Flipping the lid up on her lighter, she thumbed the striker, bringing flame to life. It cast an eerie light against the cold stone walls of her prison as the green tongue flicked in the gentle currents of disturbed air. She cupped her right hand behind it and blew on it soft and steady, causing it to grow. As though inflating a balloon she continued growing the flame until it roughly matched her size and then Mystery Hawkins stepped through into freedom.
Brilliant green grass crushed beneath her boot as she stepped out on the knoll, a copse of oaks at her back, the green portal collapsing at her passing. It always brought her here, she didn’t know why; just as much a mystery as her own self and her ability with the flame. The breeze played with her deep-red hair, causing her to tuck it behind her ears in reflex. The scene was always the same- the thickly forested valley stretching below and around her as though a protective wall for this place.
Predators and hostile plant growth abounded in that expanse, she knew as she had tried once to go that way, to try something different, but whatever held the knoll wouldn’t let her past. Sighing and zipping up her leather jacket she turned the trees and strode into its middle as she had done so many times before, to the stone fountain that took residence in their shade, the still water a perfect mirror.
She grabbed a handful of soil and stepped up to it while lighting her Zippo once again, then leaned in over the water. Bringing her hands close together she blew the soil and flame into the water- this was something else she didn’t know how she knew to do. It began swirling faster and faster, rising up like a water spout.
“Well, let’s she where you take me this time,” she said as it reached out and engulfed her.