I am 8 years old. I see a 9 foot viper nearby, ra
I am 8 years old. I see a 9 foot viper nearby, razor sharp fangs gleaming in the sunlight. It slithered closer. Human, why are you here It hissed. I…got lost I whimper. It revealed a line of razor sharp jaws. AHHHHHHHH! I yell. What the fuck? I say. Child, You should not be saying that!! It said in anger. How could you say that, you are just a child It added.
The world was a symphony of buzzing cicadas and rustling leaves. I, eight years old and lost in the heart of the woods, stared at the hulking form before me. Nine feet of muscle and scales, with fangs that gleamed like polished obsidian in the dappled sunlight. It was a viper, the likes of which I’d only seen in dusty books, and it was coiled at the base of an ancient oak, its eyes fixed on me.
“Human,” it hissed, its voice like dry leaves crunching underfoot. “Why are you here?”
Panic knotted my throat. My legs felt like jelly. I whimpered, “I… I got lost.”
It shifted, its scales catching the light in a mesmerizing pattern. Its head lowered, revealing a line of razor-sharp jaws.
“AAAAHHHHH!” I screamed, the primal terror in my voice echoing through the woods.
“What the fuck?” I blurted out, the swear word escaping my lips before I could stop it.
The viper reared back, its yellow eyes narrowed. “Child,” it hissed, its voice laced with anger. “You should not be saying that!”
The sheer audacity of the creature took me aback. “But… but you’re scary!” I stammered, tears welling in my eyes.
“How could you say that?” It boomed, its voice dropping to a guttural rumble. “You are just a child.”
I looked up at the viper, my fear turning to a curious defiance. It was true, I was just a child. But so was it, a creature born into a world far older than I, a world where survival was a constant struggle. Yet, here it was, judging me for a word, while I was trapped in a world of towering trees and unknown dangers.
Suddenly, a new thought struck me. “You don’t scare me,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
The viper seemed to deflate, its anger replaced by a flicker of surprise. It stared at me for a long moment, then, with a slow, deliberate movement, uncoiled and slithered away, disappearing into the undergrowth.
I stood there, alone in the woods, the sun filtering through the leaves, a newfound courage blooming in my chest. The experience left a strange mark on me, a strange understanding. It wasn’t about fear or anger, it was about learning to see the world, and its creatures, through different eyes. It was about understanding that fear, like anger, was just another emotion, and it didn’t have to control us.
As I walked, my legs finding their strength again, I knew I wasn’t lost anymore. I had found something else entirely – a courage that sprang from a strange encounter with a nine-foot viper.
