In an effort to write profoundly, she closed her eyes and dove headfirst into the swashbuckling glamour dissolving her toes. She never thought of coming up for air as whirlpools sucked her deeper into empty chasms. Which turned out not to be so empty, but full of dancing fireflies. They beckoned to her and she followed. They revealed the mystères of her mind, unfolding each moment in time, they played out to her--the things she should know. Does know. Will know. Each unveiled and moved her forward until at last the fireflies went out and she was alone.
Grasping there in the dark for a light switch, all that met her fingers were icicles of stone. Sharper than swords they cut the air into jagged teeth of open space, she would have been frightened, had she been given the choice....