Alice awakes from her rest feeling refreshed. She has slept through the day, and it is dark. She begins to miss the light of day from her little cell, even if it casts long, barred shadows over the cement floor. She looks above her and sees the mirror, leering at her with her own scornful face. She looks like hell. Her curly hair is flying around her face in some sort of derangement. Over the past few days, she has become even more spare and insubstantial. Her eyes have sunken into dark little hollows, and her complexion is nearly transparent.
Embellishing the gray reflections of the mirror, appears the extravagant smirk of Cheshire. Alice doesn't want to return. She feels as though if she does, she will be forced to cling to the insanity that resides there.
"Are you ready, Alice?" His voice is tumultuous and resounding.
"Have I ever been fucking ready for this shit?" she retorts. She blinks, and already she feels the wind whipping her face, the darkness enveloping her, and the clammy fingers of the frigid air grappling at her flesh.
When Alice's eyes quiver open again, she finds herself standing before two great, white pillars. The pillars seem to shoot up to the sky in perpetuity. They are massive columns, and centered between them both, is a giant caterpillar, reclining on a lavish, purple pillow. Rising behind him is an immense, gypsy-style tent. His corpulent body expounds, in her mind, past its natural boundaries. He looks less like a caterpillar and more like a plump grub. His eyes are yellow and ringed in red. An oversized bong sits before him, and smoke floods out of his nostrils, drifting up and spiraling around the pillars. The smoke of the enormous bong seems to pervade the entire area, suffusing the entirety of the outside arena with its aroma. On one side of the caterpillar is a topless butterfly, fanning the rotund and grubby creature with a palm leaf. She giggles intermittently, every once again taking a hit from the joint in her unoccupied hand.
"Caterpillar," Alice says with authority, "I need to talk to you."
Caterpillar seems to awaken from his haze, finally noticing her presence. "You want to talk to me?"
"Caterpillar," Alice begins, "I was told you could help me."
"Well, I got lots of help I can give you," Caterpillar winks and sways, obviously off-balance. "I got everything from spittin' tobacco to heroin. As some famer, I mean, famous, dude once said, 'anything you want, baby, you got it'…" At this, three topless butterflies, wearing some garb similar to that of Vegas showgirls, file out of the purple tent behind Caterpillar, singing in tune. Caterpillar smiles with approval as he pinches the butt of one of the butterflies. "It's my new advertising campaign. You like?" He begins to laugh uncontrollably. "I don't even have to pay these lovely ladies," he says, his eyes struggling to stay open and focus, "they work for me, I mean my, prostitution ring…"
"Listen, Caterpillar, I don't want any of your drugs. I don't want any of your whores. I just want information--"
"Whoa! You listen here, my friend, my establishment is perfectly legal, and if you have any problems whatsoever I say you either take it up with management or call the Better Business Bureau."
"Caterpillar," Alice pleas desperately, "I just want to know what you know about Wonderland. WONDERLAND. I was told that if there's anything that I need to know about Wonderland, you would tell me."
Caterpillar peals into laughter, tears beginning to sprout at the cornices of his squinted eyes. "Oh, you had me scared, ya little cheeky monkey! You don't want me, kiddo; you want my mother. She's in there." Caterpillar points to the tent behind him. Strings of beads cover the door, and Alice is almost afraid to see what is inside.
"You stay out here," she tells Cheshire, as she pushes past the Vegas butterflies and into the tent.
The inside is plush and furnished in downy pillows and indigo blankets. In the corner, a ladybug is playing on some sort of Hindi instrument, tapping the strings with quick plucks. The ladybug's face is wrapped in shrouds, and the music she is producing is almost hypnotic. Sitting on a red cushion in the center of the room, is a seemingly youthful moth. Candles surround her, the wax melting in rings around their bases. A small jewel is embedded in the moth's forehead, glittering with the fluctuating light of the tent. She is dainty and delicately boned, with long, feathery antennas erupting from her head in two luxurious plumes. With her eyes still closed, the moth asks, "you seek my wisdom?"
Alice, quite mystified by all that is around her, says, "yes. I was sent here by Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They told me I should talk to Caterpillar, but he seems a little…preoccupied at the moment."
"My son," she says with dismay, "is a stoner."
"Ms…?"
"Mathilde. My name is Mathilde," the moth says.
"Mathilde, what is going on here?" Alice asks, her force of will diminishing with every passing moment.
"Why, my child, you should already know exactly what is wrong with Wonderland. You've always known." Alice gives Mathilde a quizzical look. "Girl," Mathilde continues, "you and Wonderland have been affecting each other for years…ever since you were a girl. The question is not what's been bothering Wonderland…the question is: What has been bothering you?"
"I don't understand," Alice says desperately.
"Alice…Where is your mother?"
Alice's face goes starkly pale. "What does my mother have to do with this? She's dead."
"I didn't ask whether she was living or not, girl. I asked where she was." Alice says nothing. "Oh, your father never told you then?" Alice searches for words but can find none. From her robes, Mathilde pulls a looking glass. "Look in the glass, Alice. Ask it where your mother is."
Alice's mind reels. "Where is my mother, mirror?" Sworls of fog precipitate across the mirror's face. Alice's eyes never leave the mirror; she doesn't even blink. Suddenly, shapes begin to form. A palace, chiseled out of ebony and towering to the heavens, is visible. The images swoop through an open tower of a top window. It is a dungeon, and lying upon a mound of stale hay, is a corpse. The corpse seems to have been dead for some time, but its garb is still intact: A flowing, red gown, ornately embellished with jewels…and hearts.
"But Why?" she asks. "The Queen of Hearts? Why? How?!" Alice's questions turn to shrieks and tears that flow profusely down her pale face.
Mathilde pauses to let Alice compose herself. "Alice, this world is a real world. It's not some illusion you create in your mind. But, to keep it alive, it must have contact with the outside world. That contact is you. Just by having you know about this land, Alice, keeps us alive. The downfall is that you are directly affected with the mood of the land, and the mood of the land is directly affected by its ruler. Do you follow?"
Alice nods. "So, the Queen of Hearts…my mother…became ruler, and created a world of madness. And when the Duchess came to rule, after killing the Queen, she created a world of darkness?"
"Yes. Before your mother went mad, she entrusted this land to you. She wanted you to be the link, and she gave you the greatest inheritance a mother could ever give: Wonderland. Your mother never died in the real world, she simply slipped into the abyss of Wonderland physically, which she was allowed to do when she became queen. That is why your father could never show you a grave…because there never was one."
Alice attempts to take it all in. "But I don't understand, Mathilde. For someone to kill my mother and take her place, that person must have come from the real world, correct?"
Mathilde nods.
"Then who else would have known about Wonderland? Who is the Duchess, really?"
The corner of Mathilde's lips upturn in a twisted smile. "It's time for you to go, child. I have meditating to do, and you have some asses to kick." Mathilde pulls from her robes a small bong, and the ladybug from the corner begins to usher Alice out. At the doorway is Cheshire.
"I assume you were listening the entire time?"
"Of course, darling. I wouldn't leave you alone in this hole…" Cheshire answers, with his characteristic grin. "And, I wouldn't leave myself with that shitfaced Caterpillar…"
The two wander onto the beaten trail to continue on their journey.
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***Author's Note~ I do realize that this chapter was a little out of the ordinary. I just hope that everyone understood everything that I tried to explain. If not, please leave some questions, comments, and suggestions. I know there are still a few holes, yet, but those are to be filled in later. But if there is anything that you're not completely clear on, just ask. I'm always looking for improvements. (P.S.~ Mathilde, pronounced Matilda, but not spelled so for personal reasons). Thanx~ Management.