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.