The story is written in a Lewis Carroll-cross-gothic fairytale way, or at least that was the intention. I tried to write it in the style of Lewis Carroll. I think I might have tried a bit too hard, though.

In case I didn't make it clear in the story, Alice is dead. It was partly inspired by the internet game Alice Is Dead! I make a few references to death throughout the narrative. Did I make them clear enough?

There will be more chapters, but probably not for a while yet.

Enjoy!

I do not own the character of Alice

***

Alice drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and shuffled closer to the fire. Around her the small cottage smelled of wood smoke and peppermint. It was a nice place. But what was the point of a nice place if there was no one to share it with? For all her children had grown up now, and all her grandchildren too. It was very dull around here now.

Alice sighed and closed her eyes. She was very tired. She felt like taking a small nap. She sank lower in her chair and her head lolled. The fire continued to crackle and as it slowly died away in the fireplace.

"But wait a minute," Alice said to herself, "Why was I taking a nap when I don't feel in the least bit tired? In fact, I feel full of energy!" Alice hopped down from the rocking chair to find a curious thing; where before she had been wearing a brown shawl, she was now wearing a summery yellow frock. It was a lovely yellow frock, though, so Alice didn't feel in the least bit worried.

Alice stood up straight and brought her feet together, for she had heard somewhere that this was the proper way for little girls to stand, before gazing around the room she was standing in.

"What a boring room," Alice said to herself, thinking she was alone, before clapping her hand to her mouth as she saw an old woman in a brown shawl sitting in the rocking chair Alice herself had been sitting in up to a moment ago. "She must have come in very quietly, but now it seems she is asleep... I must be very careful not to wake her up."

Alice tiptoed around the room, and stopped to warm herself in front of the few remaining coals in the fireplace, before wondering what to do next.

She was just about to go and see if the door was unlocked when she thought she heard a voice coming from the chimney. The fire was all but out now, so she stuck her head into the fireplace, and soon she heard the distant, worried sounding voice again, though she couldn't make out the words.

"I think it's coming from the top of the chimney," Alice mused. She was a clever girl, and knew that climbing up a chimney wasn't the best idea in the world. "But then again," she said out loud as she clambered into the fireplace and began to climb, "That voice did sound dreadfully worried."

The chimney was dark, and draughty, and dirty, and Alice began to think of climbing back down again when she realised she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't take a step downwards. So she carried on climbing.

"I wonder how long I have been here," she said miserably. "It feels like forever."

Alice began to wonder if she would indeed be stuck inside the chimney forever, and was beginning to think horrible thoughts of what she would have to eat (spiders and soot, she thought would be most likely; how she longed for bread and blackberry jam!) when she saw a small glow of light not too far above her. Cheered by the thought of exiting the tunnel, she began to climb quicker, and soon after her head emerged from the tunnel.

"How strange," Alice said as she looked down to find herself standing in a large blue vase.

"I wouldn't stay standing there if I were you. You might turn into a flower, and then where would we be?" the same baleful voice Alice had heard in the fireplace came from a small sheep wearing spectacles and a bonnet. Alice felt sorry for the creature, as it had an extremely melancholy expression on its face as it helped Alice climb gingerly out of the vase.

"Oh, sheep! Why do you look so sad?" Alice wasn't entirely sure how one addressed a sheep, but 'Oh sheep' appeared to be just fine as it didn't seem in the least bit put out.

"Because, my young phantasm," the sheep carried on hurriedly so Alice had no time to ask what a phantasm was (Alice suspected that the sheep didn't know either) "I have all these flowers, but no one seems to want to buy them."

Alice looked around to see that the room was, indeed, full of a multitude of red and white flowers. "Maybe you should get more colours," She suggested.

"Alas, I can't. I'm completely colour blind, so I don't know red from green from blue from apple, you see."

"Apple isn't a colour, it's a fruit," Alice told the sheep matter of factly.

"What colour is an orange?" queried the sheep.

"Well... orange," Alice admitted

"So it stands to reason that an apple is the colour apple, yes?"

"That's not the same thing it all-" Alice began, before the sheep butted in "You'll buy some flowers, won't you?"

"I – er – I don't have any money," Alice felt very flustered, "But I could give you something else, I suppose..."

"Like what?" said the sheep warily, "A nut? A hat? Come along, we haven't got all day."

"A rhyme!" Alice blurted out.

"Is it valuable?"

"Oh yes, very valuable!" Alice nodded vigorously, and the sheep sat down and stared expectantly. "It is rotten luck," Alice said to herself, "that the moment I need a rhyme, I can't remember any at all!" But she recited one anyway.

"A wise old owl lived in an oak

Above a hungry fox who sang to provoke.

The more he heard the crosser he got

'Till the owl fell into the cooking pot."

The sheep leant back. "I'm sure that's not right," it said uncertainly, "I remember a moral in there somewhere."

Alice nodded seriously. "The moral is to never listen to anyone or you'll get very hot and bothered."

"That must be it." Said the sheep, handing Alice a bunch of flowers. "Now I must insist you leave; it's my lunch break, you see." Alice found herself shepherded out of the office and into a dark forest. "How very rude," Alice said huffily, and felt like going back and telling the sheep just that; but when she turned around she found that the door she had stepped through was nothing but a very solid tree.

"Oh dear," She sighed, as she took the first step into the dark wood, soon to be dissolved into the blackness. " I wonder where I will find myself next?"