A/N: This is a modern-day retelling of Alice in Wonderland, set in
Washington, D.C. Though this chapter is rated PG, the entire work is rated
R just in case. It will get much creepier as it goes along. I'm not sure
yet if this is a good idea, so feedback is essential to me at this point.
If somebody.anybody, is interested in this continuing, then I'll probably
write it, but if you think I'm ruining Alice, let me know. This fic is un-
beta'd, so please be kind if you notice any errors.
Suggestions are more than welcome. Review or email outgribing@yahoo.com
No warnings for this chapter, except very light profanity.
Bored! God Almighty, was Allison bored! It was ridiculously hot, and her sister was talking to her, saying something about how nasty her hair looked with those blue streaks in it, and how mom would just die if she saw it, but Allison hadn't been listening for a good, long time. Instead, she was watching the few people braving the heat to walk down New York Avenue in August.
Suddenly becoming aware of a long pause, Allison scrambled mentally for some sort of noncommittal response to offer, when someone pushed past her from behind. The man was extremely pale, mostly bald, but with a sparse ring of reddish hair around the back of his head, clipped short. He had pale eyes and a sad little mouth, and his brows were furrowed. The fact that he was muttering to himself wasn't all that unusual for someone you meet on the street in DC, but his outfit was. It was a suit that was all white, except for a red heart embroidered over the breast pocket. Even his shoes were white, and he wore white gloves on his hands, that clenched and unclenched nervously. Though he was running, he suddenly stopped right in front of Allison and pulled a very nice (and unusual) engraved silver pocket watch out. He fumbled with it, and it slipped out of his hands, but the chain prevented it from hitting the pavement. Peering at it, he moaned, "I'm late, I'm late." He turned quickly and fixed Allison with a strange stare, saying clearly, "You're late, too."
With that, he turned and sprinted across the street (nearly getting run over in the process) and ducked into a dark-looking club that Allison had never noticed before. It looked like a tiny place, just barely wide enough for the door and the words in purple neon script: "THE HOLE," which were lit even though it was the middle of the day. Allison stared after him, shocked.
"Come on, Allison," instructed her sister. Allison looked back with her eyebrows pinched together.
"I think.I'm supposed to go with him," she murmured. She did feel a strange compulsion to follow, to find out why that man had told her to wait, and what that heart meant, and.just everything. Besides which, she desperately needed to escape from her sister. "I'm sorry, Emily.I'll call."
Her sister stared. "What? Oh, my God, Allison, you can not follow that sketchy little man into a club called The Hole in the middle of the day. He's probably a mass murderer or something." Emily shook her head in disbelief. Just the thought of it was all too embarrassing.
Allison spontaneously burst into a grin. Waving and skipping a little to the side (quite a nimble feat considering the bulkiness of the boots she wore) Allison darted across the street, waving as she went. A car sped by at the same time, and by the time Emily was ready to cross, Allison was already at the door of the club. With a quick prayer that it was not a gay bar, Allison popped in to the darkness of the little doorway, found the door unlocked, and entered the club. The door shut behind her and there was the snick of a lock sliding into place, but Allison didn't hear it. She was already heading down the hall.
It was as narrow as it had looked from the outside. The cool dark hallway went straight on, lit only by dim fluorescent lights that lined the juncture between wall and ceiling. Allison looked around at the hall, becoming puzzled at how long it seemed, when suddenly, the floor dropped away from under her foot. She realized too late that she had come upon stairs and, unable to find purchase with those chunky boots, tumbled down them.
She landed on her butt for the first few steps, but then sort of somersaulted and ended up hitting her back. There was pain for a moment, but then she was floating, or falling downwards. She couldn't tell which. The air seemed prickly and all her senses seemed a little off. Visions came to her of all sorts of things. She kept seeing food everywhere, but it disappeared again. She wasn't sure if she was falling past it or if it was floating away. One part of her brain told her that she was unconscious, another part told her that she was dead. Still another part told her that some orange marmalade might be good right about then, but she couldn't manage to reach the jar she saw, even if it was real.
Allison then found herself hoping that she was indeed unconscious, since if she hit the ground after a fall this long (she was now fairly sure she was falling) she'd probably die. "Nine point eight meters per second per second," she murmured, "And I've been falling a good.three days, now." She shook her head. "God, this fall will probably put me in the Guinness Book." She looked around, feeling a bit stupid for talking to herself, but there was no one around, and since she was likely to die any minute, the potential for embarrassment was small.
Things got fuzzy again, and she started to imagine the whole Guinness Book committee measuring the distance she fell, and all the talk shows she could appear on to talk about her ordeal. They'd probably make T-shirts about it. "I Fell To The Center Of The Earth and All I Got Was This Lousy T- shirt." Would she get the royalties for that? Probably not. The world is full of freeloaders. She felt herself hit the ground hard.
When she opened her eyes, Allison lay very still for a while and looked up at the ceiling. If she had fallen all that distance and managed to survive, she'd probably broken her back, and you're never supposed to move with a broken back. But.it wasn't likely that anyone would come along to rescue her at this point, so she began to move, tentatively, dreading how much she would be hurt.
Slowly, she stood up. But she felt little hurt, except for a few bruises, perhaps, on her back. Looking around, she realized that if she had been unconscious, she was not in the same place she fell. But if she'd fallen, it had been for an impossible distance. Maybe she really was dead. She looked up, but there wasn't enough light, and the ceilings were too high, to see if there was a hole or passage she could have fallen through. Allison redirected her attention to her new surroundings.
Staring straight ahead, she was surprised to see a straight hallway, and the man in white was running straight down it, away from her but still in sight. Allison sped after him, her boots clunking loudly on the black floor. The man turned a corner and so did Allison, gaining on him enough to hear his muttering once more. "Oh, god," he moaned. "I'm so late.she's gonna kill me. I can't take this stress any more." Allison felt rather sorry for the little man in white. He seemed to have some problems.
She stepped into a room, expecting to see him right in front of her, but he had disappeared. This room was different from the other halls she had run through. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all slick, and black, and there were lamps hanging from the ceiling, covered with paper shades that curled around and looked like seashells. It was another hall, but the end was in plain sight, with a polished chrome door. The other two walls were also lined in doors.
Allison peered around. The little man must have gone through one of the doors, but which? She didn't want to end up somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, but these looked like the only way out, anyway. She started trying handles, but was surprised to find them all locked.
When she tried the last door, Allison sighed and leaned against it for a moment. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this place? She decided to turn around and try heading back to where she came from. But when she turned around, she was surprised to see a polished silver table in the middle of the room. She couldn't believe she had missed it. Maybe it hadn't been there before. That conclusion didn't make much sense, either, but she decided to investigate.
Approaching the table cautiously, Allison didn't see anything until she was looking straight down at it from above. The first thing that she noticed was her reflection. Straight blonde hair, streaked with blue that was fading just a little. Brown eyes that weren't huge, but looked large because of her long, dark lashes. Prominent cheeks, a nose that wasn't small and hooked a little, and full lips. Her reflection looked worried, so she smiled a little, and she was looking at her mouth when she saw the key.
The key was tiny and a golden color. Maybe it was even made of real gold. Allison peered at it for a moment before she picked it up and took it to the doors. The key looked really more suited to a diary than a door, but it was her only chance of getting out of this place.
Again, she went to all of the doors, and again she failed at opening any of them. Obviously, the key was for something else. When she turned around to go back to the table, she looked past it and saw an alcove that had been hidden in shadow at every angle but this. She walked up to it carefully, pulling the curtain aside quickly just in case something evil was hiding behind it. She was surprised at how quickly her heart was hammering.
The only thing that was behind that curtain was a door. About a foot and a half tall, the door didn't look like it was much good for anything. That man could not have fit through here. But she looked at the little key in her hand, bent over, and easily slipped it into the lock. Crouching, she pulled the thing open ("'Slike a goddam doll house," she muttered to herself) and was shocked at what she saw.
It was definitely the real club, and it was extravagant. Along one side, there was a little waterfall set up, and the bar was lit with bright neon colors. Though it was empty, it was decorated in a sleek, ultra-modern style, and everything looked slippery and cool. She was sure that there would be a way out from there, but she couldn't figure out how to get there. "Oh, man.if I'm going to fall two hundred feet, you'd think I could at least land on the right side of the doorway."
She paused, and her eyebrows drew together. "And what the hell does any club want with a door that's two feet tall, anyway?" she demanded of no one, standing up. "Separate entrance for the rats??" She lifted a hand to shove some hair out of her eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh and turning around. This time, what she saw on the table made her jump.
There was a bottle on it, that definitely had not been there the last time she looked. Allison was beginning to wonder if something new would appear every time she turned around. Seeing a little tag, Allison lifted it delicately, peering at the flowery script. "DRINK ME."
Suggestions are more than welcome. Review or email outgribing@yahoo.com
No warnings for this chapter, except very light profanity.
Bored! God Almighty, was Allison bored! It was ridiculously hot, and her sister was talking to her, saying something about how nasty her hair looked with those blue streaks in it, and how mom would just die if she saw it, but Allison hadn't been listening for a good, long time. Instead, she was watching the few people braving the heat to walk down New York Avenue in August.
Suddenly becoming aware of a long pause, Allison scrambled mentally for some sort of noncommittal response to offer, when someone pushed past her from behind. The man was extremely pale, mostly bald, but with a sparse ring of reddish hair around the back of his head, clipped short. He had pale eyes and a sad little mouth, and his brows were furrowed. The fact that he was muttering to himself wasn't all that unusual for someone you meet on the street in DC, but his outfit was. It was a suit that was all white, except for a red heart embroidered over the breast pocket. Even his shoes were white, and he wore white gloves on his hands, that clenched and unclenched nervously. Though he was running, he suddenly stopped right in front of Allison and pulled a very nice (and unusual) engraved silver pocket watch out. He fumbled with it, and it slipped out of his hands, but the chain prevented it from hitting the pavement. Peering at it, he moaned, "I'm late, I'm late." He turned quickly and fixed Allison with a strange stare, saying clearly, "You're late, too."
With that, he turned and sprinted across the street (nearly getting run over in the process) and ducked into a dark-looking club that Allison had never noticed before. It looked like a tiny place, just barely wide enough for the door and the words in purple neon script: "THE HOLE," which were lit even though it was the middle of the day. Allison stared after him, shocked.
"Come on, Allison," instructed her sister. Allison looked back with her eyebrows pinched together.
"I think.I'm supposed to go with him," she murmured. She did feel a strange compulsion to follow, to find out why that man had told her to wait, and what that heart meant, and.just everything. Besides which, she desperately needed to escape from her sister. "I'm sorry, Emily.I'll call."
Her sister stared. "What? Oh, my God, Allison, you can not follow that sketchy little man into a club called The Hole in the middle of the day. He's probably a mass murderer or something." Emily shook her head in disbelief. Just the thought of it was all too embarrassing.
Allison spontaneously burst into a grin. Waving and skipping a little to the side (quite a nimble feat considering the bulkiness of the boots she wore) Allison darted across the street, waving as she went. A car sped by at the same time, and by the time Emily was ready to cross, Allison was already at the door of the club. With a quick prayer that it was not a gay bar, Allison popped in to the darkness of the little doorway, found the door unlocked, and entered the club. The door shut behind her and there was the snick of a lock sliding into place, but Allison didn't hear it. She was already heading down the hall.
It was as narrow as it had looked from the outside. The cool dark hallway went straight on, lit only by dim fluorescent lights that lined the juncture between wall and ceiling. Allison looked around at the hall, becoming puzzled at how long it seemed, when suddenly, the floor dropped away from under her foot. She realized too late that she had come upon stairs and, unable to find purchase with those chunky boots, tumbled down them.
She landed on her butt for the first few steps, but then sort of somersaulted and ended up hitting her back. There was pain for a moment, but then she was floating, or falling downwards. She couldn't tell which. The air seemed prickly and all her senses seemed a little off. Visions came to her of all sorts of things. She kept seeing food everywhere, but it disappeared again. She wasn't sure if she was falling past it or if it was floating away. One part of her brain told her that she was unconscious, another part told her that she was dead. Still another part told her that some orange marmalade might be good right about then, but she couldn't manage to reach the jar she saw, even if it was real.
Allison then found herself hoping that she was indeed unconscious, since if she hit the ground after a fall this long (she was now fairly sure she was falling) she'd probably die. "Nine point eight meters per second per second," she murmured, "And I've been falling a good.three days, now." She shook her head. "God, this fall will probably put me in the Guinness Book." She looked around, feeling a bit stupid for talking to herself, but there was no one around, and since she was likely to die any minute, the potential for embarrassment was small.
Things got fuzzy again, and she started to imagine the whole Guinness Book committee measuring the distance she fell, and all the talk shows she could appear on to talk about her ordeal. They'd probably make T-shirts about it. "I Fell To The Center Of The Earth and All I Got Was This Lousy T- shirt." Would she get the royalties for that? Probably not. The world is full of freeloaders. She felt herself hit the ground hard.
When she opened her eyes, Allison lay very still for a while and looked up at the ceiling. If she had fallen all that distance and managed to survive, she'd probably broken her back, and you're never supposed to move with a broken back. But.it wasn't likely that anyone would come along to rescue her at this point, so she began to move, tentatively, dreading how much she would be hurt.
Slowly, she stood up. But she felt little hurt, except for a few bruises, perhaps, on her back. Looking around, she realized that if she had been unconscious, she was not in the same place she fell. But if she'd fallen, it had been for an impossible distance. Maybe she really was dead. She looked up, but there wasn't enough light, and the ceilings were too high, to see if there was a hole or passage she could have fallen through. Allison redirected her attention to her new surroundings.
Staring straight ahead, she was surprised to see a straight hallway, and the man in white was running straight down it, away from her but still in sight. Allison sped after him, her boots clunking loudly on the black floor. The man turned a corner and so did Allison, gaining on him enough to hear his muttering once more. "Oh, god," he moaned. "I'm so late.she's gonna kill me. I can't take this stress any more." Allison felt rather sorry for the little man in white. He seemed to have some problems.
She stepped into a room, expecting to see him right in front of her, but he had disappeared. This room was different from the other halls she had run through. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all slick, and black, and there were lamps hanging from the ceiling, covered with paper shades that curled around and looked like seashells. It was another hall, but the end was in plain sight, with a polished chrome door. The other two walls were also lined in doors.
Allison peered around. The little man must have gone through one of the doors, but which? She didn't want to end up somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, but these looked like the only way out, anyway. She started trying handles, but was surprised to find them all locked.
When she tried the last door, Allison sighed and leaned against it for a moment. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this place? She decided to turn around and try heading back to where she came from. But when she turned around, she was surprised to see a polished silver table in the middle of the room. She couldn't believe she had missed it. Maybe it hadn't been there before. That conclusion didn't make much sense, either, but she decided to investigate.
Approaching the table cautiously, Allison didn't see anything until she was looking straight down at it from above. The first thing that she noticed was her reflection. Straight blonde hair, streaked with blue that was fading just a little. Brown eyes that weren't huge, but looked large because of her long, dark lashes. Prominent cheeks, a nose that wasn't small and hooked a little, and full lips. Her reflection looked worried, so she smiled a little, and she was looking at her mouth when she saw the key.
The key was tiny and a golden color. Maybe it was even made of real gold. Allison peered at it for a moment before she picked it up and took it to the doors. The key looked really more suited to a diary than a door, but it was her only chance of getting out of this place.
Again, she went to all of the doors, and again she failed at opening any of them. Obviously, the key was for something else. When she turned around to go back to the table, she looked past it and saw an alcove that had been hidden in shadow at every angle but this. She walked up to it carefully, pulling the curtain aside quickly just in case something evil was hiding behind it. She was surprised at how quickly her heart was hammering.
The only thing that was behind that curtain was a door. About a foot and a half tall, the door didn't look like it was much good for anything. That man could not have fit through here. But she looked at the little key in her hand, bent over, and easily slipped it into the lock. Crouching, she pulled the thing open ("'Slike a goddam doll house," she muttered to herself) and was shocked at what she saw.
It was definitely the real club, and it was extravagant. Along one side, there was a little waterfall set up, and the bar was lit with bright neon colors. Though it was empty, it was decorated in a sleek, ultra-modern style, and everything looked slippery and cool. She was sure that there would be a way out from there, but she couldn't figure out how to get there. "Oh, man.if I'm going to fall two hundred feet, you'd think I could at least land on the right side of the doorway."
She paused, and her eyebrows drew together. "And what the hell does any club want with a door that's two feet tall, anyway?" she demanded of no one, standing up. "Separate entrance for the rats??" She lifted a hand to shove some hair out of her eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh and turning around. This time, what she saw on the table made her jump.
There was a bottle on it, that definitely had not been there the last time she looked. Allison was beginning to wonder if something new would appear every time she turned around. Seeing a little tag, Allison lifted it delicately, peering at the flowery script. "DRINK ME."