Summer Reading Club
space craft special edition 2017

“Yes, this is a metaphor,” my friend told me.

Posted on: December 29th, 2017 by SRC Club Member - Anna | 16 WA


There once was a girl who took care of snakes.

Before acquiring them, she had thought the creatures dull, uninteresting — even terrifying — but upon acquiring a few of them by chance, her heart and mind began to change. She began to appreciate them — their silent, sleek beauty, the cleverness that they exhibited at completing simple tasks. And after a while, she had eight of them in total — gorgeous creature, independent in their own ways but still needing of care, still deserving her companionship.

And she loved them all dearly, although in different ways, and made sure that each and every one of them was happy and content at all hours of the day. And for a great many years, the snakes and the girl lived together in peace and happiness, with only the minimum of tragedies, and nothing permanent.

People called her strange for loving the snakes so, and more often than not taunted her for spending so much time in the company of snakes to humans, but she was happy as she was, and she very much suspected that the snakes were happy too.

It wasn’t so much that she owned the snakes, because — well, she didn’t. Not in the least. They were free to come and go as they pleased, and they did, frequently. And for the most part, they would come and go as they pleased.

And as time went on, the snakes would leave for longer and longer periods of time — off to have their own adventures, off to create their own stories. And for the most part, they would come back — or at least check in with the girl from time to time. (No, this isn’t a very good metaphor, is it? Well, never you mind.)

While this was happening, the girl had grown up, and was no longer a girl anymore. (Yes, I said it was a bad metaphor. Do be quiet now.) She was a woman, and although she still loved her snakes as dearly as she had when she was young, her memory had begun to fade, and she had forgotten some important things.

Or maybe she had just forgotten one thing. One very important thing.

“Eight snakes?” the woman would say, if you had asked her, and she would have laughed and shook her head at the ridiculousness of the question, because even at her heightened age, she knew her snakes better than she knew herself. “No, I don’t have eight snakes. Only seven. There’s only ever been seven.”

(And maybe, just maybe —

— she was right.)

6 Responses

  1. Tessa Knight says:

    Amazing. Absolutely Amazing!!!!!!!!

  2. Tessa Knight says:

    How did you come up with inspiration for your story?

    • Anna says:

      Would you believe me if I told you that rather a lot of my stories come from my dreams? 😀 I remember that this one (or parts of it anyway – I couldn’t remember the full thing so I wrote the rest myself) in particular was told to me by a tall woman that was having tea with me in a strange city. For some reason, I knew that she was a goddess of some description – although I still can’t figure out why she wanted to tell me this tale in particular!

      This probably isn’t very helpful if you’re hoping to apply this advice to your own writing. Sorry about that.

  3. Saskia Fitzgerald says:

    AMAZING STORY!!!!! It kept me hooked all the way!!!!

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