{ Note of warning. The end is bit strange and a little gory nothing too bad and I will give amazing points to whoever gets the reference in the end. :D Thanks to everyone for the reviews, they truly help me become a better writer.}
Dear Mr. Hatter,
Time is slowly slipping. How I miss Wonderland where Time was possibly the last thing to imagine, but does time really matter here either? That is a thought only the Cheshire Puss should ponder. I fear I must force my mind to put my point in place. I am to be married. Such a thought I only gave to few men, but he is good and kind.
Do not fear for me, old friend…. I feel happiness will be given to us both. Trust me in that perhaps this is best. In this I shall remain content and hold no promises to you or anyone else. Oh, I sound horrid, this event did come unexpectedly.
I have a plan, a strange and terrible one, but it shall hold promising results if it goes accordingly. Charles is staying in a home in Gilford and I only found his whereabouts thanks to Dormouse. He escaped Wonderland, he told me of the horrible things that have happened. " The Queens have fallen and the world is stuck in anarchy, but he says the King of Hearts has risen and brought his Brothers to rule the two kingdoms….
No, it's too much to speak of now, but please will you explain everything when we meet? All Hope and Trust with you, Mr. Hatter.
Alice.
I tossed the second letter into the passenger seat and stared out the windshield. I counted 15 letters, but the last three were damaged. Thanks to some Detective work {Thank You Google}, I found out that apparently the letters were not in order.
The first letter had apparently been written when she was 47 and the second when she was around 28. So now, all I that I know is that all these letters were written over a long period of time, up to 20 years, but what could compel her to write such letters? She either was really crazy or…well, the second option was a little bizarre even for my taste.
Moors University was luckily a few miles away from my houses and my parents wouldn't suspect anything. Professor Albert Farren, I heard, was freaking brilliant with restoring damaged historic artifacts, so a bunch of silly letters should be easy for him to fix up. I jumped out of the old blue Ford truck that Hannah let me borrow and walked into the Cordell Building. The long hallway stretched out, like in the ones you see in horror movies.
The room numbers passed until my eyes locked on the fourth door down, 332. I knocked ever so lightly and a voice called out from the inside. "My Office hours are from 3:00 to 4:00—"
Turning the brass knob, I stuck my head in before he could brush me off completely. The office was in chaos that I never would have expected from a professor, but he sat in the middle behind his desk, watching a little TV set on top of a stack of textbooks.
Gazing up at my face through rectangular glasses, he clamored from his spot and stood over his desk trying to cover his mess. "Miss, did you not hear—" I quickly stepped in and closed the door.
"Please, Mr. Farren. I'm not a student here." He paused in trying to hide the mess and stepped over the stacks over clutter.
"I'm sure you have some very important point to make, but student or not, you can contact me from 3 to 4." He smiled as if talking to a child.
My eyes went down to my jacket where the letters were hidden in an envelope.
"Look, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for something important. My name is Natalie Jones and um, I think I have something that might interest you."
His eyebrows raised and he stared me down curiously. "Miss Jones, are you aware of what I teach?"
I nodded and pulled the envelope out, holding it out to him. "Yes, which is why I came to you. What I have—is something that—well all I have to say is it's old and damaged, but if the wrong people found out about it…."
It was possibly the only time I felt I had to trust someone. I kept holding out the envelope and waited for his reaction.
His eyebrows knitted together as he took it from me. Biting my lip, I waited and watched his expression.
With a careful hand, he pulled it open and focused so intently on the contents that he didn't even seem to blink.
He pulled the letters out slowly and gasped when he got to the damaged ones.
"It's impossible," he mumbled, laying them out on top of the other papers on his desk. He leaned over them tensely.
"How-how did you come across these?" he said, not looking at me.
"I came across them, but if you can fix those three so they're readable…I'll—alright, here's the deal. You can't have them, you can't tell anyone you have them AND if you do tell anyone, I'll burn the rest of the letters," I said, a strange over-protective feeling washing over me.
My words seemed to stick to him, but a smile formed on his face. "I suppose I have no choice in the matter."
I nodded sternly, but Icouldn't help smile at my thoughts. This was the first time I had ever felt in control of a situation and for some reason it lead me to think that my finding these letter weren't some coincidence.
The young man stared into the silver-rimmed looking glass at the girl. Master Honorable said to watch her, Master Honorable said never to leave her alone, Master—
The wooden door behind him creaked open, but his eyes were glued to the mirror.
"Pat, how is she?"
A man with shoulder-length white hair wobbled up next to Pat and stuck his pale pink nose in the air.
"Oh Master Honorable, she is trying to read Mythical Alice's letters, but it seems Mythical Alice is not of Past—"
The man raised his arm, matted with white patches of fur, and mauled the boy's face with sharp nails.
The boy fell quickly and without a sound of pain, starting to twitch in a pool of pale blood.
"If you plan to live under my rule then you must never utter that thought of yours. Alice is not real…. Keep a eye on the girl, and you know what to do if she discovers too much."
Pat nodded and the skin on his face stretched to cover the wound. He stood and continued to watch.
"Yes, Master Honorable."