An ancient gray cat floated up into the black night sky. The effervescent pale rings of the moon showed outlines and corners of the thin puffy clouds that drifted by with the breeze. The clouds were of almost a yellowish hue, how one might find some fungus on a dead tree.. the clouds were especially thin, the middle parts see-through and the edges a dark color. These clouds looked almost like a human cell dyed in yellow ink put under a microscope. Maybe even some very thinly sliced cheese.
The gray cat did flowing somersaults through the air in accordance with riding the breeze which was a torrent of darkness through the dusty trees. Branches snapped then all was still.
Floating on the breeze like magic carpet the cat perched himself upon the crown of one of the dark trees. These trees looked black, gnarled, and old. As if ancient secrets and kingdoms had lived and died in these forests.
Fact is, they had. The reign of the Red Queen ended long ago, even the next time of reign, the White Queen. All were gone. Long dead. The Mad Hatter, the queens, the soldiers, the blue caterpillar, the white rabbit, simply everyone. All had returned to the ashes.
The last to go was Alice. She was cursed for she did not age. She simply remained in the vivacity of her youth, not a gray hair, not a crease in her skin. How did she die?
Not of age, not of accident. She had fully intended to die. When she could stand the pain of loss no more, she retreated into the ruins of the white rabbit's house and drank the vial of venon she had procured from the White Queen's herbal and potion preparing room.
She crept up the old and rickety staircase, down the hall past the windows with their moth-eaten curtains, and into the back bedroom. She sat on the bed and a plume of dust rose from the old pink and blue quilt. Alice ignored the urge to sneeze and rose from the bed to a corner of the room where shadow crept.
A glisten had caught her eye in the dark, it was a reflection of light off an object. She reached her hand in the shadow and pulled out an old familiar object. A silver box ornately decorated in a old victorian fashion. A weak smile played her lips as she lifted the lid and a few notes of music played. Inside the box was just dust. But Alice still saw the contents as if it were only yesterday she had last been to this house.
Small cookies were in the box. Saying 'Eat Me' in frosting. A tear rolled down Alice's cheek as her mind replayed the memories of her coming into Wonderland, reeling up to this very point in her life. All the memories and all the adventures. Alice knew she would not. Regret her decision.
Raising the vial to her lips she drained it of all it's contents. The vile green liquid passed through her mouth and down her throat. Just taken but she could already feel the tingle passing through her body as it followed the descent of poison.
Alice crawled to the bed and lay down and closed her eyes. Knowning she would never open them again. The last of Wonderland died.
Except the Cheshire Cat.