A/N: WARNING- do not expect a straightforward plot or anything... there wasn't much of one in Alice in Wonderland either. Essentially this is me typing my randomest, deepest, strangest, most bizarre thoughts that I would never dare write anywhere else other than in a fanfic based on that random, deep, strange, bizarre book called Alice in Wonderland(which I do not own just in case you thought I did). This is my version of the crazy tale about crazy people in a crazy place. Now the only thing for you to do is: To read or not to read, that is the question. Which is nobler in the mind is for you to decide. *bribes with cookies* (on a sidenote... if you laugh or even crack a smile while reading this, I'd appreciate a review telling me that you did laugh at one of my attempts at being witty... they are more on the subtle side... over and out)
I looked up and was surprised to see the shining, arched ceiling above me. Its glass surface was etched with designs I couldn't make out from so far below it. Where the heck am I?! was the first thing I wondered. The last thing I remembered was sitting drowsily at my desk in American Studies class while a dull documentary about blah and blah blah and how they blah blah blahed all over blah blah and changed blah forever. BLAH! It had been terribly borining… So where was I now?
I looked around at the room I was in. It looked like a stained-glass artist had tried to discover how many colors of glass really existed (the number is 148,589,585.40693 for your information) and built a room with them. The walls glittered with splashes of scintillating glass; they were odd, but nonetheless pleasing to the eyes. I felt dwarfed in the very large room. It was also uncomfortably empty.
The floor was covered with a blanket of dust that had probably been there long enough to outlast even a Twinkie. I brushed away some of it and was surprised to see—myself. Continuing my efforts at clearing a space of floor, I discovered the entire floor was a mirror. In my mind's eye I imagined the entire floor free of dust, reflecting the brilliance of the ceiling on its vast, smooth surface. Having no other occupation, I set to work.
Now reader, I will not bother you extensively with the details of pushing away the half foot layer of dust and grime, but I would have you know the results. I discovered a queer sort of magnifying device. It was bolted in place to the ground and after removing the dust from beneath it, I felt compelled to look through it. From this I made a discovery. The magnifying device did indeed distort my reflection and my nose looked the size of a pizza, but more important was what I saw when looking at it from an angle so my head wasn't directly above it. I could see the inscriptions on the ceiling.
They read:
Il jenous frentela quipo
Pandu radau semplue
Chrey vent
Little did I know that in Diandolese this obviously meant:
Sky Purple Is Slipping Ponder
Flounder Needs Strutting My
Dust West Little Newt
However, this was not meant to be read in Diandolese. It was meant to be read in Gibberish, of which I suddenly found myself quite fluent.
Translated it really said:
When you feel the need to depart
What you seek lies straight ahead
But do not forget the life of art
Or what you see here will fall dead
(Do not trouble yourself with the fact that there are four lines in the translation and only three in the original thing. It is of little importance.)
Straight ahead, I thought as I looked up. Ah yes, cleverly disguised amongst the statements of color was a door. A vibrant streak of red sprayed across it and glimmered gently. I rose, dusting off the filth that clung to my jeans and shirt. With purpose, I strode towards the door. I had to get back to class!
I'd have never guessed how long of a journey this beginning would give rise to, or how much more it would teach me than any class the school district could provide me with. Ignorantly, I sealed my fate into place with the light click of the door knob as I turned it.