Hell's Hollow by Summer Stone

all seemed like nonsense to me. What if one of them had been bitten? Or died from poison? Would that mean the devil was present? That God had condemned or forsaken them? What was the point? If Myra was drinking poison, what did that mean for Zach? Would she expect him to do it, too? What if she was harming him, causing him the pain I sensed? I wondered if something about her beliefs caused her to make him think he was the opposite of divine.
    As the few congregants thanked Bennett, I slipped closer to the wall, hoping not to be seen. Melody McDowell lingered, chatting with him, tossing her hair and waggling her hips. “That was such a lovely service,” she said. “It brings me such peace, such a closeness to God.”
    “I’m glad to hear that,” Bennett said.
    “Maybe we could meet for coffee later to talk some more about how to bring a few more folks in to try it out. It’s so inspiring the way you handle the serpents.”
    “Why thank you,” Bennett replied. “I’d be much obliged.”
    Once she’d gone, Bennett came and sat in my pew.
    “Good mornin’, Seraphina. We appreciate you joinin’ us today.”
    I smiled politely.
    “Perhaps you’re lookin’ to God to retrieve yer voice fer you,” he said.
    I didn’t respond. It didn’t really matter why he thought I was there. I wasn’t even sure myself anymore.
    “I must let you know that I’d need yer mother’s permission before I was to let you join in on the serpent handlin’ or the drinkin’ of the poison.”
    I shook my head intently, not at all interested in joining in on any of that.
    “Just watchin’?” he asked.
    I nodded.
    “Curious about the Lord’s work?”
    I shrugged.
    “Curious about religion? God? The devil?”
    I nodded.
    “Religion is somethin’ you feel in yer heart. If you feel it when you come to my church service, then you know God is speakin’ to you. That’s what brung me here to Hell’s Hollow. I was at a church service back home in beautiful Appalachian country when the Lord spoke to me. He said, ‘Son, there’s folks out there who need to hear My word.’ Travelin’ preachers used to be common, but weren’t so much no more. Still, I told my ma and my daddy I’d received Word and had a Mission. I’d planned to drive clear across the country to the Sodom and Gomorrah of San Francisco. But when I found myself stalled out here in these mountains that reminded me of home in a town calling itself Hell’s Hollow, I knew I’d found my place, knew God had sent me here where His word was needed. I reckon they let me use the church on occasion early on ’cause I never tried to force God’s word on anybody, just shared it with them that wanted to hear. And sure enough our little congregation grew, bit by bit mind you, but grew nonetheless.
    “If our way doesn’t speak to you, look to others. As long as you’re followin’ in the path of God, you’ve got nothin’ to fear. Just like my congregants don’t fear the serpents. Gettin’ led astray, not believin’ in the Lord, now that’s where Satan comes in. But you don’t need to worry about that, do you? Unless o’ course it’s Satan that’s got yer tongue.” He laughed, waved, and left me alone in the church.
    That wasn’t any help at all. I opened a Bible and flipped through. But it wasn’t giving me the answers I was looking for. I walked out to the square and saw Astrid sitting under a tree reading a book on intuition. I sat down beside her.
    “There’s too much gook in your aura,” she said, glancing at me for a moment through the glasses that made her eyes look all big and weird.
    “Do you believe in Satan?” I asked her. She was one of the few in town I usually felt safe talking to, as long as I kept my words few.
    “Satan? That’s some question on a sunny summer afternoon!” She smiled, pushing her glasses up into her frizzy hair. Then she started snatching at the air around me and shaking her hands as if she was trying to shake boogers off of