Snake Tales is a blog of short fiction whose narrator, “Snake” Marchand, is a denizen of the neighborhood he writes about, Morgan Street and environs. He is its historian of record, its unofficial conscience, and allergic to capital letters. He’s tall, thin, middle-aged, and has no life of his own – hence, his concentration on everyone else’s. He drinks too much, is addicted to gossip, and as gullible as a 4-year-old. He believes everything people tell him.

Which has its good points. For one thing, because he’ll believe them people tell him things they wouldn’t tell their closest friends. For another, he’s welcome everywhere he goes. People are glad to see him because he listens, and who does that any more?

Mostly, Snake is a writing exercise, a way to blow out the jams and forget about proper style, etiquette, and paragraphing. Many of the stories are based on real people or events and the rest are things you wish would happen. The story of blind pierre’s fiddle, for example, is true. It actually happened. Fergus the leprechaun, however, does not exist.

At least, I don’t think so.


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