I don't own Alice in Wonderland.

Do you know that feeling you get when you're falling? The rush of adrenaline that surges through your blood stream, making your stomach lurch into your chest. How fast your heart beats, slamming against your ribcage with a desperate fervor, like an animal trying to get out.

I'm falling now. My eyes are shut tight and the freezing updraft from below me is making my bare feet tingle strangely. I crack one eye open but I see nothing but light. Strange, vivid colors fading into one another fluidly. I can't see the place from where my descent began nor can I see where it will lead. My fall gains velocity and a scream tears from my throat. I screamed as though I thought someone could hear me. As though someone would save me from this certain death. But no one ever would.

All these sensations seemed so real. I'm screaming my throat raw now. I can't feel my feet. A voice sounds beside me but I can't make out the words

I give one final shriek...

And I wake up.

"Alice."

I shifted in my sleep. The sound of my screaming faded and was replaced by my father's voice, the rumbling of our old beat-up truck and the voice of the lead singer of my father's favorite band.

"We're almost there. Time to get up."

I forced my eyes open halfway and groaned, stretching my arms over my head. We had been crammed into his old red pick-up for two days now and I had slept for three hours in total. And that was just now. We were on this ridiculously long car journey from our home in New York City to California because my Aunt was rotting in her casket down in Los Angeles and my father apparently couldn't bear to bring me to the funeral. So, as an alternative, he was dropping me off in a little town on his way south to stay with my grandfather for two whole weeks.

Sigh.

I looked out the window. It was getting darker now, probably around 7PM, seeing as there was still light enough for me to see a green road sign that read 'Rio Vista City Limit.'

Rio Vista. It was a tiny hellhole in northern California, lodged right in the middle of fucking nowhere. Better yet, it was the hell hole in which I grew up. It was the kind of town where everyone knew everything about everyone and decided that others business was indeed their business as well. You ever hear that phrase, "hell is other people"? Here's what they were referring to. Nothing bad or particularly exciting ever happened in Rio Vista, so as you could probably tell it was not where any 17-year-old would want to be. The most entertainment you could find here would be about two miles outside of the populated area of town in a collection of completely vacant houses which had been boarded up since to goddamn Cold War.

"Don't look so sour, Honey. I'm sure you'll feel right at home in a couple of days."

I scoffed and tapped my fingers on the window in time with the song's beat. My home was a small apartment near Times Square where my father and I had lived since my mother left when I was a child.

Back in New York I had a really tight knit group of friends. We always had each other, even when we were in deep trouble and even when we had nothing else. Here, I didn't even have them.

It was times like these, when my father was waving goodbye to me from the truck and I was standing in front of my Grandfather's red front door, index finger hovering over the doorbell, that I really wish I was someone else. I wish that I was any of my friends, especially Izzy Walker, a sweet, blonde girl who I met in the 5th grade and became fast friends with who was currently down in Disney World with her parents and little sister. Or maybe my mother, Hanna, off in some distant country being perfectly entertained. Wherever she was, it had to be wonderful. After all, she left us for it. Hell, I'd rather be that woman in her coffin down in LA, just so long as I didn't have to be here.

I took a deep breath and pushed down on the door bell. I wasn't just going to stand there and wish because, I'm not any of those people and no amount of wishing would ever change that. I am Alice Laurel.

My grandfather pulled open the door. My fate was sealed.

"Alice! It's so good to see you!"

He hugged me tight, almost making me drop my suitcase. He was a big man, meaning in this case, both tall (about 6'2") and wide (He had a definite beer belly). Needless to say, being hugged by him was...a winding experience.

He led me inside and I glanced around. It was a big, two story house with lots of windows, white walls, and blue carpet. There were more books and nick-knacks than you could count in a year and I had a good mind to try and devour the entire library. The furniture was all coated in plastic and the smell of dust hung heavy in the air. A rather fat calico cat sat on a book shelf, staring down at me warily.

"Your room's up the stairs and to the right." Grandpa told me, patting my head and ruffling my short black hair. I nodded and carried my case up the stairs. I turned down the hall and peeked into the room I had been directed to. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room and an old television on the dresser. The big window was covered by billowy lace curtains and the walls were a pale baby blue. I set my bag on the floor next to the bed and sat down, trying my best to ignore the cloud of dust that rose up when the covers were disturbed.

I looked down at myself. I hadn't gotten a chance to change or shower since setting off on the car trip. I was wearing an old yellow sundress that had belonged to my mother along with denim shorts, long black and white striped stockings and black, scoffed up combat boots. I let out a sigh, fiddling with the ruffled hem of the dress, remembering the photograph that sat on my father's dresser of my mother with her curly black hair and small smile standing beside him in this very dress.

I removed my large bulky shoes and set to exploring the upper story as opposed to reminiscing. I found two studies, one bathroom and the master bedroom. The only thing that struck me as odd was that nowhere, not even in the bathrooms could I find a single mirror.

As I look over to the master bedroom, my curiosity began to take hold of my reason and beat it to a bloody pulp. I inched over to the door and opened it. I sighed in relief, seeing no living thing in the room. I explored a bit of the room before I heard a loud meow at the master bathroom's door. I spun around to find the calico cat sitting patiently before the door. I opened it for her and looked inside. Still no mirrors but there was a very odd looking door at the end of the room. It was made of ebony which contrasted darkly with the near-white color scheme of the entire house. There where four imprints one on each corner of the door. A heart, a diamond, a spade and a club. I became entranced by it and moved closer, step by step, inch by inch.

"...Alice..."

I halted for a moment. I could have sworn I heard my name, called but still whispered, soft but urgent from behind that mysterious door. I lifted my hand and my fingers twitched as I reached out for the silver doorknob.

"...Aliiice..."

My fingers brushed the cold metal.

"Alice!"

My grandfather's shout from downstairs made me jump almost a foot in the air.

"Time for dinner!"

I turned away from the door, my trance shattered and ran down the stairs, that stupid fat cat in tow.

AN:

Okay, so this is a rewrite of my first story ever Modern Alice. There will be major and minor changes and I hope that it will be generally all around better, not to mention longer and more intense. I went back and read Modern Alice and realized that it really does have a special place in my heart and it doesn't deserve to just stay a piece of crap that I finished when I was 13. So here you go. I hope you enjoy and please, review.

Much love,

Evan.