Chapter One
It was beginning.
The Man walked stealthily through the pre-dawn darkness. A single yard light cast tepid shadows along the ranch’s outbuildings. The scent of horse flesh and creek willow filled his nostrils, soothing a hint of nervous anticipation as he entered the barn.
The faint rattling sound emanating from the basket he carried calmed him further.
The first step in this divine plan came upon him in a holy vision. Directed by God, like the Israelites in Israel, he would own this land and inhabit it for His glory.
UNDERWRITTEN BY
Each week, The Colorado Sun and Colorado Humanities & Center For The Book feature an excerpt from a Colorado book and an interview with the author. Explore the SunLit archives at coloradosun.com/sunlit.
Approaching the stall, the gravel beneath his boots crunched like soft tissue paper. The Paint horse nickered. The Man stroked the equine neck and spoke reassuring words as heslipped inside the enclosure. The brown and white stallion watched him carefully, stomped once, but showed little sign of concern.
The Man opened the basket in the far corner of the stall and watched the serpent slither from its confines into the straw. The rattle’s ominous susurration accelerated.
The Man whispered to the horse, “As in the Book of Genesis, the serpent shall be in your path and bite your heel so the rider will fall…”
He kissed the animal’s warm cheek, reflecting on serpents in the Garden before leaving the barn. The horse snorted and shook his head. Don’t do this, he seemed to say, but it was prophesied.
Shutting the stall door, The Man further reflected on the next step toward fulfillment of his sacred ambition. It was in the hands of an unsure blonde girl who loved him with an addict’s compulsion. The snakes etched on his body stirred. He had to have her, now.
The Man disappeared into the darkness just as the sky began to lighten in the East.
Pulling at a loose strand of her dark, wavy hair in anticipation, Lucy Vega gazed over her laptop screen to the slate gray Pacific less than a mile away. The annual “June Gloom” had cast its dreary marine pale across the landscape. She was waiting to Zoom chat with Michael Burleson, her lover, life partner, and father to their four-year-old son, Henry. Michael was a network war correspondent for TV news who almost lost everything from the curse of alcohol abuse. With Lucy’s support, he was back on track, five years sober.
“The Snake Handler’s Wife”
>> Read an excerpt
Where to find it:
Prospector: Search the combined catalogs of 23 Colorado libraries Libby: E-books and audio books NewPages Guide: List of Colorado independent bookstores Bookshop.org: Searchable database of bookstores nationwideSunLit present new excerpts from some of the best Colorado authors that not only spin engaging narratives but also illuminate who we are as a community. Read more.
The zoom link kicked in and he was on the screen. Eyes like sea glass, messy brown curls, he wore his usual utilitarian black T-shirt. A smile warmed her heart.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I miss you.”
“Then get that cute butt of yours out here.” After two years in New York, Lucy was thrilled at the thought of being together as a family this week at her ranch in the mountains above Malibu, where she’d grown up after her parents and younger brother died in a car accident. The last several promises Michael had made to join her and Henry at this place, her spiritual home on Earth, he hadn’t kept. But this time it would be different.
She continued, ignoring niggles of fear and disappointment.
“Our son has a long list of to-dos with daddy. Starts with the Santa Barbara Zoo and ends with a new bike without training wheels.” Lucy laughed. “My list is short. I just want you in my bed every night, at my complete beck and call.”
His smile seemed forced. “Sweetheart, we have to talk. Something’s come up.”
Her chest tightened with a disturbing old feeling. “What is it, Michael? Are you okay? Are your, uh, plans changing?” Not again. It couldn’t be.
A long-time news photographer, Lucy’s well-trained eye quickly scanned the digital scene before her. His context would tell the story. The setting was not Michael’s office in Manhattan or their dining room table in Brooklyn. Thick, peeling layers of paint—military green, bone gray, and umber the color of faded blood—provided a grim backdrop. The edge of a chipped Cyrillic-inscribed sign hung in a dark top corner of the frame.
Michael Burleson was not in New York.
He was not on this continent.
He was not coming to the ranch.
“Where the hell are you?” she demanded. “Obviously not packing for your trip to Southern California to see your family. As promised!”
Michael took a deep breath. Lucy knew this was hard for him. She hoped to make it hell.
“Okay, let me explain. Out of nowhere, Jay Levinson, you know, the Bureau Chief—”
? Listen here!
Go deeper into this story in this episode of The Daily Sun-Up podcast.
Hence then, the article about the snake handler s wife a toxic prophecy a relationship rift was published today ( ) and is available on Colorado Sun ( Middle East ) The editorial team at PressBee has edited and verified it, and it may have been modified, fully republished, or quoted. You can read and follow the updates of this news or article from its original source.
Read More Details
Finally We wish PressBee provided you with enough information of ( “The Snake Handler’s Wife”: A toxic prophecy, a relationship rift )
Also on site :
- Aura AI Assistant for Unreal Engine Launches: VR Studio Ships Game in Half the Time with New Agent Capabilities
- Man accused of placing pipe bombs near GOP and Democratic headquarters in Washington to remain in jail pending trial
- Denver Fire Department responds to 3-alarm fire at intersection of Leetsdale Drive and S. Forest Street