Don't be angry with me (also known as disclaimer): this story is flotsam and jetsam of ideas from ALL Alice's that I've studied/seen. This means that the sister from the books is the main character, given the name Margaret cause it suited her (thank you Tim Burton), and that it is dark and twisted and not all flowery- also a tribute to Tim Burton as well as the new Alice: Madness Returns game. Please, forgive this creative license and just try to enjoy. Reviews are welcome as always.
Further Introduction of sorts and the like (a note from the author, to be frank): Why, hello and thanks for checking out my story. I'm sure you will realize right away that it's not entire Tim Burton, more of a combination of all the Alice I've gathered over the past year- and that's a lot. So, instead of fudging about with minor details (such as the fact Margaret was married to a scoundrel in TB's version) please do read critically and as story-lovers. It is, after all, what I felt the Alice stories were originally about- imagination and stories.
Chapter 1: Where's Alice?
Margaret stared out into the rain in a bored fashion, her eyes following the vanishing coattails of the gentleman who'd just come calling for her sister, who was absent as usual. Margaret had entertained him for a few brief moments as he waited, hoping the girl would show up eventually. After a pause, he'd grown bored and left Margaret to her embroidery.
Most of what Margaret did was boring. She read, she embroidered, she smiled politely at suitors jokes. Yes, Margaret was a proper young lady, with proper length dresses, properly pulled back hair, and proper posture and manners. Just now, as she sat (straight backed, chin up) with her sewing neglected in her lap (a design of flowers for a cushion) she wondered what her younger sister Alice was up to.
Alice was their mother's wild child. Often left to her own devices, her hair was nearly always found unkempt in wild blond curls around her face and flopping into her shining blue eyes, her cheeks flushed from running, and her pinafore filthy from kneeling (kneeling willingly!) in the dirt. Still, the girl was loved for her untamed nature and so she was allowed to be untamed with a wild imagination (following rabbits down holes- really!). Margaret however, with her plain complexion, brown hair, and shrewd dark eyes, was not given this luxury. Perhaps if she'd seized it in her youth… but she was twenty-two now. It did not do to dwell on such things.
Twenty-two. Practically a spinster.
"Margaret, have you seen Alice?" Her mother said, appearing in the doorway. Margaret turned with a frown and a shake of her head. She watched sadly as her mother's shoulders slumped with worry. "It's almost dinnertime. If there's one thing we can rely on her for is to be present for dinner. Wonder where that girls gotten off to- surely not outside in this rain!"
"Let us hope not, Mama. I'm afraid I haven't the slightest clue where she is. I'll go check upstairs in the old nursery." Anything to stop with the stitching already! She placed it delicately on the table beside her chair and stood, sweeping her dress professionally to remove any unseemly wrinkle in the fabric. She then passed her mother and up the stairs to check for her younger sister.
She hadn't said it but she, too, was worried for Alice. Although they'd never been as close as sisters ought to be, something felt wrong. Like it usually did right before Alice appeared with one of her wild fabricated tales of tea parties that never ended and queens that demanded heads rolled (violent, vulgar thought for a young girl!). This felt different though. Sure, it had the usual, almost forgotten feel to it, that maybe Alice wasn't all there, wasn't all real. Only this felt much, much worse. It was like a stitch in the chest that wouldn't leave. It was like something hazy on the edge of her vision, a bump on her brain. Nerve-wracking!
Still, Alice's adventures often gave her brain something to think on for a few days. Imagine, playing croquette with flamingos! And what of that vanishing cat? She had a sneaking suspicion that had been part of a dream at least. The girl was often found napping over her halfhearted stitchery with that cat, Dinah, in her lap. Perhaps that brought on such fancy notions. Yet it made Margaret partly envious that her sister had such dreams. Even those, had become mundane over the years for the older girl.
"Alice?" She called, entering the nursery. The light had dimmed with the approach of an early night because of the weather. She peered vainly into the corners and possible hiding places but it was no use. Alice was not in the house. As her heart was telling her.
She sat in the small rocking chair by the window, staring out into the gray again. She fancied she saw a flash of white fur between the bushes that out skirted the yard, protecting them from the small patch of wilderness the world offered up just beyond. She swore she'd seen it.
"Just a rabbit." She murmured to herself before shutting her mouth entirely. People would think her mad if she talked to herself, even such small remarks as that. She leaned back in the chair, rocking slightly and closed her eyes, trying to imagine chasing the rabbit, as her sister often talked of doing.
The rabbit was in front of her dressed, oddly enough, in a waistcoat with a watch chain glistening, barely noticeable. His feet were kicking up wildly as he hopped along, spraying dirt and grass back at her. She tried to dodge it and swipe it away with a white-gloved hand. She kept running, the mud making the travel difficult. "Oh, Mr. Rabbit, what can you mean Wonderland is in trouble? Mr. Rabbit? Mr. Rabbit!"
Her stomach dropped as she flew forward in the chair, feeling as though she were about to fall. She must have dozed off for a few moments. The voice she'd heard calling to the rabbit had been Alice's. Not hers.
"What do you mean she hasn't been in all day?" Came her mother's shout from downstairs. Margaret turned and hurried as quickly as propriety allowed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her mother, red-faced and clearly distraught, was interrogating the cook. "You mean she hasn't even been in for her afternoon snack and you hadn't thought to let me know?"
"Please, Madame, sometimes Miss Alice skips her snack time in favor of her more fantastic divergences. I simply thought this was one of those times-" The cook was pleading, turning to frantically add more pepper into the bubbling pot on the stove. The pepper seemed to cloud the air and Margaret let out an involuntary sneeze.
"Bless you." Her mother said curtly before whisking out of the room. "I'm alerting the police this instant. My baby is missing!"
Margaret said nothing to stop her, offered no protest to this idea. Deep in her heart, she knew it to be true. She knew something to be terribly wrong. She knew Alice was in trouble.
"Strange. I never even heard the door open and shut." Cook offered up to the stove thoughtlessly.
A/N~ Just a taste of what I have written so far, my dears. I just wonder what sort of reception it will receive concerning Margaret rather than Alice as the title character. But rest assured, Wonderland and all your favorite characters will be a part of it! Please, please, pretty please pass the scones along with a nice review to the Hatter, while he sits patiently twiddling his thumbs and stirring his tea.