A long time ago, before man came to the world: There was but a lone forest that encompassed the globe. Trees stretched over the vast plains, choking the mountains and strangling the deserts in blossoms of rose and magenta. A rock that scorched and paralyzed the air with thick waves of fire, cooking aromas of tin and ash that whispered over the gorges, close to a small tropical rain-forest. Driven deep into the crust of the Earth, sowed a seed of untold wonder for whispered ages.

Slippery tropic paths swirled past a sand bank that rose like a giant slug and cut its way through the prickly brush of a beach. Under an overhang of loose gravel just far enough away from roaring tides, shaded by three massive palms; lay a calm, docile snake.
It hissed, flicked its tongue with animal instinct to smell out a potential dinner. It wriggled out from the cold stones of its claustrophobic nook, out into a desert breeze sweeping up squalls of sand over the dunes and scrub.
The sun became runny, drooling down the horizon into a colder, more tolerable afternoon.

The snake had failed three times in capturing an allusive hare that grazed not to far from its nook. It thought nothing of it; perhaps tomorrow would favor better odds, it thought. It slithered further out, deeper into unknown feeding grounds.

Food was becoming more scarce, something was taking more than its share. The snake dreaded that. No food, no life; I live to eat, I live to mate.

It came to a small canyon of sorts in the tropic growth. Streams of water gushed, simmering like velvet curtains down from jagged walls, narrowing to a crack of shadow. Bats occasionally fluttered out, flying high up and through a canopy of spiderweb vines high in dark sophisticating branches.
As the snake approached, it felt a sensation it had never had before. A wind crawled through its scales, a clammy wriggling sensation of worms that seeped to its tail. It flicked its tongue, taking notice of the bats, sizing up their potential struggle.

The snake poised itself on the edge to the orifice of shadow, dripping with dew from the misty falls. It licked away its irritation on its snout. Wings launched from the cave, struggling to gain altitude into the afternoon. Teeth closed around a pale shape of gray hair. Fangs flashed, running home to soft tissue. Pathetic squeaks echoed out over the canyon, inciting a plume of leathery wings to struggle out a funnel of stone. Fangs loosened on dinner as it was forcefully blown into the stream below, the small bat flung into the cave. The snake splashed violently, up-righting itself. It hissed in fury, striking at the air.
Another strange sensation snapped down its spine, it bubbled in its muscles, tension coiled in knots that were on the verge of snapping back and striking at anything in reach.
Damn that hare, damn my luck, it screamed in its mind. It looked blank momentarily, staring at the tip of its nostrils for no reason. Why did I do that? I've never done such a thing. Whenever I lose, I get back up go and eat something else. No matter -- I want that bat.

The snake drew further into the darkness, feeling uneasy... Pale squeaks were heard deep in the cave up ahead. It slyly stuck out its tongue and touched the ground gently - licking at something red, metallic in taste. It followed the trail further and further. A cacophony of feelings ran through its mind; sometimes cold, sometimes piping hot that it burned down its sides. It blinked, shook its head and held strong in finding that tantalizing bat. The texture of rough stone suddenly yawned away, giving an impression of a smoother, darker feel - enhancing the darkness that crept around the snake, snuffing out its light as the stone spat obsidian.

A greasy air filled the passage. Wading through mud could of been easier than this clear, eon encompassing darkness. Every inch felt like the snake was being pulled apart, stretched ever further to some needle point out into infinity. Hissing softly to itself, it thought of fleeing, slithering away as swiftly as possible. It could feel something out there, perhaps everywhere; staring at it through the fog - that alone would of made it turn tail and leave now while it still could. However its mind was not its own - its usual straight forward mind run by instincts, was now plagued with images of how it will find its victim; hurt and unwilling to fight, or ready to go all out until its final breath. Questions about what may be beyond this canvas of night, where it could ever end and to what. The snakes instincts was now hinged with uncertainty. That frightened him.

He almost fell head-first over a sudden drop in the darkness. The bats little whines could be heard a fair few feet away, down below. Static sizzled through the air, it rushed down the snakes back, crackling against his scales with violet luminance. Light suddenly bloomed over the drop, hovering inches from the black polished rock. Silence blew a rigid wind that struck the snake firm, freezing it solid.

Red light flared from a crack in the earth, dangling from slippery threads that seemed to burst through the ground. bouquets of tendrils flourished, each their own colour. Some purple, others green; every colour that was imagined in the snakes mind, it was there. They hovered in an alluring way, shimmering in a bowl of sonic blades of light that caressed the circular lip. It was mesmerizing, the way they moved in the faint light. He dared a closer movement, then immediately regretted it as he slid down the greasy bowl and caught it in his diamond eyes. A little bat hung lifelessly with tattered wings on a oily stinger, bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the tendrils. Bulbs pulsed under their diamond tips, engorged with light. A faint pumping noise breathed in the snakes ear, like drinking of water. The bats frail flesh pruned in emerald light. It shook itself free of the hypnotizing lights, asking itself why such craziness was so alluring in the first place.

The snake twisted itself around, catching glimpses of wrinkled leaf litter. No, not litter; bodies! He felt half a dozen drained bat carcasses under his scales, he retorted and writhed in horrified fear and disgust. A stinger lunged in a preemptive strike, trying to catch the snake unawares. It missed, sparking off the obsidian. He coiled around and attempted to flee up the slope. Nothing mattered anymore, I want to live!
A second stinger flew; barely enough skin escaped, but a small nick off of the tail made him strike out in pain. Again needles flew. He managed a third of his slender body to coil up into the exit.
Freedom! He thought.

He felt a terrible tug on his lower body. A fierce pain jabbed down hard then dragged him back out from the hole. He screamed in clouds of spit, trying to contort his body in such a way that he'll become wedged. No such luck, as he was flung from the hole and back to the show of deathly lights. He reeled back as his vision was filled with stingers manifesting from the crypt floors. He felt something in the back of his mind. Something familiar, solid. He wrapped himself up in the emotion and rode its current. Fangs flashed in a rainbow of slow-motion blurs, as the tendrils splashed violently in the air. He struck with ferocity, muscles burning, his dying lunges each as if his last. He felt a clump of tendrils fill his mouth, drowning his mouth with the tastes of oil and bile. He was flung against the ground, the stinger freed from his flesh. He fled up the cold path, avoiding the mad slashing of the stingers as best he could.

Deeper and deeper he slithered, desperate to find an exit. The grease slowly washed away, rough familiar textures of jagged stones were felt under anxious scales. Fresh air could be felt on his dazing forked tongue. He rocketed out of the cave entrance under the bodies of a handful of brave winged returners, that spun around in irritated circles as he plopped into the shallow stream and sped off under the pursuit of stars.

In his claustrophobic cave, under those familiar three palms he always sees when he comes home, he felt slightly at ease. He hissed to himself in a gentle tone that could be imagined as sobbing, glad to be alive, glad to still live another day. He coiled himself up and drifted off into sleep. When he awoke the next morning, he crawled out from his cave like he always did. A gentle rustle in the brush, the hare emerged, combing ears with its paws. The snake looked over towards the hare and stretched the edges of its mouth, exposing razor teeth, like a smile.