Here is my new story :) It's kinda based loosely on the Mad Hatters riddle 'Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk', hence the name. Hat is named after the Mad Hatter, but he is not based on him. Alice is named after Alice, but she is not based on her, if that makes sence...

Anyways, it is completely AU and AH. Hope you enjoy, Read and Review :)

P.S. This is just the prologue, to introduce the characters.

Phee1234 xx


Alice was always a dreamer. She dreamt of adventure, of love and acceptance. But of course, she had that; in one way or another. Compared to the many others of her school, she had everything; piles of wanna-be friends, boys mulling over her and power. Power, that was the most important thing, especially in the new year. At this time, cliques were recreated, status was set and new reputations were made. But no matter how good, how anonymous you were at this point it could all come crashing down if She decided differently. This power that Alice possessed was both a help, and a hindrance.

You see, Alice could only ever be what everyone wanted her to be, or the masses would overthrow her. She had never really wanted to be queen, she felt icy, controlling people; she was the Queen of Hearts, if you will.

Sometimes, Alice wondered how anonymity felt. She had never meant to be so high on the food chain, but somehow her supposed charm had drawn people to her, then it had drawn jealous looks and people soon had started to ask her opinon, to lust over her words. Not long after this, she was Queen.

Alice was beautiful. Her long, luminous ebony hair hung to below her waist, and although she never meant it, her eyes had a hunters glow. The look which told those below her to either appease her; or run.

Maybe it was instinct; the desire to remain on top, or maybe her years of acting as this person were finally getting to her. Sometimes it was easier to pretend.


Hat was a strange name. It associated him with the thing which rests upon your head to shade you face from the sun, or the thing you relied upon to keep your head warm in the winter. But Hat was an original name. He knew no one with the name, and he had had it for so long, that sometimes he believed that it was in fact his real name.

He was a poet, a writer. His words had a way of flowing together, making even the simplest of sentences sound smooth, or harsh, or sometimes even scary.

Of an evening, his tall figure would sit hunched over his desk, scrawling on the well-worn notebook that rested there. Even with his height, he somehow retained the elegance that a shorter figure possessed. He wasn't clumsy, he didn't trip over his own feet. At one stage, he had even been mistaken for a ballet dancer. The mortification he had felt at this statement was beyond the worst thing he had ever heard.

Despite his smarts, he somehow still had the respect of his peers. He wasn't ridiculed like many of the other "nerds" or "geeks"; maybe it was his looks: his shoulder-length auburn hair, his naturally broad shoulders, or his kind smile.