As the scattered fireworks sparkled and faded, some of the explosions of color morphed into smiley face emojis, leaving ghostly smoke trails. Everyone's attention shifted downward into the murk, and we all wanted to know what the unidentified slippery thing in the goo pile was. Suddenly, one brave boy decided that he would pick up the mass of slime based on the collective peer pressure mounting. He used both hands to locate it and quickly lifted it up as if he were performing a ritual. My body jolted away reflexively, but I didn’t– or couldn't– look away. I could see a slithering outline that could only be a snake. The dangling creatures defined jawline and thin body swung like a pendulum from the gooey muck until the boy chucked it deeper into the water, and my cousin and I shrieked as it splashed. Excited chatter about the mysterious serpent crackled, lit by flickering, spewing roman candles along the shore and the continuing fireworks in the sky, for around five minutes until the onlookers tired of the conversation. Shouldn't we all have been more concerned about the submerged broken beer bottle pieces and environmental contaminants than perceived threats from the local flora and fauna? Eventually, all of us went back into the water, except me. All of us forgot about the snake, except me. I still to this day have one thought insistently creeping back: dead or alive? Nobody knows, as snakes–and my childhood memories–drift away into the lake.
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