Doom Town: The Snake Goddess Episode I: Doom Town: The Snake Goddess, #1

By Guthrie Taylor

All he wanted was a cup of coffee. Instead, Luke Bishop found the young woman who would introduce him to Eastern mysticism. Soon he's meditating and chanting, a devoted member of the Order of Manasa. But who is this Snake Goddess, and what does she ask of her followers?

Doom Town: The Snake Goddess Episode I is a 6,800 word story, the first installment in a horror/fantasy serial.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chimneyfish Publishing
• Release date: Sep 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215746929

Book preview

Doom Town: The Snake Goddess Episode I

Doom Town: The Snake Goddess, Volume 1

Guthrie Taylor

Published by Chimneyfish Publishing, 2022.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

DOOM TOWN: THE SNAKE GODDESS EPISODE I

First edition. September 22, 2022.

Copyright © 2022 Guthrie Taylor.

ISBN: 979-8215746929

Written by Guthrie Taylor.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Doom Town: The Snake Goddess Episode I

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On the first day of my second year of college, I skipped my morning class. Not because I was hungover. I mean, yes, I was definitely hungover. Steve and Lisa and Darcy had kept me out too late the night before, and we’d closed Oar’s down again. But it wasn’t so bad. I’d had worse. A few sips of Pepsi, ice cold and straight out of the two-liter I kept in the fridge, and my first cigarette of the day and I was in good shape. I’d make it through. I always did.

I left early that morning to get an Americano at the Shrieking Toad. I’d gone there for my morning coffee at least three times a week last semester. I liked all the baristas, and they knew me there. They were always playing bands like The Clash or Mudhoney or Dead Moon, even at 8:00 in the morning. It was my kind of place.

I’d had no reason to go over summer break, though, even though it was only three blocks away from my apartment. I had no assignments, no papers to write, and it was cheaper to make coffee at home. So I didn’t know it had closed.

There was a sign I’d never seen before: BhaktiKala. It was sitting on the ground outside the cafe, waiting to be hung up. It looked handmade. The letters grew out of a lotus flower with red, orange, and purple petals. Snakes wrapped around the frame. I could tell the words were Sanskrit, but I’d never seen them put together like that.