Narrator:
Chapter = 2: Alice's Evidence Redux… The year is 1911 A.D., The Royal City of Hearts in the Land of Hearts, Wonderland, the Realm of Ishrakie.
The Red Queen:
"OFF WITH HER HEAD!"
Narrator:
Nobody dares to move as Alice regains her monstrous size, towering over the courtroom. The entire court of royal guards rise into the air and come falling down upon the now giant lass.
Alice Lordell:
"OH, GET OFF! WHO CARES FOR YOU AT ALL? YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A PACK OF CARDS!"
Narrator:
Thrashing in frustration, she succeeds at beating them off of her. Alice turns, crashing a massive hole in the wall
and storming out of the courtroom into the Wonderlandian Forest.
Narrator:
The young girl dashes between thick trunks and giant ferns. Her dress tears against the sharp limbs of the many broad, sharp-leaved bushes. Their razor-like leaves rake her arms, leaving deep cuts. The sharp limbs and briars shred her dress as she surges onward with no care for the pain… lost in the adrenaline of the moment. However, as the adrenaline fades and the pain comes and goes, a pleasant new sensation pulses through her.
It spreads through her body in waves, sending new sensations cascading through her mind like a great tide, making the world appear oil-painted.
Lost in tactile euphoria, she caresses the plants, trying to smear their colors to no avail as the sound of her own laughter splashes the world in a shifting array of colors and scents.
Familiar images morph out of the air before her as she sees a multitude of cat smiles stretch out through the painted world around her. She tries to focus on the nearest smile, but as soon as her eyes catch it, it disappears.
Walls of trees and shadows shift as she resumes moving through them. Pushing aside drooping sunflowers, taking their evening naps and clusters of bees discussing the day's events among themselves. Drawn on as if by some invisible force, she presses onward, eventually stumbling upon a badger in front of an easel and canvas. On the canvas is a painting of another badger in front of its own easel and canvas.
Badger #1:
"Would you stop moving? I'm trying to fix your ears,"
Badger #2:
"I would, but I'm trying to finish this one's feet and he keeps moving,"
Narrator:
Alice watches the scene unfold before her until the sky suddenly darkens, causing her to look up and behold a long brush descending from the sky. It lances towards the badger.
Badger #3:
"LOOK! BOTH OF YOU STOP MOVING! WHEN I'VE FINISHED YOUR EARS, THEN YOU CAN FINISH THAT ONE'S FEET!"
Narrator:
Alice screams and leaps back at the booming voice and descending brush from the heavens. The smaller earthly badger jumps at her voice, causing the tip of the descending godly brush to smudge his tail and right paw, causing those parts of his body to suddenly disintegrate into a plasmatic mist of glowing wispy detritus.
Badger #3:
"BLAST IT, GIRL! YOU MADE HIM MOVE!"
Narrator:
The angry, thunderous voice from above the clouds sends Alice running off through the trees once more. After what feels like an eternity of running, she finally collapses
sprawling out on the floor of the dense dark forest, panting with exhaustion.
Cheshire:
"Now, I know you're mad. Who weeps after they are triumphant?"
Narrator:
Cheshire's voice dances from a disembodied mouth that shifts out of a nearby tree branch with the rest of the cat's ethereal body only semi-condensing into form. Cheshire swings down from the branch and crouches in the shade of giant pansy flowers. His form comes to Alice as impressions. The line of his back, which in fluxing spasms, shows itself to be the cut of a leaf. The glow of his eyes is waning and waxing while his long, narrow smile is the most solid of his aspects.
Alice Lordell:
"Over whom have I triumphed? I'm lost in a forest that has no end, and I'll never get back home," ( Sobbing Voice )
Cheshire:
"Oh, my, was it an enemy or friend? Who told you this forest has no end?"
Alice Lordell:
(Still Sobbing but starting to calm) "Is it not endless?"
Cheshire:
"You tell me. You were not in the forest when you were in the courtroom, right?"
Narrator:
Alice nods weakly as she listens to the cat's words.
Cheshire:
"So would it not make sense that if the forest ends at the Royal City of Hearts, then it should also end at other places too?"
Alice Lordell:
"Oh, this is all way too much! I want to go home," (Whimpers but no longer crying heavily)
Cheshire:
"Well, there is only one way to do that,"
Alice Lordell:
"You mean there is a way?"
Cheshire:
"If you're here, there must be. Doors open both ways after all. The only question is, are you strong enough to make the journey?"
Alice Lordell:
"Journey?" (confused tone)
Cheshire:
"There is a tower, white as the moon, that lies beyond this shadowed forest over the Wall of the Farthest Edge and past the Mountains of the Forbidden North. If a way home is what you truly desire, only there will you find it,"
Narrator:
Cheshire's grin grows wider as Alice climbs to her feet. Still trembling, she wipes the tears from her eyes.
Alice Lordell:
"Then I shall go at once,"
Cheshire:
"Take heed, Alice. This journey is not for the weak-willed. It will require courage and determination far beyond that of a mere child… If you should fail to make it to the White Tower by the final midnight of the second month of this journey, the path to the tower will become lost to you. You will never be able to return home, and you will be left to wander the cold and twisted wilds forever."
Narrator:
Alice's spirit wavers slightly as the cold snake of fear slithers up her spine, but she remembers her promise… one made long ago… the most important promise of her life and she resolves she cannot allow herself to stay here… She must get home.
Alice Lordell:
"Thank you, dear cat, I am forever grateful to you."
Narrator:
Alice pulls the cat in close, embracing him warmly in her arms.
Cheshire:
"I am glad to be of help, but hear me, dear Alice. The path you must take is guarded not by mad queens or foolish cards, but by the foulest beasts and the most wicked of monsters. Be vigilant and be brave, for you will find no mercy along this quest."
Alice Lordell:
"I understand,"
Narrator:
Alice kisses the cat's soft, fluffy head before turning her back to the great feline
and taking off at a full sprint into the woods, her heart filled with all the determination she can muster.
After about an hour of running, she comes to a much-needed stop. Out of breath and exhausted, she stumbles forward slowly, passing beyond the treeline into a large circular clearing of luminescent purple and blue grass waving in the wind.
Sleeping dandelions speckle the ethereal clearing as chattering roses converse among themselves concerning Alice's intruding presence. The flowers are far larger than any she has ever seen and apparently far more suspicious of strangers.
Alice can see a massive flower bulb towering over the center of the clearing. That's when she feels it. A touch against her ankles, as blue and purple glowing vines begin spiraling their way up between her legs, over her private parts and up further, coiling around her stomach and breasts, feeling every part of her. Smaller vines sprout out from the larger ones, tracing the contours of her face. An unknown heat washes over her, draining her of strength and rendering her limp and helpless. The smell of the vines assaults her nostrils, saturating her skin. The large flower bulb in the middle of the clearing shimmers with an unearthly aura of light as it blooms. From out of the bulb wafts a familiar voice.
The Caterpillar:
"That's enough. She is safe... or, at least, she is no threat. Not to me, anyway," (a musing sort of voice).
Narrator:
There, lounging in the middle of the giant bloomed flower bulb, is the Caterpillar from before, smoking his hookah and giggling to himself gleefully.
The vines heed their master's command and stop their increasingly invasive groping. Little murmurs can be heard as they return to the ground, sulking.
The Caterpillar:
"I'm sorry about my touchy vines, but they are just very protective of me,"
Alice Lordell:
"They are a bit invasive."
The Caterpillar:
"They can be when they are enjoying their job more than usual or when they are especially concerned for my well-being. I sincerely apologize, dearest little one."
Alice Lordell:
"Tell me, please, Mr. Caterpillar, do you know of the Wall at the Farthest Edge?"
The Caterpillar:
"Of course, and you must not dally in getting there. A long journey awaits you and everything depends on your success," ( Sternly )
Alice Lordell:
"What do you mean by everything?"
The Caterpillar:
"Why, everything that is to come, of course, but no time for that now. There is a station about an hour north of here with a train you must catch. It should take you straight to the base of the Wall,"
Alice Lordell:
"A train? How convenient," (Amused Voice)
The Caterpillar:
"Yes, it is, but you must go now. Hurry or you will never catch it. When you get there, check your right pocket. After all, trains require tickets,"
Narrator:
Alice nods, running off towards the train station.
The forest rolls up and down, thinning out into large swaths of meadow patched with dark glades as she runs. Rounding a group of trees housing a raucous family of parrots.
Alice, at last, reaches the train station. Its ornate, blazing lanterns light up the boardwalk and its surroundings. Attendees lean from compartment doorways, howling, 'ALL ABOARD!'.
As Alice hurries into the closest car, she sees countless tiny legs protruding from beneath the train car. To her shock, the whole train appears to be a massive centipede with compartments strapped to its back with reinforced leather.
The exhausted young girl lets herself collapse onto a nearby seat as the train begins to move. Checking her right pocket, she finds a train ticket has somehow made its way into her possession.
In the train are aardvarks and badgers, hamsters and kingfishers, a Welsh corgi and an iguana, bears and wombats. Some eat silkworms, others… curried cauliflower. Clover-scented smoke plumes up from ashtrays as newspapers fwap open. The mood is that of settling in… a warmth both cozy and familiar.
Alice sinks comfortably into her aisle seat. Beside her, a brown spotted spider sips from a cup so small it can only hold a single drop of tea.
The Spider on the Train:
"Hello,"
Narrator:
Much to her surprise, the gentlemanly spider not only speaks to her but also tips its hat as well.
Alice Lordell:
"Hello to you too, tiny spider. It's very nice to meet you. Do you know who will be checking my ticket?"
The Spider on the Train:
"What do you mean? No one will check your ticket, little one. You just need it to get on the train. I mean, checking tickets sounds like just about the silliest job there can ever be,"
Alice Lordell:
"Well, that makes sense, I guess. Still, they are very trusting not to check it,"
Narrator:
Alice puts the ticket back into her pocket as the spider moves his tiny cup to his fangs and sips. There is a large golden Labrador pushing a fully loaded silver cart down the aisle towards them. The cart is loaded with snacks, treats, soups, salads, and all manner of gourmet meals, alongside an oversized pot of tea and all sizes of cups.
The Dog on the Train:
"Would you like some tea?"
Alice Lordell:
"I'm not sure. I'm exhausted. I wouldn't want to fall asleep and let it get cold," (Yawning Voice).
The Dog on the Train:
"Cold, you say. Why would your falling asleep affect the weather, my lady? Well… Perhaps just a small sip of tea then?"
Alice Lordell:
"Um okay... yes. Perhaps a small nip would be nice. Thank you,"
The Dog on the Train:
"One small nip of tea coming right up, lass."
Narrator:
The Labrador's words cause the top cup on a stack of tiny cups to spring to life, jumping down off the stack. The tiny teacup makes its way over to the teapot, which smiles gleefully in response. Alice notices the teapot has no spout, just a face infused with enthusiasm.
The teacup closes in on the spout-less pot, causing the bottom of the pot to morph and twist, forming four legs that raise the pot so that the cup may get below its front curve. The tiny teacup settles itself in front of the pot as a spout forms between the two front legs of the pot. Steaming hot tea pours into the teacup. The porcelain skin of the cup and the pot both seem to blush.
Once the cup is full, the spout vanishes back into the pot and the legs retract, lowering the pot back down onto the tray. The tiny cup waddles slowly onto a nearby tea-saucer, being careful not to spill any of its precious piping-hot content. The tea-saucer sprouts tiny legs of its own and makes its way over to where Alice is sitting and sits itself down on the small passenger table in front of her.
The Dog on the Train:
"There you go, my lady. One small nip of tea, on the house. A cute blonde thing like you does not happen through here every day, you know?"
Narrator:
The large Labrador smiles and winks before turning his gaze back to his duties serving the other commuters on the train.
The tea tastes herbal, but sweet, like honey chamomile and something else she doesn't know, it has a bitter, unfamiliar aftertaste. She lifts a hand to ask for a little sugar to counteract the bitterness, but the Labrador has already moved on. Not wanting to be a bother, she gives up and continues sipping her tea.
Alice turns to the spider once more. Her lips tingling from the tea, she considers asking the spider if he has ever been to the Wall, and how long the trip is supposed to last (these are, of course, the most logical questions to ask in this situation) At the last second, she realizes she won't get a satisfactory answer to such questions. It will probably be something like 'it takes as long as it takes', or some other correct and yet nonsensical retort. Two threads intertwine in the tapestry of her mind, and the words to speak become clear to her.
Alice Lordell:
"Mr. Spider?"
The Spider on the Train:
"Yes, little one?"
Alice Lordell:
"Do you know any good stories? I would love to hear one."
The Spider on the Train:
"A story to keep you awake? Or a story to help you sleep?"
Alice Lordell:
"Whichever one is your favorite to tell,"
Narrator:
Alice lays her head back against the seat as the spider tells his favorite story to her.
Although she listens to the story, she does not comment or ask questions as she normally would. Finishing the tea, she sets the cup back down and turns her gaze towards the curtains covering the nearby windows as they undulate.
Alice Lordell:
None of the windows are open, so it can't be the wind.
Narrator:
It is as if small fingers on the other side of the curtain are gently tugging on it. She exhales deeply, drifting off as she feels herself fall inward through her seat until at last, she finds herself inside the spider's story, standing beside the goat with three brains and watching him sketch.
The world slows and dulled as she becomes abruptly aware of the true viscous nature of her skin. She oozes deeper into her chair, her mind far away. Cheshire slithers from underneath a nearby suitcase. He smiles at her, dancing his strange jig in the air. Outside the window, bats fly in a great black cloud. Stars shine beside the dozing moon, illuminating the grassy meadows below, casting shadows beneath short rocky protrusions. Millions of tiny legs carry the train across the miles stretched out before them.
Alice fades further out, lost within the great vastness of herself. Her lip quivers, the spell of sleep filling her like low-frequency waves of dark weight, dragging her even further down into the abyss. The spider sips his tea, droning on about the three-brained goat abandoning his bag of tools as Alice pierces the murky surface of her own consciousness and slips into deepest dream.
Down… Down… Ever downward she falls into deepest dream as a new world rises into form around her.
Jeffrey from school chuckles like a gleeful aristocrat, setting his martini down on the white table linen. Servers dart back and forth between all the other occupied tables. Alice spears a dainty bite of swordfish; it is tasteless but quite good. Jeffrey's lineless face smiles at her, his hair is slicked back with pomade, and he's sporting his finely tailored tweed jacket.
Jeffery:
"History lessons would be so much more enjoyable if Mrs. Brisby wouldn't gloss over the dirty bits, don't you agree?"
Narrator:
Jeffery smirks, the dark glint of his eyes hiding something sharp and dangerous that she cannot decipher. Everything feels hyper-mundane as if distilled into some form of normal far purer than normalcy.
Realization of the current setting strikes Alice abruptly, causing her to scatter her attention all around excitedly.
Alice Lordell:
I must be back in England, she thinks to herself. I'm back, but how? Oh, what does it matter? I've finally returned to my old life. How long have I been gone?
Narrator:
Questions swirl around frantically in her brain, but for some reason, no escape her lips as Jeffrey lifts his empty glass, gesturing to the passing help that he needs another martini. Alice takes stock of herself. She's dressed in a tight red dress. Her legs are crossed, the slit in the bottom sides of her dress exposing the top of her legs. Her child feet are stuffed into black thigh-high boots with long slender heels. She grimaces, daring not to stand for fear of falling or stumbling.
Jeffery:
"A toast,"
Narrator:
Jeffrey raises his new martini meaningfully.
Alice Lordell:
"To what?"
Narrator:
She cannot hear herself, but knows she said it.
Jeffery:
"Why, to our tenth anniversary, of course! You don't think I pulled strings to get us in here just because it is Thursday?"
Alice Lordell:
"No, of course not. How silly of me? Happy anniversary, dear."
Narrator:
Alice raises her glass of Pinot Grigio half-heartedly as a dull slithering uneasiness writhes deep inside her.
Alice Lordell:
Shouldn't I be happier on such an occasion?My handsome husband has taken me out to the best restaurant in town for our tenth anniversary. Why am I not ecstatic?
Narrator:
She tries to remember if she has ever felt joy or even mild happiness in a dream. She can recall being frightened in several dreams, but never happy.
Alice Lordell:
Perhaps this accounts for the washed-out nature of this place. Maybe something is just wrong with me… broken deep inside… maybe…
Alice Lordell:
"What shall we do this evening, darling? Hurry home and cuddle up next to a nice, romantic fire and talk about the local football matches? (end with a giggle)"
Narrator:
Jeffrey always loved talking about the local football matches. He was always so passionate about the game and not half bad at playing it.
Jeffery:
"Actually, I had other plans for this evening," (whispering)
Narrator:
He moves his hand under the table, sliding it up past her thigh and under her dress. He looks at her in a way she does not understand… both strange and somehow predatory… as if simmering with primal hunger. Her heart jolts. At first, she thinks she is afraid, however, she can feel another more exciting feeling blazing somewhere in the back of her mind, ignited by the heat of the moment. Something new is happening to her... inside her.
She feels feverish, poisoned by a toxic concoction of fearful confusion and arousing curiosity.
Alice Lordell:
What is that look in his eye? What is this feeling? Should I still feel whatever this amazing feeling is about my husband after all these years? Wait… how many years has it been?But I'm not that old, or am I? How old am I? How old is he? He still looks like the boy from school. Stop... What's going on? Where is his hand going? I have never done this. Or have I? No… surely not, never. I am still only a child. What's he doing? He's still a child, too. We aren't old enough to be married.
Narrator:
Questions strike like lightning, scorching the storm cloud of her mind.
Alice Lordell:
Why can't I breathe? Why can't I move? What is this tense, tingling sensation burning inside?
Narrator:
Time passes by in fast-forward. People get up from their tables, and new people arrive. Alice doesn't recognize any of the other faces. They are all talking, but she can't take any of it in. Their words crash over her and drain away. Her insides twist into a tight, wrenching nodule of anticipation.
Alice Lordell:
Something is going to happen, something I want, something I need badly, but what?
Narrator:
Jeffrey yanks her hand. Caught up in a rush of motion, they run. She trips in the heeled boots and bumps tables, flinging them about the room with awesome power, scattering glass and utensils.
Alice Lordell:
What about the bill? We haven't paid!
Narrator:
They are outside. Meteors rip through the sky, plummeting down upon the surrounding city. They run over strewn piles of bombarded cement and mounds of debris. Tension builds in her hips as running becomes harder. Her muscles clenched tight, preventing her from moving.
Frantic reality accelerates towards some grand cataclysm, some apocalyptic explosion that will bring erasure.
Alice Lordell:
It's coming, it's coming.
Narrator:
Reality shatters and freezes as a great darkness consumes the sky. It descends as it expands. A new kind of scream erupts from her, soundless and penetrating. Alice awakens, still screaming.
Alice jerks awake violently, panting and sweaty. Well-dressed fruit bats flap their wings in agitation. Anteaters extend their tongues in annoyance. The train has stopped. Two Pomeranians step in, dragging burlap sacks. Alice hears loud barking commands coming from the car ahead of her. She leans to look, spotting several of the Red Queen's Cardmen pointing weapons at passengers, yapping orders to move. They brandish a picture and ask the passengers something.
Without a second thought, Alice says goodbye to the gentlemanly spider and hurries off the train. Other passengers carry suitcases up and down the platform. Attendants cry 'all aboard!'. The train doors close, and the million tiny legs ripple with movement once again.
After the glimpse of the Cardmen on the train, Alice feels even more certain of the target on her back, like a million predatory eyes watching her every move. Her body feels surprisingly well-rested yet still slightly numbed from the tea. She bolts around the station to avoid detection. Roads stretch out from the station platform in all directions. She looks farther down the tracks, and off into the distance stands the Wall of the Farthest Edge, looming the whole stretch of the horizon like a towering mountain range, cut uniformly by godly scissors.