R.S. Williams

All I want is to get the words right.

Snake Bones

By the front steps, I discovered the remains of a small snake, decomposed beyond the point of species identification. One of the outdoor cats probably killed and brought it to the front of the house, an offering to the human who feeds them. Or perhaps it was instruction in how to hunt: “See? This is what you do. Start small, and work up.”

Tiny ribs protrude from the delicate spine, barely larger than hairs; the jaw still opens in a last threatening hiss. An omen? Impossible to say. The surprise of horrible beauty stays with me just the same.

Photo: “Snake Skeleton, Sept. 2013”

© R.S. Williams (all rights reserved)

 

3 Comments

  1. My grandmother was a hardcore Texan and used to give me gifts like snakeskin and scorpions in amber. Perhaps this goes a way to explaining my love of the macabre.

    Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

    Love this shot and the potential kitty instruction.

  2. Completely badass.

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