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?"