Well, the first story in a long time for me... XD joy to those who still are willing to read my work, no matter how long I go without writing. I've recently been inclined to have some free time, so I might be able to slip in a few works here and there over the summer. Hopefully all will be good and not an eyesore. Please enjoy my lovely little parody.

A/N: DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Alice in Wonderland Characters or original story lines.


Clocks

It's always lonely in the clock tower; the only visitors that I get are the deceased. As man kind's technology progressed, the body count increased dramatically; but even when the people thought that they solved the mystery of immortality by replacing their hearts with clocks, they soon found out that even clocks break. They needed someone who could fix their clocks—someone who still had a living, beating heart—they are the clockwork masters, they are Alices.

Even though there were once many Alices in the world, because of their tremendous work load they didn't reproduce. Slowly, they died out. Those who had, have, clocks as their hearts cannot learn, they cannot feel, and they cannot comprehend the beauty of life and death.

I was a miracle child, born in the country of Hearts, and had a twin sister. We grew up playing with gears and learning about clocks, but my sister died from a broken heart. The Jacks came for her, the police of my time, and took her to the country of Spades. Their best "doctor", the Ace, fitted her with her own cold clock. My sister died that day, and she forgot all about flowers, the wind, her family, and clocks.

Days passed, weeks, months, years, I've forgotten how many now, but I hid my feelings from the world, only immersing myself in my work. More Alices died out until I was alone in the world indefinitely. The humans, back when they were, even toyed in the animal kingdom. They gave the creatures voices that people could understand, and the ability to do simple things, like making tea. I came across one of these specimens quite some time ago; we have had tea every day at three o'clock and at five o'clock. His name is Peter—the softest white rabbit I've ever met. Unfortunately, that poor boy can never make it on time—always getting lost with that poor sense of direction of his.

Whenever I finally can sit back and rest however, the Cheshires always manage to supply me with one customer that never seems to run out of blood. His tell-tale top hat always reminded me of the old saying "mad as a hatter" from the mercury-brimmed hat days. I had a strange interest in him though, his clock was very strange, he was probably one of the first clockworks made. Each time he awoke in my tower, he seemed so alive, almost human again.

As time continued I also grew old, my hands became clumsy and fragile with the long years of fixing clocks. Peter found himself a lovely girl rabbit and left me for months on end, but he liked to stop in for tea when he found his way home to me again. It only took a few years before the Queens dubbed me too incapable to fix clocks any longer and labeled me obsolete. Now I spend my long days in my clock tower contemplating the sun rises and sunsets, still fixing tea for myself and Peter at three and five each day, he's probably long since died at this point. How I long to be with my furry companion once more and sip tea by the window overlooking the river. All there is for me now is death, and perhaps go to the place where all Alices go when they die—Wonderland.