Lola, as her adoptive mother had always said she would, landed on the earth with a bump.
It was dark-and instinctively she felt round for her cigarettes but sighed.
“You gave up over a year ago.”
Said a voice in her head, and she realised that she had no desire for cigarettes.
“How odd.” she thought.
It reminded her of a talk she had wandered into once about Buddhism and being without desire which had seemed terribly strange at the time as she had been sipping a large gin and tonic and smoking a copious amount of cigarettes.
“It’s all about me!” she thought-and not for the first time-but this was different.
“What was life like before that horrid old Dorking when I was a mere girl-and what was life like before Max, melodrama,being undead and everything else?”
I wonder what it would be like if I was ordinary thought Lola, because she knew full well that she was special.
The ground beneath her feet was warm and felt like sand and she looked above her and the sky ahead of her was darkening and full of awakening stars; a physicist like Dorking might have told her that they were rocks in space, but they sparkled so like diamonds or even rhinestones.
She felt a meeting was about to take place or perhaps a communion was the right word.
It felt like it could have been the very ends of the earth or the beginning, but she supposed there wasn’t much difference-not many people gave Lola enough credit for her innate understanding of the esoteric or her profound intellectual abilities and knack for predicting the future through deduction but like Cassandra no-one believed her she suspected it was because she was beautiful.
She felt a sense of freedom that she’d never had before, even when she was in Transylvestite and flying.
Lola was barefoot and sinking lightly into the sand, but that was fine as for once there was no Dorking or Max to impede her.
She strode through the sand but found that there was an invisible barrier that she was hitting.
There was a definite clunk as she hit something like thick glass that hurt her knees.
“Maybe I should give up!” a voice in her head said.
“Maybe I need a rest.” she thought,sinking into the sand.
“Lola, Lola, wake up!” she heard distantly, and she was floating on a raft out to sea, too warm and tired to object.
“This is what they did to witches!” came another voice “And you can’t swim.”
“Oh yes we were witches once, and I was a prophetess!” said Lola groggily sitting up, but she was on the sands again looking at the sea.
“I’m nearly there!” she thought, “I can do it, and I must.”
Most people needed help but Lola was a lone force of natureshe pointed herself in the right direction, thought briefly of Padraig and carried on.
“Oh well, ” she thought, this is either a dream or an hallucination but it’s at least beyond the usual cliches.