Hello there! This kinda is about Emma Swan being Alice. So, yeah. She gets sucked into Wonderland! Cool! If you've got any questions, PM me or review! also- this uses some characters and places from Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, but Cora is the Queen of Hearts and the White Queen and her Kingdom is destroyed. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I only own this story!

Chapter 1- The Wrong Rabbit Hole

I woke up with a start. Nightmares… I can still smell the smoke from the nightmare.

Wait.

Smoke?

I tilted my head to the side with a delicacy only I had in this awful family. I tentatively sniffed the air, trying to distinguish if Abraham had just burnt another midnight snack. My stomach coiled in dread, as I smelt the cloying, suffocating smoke that I could clearly see seeping under the crack of my door.

I leapt out of my warm, inviting bed and grabbed my only scarf, the blue and green one, and pressed it to my mouth. Judging from the amount of smoke coming in, I had 3 minutes.

Max.

I grabbed my satchel with all of my possessions in it; after all I didn't have too much, and sprinted over to the window, struggling to open the sticky wood, fingers scrabbling and scratching the soft, strong wood. A rough cough rattled my bones and I bent over, the smoke tickling my lungs like soft fingers with sharp claws. I waved away the smoke and continued my battle with the stubborn window. Finally the window opened and without a second (or first) thought, I jumped out, caution thrown to the wind.

The ground was three stories down.

55 feet.

55. Foot. Drop.

Smart me!

I hit the ground lightly, not even raising the thick dust that coated the ground like a second skin. I had always been nimble when it came to footwork, which was why I wasn't more bruised and beat than I am. After all, the head of the family (well, the whole family) hated having us children around. Raven and Rose, the black-haired blue-eyed twins, had died last month of respective 'sicknesses'. Why would you be foster parents if you hated any child that wasn't your own? Seriously, think this thing through.

So, considering that a) the house was being burnt to the ground and I really couldn't do anything and b) I hated this place and the people here and they felt the same about me, you couldn't blame me when I just turned tail and fled. My fight or flight instinct has always had an extra helping of 'flight' on the scales.

So, I was running. And then ran into a rabbit's hole. Down a bazillion feet until I hit a dirt floor in a dark tunnel.

Today really isn't my day…

"OK. Dark tunnel, I can't very well climb back up, so… through the tunnel!" I hopped to my feet and waited to see how long it would take for the sound of my talking to echo back. I counted out loud softly, "1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…" the echoes bounced back at six, so I've probably got a mile and a half walk ahead of me. I grabbed my satchel from were it fell onto the floor, dusted off my blue dress, and started walking.

So? What do you think?

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