#WriteHere Prompt Week 4 | Them Not Me | Prose Poem
The Snake and the Kelpie
She knew I knew what she was
It was the tongue that gave her away. The quick flick of pink. Swiping the corner of her mouth. Mid-sentence. There it was. Flick-swipe. And again. Flick-swipe. A facial tic or a snake? Either way, most distracting. High alert.
She was new to her job. An unknown quantity. I was the trusty, long-time, hard-working kelpie taking care of the extra-care lambs. We were meant to work as a team. I needed her to do her job well so I could get on doing mine. I went out of my way to coach, teach and train. She had no clue of what she was doing. Nor did she care. And she knew it. The snake knew it.
I hate snakes.
Snakes can’t be trusted. They slither and slide. They’re cold-blooded reptiles. No feelings. No remorse. Flick-swipe.
She knew how to charm. The snake charming the snake charmer. The one holding the strings to the purse and the key to the manor. She knew how to slither her way in. She had them all fooled. Flick-swipe. Her fangs in my neck if I was ever a threat. To her, I was always a threat. Flick-swipe.
I kept my guard up. Never let her out of my sight. Did whatever she bid. She had me running in circles. I was running rings around her. The kelpie corralling the snake. She didn’t like it when I made her look bad. She knew I knew what she was.
It didn’t take long for her to do what snakes do. She slid out of her skin. Shed it by the side of the road. Found another. A golden wolf if you please. One with the arrogance and disdain of an asp. She took control of her tongue but not of her bite. What’s a wolf — or an asp — without a bite?
And OMG could she bite. She did it with ease. Again and again. A wolf among sheep. She loved the taste of tender, raw meat. She ran amok in my flock. There was no stopping her. She buddied up with the bull and a scorpion from down yonder and together they took over the joint.
It was too much for me. I packed up my gear and left while I still could.
The last I saw of her, she had a smirk on her face. A toss of her coiffured, fake, golden mane. Flick-swipe. She was off. My poor lambs, beware. The wolf’s dressed to the nines in sheep’s clothing.
© Carolyn Hastings 2021
I wrote this prose poem in response to Jolie A. Doggett’s Week 4 writing prompt — When did you first realize it wasn’t you, it was them?
My plan had been to submit a different poem, but this story begged to be written. I’m not entirely sure it was what Jolie was thinking when she set the prompt but, hey, here it is! After the week I’ve had, I’m surprised I could write anything. 🙏
Toxic Workplaces
Toxic workplaces, to the detriment of so many, have become increasingly commonplace over recent years. I learned the hard way that I do not deal with narcissists and malignant incompetence very well. This particular workplace experience left me with a psychological injury which has taken several years to recover from.
I knew soon after the wolf-snake arrived on the scene that she was trouble. I’d been working there as a consultant speech pathologist for 13 years. I loved my work. I loved the kids and the families I worked with. I like to think I made a difference to their lives. I think I did. It was because of them that I stuck it out for another 14 months. I hated leaving them. I felt like I was abandoning them. Throwing them to the wolf. But I had no choice. There’s only so many wolf bites a kelpie can endure. I was forced to do something that was quite foreign to me. I had to look after myself.
A kelpie, by the way, is a hard-working Australian farm dog renowned for mustering sheep with little supervision.
Thank you, Jolie, for setting this prompt. It’s a relief to drag this story out into the open. I don’t really care if no one reads it. It’s been good for me just to let it go. 🙏
Find out more about this prompt and others in Creators Hub’s Week 4 creative writing prompts right here –
Thank you ever so much for reading. 🙏 💕
