Doug Donnan

Doug Donnan
Doug Donnan

Saturday, November 14, 2015

La Serpiente Gigante de las Sonora

Doug Donnan
Executive Editor/OM-GEN+
donnan.doug@yahoo.com



















"La Serpiente Gigante de las Sonora "


by

Doug Donnan



                           [ Circa 1850 // Mexico // Sonora Desert ]


"Now you just tell me again what kinda damn snake coulda left a trail as wide
as 'that' Ramirez," Botweiler asked as he stared down low into the scrub and sand
just there betwixt the slightly shuffling hooves of their pair of tired painted ponys.
"That there's about as wide as my damn upper thigh leg!"  

"Well, I can't really say, pero it is muy grande that's for sure," from Ramirez as
he removed his weathered, circuitous straw sombrero and wiped at his forehead
with a raggedy blue bandana. "One thing's for sure, if it's a rattler of some kind,
it would give off a shaking, cuidado signal that would probably sound like some
muy grande sized fiesta castanets!"

"Yeh... some party it would be with 'that' damn thing slithering all around and about,"
Botweiler replied with a puckered exhalation.

"The sun is going down fast. We better start thinking about a camping place out here
somewhere. There seems to be a bueno amount of tumbleweed scraps and brush all
around here. Perhaps this would be a bien spot. Maybe just beneath that sandstone
ledge over there," Ramirez tried as he pointed off in the distance at a cairn-like pile
of massive rocks and boulders.

Botweiler looked off at the jutting yellowstone structure and then down again at the
wide and winding snake trail. He shrugged his narrow shoulders and spat a dark gob
of something at a tiny, skittering sand lizard as it raced by. "I don't know amigo, but
I know that you're right about the sun and the possibilities of success out here are
about as inviting as we're gonna' come across, campin' wise, I mean."

So, at that, the two sadddle tramps tickle-spurred their horses on and over the deep
and daunting snake rut road and made off for the Ramirez rocky overhang. Botweiler
managed to sneak one final peak over his right shoulder as they made their sluggish,
trotting departure. He shook his head in dismay and wonder.


                                             *     *     *


                                          [ Approximately 1 hour later ]


"Well amigo I guess we didn't do too bad with this here spot of yours," Botweiler
declared softly from his de-saddled position just there by the spit and glow of their
warming, tinder box campfire. He took more than just a nip from their little brown
jug of 'trail mix'. "I'm as tired as a damn Tombstone gravedigger," he sighed into
the flickering flames. "I'm done... I'm gonna call it a night."

"Si amigo me too," from the hand-rolled, pouch and poke tobbacco smoking
Ramirez. "I'm going to turn in after I finish my smoke aqui. Buenos noches Botweiler."

"Okay," from the stretching and yawning Botweiler as he unrolled his multi-hued
Mexican trail blanket, "Good night to you too ol' buddy. Wake me if you see or hear
anything out there tonight... comprende?"

"Muy bien amigo," Ramirez sighed as he squinted a look up at the indifferent, winking
silver sickle of midnight moon.


                                               *     *     *


                                              [ Midnight... and beyond ]


Botweiler rolled out of the loose hug and suppleness of his warm leather saddle, then
silently erected himself with a deep yawn and some belly scratches. He tamped off into
the night to take a nagging pee. He never returned.

Ramirez tossed and turned, somehow, for some unknown reason, unsettled, awakened
now alongside the dying, burnt orange embers of their thin desert prickly stick and scrub
campfire. He bolted upright, erect from his smooth leather concave saddle-pillow. His
black eyes wide,owl-like, he crouched low and tried to focus on the rocky shadows all
around him. He stared off into the night for his seemingly now missing in action trail
partner Botweiler.

"Oye amigo! Donde esta?" he whisper-shouted across the embers as if he was afraid
to disturb someone or some thing.

There was no answer.

"Oye Botweiler mi amigo...  lo que esta pasado?"

Nada otra vez... no response or sound, save for the desert breeze as it passed around
the shadowed rocks above and past the giant you're-under-arrest angle armed saguaro
cactuses. all around and about them.

Ramirez, with a combination of both impulse and fear, decided to fish around for his
pistol inside the tossed and wrinkled folds of his bedroll. He erected himself, slowly,
grabbed a scorching orange tipped stick from the center of the campfire to use as a
makeshift lantern and crouched away, pistol pointing forward, like a man entering
some long forgotten mine or dark forbidden cave.

Only moments later...

As he gingerly paced forward, he passed his glow stick just above the parched sand of
the desert floor. There was the deep serpentine trail, again, snaking off into the night,
just out ahead of him.  

"Madre de Dios!" Ramirez whispered in shocked, foreboding surprise as he whipped a
hurried sign of  the cross just out in front of shadowed face with the long, blue-black
barrel of his Colt revolver.

There in the center of the stretching rut road, overturned and blood-stained, lay
Botweiler's tan Stetson hat. Off in the pitch black distance of the indifferent desert he
was certain that he could make out the feint sound... spasmodically clicking, vibrating
with ravenous excitement...  castanets.



                                                      ___ The End ___

*This poem is the compadre to my latest
western/horror story with the same name: 


"La Serpiente Gigante de las Sonora"


by


Doug Donnan


As if in some cold scary nightmare or in some really bad ol' dream,
there's a slithering creature out there, some do say reigns supreme.

Some have sure seen its slick trail, some its damn ol' sheddin' skin,
it's somewheres way off in Sonora, ifn' there you ain't never been.

It has been called el Diablo around many an ol' midnight campfire,
others say ain't no sucha thing, they'll jist call you a damn fool liar.

Maybe it's jist a damn ol' trail tale, hell maybe it's all really true,
but if you put all your hot damn cards on the table, that's simply...
jist up to you.

Cuidado! mi amigos y vaya con Dios... do you now comprende-vu?



___ Adios! ___

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