The Blood Red Glaring Eyes

by Naomi Murphy / Mar 13, 2015 / 0 comments

When I walked into view - and saw the square - the centre of Marrakesh - I knew at once how much I was going to love it. I walked further in and listened to the crowd cheering the dancing snakes. They hissed and glared and slithered along, showing off their beautiful scaly tales. They showed off their shining fangs, which reminded me of pure white snow.


The Blood Red Glaring Eyes. Original art and story by Naomi Murphy


Smoking meat gave the air a weird smell that made me cough and gave me tickles down my throat. I watched the stars bounce across the dark blue clear and starry night, whose eyes twinkled as purely as the sun.

I skipped along to the fresh sour juices store and bought a freshly squeezed lime juice. The pure liquid washed off my smoky cough and ran away with my tickles. I danced along to the heavy, booming beats that filled the air with excitement and thrill. I twirled and moved my hands in the air, trying to reach for the smiling moon.

I ran over to meet my Mum, whose feet danced beyond a tour group of sweating travellers. I focused on her dancing feet (which wore shoes that sparkled like pure blood) so that I wouldn’t lose her. What I didn’t see was the glaring blood red eyes of a hissing slithery snake. Its gigantic fangs dug into my soft ankle as I unwittingly stepped on its scaly, coal-black thin slice of body. With that, I fell down and hit my unstable head on the packed, solid ground; everything went fuzzy, my mind went blank, the cheers faded and the booming beats turned into tiptoeing footsteps. My sight went… surprisingly, white!

I lifted my head up out of the light freezing snow to look at a view of Swiss mountain peaks. The spiky enormous pieces of rock looked like little sweet cupcakes smothered with vanilla icing, and the trees reminded me of lollypops planted on top. A clear sky covered the countryside like a gentle wave of ocean, and the sun dripped out of it like pure gold.

I got to my feet, put on my colourful skis, and zoomed down the mountain slope, flying over bumps and skidding past the other skiers. I was having the time of my life!

I then started to remember; I thought about the blood red eyes and saw the thin coal black slice of body and oh no, there came the shining fangs. I pictured the swaying dancers, and the tiptoeing footsteps got louder and louder; they turned into a group of marching soldiers until BOOM, the drums arrived… the booming beats. My mind was ready to awaken.

I opened my eyes to the sound of a familiar voice calling my name and to the feeling of Mum’s dry and comforting hands stroking my forehead. She got me sitting up, helped me take a few long breaths, and because mine had tipped over, gently passed me her fresh and sour juice. It washed cleanly down my throat. I felt my mind clear again and I bandaged my swollen, bitten ankle with Mum’s colourful scarf, while watching the smiling dancers go on.



Hi, I’m Naomi and I’m 11 years old and moved to New York with my family in January. I love writing stories and adore poetry. I publish them on my blog, which is called The Travels of My Mind. I have also self-published my poetry and stories in hard copy on



Original art courtesy and copyright Naomi Murphy