Snakes scare the crap out of me. Even looking at photos of them makes the hairs on my skin stand on end. So I question why my mind conjured up an image of a snake to illustrate the word ‘long’, which is today’s InkTober prompt. I’m not sure why they scare me so much, considering most snakes are harmless. Maybe it’s because as far back as I can remember, in movies, even in documentaries and television series, it’s usually the most deadly snakes shown. Typically, there are scenes wherein after being bitten by a snake (rattlesnake, cobra, black mamba, copperhead, or water moccasin) there’s always alarm and frenzied activity to search for an anti-venom to save a person’s life. So why wouldn’t I have this irrational fear?

In my lifetime, I’ve only seen snakes up close a few times – not counting those in zoo enclosures. The two incidents that stand out most in my mind were thankfully uneventful, but I still remember my over the top reactions. The first time was years ago, while vacationing in Miami and spending time in South Beach, which was not someplace I would have expected to run into a snake. We were walking along the main street and came upon a street performer whose entire act was having an albino python wrap itself around his neck, shoulders and upper body. When I first saw it I didn’t think it was real because the colour looked unnatural as it was almost a pale neon green-yellow.

The snake’s handler and I assume owner, talked to people as they walked along the sidewalk trying to convince them to take the snake from him and allow it to slither across their shoulders. There was a fee for that, which to me seemed insane to pay to have something cold and scaly move across one’s skin. He also charged a fee if passersby wanted to take a picture with him and that huge neon snake. When I finally realized it was real, I wanted to run to the other side of the street to get as far away from it as possible. I don’t remember anyone I was with taking a photo with or touching the snake but the image of its long scaly body hanging from its owner’s shoulders is burned vividly on my brain.

My next encounter with a snake was in a parking lot. I was out running errands one day and when I got out of my car and walked toward the building where I’d gone to pick up something, I saw a small group of people transfixed by an object on the paved ground. As I got closer, the long thin object moved and a few of the people became hysterical. When I saw it was a snake I stopped walking and froze on the spot where I stood. I could not move as I watched it slither around. I’m not sure how long I stood there contemplating what to do: should I get back in my car and drive away or should I wait for the snake to slither away so I could finish what I had come to do?

It turned out that I didn’t have to decide. A security guard had called animal control or some other organization – apparently the snake had been there for quite some time before I arrived –, and they showed up not long after my body and brain failed me. The animal control person pulled out a hooked pole and guided the snake into some sort of bag or net. He claimed whatever breed of snake it was it was harmless and based on its size was a baby, and not an abnormally long grass snake as someone in the crowd had speculated. Whichever it was, I was happy to see it scooped up and taken away so I could get on with my day.

So poisonous or not, long or short snakes scare me to the point of making me want to run away or become instantly paralyzed by fear. But it seems that drawing them doesn’t have much of an effect on me.