s empty eye sockets, lighting my hand aglow. A whisper begins inside my head. It’s Grandmama. She tells me I must throw the skull pendant toward the serpent’s body.

So I did.

“I don’t remember much from this point forward. I recall the sound of searing meat reminding me of when mom cooked her steak and a sickening hiss as loud as a steam engine. The smells. I remember the smells, too. The smell was of burning flesh and grandmama’s body,” as my mouth salivates, thinking of the stench, wishing for a taste of the burned flesh.

“After that, it all became a blur.” I pause, recalling what I could about that glorious day.

“But that was twenty years ago,” I say, looking out at the small crowd of entranced people standing before me.

“Hey!”, I shout. “Who is ready to see the Viper king?”

Standing on the milk crate, I resume my chant, glaring at the crowd. I still can’t believe how weak the human mind is, so easy to control. The bullies I’ve gathered here today do not know what they are in for. Who says being a Demon Lord doesn’t have its benefits?