Chapter 1 Remember The Fall
The cool water gently ran past her ankles, and the clean mud in the riverbank squished beneath her bare feet. The birds were particularly loud this afternoon, their beaks clicked and their songs were sweet. The branches above her twitched lightly in the breeze; blades of grass swayed gracefully back and forth. Fifteen year old Alice Liddell stood in the center of the small river that found its way far in front of her mother's large white house. Father always lets mother call it her own. It's her own artwork. Nearly every week she will redecorate or buy a new piece of furniture to decorate the cozy living space. But Alice hardly spent any time inside. She loved the outdoors. She loved the breeze, she loved the woods, she loved the daisies and the river. She couldn't recall ever not loving nature . . . in fact, she couldn't recall anything from before she was seven. Curious. "It's as if," said Alice aloud, "I never lived in this world at all. It's all a blurry image, like a dream."
"Alice, will you wash up! Honestly you spend all your time outside. It's not proper," Lorina, Alice's older sister, scolded, "No suitor wants a girl who can't do anything other than daydream." Edith, who was two years younger than Alice, sighed, "Lorina you don't have to be so harsh."
Edith knelt in front of Alice while she brushed her hair. "The days go by so quickly don't they Alice? Sometimes I feel time is catching up too fast for me to fully comprehend." Time. A watch. A rabbit. "Alice? You seem dazed. Sometimes I feel you aren't here anymore." Edith sighed, "It upsets mother you know. She's afraid you won't be with us for much longer. She's afraid you'll leave."
Genevieve, Alice's mother, glided into her daughter's room. She leant on the doorframe, "Alice darling did you leave my shawl outside? It's getting cold but I'm afraid I can't find it." "Oh! Yes mother, I'll get it!" She jumped up and ran down the stairs, ignoring her mother's calls to come back. Ignoring her mother's warnings of the dark, the cold. And poor Alice was too far to hear her mother whisper in fear, "I don't want you to disappear again. Wonderland isn't for you. I know."
Her blonde hair shone silver in the moonlight. Silver with flecks of gold. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to keep herself warm. Something soft rubbed against her leg and she jumped. "Dinah! You scared me you silly cat." Alice picked up the now very fat cat and cuddled her to her chest. "Have you seen mother's shawl?" Dinah meowed and looked towards the river. A large strip of red fabric tossed and turned on the grass. "Oh, there it is. Off you go Dinah. Go on now! Shoo!" Dinah left with a meow, her paws gently thudding on the damp grass. Alice leapt gracefully over the flowing water, her feet still bare. She laughed as she tried to catch the thin, red satin fabric. Her giggle echoed against the breeze. She smirked as the fabric stilled, her dainty hand clutched the corner and she threw it over her shoulders. It was surprisingly warm.
"Oh, no, no, no, no! It is too dark! I cannot see a thing!" Alice whipped her head toward the voice. It was familiar. Two bright pink eyes glowed slightly above Alice's head. "You!" It whispered harshly. "You were not to remember. I am sorry." The pink dots went black. "No!" Cried Alice, "Do not leave!" She ran aimlessly. Looking for the mysterious figure. "You cannot follow me!" The voice cried. Turn left. "Just watch me," Alice smirked.
The moon was gone. Trees covered it. Alice sighed. "Did I imagine you?" She turned around to head home. The path was easy to follow. She turned around again. And again. And again. "Oh no! Of course with my luck I get lost!" You are not lost. You must remember. You need to find her. You need to find him. They need you. Try Alice. Try.
She gasped. "It can't be . . . the white rabbit. Oh, god." She remembered it all. The White Rabbit. Cheshire. The Queens. The looking glass. Hatter. She remembered Wonderland.
Genevieve sat by the window. Her forehead creased with worry, her Alice. It was only a matter of time before she went back. She belonged there. But Wonderland is not what it seems. A child's fantasy never is.
Alice ran. Her feet followed a familiar path. Her stomach dropped. Her heart stopped. Then she was floating. "Ha! Hahaha! I did it!" The fall down the rabbit hole was not as Alice remembered it. The mirrors were shattered, the paintings were charred. There were no books and there was no marmalade. But there were portraits floating beside her. Interesting portraits with interesting people. A woman with short white hair, her eyes a dark almost black midnight blue. Two little men, with thin pink scars running from their brow to there cheek bone on the left side. A large cat, no man . . . no cat? Anyway, a large man-cat standing upright with his hand on his hips, a cheeky grin planted on his whiskered face. Then there was the girl. She was wearing a cherry red dress. Her hair was black, but it shone gold in the light. Her eyes were blue, but they were laced with blood red tears. Her small hand was placed on her shoulder, covering a large black glove belonging to a man with a large black top hat. His eyes were violet, pure violet, but such as the child's were, his sharp violet eyes were circled with a thin blood red line. Alice seemed to stop her falling and simply stared at the portrait. The girl's eyes were smiling. She looked so happy. Alice began to feel she was staring into a mirror, seeing right through the still figures to their thoughts. The girl seemed strange in some way. We're all mad here.
She brushed his curly brown hair away from his eyes. "My sweet Arthur," she whispered, "I'm sorry." Genevieve's sleeping husband turned in his sleep. She left. It was strange thinking that she might see Wonderland again. Her heart skipped with a sort of fearful love that she couldn't truly comprehend. When Genevieve fell into Wonderland, she was not as young as her daughter. She was seventeen. She spent a year there, in the company of the White Rabbit. She often looked through the looking glass and saw her family. They had given up their search for her, assuming her dead. At nineteen, she went back. Arthur had found her, bloodied and beaten. War in Wonderland was more a danger for her than any other Wonderlander. But I cannot give everything away. I am the Looking Glass. And I know the story. The story of a girl who was curiously, wonderfully, simply . . . mad.
Thank you so much for reading!
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