Chapter Two


Her body jolted forward when she woke up with a crash.

"Just a hole in the road, Miss." The driver of the carriage informed her as she was looking around in a daze from been woken up her sleep. She fell asleep? She slept for hours the night before. The reason she was looking around in a daze wasn't for the abrupt end of her dream though. It was for the dream she had been having. She had been dreaming of land plentiful with trees and flowers – although the flowers, as well as mushrooms, were as large as the trees in the neighbouring woods she found herself walking through too.

She found herself face to face with a grinning cat in a tree who talked nonsense, or what seemed nonsense to her. Her mind was aloof with the image of that cat almost burnt on her brain. She just couldn't get its large bright green eyes out of her mind. "The Cheshire cat?" she found herself whispering as she looked down at her hands. "What…" She was unsure why she was dreaming of the land her grandmother told her about when she was a child. It took fifteen years for those stories to finally catch up to her?

"We're nearly there." She was informed by the driver who was taking her to the gallery. She definitely didn't want to head there now. Marianne wanted to head home and tell her grandmother of her dream. She knew the characters better than she did – she would be able to tell her why she would be dreaming of the cat. Running her fingers through the tips of her almost waist length hair, she twisted the coil around her finger and sighed. Nonsense, perhaps that was just what the dream was, complete and utter nonsense. She pushed some of the curtain hiding the view from the carriage and looked outside – the light hurt her eyes slightly, but that soon passed.

Marianne only wondered as to why her grandmother wouldn't come with her. She was usually very happy to come and look at the paintings in the gallery. It was something they did together, a family activity. Marianne knew that she had arranged this visit especially, for there was some new exhibit, but she would have expected that to have raised her grandmother's curiosity. That appeared not to be true. What was it with her today? Marianne felt like something was going to happen and wasn't sure yet if she was going to like or hate it.

The driver, who had been the driver for her family for as long as Marianne could remember opened the door for her and Marianne existed the carriage, her hands fumbling with the over coat that was on her dress. She sighed and looked down at it. Once she had gotten inside the gallery she was bound to sweat, that was the last thing she wanted. Marianne undid the jacket and threw it carelessly back into the carriage, much to James – the driver's – displease. Apparently to throw a jacket wasn't good for the look of society.

"I'll be waiting out here for your return." Marianne nodded as she made her way to the gallery her long fashionable yellow dress almost glistened in the sunlight. She was amazed that he wasn't going to be coming with her and keeping a close eye on her – to report back to her grandmother for every little thing she had done wrong. Marianne knew her grandmother wasn't like that though deep down – just on the upper level of her mind, Marianne thought her life was of being a thorn in her grandmother's side.

Marianne was lead down the gallery as her eyes found a countless amount of pictures and sculptures that she couldn't care less for, none of them sparked her attention. She had such a big mind and imagination that it took a lot to make her stop and stare with a 'wow' impression in head. She was informed that the exhibit was around the corner and her tour guide would leave her to go on by herself. She nodded her head, she knew this gallery almost like the back of her hand – she wouldn't get lost.

Well this was certainly interesting. She sighed in her head with a tint of sarcasm lacing her thoughts. It was nothing new. She had seen this type of artwork before. She had seen the colours, the buildings, the impressionists. She didn't know why her grandmother sent her here. It was nothing that would have given her chills. Well at least now she knew why she never accompanied her. Marianne walked further across until something did catch her attention.

Her reflection.


The Mirror

It was a large mirror, as if it was added on the wall for extra decoration. For the people who passed by to stop and look at themselves and wonder why they were let out of the house looking the way they did. Or, perhaps that was just the way Marianne thought when she looked at herself. Her long thick hair just lying there dull and lifeless, even though she had spent hours on it, to make it look like it was perfect. Her eyes didn't give away much impression to her emotions inside – her skin was pale almost pasty, but perhaps that was the lightening in the gallery, or because the yellow in the dress washed her out.

Both Marianne and her grandmother had told her father that the colour wouldn't work on her! Why didn't he listen to her and bring her back something in a colour she was known to wear a lot? It wasn't like him not to pay attention to them. Oh wait. It was. Marianne studied the mirror. It was also shimmering like her dress, but in a golden colour. Was this part of the exhibition or was it added decoration like she had first thought. She wasn't sure.

The more she focused on the mirror, the more she got bored. It just gave her an air of vanity. Or so she suspected, to the millions of 'drones' walking around past her. They would all look at her, staring into her reflection, and cast their own judgement and she was sure that judgement would find its way back to her grandmother. Marianne shook that thought out of her head as she went to walk away from the mirror before remembering her grandmother's advice with things she didn't understand – or find fascinating - in the gallery.

To look at things with a hint of imagination.

Marianne stopped and turned back to the mirror and looked inside. This was useless! All she saw was the same poor fool looking back at her sorry for herself! She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Why she was the granddaughter of Alice Kingsleigh. She was supposed to have the same fiery spirit, the same imagination, the same outlook on life that was discarded by the aristocrats. It appeared Marianne wasn't worthy of being her granddaughter.

She opened her eyes and to her surprise the world around her reflection had changed. It was no longer the drab dull room of the gallery. She shook her head. Her eyes were playing a trick on her. She turned around to look at the room around her – yes it was still drab and dull – but all the people that were here moments ago had appeared to disappear. She glanced back at the mirror expecting things to be back to normal – but no – there it was again.

Staring back at her was herself – but she wasn't wearing the yellow dress, it was a brighter shade of green – it certainly looked better on her than her own. The colour in her skin made her look at least if she was alive. She was surrounded by shrubbery. Giant shrubbery, it was bright and colourful – and it was. What was that! She asked herself as her head turned to look at the shrubbery moving behind her reflection, she was more than sure she saw something move, it was white… a rabbit?

The reflection version of herself had moved her hand out. Wait, weren't reflections simply a mirror images, she was supposed to be looking at herself exactly the same way as she was looking back – something about this wasn't right, was she hallucinating? Marianne was curious, why would she be offering herself her hand. The woman moved her hand towards the mirror, looking back at herself as she wondered what she was doing. She was certainly mad… crazy… she was just as the people called her grandmother.

"Wait." She spoke before it was too late for the reflection of herself had grabbed her hand. How was that even possible!