of life experiences to draw upon, but she was fairly certain that no one else alive had ever lived through what she just had.
It had all started... Well, that might not be entirely accurate, she chastised herself. How can something have started if it had not really happened yet? So how did one say something had already happened if it had not? Not yet, at least?
This confusion was only the smallest fraction of what Alisia was dealing with though. Being uncertain how to frame simple passage of time was so small compared to the concept that she was out of her natural time in the first place. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to get back to where she started.
And that's really all she has really wanted at one time - what she still secretly wanted, even if it had proven impossible - to go back to when she had found this damnable sword and put it back in the hole. Maybe then the disaster her life had become - would become? - would not have happened.
Three weeks ago by her own passage of time - in twice that length of time in the future that had not yet come - Alisia had found the sword, the one that called itself Three .
Yes, called itself! The sword had actually told the girl its own name! The fact this was not the strangest of things to have happened to her in these last several weeks simply helped her put the whole affair into greater perspective. When a talking sword is not the strangest thing for you to encounter, something is definitely wrong with your life!
Alisia had come across the sword in her parents' pasture. One of the horses had nearly broken a leg when its foot had sunken into a hole, and it had been Alisia's job to fill it in. This kind of thing happened pretty routinely - wild animals were always digging holes, and water eroded away other areas. But the hollows could not be left or one her family's animal could cripple itself. So whenever a new hole was discovered, it would be Alisia's job to fill it.
It was not a complicated process. Alisia would retrieve some rocks from the nearby stream bed and fill the hole before covering it with sand from the stream bed. She did not even need to have her father oversee her work - she just did it without asking.
The only thing different about this particular labor was not even the work itself - it was the life surrounding it. Not three days prior, Alisia had lost her mother. It had been a senseless, random thing - she had not fallen ill, nor been struck by some traveling cart, nor even fallen off one of the mares she so loved to ride.
No, nothing like that. Alisia's mother had simply not woken up one day. The local hedge witch had said her brain had simply burst during the night, evidenced, had said the old woman, by the blood in the woman's eye. No sickness, no need to burn the body, she had said.
And yet, the simple matter-of-fact way in which the hedge witch had delivered the news had been worse than if Alisia had been forced to watch her mother dismembered right in front of her. This had been her mother, and the old woman had dismissed her death as easily as she might have discussed a visitor coming to stay for a time. There was no great turmoil, no tragedy - not for the old woman, at any rate. But for Alisia, it had been devastating.
Alisia's father was a stout man, and he only became more gruff with his wife's passing. He only shrugged at her death, then picked up the shovel to go out back to dig a grave. Alisia had seen no tears in the large man's eyes, nor even a single emotion. He could have been planting seeds in the back of their cabin for all the care he showed for what he was burying. And once the deed had been done, he simply went about his daily chores as though nothing had happened at all. The only comment the man had made before walking out to tend to the animals was that it was Alisia's job to fix the meals now.
That was it. No remorse, no comfort for his teen
It had all started... Well, that might not be entirely accurate, she chastised herself. How can something have started if it had not really happened yet? So how did one say something had already happened if it had not? Not yet, at least?
This confusion was only the smallest fraction of what Alisia was dealing with though. Being uncertain how to frame simple passage of time was so small compared to the concept that she was out of her natural time in the first place. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to get back to where she started.
And that's really all she has really wanted at one time - what she still secretly wanted, even if it had proven impossible - to go back to when she had found this damnable sword and put it back in the hole. Maybe then the disaster her life had become - would become? - would not have happened.
Three weeks ago by her own passage of time - in twice that length of time in the future that had not yet come - Alisia had found the sword, the one that called itself Three .
Yes, called itself! The sword had actually told the girl its own name! The fact this was not the strangest of things to have happened to her in these last several weeks simply helped her put the whole affair into greater perspective. When a talking sword is not the strangest thing for you to encounter, something is definitely wrong with your life!
Alisia had come across the sword in her parents' pasture. One of the horses had nearly broken a leg when its foot had sunken into a hole, and it had been Alisia's job to fill it in. This kind of thing happened pretty routinely - wild animals were always digging holes, and water eroded away other areas. But the hollows could not be left or one her family's animal could cripple itself. So whenever a new hole was discovered, it would be Alisia's job to fill it.
It was not a complicated process. Alisia would retrieve some rocks from the nearby stream bed and fill the hole before covering it with sand from the stream bed. She did not even need to have her father oversee her work - she just did it without asking.
The only thing different about this particular labor was not even the work itself - it was the life surrounding it. Not three days prior, Alisia had lost her mother. It had been a senseless, random thing - she had not fallen ill, nor been struck by some traveling cart, nor even fallen off one of the mares she so loved to ride.
No, nothing like that. Alisia's mother had simply not woken up one day. The local hedge witch had said her brain had simply burst during the night, evidenced, had said the old woman, by the blood in the woman's eye. No sickness, no need to burn the body, she had said.
And yet, the simple matter-of-fact way in which the hedge witch had delivered the news had been worse than if Alisia had been forced to watch her mother dismembered right in front of her. This had been her mother, and the old woman had dismissed her death as easily as she might have discussed a visitor coming to stay for a time. There was no great turmoil, no tragedy - not for the old woman, at any rate. But for Alisia, it had been devastating.
Alisia's father was a stout man, and he only became more gruff with his wife's passing. He only shrugged at her death, then picked up the shovel to go out back to dig a grave. Alisia had seen no tears in the large man's eyes, nor even a single emotion. He could have been planting seeds in the back of their cabin for all the care he showed for what he was burying. And once the deed had been done, he simply went about his daily chores as though nothing had happened at all. The only comment the man had made before walking out to tend to the animals was that it was Alisia's job to fix the meals now.
That was it. No remorse, no comfort for his teen
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