Soul Snake: Two Thrones, One Queen Read online

  Soul Snake

  MACIE HOLLOWAY

  Copyright © 2015 MacieHolloway

  All rights reserved.

  REVELATIONS 12:4

  “The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that he might devour her child the moment it was born. She gave birth to a son, a male child, who will rule all the nations with an iron scepter. And her child was snatched up to God and to his throne.”

  THE WOMAN IN THE VAN

  She walked more than twenty miles.

  The night was like a black blanket covering her eyes, keeping her from the truth.

  It was pouring rain.

  She knew she couldn’t go back.

  Daphne had never been one for hitchhiking, but a voice in her head said, “It’s O.K.”

  She believed the voice.

  She got in.

  She noticed the driver was a woman. This made her feel calmer.

  The heavy passenger door made a whining sound when she shut it.

  She pulled herself up onto a scratchy seat cover that smelled like cigarettes.

  She sank down comfortably, happy to be somewhere warm and dry.

  She pulled the seat belt across her and tried to latch it to the metal mouth. No click.

  “Oh …. The seatbelt doesn’t work. So sorry.”

  The lady was so polite.

  “That’s O.K. Nothing like living life on the edge,” Daphne joked as she accessed her surroundings.

  The van was brown, a bad color for vans. The gold stripe across the side dated it and the tinted windows usually mean there’s an old mattress in the back. But Daphne wasn’t scared. There was nothing scarier than going back to Sterling Heights and being forced to make a decision she couldn’t live with.

  “This is bad weather to be walking in.”

  The woman seemed nice, but even in her exhausted condition, Daphne noticed something was amiss. The lady didn’t belong there. She was wearing pearls. Her face was shaped like a heart. She looked like an airline stewardess driving a child molester’s van.

  It was all so surreal.

  “Where are you heading?” the lady asked without looking away from the road.

  “The Greyhound bus station. Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it. I really hope I’m not putting you out …”

  Daphne’s stomach growled. She imagined a glove compartment full of airline peanuts as she waited for the response.

  The lady didn’t respond.

  This gave way to a long and awkward silence.

  Daphne lit up a smoke and cracked the window.

  Normally rain pelting on a window played a little symphony in her mind, but not this time.

  Something was clearly wrong.

  She reached for the door handle and gently pulled it without making a noise. It was locked.

  She’s going to kill you, said the voice in Daphne’s head.

  Not if I kill her first, she silently replied to the voice.

  The dim lights of the Greyhound bus station whizzed past her window in a blur. The woman didn’t stop.

  Daphne rolled her eyes. It had been that kind of day.

  “You passed the bus station, lady. What, are you going to kill me, now?”

  The lady laughed.

  “Of course not.”

  She looked over and gave her a little wink, as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. It was the first time the lady had looked Daphne in the eyes. She had a face like an angel and eyes like dirty green cash.

  Cold chills rippled down Daphne’s spine.

  Her chest tight, she couldn’t feel her fingers.

  “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to kill your baby.”

  Pure instinct took over. Daphne sprung to action, fumbling with the lock on the door for dear life.

  But the lady with the pearls stayed calm, not even looking away from the road.

  “Oh … I’m just kidding.”

  Daphne didn’t like the joke.

  “Please stop the van. I just want to walk, O.K.?”

  The lady let out a casual sigh.

  “I said I was just kidding, but if you want me to stop the van, I’ll stop the van.”

  The lady slammed the brakes.

  The tires squealed.

  Daphne flew forward.

  The airbag responded with a body punch that knocked the breath out of her.

  She didn’t have time to breathe anyway.

  The automatic locks clicked. She flung open the heavy door, and tumbled out into a roadside puddle. Adrenaline pumping. She knew she was running, but couldn’t feel her legs.

  She could only hear the splashing sounds of the puddles and the hysterical laughter of the woman fading into the distance.

  As she trudged on through the water-logged ditches toward the lights of the bus station, there was only one thought in her head.

  How did that lady know she was pregnant?

  She was only four weeks.

  AT THE STATION

  Still dizzy from the blow, adrenaline seemed to guide her steps.

  Sure a hospital would have been the obvious choice, but asking another stranger for a ride was out of the question.

  She paid for her bus ticket as usual, constantly glancing behind her, mind racing as she boarded the bus.

  Was the woman with the pearls behind her?

  She could still hear her laughter echoing in her mind.

  Was she lurking in the shadows?

  All her life she’d sensed something was chasing her – a paranoid feeling impossible to describe to someone who’d never experienced it.

  It was the type of feeling that wanted to drive her completely out of her mind – but she’d never give it the satisfaction.

  Her blue eyes scanned over a sea of miserable faces until she found a happy one.

  “Anyone sitting here?”

  It seemed her breath was back.

  “Looks like you are, sista,” said the pretty black lady with the happy face. “You can have the window seat, too. I’m claustrophobic.”

  “I understand…..uh…”

  “Lydia.”

  Daphne introduced herself as she scooted by making sure not to wet Lydia. With perfectly arched eyebrows and glitter on her nails, she seemed a bit overdressed for a late night bus ride.

  “So where’s a young lady like you heading this time of night?”

  Lydia had already been riding for six hours and was grateful to have a friend.

  “San Antonio.”

  “Relatives?”

  Daphne got a sick feeling in her stomach.

  Relatives? What a joke. As if anybody ever gave a shit about her.

  “No, I just want to visit every town in the United States named after a Mexican.”

  They had a nervous little laugh together. The quiet kind. The library kind. The only kind you were allowed to have when you were inches away from people in small quarters.

  Daphne’s little laugh with Lydia almost made her forget about the lady with the pearls.

  But the thought resurfaced with the silence every time. She would never understand why people on a Greyhound bus acted like they were in a library.

  She pushed the thought out of her mind again and adjusted her weight to the other hip. The seat crunched beneath her and the vinyl was ripped. It reminded her of her old school bus. It reminded her of the days she never used to have to look over her shoulder.

  But that was then.

  She craned her neck to survey the passengers again. Not wanting to look paranoid, she kept a casual expression as her eyes scanned the faces. No lady with the pearls.

  She finally took a deep breath and gave up the search.
/>   “Looking for someone?”

  “No, just …. Locating the fire exits.”

  Lydia chuckled.

  “Good. Now I know who to follow if there’s a fire.”

  Daphne sank down into her seat, suddenly feeling warm and dizzy.

  The hard cold window felt like goose feather pillow.

  She had a weightless feeling. She was riding in an elevator, slowly descending into an ocean of peace. The waves crashed over her, one at a time, gently pushing her to the warm shore with rhythmic and lulling motion. But she wasn’t on a shore, she was in a womb.

  She was safe. She was at peace. She had completely escaped reality for exactly ten minutes and thirty-two seconds before Lydia screamed so loud it rattled every window on the bus.

  Now with eyes wide open, Daphne froze with fear as every ounce of color drained from her face.

  All she saw was blood.

  Blood dripping down Lydia’s white linen pants.

  Blood pooling up in her own seat.

  Blood everywhere.

  Had the lady in pearls stabbed her in her sleep?

  How could there be so much blood?

  The other passengers immediately assumed they were victims of a terrorist attack.

  The driver’s voice boomed overhead, insisting passengers stay seated and calm.

  Lydia ignored all instructions, practically diving out into the aisle head first.

  “EVERYBODY MOVE OUT OF THE WAY. EMERGENCY!”

  A passenger offered to call the ambulance.

  “PLEASE DON’T. I’M FINE EVERYBODY.”

  The passengers cleared the aisle as Daphne darted towards the back of the bus.

  Hand on stomach, she whispered, “Stay with me Rio.”

  She shook the door to the bathroom.

  It was locked.

  “Emergency please.”

  His name was Rio, Spanish for river. Now he was a river of blood, flowing away from her – leaving her to face the world alone.

  “PLEASE! This is urgent.”

  But the door didn’t budge.

  A surly bald fellow was taking a stinky slam that everyone on the bus could hear while sixteen-year-old Daphne aborted a fetus mid-aisle on a Greyhound bus.

  No one on that bus would ever forget that day, especially Daphne.

  The door finally opened just as her legs caved in beneath her.

  “She killed my baby. I can’t believe she really killed my baby.”

  BRINLEY

  Daphne woke up on Lydia’s couch face down in a puddle of salty tears.

  She only knew it was Lydia’s couch because it smelled like Lydia –a combination of Newports and Hennessey.

  She had no idea how she got there.

  As her vision cleared, she found herself looking into a pair of honey brown eyes with tiny yellow flecks. They were the sweetest eyes.

  It was like waking up in heaven, if heaven were to smell like Newports and brown liquor.

  “My name is Brinley,” said the little girl with the brown eyes. “I’m seven and a half.”

  Still a little dazed, Daphne had to sit up and look around before she was able to respond. She could hear pork chops sizzling from the kitchen. The Little Mermaid was playing in a VHS player on a tube T.V. that was so large it nearly filled up the tiny living room.

  “Wow, seven and a half. I’m sixteen and a half.”

  Daphne loved the way children always added the half.

  “My mom says your name is Daffy, like Daffy Duck.”

  “I pronounce it Daphne, but you’re close enough.”

  “Why were you crying so much last night?”

  Daphne didn’t remember crying or how she made it to Lydia’s couch.

  “Because I had a little baby that went to heaven last night.”

  “If he’s in heaven, then why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know… I guess I’m crying because I want to be in heaven with him.”

  “Is that why you cut your legs?”

  Although she was wearing jeans, three inches of bare ankle were still visible, and Brinley was apparently the observant type.

  “No. I think I just enjoy the pain.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t worry about your baby because when I get to heaven, I’ll take care of him for you.”

  “Since you’re only seven and a half, I’ll probably make it there first.”

  “Maybe or maybe not. I was born with AIDS. I lived in a shelter for a little while in Africa, then one day Mom found me and brought me here to live. She says I’m her angel. She says the whole reason God put her on this earth was to take care of me.”

  “I think your mom is a very good lady, Brinley.”

  She shook her braids in agreement, making the little plastic beads clang together like wind chimes.

  Daphne was completely at loss for words. The fact that a seven-year-old had been through more tragedy than her was making it difficult for her to feel sorry for herself.

  “So Brinley, I see you like the Little Mermaid.”

  “I like her, but she’s not a real mermaid. I’m a REAL mermaid.”

  “Well then you’re the first real mermaid I’ve EVER met, Miss Brinley.”

  Daphne repositioned herself on the sofa to avoid the puddle of tears.

  “You’re a mermaid, too, Daffy.”

  “Maybe not in real life, but I’m always a mermaid in my dreams.”

  “I believe dreams are the REAL life. The world we’re living in is the fake one.”

  A little smile broke out across Daphne’s face. Brinley sure had deep thoughts for a seven and a half year old.

  “Who knows? Maybe you’re right.”

  Brinley crawled up onto the couch and curled up in a little ball at Daphne’s feet.

  Singing loudly from the T.V., Ariel the mermaid longed to be part of their world, but there wouldn’t have been room left on the couch.

  Something about curling up with Brinley made Daphne’s eyes heavy.

  Now she was sinking again, this time into a nest of clouds.

  The heavy weight of sadness lifted off her chest like a morning fog, disintegrating into the sunlight. What a wonderful thing to escape reality.

  What a wonderful thing – to dream.

  SWEET DREAMS

  Daphne felt the sunlight on her neck warming the cool beads of water streaming down her neck. She was perched on a rock at the entrance to a cave. The shade from the hanging boulder created a light breeze that tousled and tangled her salty red hair. As she flipped her fins, her green scales sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, reflecting millions of tiny rainbow prisms across the water and the sky.

  This is it.

  My home.

  It was the place she came every night in her dreams. It was her personal ocean.

  She knew every path through every underwater cavern. She swam with Galapagos turtles and penguins. She named the flamingos.

  Every night she came to perch on the same rock and watch the world go by. She saw friends, strangers, and all sorts of people swim by the opening to her cave, but she couldn’t talk to them. They didn’t speak her language.

  If she saw they were swimming in the wrong direction, there was only one thing she could do to help – sing. Many followed her voice to safety in the cave, but others swam on into the distance and towards dangerous waters.

  Every night was the same dream; she was perched on her rock singing. It had always been the same since she was a little girl, but what happened next nearly shocked her off her rock.

  Seven-year-old Brinley burst out of the turquoise water, plopped down beside Daphne and sprayed her with a cold mist as her wet fins smacked the rock. Her braids danced upon her cocoa brown shoulders and she sported pink scales and a purple tail fin.

  “Brinley! How did you find me here?”

  “I told you I’m a mermaid, too. I guess you believe me, now.”

  A wave crashed against the rock, spewing a burst of water at Daphne like a cold spit to the f
ace.

  Once again she woke up to her Newport-scented couch reality, her new life without Rio, and the worst day of her life.

  Everything was so dark and quiet. Lydia must have turned off the T.V.

  Brinley was still curled up in a ball at the foot of the couch, snoring a sweet little song.

  She should really be sleeping in her bed.

  Daphne tried to scoop her up, but only succeeded in waking her up.

  “I don’t want to go to bed!”

  “It’s past your bedtime, Brinley.”

  “But I’m not tired.”

  “I’ll sing you to sleep.”

  Now Daphne followed Brinley to her pink twin bed and pulled back the fluffy comforter to reveal pink flowered sheets.

  “I’m not going to sleep unless you read me a story.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  With great care, Brinley handed Daphne an oversized hardback book titled Good to Be Queen in gothic letters. Daphne couldn’t tell how old it was since there was no copy right date, but the spine had practically disintegrated and the book appeared to be handmade. There was no author listed, suggesting that maybe it was folklore or legend.

  “Me and my mom found this book at the witch store.”

  Daphne raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

  “The what?”

  “On the outside it’s a coffee shop, but in the back there are magical books, potions, spells … you know. Everything is for sale, except for things in the back room.”

  “No, I don’t know. I never believed in that kind of stuff.”

  “My mom didn’t either, but she didn’t know where else to turn. When she told her church members about my gift, they said it was from the devil. They said I had an evil spirit.”

  “Your gift?”

  “I know things. I see into another world that no one else can see, but this other world is just as real as our own, maybe even more real. And what happens there affects us, even if we don’t realize it.”

  Daphne flipped open to the center page. The ink was so faded it was barely readable and the pages were dangling from the spine as if to hold on for dear life. Amazingly enough, though, most of the illustrations still held onto their vivid colors.

  “When mom wasn’t looking, I snuck into the secret room at the back of the store. This book was sitting on a table by itself, and as soon as I picked it up, I felt the magic. The lady caught me and got really mad, but then Mom whispered in her ear. She probably told her that I’m sick. She knows I don’t like for people to feel sorry for me, but it was worth it this one time, so I could have this book.”