Closing her eyes, she gripped her stuffed tiger, Mamoru, tight. Curling inward, she nuzzled her face against the remnants of his fur, and inhaled. There was always something soothing about the way he smelled. She had had him since she was eight and he reminded her of the “home-y” part of home. She still brought him along on family trips and sleep overs.

Jenny slowed her breathing and let her mind wander. For a short while, dozens of thieves repeatedly stole her money, slyly tiptoeing across the field of fireflies on static that filled the back side of her eyelids. Usually her imagination would fill her mind with her own personal movies. Tonight was different, different from the fantasies, different from the nightmares that played out various visions of her death for the past two years. This was somehow more real.

Settling into the black, she descended into a grassy field. Wind currents pushed the tall stalks, making them ripple like water. The tall shape of a woman rose from the ground and reached out.