This is an idea that has been bouncing around like a pinball in my brain ever since I first read Alice in Wonderland a year or so ago. The Disney movie wasn't my favorite, but the book really found its way into my heart. This takes place after the book, then. Not the movie (any of them).
Anywho, enjoy!
Once Upon a Golden Afternoon
Prologue – The Never Was
The fine line between Alice's consciousness and her subconsciousness grew into a wall rivaling the Great Wall of China as time passed. She lost the place where she could dream, and lost the rabbit hole to wander down, and soon, realized there was never a rabbit hole to begin with. There was never a Wonderland, she had come to that conclusion only a year after her grand adventures. It was all just a daydream, a strange hallucination that was brought upon by the warm summer sun in a golden afternoon. There was never a white rabbit, or a rabbit hole.
There was never a March Hare or a Mad Hatter. There was never a Gryphon or pig baby. There was never a Queen of Hearts.
It was all in her imagination on one golden afternoon.
And so, Alice grew up.
On the night before the wall became a mountain and golden afternoons became fairytales, she overheard her parents arguing. They shouted and raved and ranted, calling Alice's nana incompetent. Earlier that day, Alice had snuck out of the estate to play in the spring-green grassy fields just beyond her backyard. She would sit under a tall, old oak, a book snuggled lovingly in her hands, and read. She loved books. They were her lifeline between reality and those golden afternoons.
"She'll be sixteen soon," her Father ranted crossly, his small wiry spectacles falling down the bridge of his nose with every rampaging step.
"But sir," said the aging Nana, "she's so young at heart, sir."
"Young at heart? Only because you feed her those --- those fairytales!" he spat the word as if it were a sin, and turned to his wife. "She'll be no one's wife if she doesn't stop believing in that rash nonsense!"
Alice sat at the top of the stairs, quietly listening. Ever since she was little, sneaking had been a main hobby, and she had become quite good at it since then. As quiet as a doormouse, her Nana would always mutter. Alice wrapped her small hands around the banister and pressed her forehead against the cool railing. She hated to hear her parents argue, but they did more often than not, and this time she had been the catalyst.
"Maybe," her Mother opted, "its time to send her to the school I went to when I was her age. It's a proper school for proper young ladies. They will teach her etiquette there, and mannerism, and small talk."
"Yes, yes, the Marionette School for Proper Young Ladies," her Father waved his wife off hurriedly. "Then she will leave first thing in the morning."
And all Alice knew, in those simple callous words, vanished.
---
The White Rabbit's ears perked, twitched, and suddenly drooped. The tea table had been set, the crumpets cooling on their platters, and the Doormouse snoozed gently in a neighboring tea cup. It was only on arbitrary occasions that the Mad Hatter and the March Hare would invite him --- and other friends of Wonderland, like the good Knight or the queer Cheshire Cat --- and the White Rabbit enjoyed them. It was an easy vacation from the pompous Queen of Hearts.
Ever since Alice's departure, the Queen had been overly pouty and rude. Already she had beheaded a good many of her Card Soldiers, and a few more of the woodland creatures. She tried to behead the Cheshire Cat, but her minions couldn't figure out which head to behead. (The Cat had pulled a dastardly trick on them --- again.)
"Do you hear that?" the White Rabbit asked curiously.
"What is there to hear?" asked the March Hare, cocking one of his own long, furry brown ears to listen. "I don't hear nothing."
"Exactly."
Both the March Hare and the Mad Hatter gave each other a worried look, then the Mad Hatter cupped his hands behind his ears to listen too. There was only silence. Silence in place of a whimsical soundtrack from Alice's music-box heart. The Mad Hatter's eyes grew distant.
"She's not dreaming any longer," he whispered.
The Doormouse even awoke in the silence. "What's wrong?"
"Alice ain't dreaming?" questioned the March Hare. "Gobbledygook ---"
But then, from the deep belly of the South, a dark, malignant cloud rolled. It covered the placidly pink and yellow sky, and drove away the blue sun. It clouded Wonderland in a dark purple haze, and fat black raindrops began to fall.
The Mad Hatter held out his hand. "Alice grew up?"
"Oh d-d-dear," the White Rabbit stuttered. "Then that ---"
"--- that means . . ." the March Hare suddenly stood, his dark eyes fixated on the looming clouds.
In the silence, the Mad Hatter took off his hat and placed it carefully on the table. "It means, dear fellows, that we don't exist anymore."
And just like that, the black rain poured, and washed everything away.
Continue? Or No?
