Chapter 5: The Harvest Grows

At dawn, my mom finally stretched and left.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and shuffled off toward the kitchen. The house was still and gray, the world outside just starting to lighten. I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding.

I rushed into my sister’s room.

The door creaked open, revealing Hannah curled on the bed, motionless. The room smelled faintly of sweat and iron. Sunlight crept through the blinds, striping the bed with pale yellow lines.

She was lying naked on the bed, her face ghostly pale. The white sheets were streaked with blood.

Her skin was almost translucent, her lips bluish, hair fanned out like a shadow. The blood stood out, bright against the faded sheets—a silent accusation.

I called her name a few times before she slowly came around.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she turned toward me, dazed and distant. It took a few tries before she recognized my voice. I held her hand, not knowing what else to do.

I wanted to say something, but before I could, my mom’s shout cut me off.

Her voice sliced through the quiet, shrill and triumphant. I let go of Hannah’s hand, startled, and hurried out to the hallway.

I ran out to see what was happening.

I nearly tripped over my own feet, dashing into the kitchen. The air was thick with excitement—Mom’s kind, anyway.

My mom’s face was flushed with excitement. The barn was crawling with fat, shiny backyard snakes—grouped in threes and fives, even more than before.

She pressed her face to the window, grinning wide. Out back, the barn seemed alive with movement—snakes writhing over each other, their scales catching the morning light. It was a harvest like we’d never seen.