The Death of Wonderland
Hey. This is a new story! Yay! I love Alice in Wonderland, my school might be doing it as a production next year and would love to partake in it. I got the idea of this story off of the game Alice: Madness Returns. It is a very dark story, but I will try to add humour in :D
Note: I am English so the language will be as well, so I will say stuff like trousers instead of pants. Also, it is sent in Victorian times or just before/after.
Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland. (Obviously) This is just a story I came up with to show how Alice felt after her adventures. This is set many years in the future from her first visit, when Alice was little. In this, Alice is 13 and lives in an Orphanage. I do not own characters such as Alice or the Mad Hatter, but I do own a couple of characters like Miranda.\
Enjoy!
~Cassie
Darkness. Swirling clouds of despair, fire and hate. And screams. So many screams. She couldn't take it. Her voice joined theirs. A screech, full of sorrow and pain wrung out from her mouth. Her wonderland was burning.
Alice woke. Her head spun as she climbed out of bed. She realised she was crying. Wiping her eyes, she stared at herself in the cracked black mirror over her small dressing table. Her black hair hung around her face limply, her deep blue eyes lifeless. She had dark bags under her eyes, her brow plastered in a permanent frown. She picked at a loose piece of cotton dangling from the sleeve of her tattered nightgown. Alice sighed and pulled it over her head. Letting it fall on the floor, she picked up her long coat and pulled it around her naked body. She then walked over to the small sink, picking up the metal bucket beside it. She turned the tap on and filled the bucket to the brim with cold water, then, she poured it into her tin bath. She repeated this a couple more times until the bath was full. She removed her coat and stepped in.
After lying in the cold water for a good hour, Alice finally got out. Her skin was all shrivelled like a prune. She sighed. The dreams had returned. Dreams of Wonderland. But this time, they were different. Distorted. Her Wonderland had become cold, bleak and full of death. Alice pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, tying it with a black ribbon. She dressed in her usual clothes, a striped shirt, a black pinafore over the top. She was pulling on her black striped tights when a knock came on her door. "Alice?" She rolled her eyes. Miranda.
"Come in."
Miranda walked through the door, her beautiful blonde hair piled on top of her head, a blue ribbon holding it in place. Miranda was only nine, four years younger than Alice, but assumed they were best friends. "Oh, do excuse me Miss Alice, I was expecting you to be clothed." Alice stared at her.
"I am clothed Miranda. Wait for me in the breakfast hall, I will be down shortly." Miranda bowed her head and left, closing the door behind her. Alice scoffed inside and finished putting her tights on. She then laced her boots and pulled her fingerless gloves on. She departed for breakfast.