Fire with fire

image by FroggyFrog

He woke up with a killer headache and instinctively felt between his legs. He didn’t find what he was looking for, which meant he would have to remember not to answer to the male pronoun.

She opened her eyes.

A set of train tracks lay three feet in front of her. She looked over her shoulder and read the graffiti on the side of a building.

She remembered that slogan from the last time.

Daisy Penfolde stood up and looked around. In the distance in front of her was a bridge. Behind was the sound of an approaching train. It was probably time to get off the tracks.

She examined her clothes as she walked, while simultaneously shortening her steps and forcing herself not to walk with a cro-magnon gait. She was dressed for a night out, and as a result, she was freezing.

Slowly, the memories of the last brief existence flowed back. It was the closest she’d been to death in quite some-time.

The bridge finally presented itself and she climbed carefully down, arriving at the bottom in a what appeared to be a university district. This assumption was reinforced by a large number of semi-literate youth, together with an expansive set of second-hand record and book-shops. The presence of a whopping great sign with ‘University’ on it was also a pretty good indicator that her supposition was correct.

The university building, the one with the sign on it, was the biggest in the district and was  topped with the biggest satellite dish she had ever seen.

As she walked past the kids, some of whom she recognised, others she didn’t, a graveyard of Goths presented itself. One winked at her, then pulled a zippo lighter with an engraved symbol on it that looked rather like a bird.

Her mind put the imagery together: goths=coffins, lighter=cigarettes.

Just what she needed.