She sat outside the convent walls, staring at the lizard. Wait, no, that’s a Salamander (what’s the difference?) and wondering at her desire to be saved. As she looked at it, the salamander turned and looked back at her. It was a fairly ordinary weekend, but she’d woken up feeling as though she’d been airdropped… parachuted into an absurd new reality. She’d been drawn to the convent for some absurd reason – no one came out here this early in Spring. Looking around, nothing seemed quite normal.
Over the walls, she could hear “…and a paaaartridge in a pear treeeee…” echoing off the aged stone. Did the choir have to study those lyrics to get the order right, or had the memorized it? Why did people even like that song? It was like being clubbed in the head with a particularly infuriating music box. Wait, why were they even singing it now? Christmas was long past, or at least it had been when she went to bed. Who sings Christmas songs in April? Did this convent have some sort of weird bias toward Christmas and against other hymns? At least sing some Mariah, if that’s the case! But really. It was Spring, right? She was sure of it.
What on earth was it doing snowing? Was this interminable winter EVER going to end? Aren’t salamanders cold-blooded creatures found in warm climates anyway? What was it doing outside these convent walls? What was she doing outside these convent walls?
Blinking quickly, she cleared her head and broke eye-contact with the weird reptile. Eye-contact? She was making eye-contact with… what? Looking around, it was gone. Had it actually been there? Now the convent was singing something old and appropriately hymnal. The snow was falling, but oh, Spring in April isn’t so unusual. That happens. She shook herself clear and stood up, feeling a wee bit disoriented.What a strange day.
As she walked away, two beady eyes followed her from behind a rock.
… Beware the Winter Salamander.