Lisa and the Light Pt. 12

An old woman with grey skin, sickly, almost deathly almost decayed almost dead, skin, replaced the party and with it went the warmth, the revelry, the revelers, the wine, the food, the couches, the harps, the sheets, the fun, the joy. In its place was snow and an old gray woman, her face shrouded like the revelers.

The woman reached out a hand to help Lisa up, and she hesitated. So much couldn't be trusted, the monsters earlier had rampaged, but then fled; the kind woman who gave her boots and brad had lost a child; and this party was not a party, but a woman. Lisa had almost convinced herself this was not a dream, the pain in her side, the exhaustion, the tears on her face when she admitted the unadmittable - it must all be real, but all together it couldn't be.

The woman reached out a hand to help Lisa up, and she hesitated before grasping it and anchoring herself to its surprising weight, the rest of her gliding up with it until she was standing up, her eyes meeting to ghostly shadows behind the woman's veil.

"Where did everyone go?" Lisa asked, her voice hoarse.
"They retreated from your admission," the woman replied, "you scared them off."
"I don't know if I wanted them to go away," said Lisa, "I was enjoying myself."

The woman's voice seemed to belie a smile as she replied, "That wasn't your choice to make. Where are you going my child."

"I don't know," Lisa replied, "I'm not even sure how I got here, I'm not even sure if this is real. I probably just need to wake up."
"Then wake up," said the woman, "what's stopping you?"
"Well I can't just wake myself up, that's not how it works," said Lisa, "and I'm not even sure that's how it works."

The woman sat down a stump, and began to pick her nails, obviously bored with the situation, "Then how does it work? You seem to know a lot about it for a person who doesn't know where they're going."

"I don't know, I guess. Fall, maybe, I've seen that before in movies, and I mean you hear about it too, people always wake up when their falling."
"Then fall," said the woman, "but maybe, fall towards something."
"Did you cause the party to appear, did you like summon them or some other weird magical dream thing? I wouldn't need to fall if I could just feel like they made me feel again."
"It was me and I am them," she said, "and you changed us o this when you scared me off with your unfortunate truths."
"Well you don't have to get bitchy, its not my fault you get weirded out by what people say," said Lisa before thinking, though the woman didn't seem offended.

The silence settled between them, and though the old woman only continued to pick at her grey skin, Lisa became quickly unnerved. She had to do something, she couldn't wait for something to happen, she had to walk, or jump, or fall or fight there had to be another part of this dream before she woke up.

"There is," said the woman, "you have to head towards the castle and find that woman's child and bring it back to her. Of course its being guarded by monsters and an evil sorcerer, but you can handle that, or maybe you can't."

"How do you know I have to do any of that, how did you know"
"What you were thinking? So predictable, so understandable, and so easy to see. I'm surprised you didn't see it for yourself young mother. You are on an adventure."
"And if I don't want to be you old bean bag?"
"Then you'll die here, from exposure, and hunger, or something else I guess. Perhaps the wolves will get you."
"I don't want that,"
"You don't get a say. You get to fall."

And Lisa thought for a second, but then couldn't think anymore.
"So what direction do I fall? Where the hell is this castle?"
And the old woman showed her the way.

Lisa and the Light pt. 11

Men and women frolicked and drank, they swayed and danced to a tune delicately finding its way from a harp to the ears and feet of all those in the clearing. All cups were full and sloshing, a deep violet wine that stained the grass and the white cloth which shrouded the figures faces but left their gleaming torsos bare.

But Lisa wasn't sure they were men and women, not exactly, their tanned skin gleamed in a way she found unnerving and alluring, and the shape and flexibility of their limbs and torsos was ever so slightly off, like a funhouse mirror, the reflection warping them. And how had she not heard the music, she had approached slowly and while the tinkling of the harp was soft, it was intoxicating; and where was the snow.

One of the revelers noticed her and pulled her over, into a dance, grabbing her by the hand and leading her through steps. Lisa found herself following nervously and the laughing as she lost herself to the movement. Her legs gave out from underneath her, with joy and happiness. A crashing laughter that left her breathless, when had she last laughed this hard, closed her eyes and sent out slow crawling tears.

A woman was with her then, a braid of gray hair and a hint of breast the only indication of her person, the cloth over her face was sheer, and yet the features of the visitor were vague. The woman cradled Lisa's head in her lap and stroked her hair as the laugh died into giggles and resurrected themselves as a contended smiling silence. She wondered when she last had been held like this, her mother had always been so cold.

"You seem so happy to be here," said the woman, her accent thick and unrecognizable, but welcoming and soft, "you were lost."

It wasn't a question, and yet Lisa nodded her head and then turned to hide her eyes in the woman's skirt. Why had she ever come here in the first place, she couldn't remember, and yet she was so happy she had come. Parties usually meant getting felt up, getting into fights, and running before the cops dragged you away. But this was perfect, this was calming and fun, and look how calm she was and how sweet this old woman.

"You don't have to ever return, you can stay here with us, and revel and rest," and Lisa considered the offer and found it perfect.
"What do I have to do?" Lisa asked.
The woman gestured and a silver cup of violet wine appeared in her hand, she propped Lisa up on her knee and put the cup to her lips, the sweet smell almost masking the scent of strong alcohol.

"I can't drink this," admitted Lisa, indignation rising in her voice, memories coming back to her again of running away from her mother, of the argument and the slamming doors, and the life growing inside her.

The Latest Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 10

The arrows stopped.

It was an odd realization, but there it was: the arrows stopped. These were no gun-wielding thugs, this wasn't a drive-by. This was a battle to the death or retreat, and Lisa had won. The hammer hung lazily from her hand and its glow faded. Snowflakes had made their way through the canopy falling lightly on its metal head. 

Lisa pressed onward through the forest, with her sense ever so slightly more attuned, more aware for another ambush of knife-toothed monsters, of arrows and cleavers and near death and destruction. Had she enjoyed the rush of battle, she dare not ask  herself, not really. Like the danger she had met before in her neighborhood, the danger that came from living in poverty and sin, she was filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement and like before it did not fade. Lisa knew from experience the process of coming down from the natural high could take hours, and in the meantime she was happy for its urges. Keep going, keep looking, fix the problem, don't think about how one arrow missed you only by a few inches, don't think about the stains on the weapon, they must have been blood. Keep going, you have to be safe, keep going, the arrows have stopped. 

The forest path opened into a learning and her boots found no snow there to protect her swollen and abused feet from. In the middle of the clearing was not more enemies, more monsters, more sharp-toothed demons as her heart was sure there would be as soon as the light from above no longer hit the canopy and made clear what was in the clearing. Clear and distinct in front of her was somethign she knew well: a party. 

Exceedingly Late Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 9

The first figure she was able to spot came at Lisa with inhuman speed. Its green face filled with sharp yellow teeth, a rusty cleaver between its misshapen paws, it lunged at her chest and tried to drive the metal into her heart.

Lisa would not have it.

Shoulder down, she deflected the blow off her armor. The creature didn't seem to have much weight and was easily deflected. Her arm guided the glowing hammer around tot he creatures ribs and it barely dodged out of the way. It stared her down as it found solid ground, the red eyes of it maniacal, lustful, passionate. It wanted her. The sharp teeth and the cleaver made it clear. It wanted to eat her. Lisa's gut twisted as she made the realization, as the adrenaline met with clarity of mind in a cocktail of offensive self-defense. Like knowing she had to end a relationship, the same gut crushing feeling, she knew she had to kill this creature, this monster.

Lisa didn't mind the thought.

Another arrow from something in the trees, a flash of more yellow teeth of bloody red eyes of malice and madness, Lisa thought she saw it all. The missile hit her shield and stuck out from it, laughter sounded from her adversaries, the unseen and the one before her and then the beast was on her again, its cleaver swiping low. Lisa dodged the attack, though she was growing tired, she had to end this soon before she made a mistake before she was stuck dead in this dream world. As the creature picked itself up off the ground she maneuvered the weight of the hammer into the air above the monster and let its weight crash over its head. It didn't move in time, she didn't know why it didn't, she didn't know if it was stunned from missing or lost in a rage, or if luck was on her side. But as the weight made contact Lisa heard a distinct crack the sounded through the surrounding trees and the creature fell to the ground.

Belated Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 8

Oh man, I don't know why I skipped it. I was even on spring break. I think I'm sick of Lisa. I'm sick of her story. I got too used to writing novels and now I can't tell something quick and exciting. I'll have to work on that. However, it is good to know my skills at making a story last longer have improved. 

Lisa would've liked to imagine a world where she hadn't ever been shot at. It would be a much nicer home, a much nicer neighborhood, a much nicer life. In this world she is safe, she has plenty of food and friends, it is never too warm or humid, and everyone loves her. She left that home on accident and came to a new one, but even here she is shot at, even here she is in danger, perhaps far more pressing.

When she had been shot at before it was only a drive by, meant to scare, meant to frighten, terrorists in your backyard. She was walking to the store with her friends, barefoot again, in shorts again, skipping school and looking for trouble. The black car spun around the corner, the afternoon sun shining off its slick paint, a man leaned out the car, his face covered, and released a spray of bullets. She grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her down to the street instinctively. It was instinct, it was saving your best friend who held you when your mom beat you, who trash talked the other girls, who skipped school with you to get ice cream. They were safe and Lisa swore she was a hero, for a moment. Her friend never forgot it either, but that was a year ago and they had a fight since then. Saving you life doesn't save a friendship. Not always.

Yet Lisa remembered the rush of fear, of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the instinct. It was here again and part of her hated it. She accidentally finds a new world, maybe only a dream world, but a new world for now at least, only to have it turn into a nightmare the events and terrors echoing those she left behind.

She turned then, she spun around, she felt the weight of her hammer turn with her and the head of it burst into flame. A solid white flame the licked at the snow falling but didn't melt it. She would not run anymore.

Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 7

Jesus, really? Part 7? This is what I get for writing an organic story, and not doing just flash fiction like I planned. I promise as soon as this one is done, I'll start doing quicker and catchier things. I don't know who I am promising this too. Myself? 

Lisa chewed a handful of nuts and dried fruit, raisins and were they apricots?, as her ill-fitted boots crunched a pattern on the freshly fallen snow. A few flakes still fell, and she stopped to catch a few on her tongue. Snow seemed wonderful and even perfect. It's white dandruff surrounding her as she approached the overhang of the canopy. The trees were, well she didn't know what kind of trees they were. They were tall and thin, that was certain, and green still so must be some kind of evergreen. The word deciduous rose like a cork to the op of her mind, but she had a feeling it was wrong.

Her mind was oddly still, and she wondered why she wasn't more worried. Where was her anxiety? She only felt wonderment, not a horrible feeling at all, but surprising.

The tree cast shadows over her skin, dappling her, reminding her of the forest she entered what seemed like days ago when she ran from her mother. How dumb she had been, in retrospect, to run into an unknown wilderness. She was likely lying on the ground, in a comma, and this was her dream. She was actually waiting on an ambulance, her mother kneeling next her body, crying, feeling ashamed. It was a nice picture though she wasn't sure about her mother's emotions being that apologetic.

She considered her mother's actions, trying to will some form of honest emotion came, and then heard a snap two feet from her. She turned quickly to see an arrow protruding from a nearby tree. Lisa's hammer slipped into her hand without her noticing and she began to sprint adrenaline carrying her through the woods. Who the hell was shooting at her?

Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 6

The old woman crinkled her face and kept knitting, refusing to answer Lisa's question. Lisa didn't mind, she was still focused on getting warm. A silence sat between them until the old woman got up, went into a bedroom and came out again with a pair of boots and sturdy socks. She handed them to Lisa before returning to her chair. Lisa accepted them gratefully and slipped them on while the old woman started to hum to herself. The shoes were worn in and too big, but they would keep her feet warm. However she hoped she wouldn't have to wear them long enough to get blisters.

"My son was dragged off into the woods years ago," she said, "on this very day. Before you came, I thought I heard him calling to me. It's been twenty or so years though, so I know he could never come back."
"Did you go looking for him, when he disappeared?"
"No one goes into those woods, miss, not anymore. They are haunted. We just assumed he ran away, or a goblin got him."
"I'll go look for him,"
"And why would you do that? Its been years since he's been gone young miss, decades, there is no way he is still out there, and the woods might get you."
"I have to do something. I pop up here with these weapons and this armor in front of your cabin. You said it might be magic, well magic has to be god for something. This is the only clue I have."
"I think it's foolish, but I won't stop you."
"It's really dumb. I know. I can't just sit here though, waiting to get back. I have to do something. And I'm still ninety percent sure that this is a dream."

The old woman did not try to stop her, and only nodded when Lisa thanked her for the gift of the shoes. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when she looked at the woods a mile away she saw no reason to fear them. Vultures didn't ride the winds above the trees, and the howls of wolves didn't project from it. It didn't look like a Disney caricature from one of their European films. It was only a group of evergreens. And she walked towards it feeling, as the old woman put it, foolish.

Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 5

Lisa attempted to repack the gear, but it doesn't fit as snugly as it did when it appeared in front of her. She wasn't sure whether to feel grateful for getting something free, she never got anything free, or if she should be freaked out about her several teleportations with no obvious way of returning. Knocking on the door of the cottage that seemed her next fated step, Lisa considered if this was a dream, but no dream could be so cold.

An gray haired and pruned woman answered the door, exposing the scene of what Lis imagined Amish country looked like. The old woman wore a simple wool dress and shawl over that, and she towered over Lisa. The last thing Lisa was able to take in before distracted by the woman's words were the tears in her eyes. 

"Can I help you?" the old woman asked. 

"It's very cold out here, and I don't know how I got here, could you let me in for a minute to warm up?"

"Of course dear," and she moved to the side to let her in, Lisa brushing past her to crowd herself around a hearth on the far side of the room. 

The old woman stooped next to Lisa and placed a kettle over the fire. 

"I'd usually make a visitor take off their shoes before coming in, but I see I don't have to do that this time."

"I wasn't expecting it to be so cold," said Lisa, "do you know where we are?"

"We're right on the edge of the Cauliford Forest, I think we're currently under the fealty of the City of Sorcie, but that seems to change constantly. How did you find your way here?"

That confired it then, thought Lisa, this is no real place. City States? Forest names she could barely repreat? This wasn't real, this was a dream, or perhaps drugs, had she accidently eaten mushrooms, had she even run away from her mother? Lisa sat cross-legged as she thought and the woman found a rocking chair, addressing her knitting for the day while she waited on her traveler. 

"I walked through a beam of light, in a forest much different than this one, and I picked up a hammer in a chapel, and now I'm here. Does that make any sense to you?"

The woman continued to rock, "None at all I'm afraid, but then many things haven't made much sense to me recently. It sounds like magic though."

Magic. Ridiculous. There were no witches or wizards, and even if there were she was sure they wouldn't bother with a white trash like her. Though everything did look like Peter Jackson directed a Disney film. No, hard stop, magic was ridiculous. This was a dream, just a fantastical one. Lisa tried to will herself awake several times, including my touching a cinder, but nothing helped. If this was a trip or dream, what was the use in spending it cooked up in this old womans house? Maybe it was a vision, and she had to go on a journey to finish it out. That sounded ridiculous, but less ridiculous and at least as much fun as everything else. Lisa realized she had to find her road, her quest and so she asked her hostess a question. 

"Why were you crying when you answered the door?"

Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 4

Oh, Sovereign Host, this story is terrible. I just finished rereading last weeks and I know I did it at work, but that was god awful. But Imma power through, because I can only get better through constant practice. LET'S PRACTICE, BITCHES!

Crumbling around Lisa, the temple - its stone, its glass, its lights, its incense - disappeared into blackness. Lisa now found herself standing outside a cottage, it's back to a piney forest. It was snowing and the tops of the trees were dusted with delicate flakes. In her hand, she gripped the hammer from the temple, and on her back she could feel a heavy weight. On her body and arms lay a quilted tunic and over that, a suit of metal rings tightly fitted together. She shifted the weight on her back to the ground to see a camping pack and thick wooden shield. Lisa tossed the hammer down next to the other supplies and knelt in the snow. It was wet and her still bare feet began to ache. The pain, a sharp searing burn of rime, abruptly interrupted Lisa's survey of her predicament and at that moment she came back to herself, to the woman she was before the beam of light. Memories flooded into her mind, threatening destruction.

Lisa wondered where she was, and why she was dressed like a character from The Lord of the Rings. Her mother must still be looking for her, and yet she would think she'd be here by now if she pursued. Admittedly, Lisa didn't know where exactly she was, or where this outfit came from, or who lived in that house. She had to do something -- to run in case her mother came, or perhaps to get back home, or at least to get out of the gently falling snow. Lisa couldn't believe there was snow. She had never seen snow before, but so far she did not like it. Picking up the pack to throw it across her back, she heard the contents shift.

Curious, she undid the straps to reveal the contents. Tied to the top was a soft looking green bedroll, inside was a closed metal kit that revealed a shallow bowl, a plate, a small cup, and a set of utensils. Another small box contained steel, a piece of rock, and a slightly damp rag that smelled like oil. Next she pulled out a set of thin wooden rods bundled together, each topped with rags. A leather skin filled with some fluid followed, and upon uncorking, the fluid was revealed to be water. Finally, a pouch of hard bread, nuts, fruits, and jerky. The final gift, for how else was she supposed to think of the free swag, was a coil of rough brown rope hooked to the side.

Lisa wondered where this had come from and she wanted to wonder more, but her the pain of her cold feet reminded her that she wasn't safe. She couldn't guess the temperature, but it was colder than Lisa had ever experienced before. Not sure of where else to go, she approached the cabin confidently. Hopefully the people inside would help her figure out what was going on. 

Friday Fiction: Lisa and the Light Pt. 3

This is a continuation of the Lisa and the Light story. Click the tags to read the previous entries.

This was not how Lisa imagined walking down the central aisle of a church. She imagined wearing a soft white dress that accentuated her breast. She imagined a tiara. She imagined a man in a tuxedo waiting for her at the altar. She imagined it was real. As she walked toward the empty altar, past the empty pews, she got the distinct sensation this was all a dream. And yet, the floor below her was solid enough, the musty smell was real enough, the sunlight through the stained glass windows, whose pictures depicted only geometric patterns, stung her eyes after the cool darkness of the unreal antechamber.

Arriving at the altar, it was hard to tell what the temple was worshiping. It seemed vaguely Catholic, but there were no crucifixes or other Christian signs. She thought she saw a yin yang symbol, and then perhaps that skinny Buddha she saw sometimes, as shapes in the windowpanes, but when looked at directly it was obvious they were only her imaginings. It was peaceful here though; she would admit that. Before she reached the altar, which seemed the obvious goal, she sat for a moment in a pew and tried to remember how she got to this place. She didn't care that she couldn't remember, not really, it just seemed odd. Lisa wore a tank top and jeans, she was barefoot, her hair was messy and she could feel a light layer of makeup on her face. Her survey gave Lisa little clues. Having expended her options for consideration, Lisa walked towards the altar, a wooden masterpiece at waist height covered with red velvet. At the altar were four items, from which she knew she needed to choose.

From right to left there was a hammer, about a foot and a half long, made of iron. The head of the hammer had the symbol of scales inscribed into it. The weapon looked heavy. Next to the hammer was a gilded small box with a chain. The device was beautifully wrought with images of hands and leaves and celestial bodies. As Lisa inspected the device wisps of sweet smoke began to rise from the device, she knew the smell of sandalwood from her friends who were stoners. The smell of the incense wanted to guide her away, but she turned to consider the other objects. Next was a string of wooden beads made from a light wood and well varnished. Each bead carried an engraving; they reminded Lisa of rosaries or of the beads she had seen Buddhist monks carry in pictures. Finally, her eyes carefully examined the last object, a heavy worn tome with gems encrusted and sigils hastily drawn on. It looked like it would take years to comb through fully.

Lisa immediately knew what she wanted: justice. Her hand extended to grasp the hammer and before she was transported again, her fingers traced the golden engraving of scales.

Extremely Late Friday Fiction: Lisa Pt. 2

Sorry to myself and the one reader that this is so late. 
My brain really wanted me to forget about this blog and give up on it. But no. Let's do this.
More of Lisa!

Lisa felt the breath in her lungs. She could feel it filling her up. The air was heavy and it made exhaling difficult. She seemed to float and when she moved her arms and legs they barely moved. The urge to panic overcame her quickly, but adrenaline failed to save her. Instead, her thoughts were like cotton: soft, pliable, and fibrous. And then her feet were on the ground or at least a ground. The world dark around her, she could not see what her feet landed on, but it held her like a clay tennis court.

At once, blinding light started to rise from the ground in two separate lines in front of her. The line began to grow and rise in a column like a glass being filled until it became clear to be a doorway. As the lights in front of her finished forming their doors, Lisa became aware of a light behind her as well. She turned around quickly to see the blinding light give way to an image of a crowded marketplace. But it wasn't just an image, was it a movie, the people inside, dressed like the people in her history books, moved around and opened their mouths. She could not hear what they were saying, but it was obvious they were arguing over prices and announcing what they had for sale. The market street seemed to stretch on forever, but in the distance she could see the street led to a castle on a hill. Lisa put her hand forward to see if it would give and her hand passed through. But she recoiled it. Something told her she needed to see the other doors first. She wanted to think about how she got here and where she was going, but she couldn't seem to care. The doors were the only things that mattered just then.

The other doors showed two more scenes. One lead to a sunny temple, perhaps a cathedral, but there was no crucifix or other traditional Christian symbol. It looked clean and peaceful, it looked quiet and solitary. The other doorway held a moving image of a forest, the sunlight peeking through leaves to lead a deer path through the underbrush. A few animals moved in the trees and in the distance Lisa could see lake and behind that a mountain.

Never one to offer what movie to watch or where to eat, Lisa hated making decisions. She knew this about herself. And yet, after inspecting each door she quickly made up her mind. The other doors faded into memory as she tentatively thrust her hand into the temple. Her hand suddenly felt the cool air of autumn. She walked through the portal completely and turned around only to see the temples doors behind her, barred. The only way out was forward.

Fiction Friday: Lisa and the Light

     “Lisa, I swear to god if you walk out that door!” yelled her mother as Lisa did, in fact, walk out that door. A screen door barely hanging from its hinges, it slammed loudly against the frame. Lisa could hear her mother’s threats fade as she walked down the summer warmed streets of the deep south. Her callused bare feet withstood the temperature; even if they couldn't, she felt her anger would have carried her away. The argument she had been having with her mother was one Lisa didn't care to have again, so when she reached the intersection of her street with the highway, she did not turn around. She turned left, south, towards the coast. The coast was of course hundreds of miles away, but right then it sounded nice. The figment of saltwater tinted the air as she considered the prospect.
     As she ambled down the road, the streets of the rundown suburb gave way to swathes of forest. The street became narrower and the cars rushing by her seemed disturbingly close; the force of the passing vehicles forced her to walk carefully. The danger of her situation sobered her mind. She should go back. Her feet continued to carry her forward as she considered the events that would follow that decision. Her mother would yell at her again, but perhaps she could go stay with someone more understanding. The heavens above shone with starlight as a car came close enough for her instincts to make her jump off the road. The car stopped and a figure slid out.
     Lisa, unsure of what to do, tried to lay flat against the ground, quietly. Her heart raced, and she hated the moment she decided to start walking down the highway. The fragrant scent of soil filled her lungs as her eyes attempted to track the stranger. She couldn't tell if they were male or female, but they were rather short and broad. When the form started walking her direction she scrambled to her feet and ran further into the woods. She did not look back but heard it follow. As the canopy above thickened, it was harder to see where her bare feet landed. She could hear something moving behind her, and then suddenly through the trees to left a bright light, a beacon, a house perhaps, safety.
     As she ran towards the light, it became clear it was too bright and too colorful to be coming from a home. For a moment, she wondered if they had Christmas lights up. But the light wasn't spread out, it was a dense column of light. Lisa scrambled through branches to find the column shooting through tree stumps, it seemed a crystallized white beam that gave off faint hints of other colors. It was confusing and frightening, and Lisa felt, unnatural. The crunch of heavy steps sounded and Lisa thought to hide. 

     A voice called out to her, it seemed familiar. She stood in front of the beam and turned around, letting its illumination enlighten the face of the stranger. Lisa was scared for who it might be and angry that anyone would dare. When the shroud fell from the approaching figure, it revealed a soft middle-aged woman, with heavy boots and a bit of limp. It was her mother.
     "What the hell mom?" said Lisa, anger rising to her cheeks.
     "Come home, we'll figure out what to do with it, just come home," pleaded her mother.
     Lisa wondered if her mother had softened, "It's not yours to deal with, it's my problem."
     Any pleading disappeared from her mother's face, "Damn right it is, but I won't let you make any more mistakes."
     Lisa's mother took a step forward and Lisa took a step back, her foot landing directly in the beam. It seared her skin and she screamed, but when she tried to pull it out she found herself pulled into the blazing white light. For a moment there was nothing but the stark emptiness of white, then everything was black.