Magic and Mischief at the Wayside Hotel

Glistening scales appeared a dull silver and black in the wan moonlight.

Josie stood unmoving in a darkened bedroom, the draft from a warped window casing bumping up against her chest. The window stood about three feet from a thick mat made of cotton or linen—difficult to see in the dark—upon which a serpent sat.

The sensation of cold and the sweet scent of rot almost tricked Josie’s brain into thinking this was real, but when she cataloged the size of the creature and the fact that the walls of the room were carved of sandstone, she understood it was a dream and she faced something much grander than a snake.

Josie wore a long pink flannel nightgown with tiny bluebonnets embroidered at the neckline. It had been her momma’s, and in real life, Josie had never worn it. Instead, she’d kept it in a plastic bag in the back of her closet to preserve her momma’s smell.