Quick Note: This story, while based on Lewis Carroll's work, is set in the same universe as my Brandy and Mr Whiskers stories, but you don't need to read them to understand this one. OK, I'm done.

He rose from his seat and decided to take a moment to revel in his accomplishments.

"Madness…"

He was surrounded by insanity; lunatics, madmen, schizophrenics, spastics…a somewhat impressive variety of the several types of madness that can fragment the human brain. Some had been in mental hospitals and asylums, some lived with their madness gone unnoticed, others had lived on the streets for most of their lives. The one thing all these lunatics shared was the fact that they were dead, and were now under his control.

"…is…"

The darkness he dwelled inbecame illuminated by smiles, smiles that hung in the air without a body, accompanied only by yellow, slit-like eyes. These disembodied faces belonged to mad creatures, and they too were under his control, but they were different. They were of more use to him, and what he wished to accomplish.

"…beautiful."

He raised his hands triumphantly, in a pose that almost made him look crucified. He let out a brief, yet boisterous laugh of content before sitting back down on his seat and finishing his cup of tea.

Alice in Otherworld

The fog crept around the city, a shapeless spectre without purpose or physical form that glowed a strange yellow under the streetlights. It drifted through the streets aimlessly, its many hands clawing at the dirty walls. The fog that evening was especially thick; therefore it had some purpose.

It could used to hide.

It could hide the rubbish and broken bottles cluttering up the streets. It could hide the prostitutes, the creatures who demanded as much attention as possible. It could hide the sinister figures, who revelled in as much privacy and secrecy as they could obtain. It could hide the three figures in the alleyway…

"Behold, my latest invention!"

An elderly hobo smiled proudly behind his thick white moustache, as he rolled his invention, an old tin can attached to pulleys, to his 'partner'.

"What do you think?"

The obese other drew his cigarette out of his mouth. "What the hell is it?"

The pensioner jumped around in an ecstatic manner. "It's a vehicle for the rats! They need vehicles you know!"

As if on cue, a dirty rat ran past, and in a matte of minutes, was slowly lifted off the ground and shoved into the vehicle.

"Now, drive! Drive! Oh, I'll make millions…"

"Shut. The hell. Up."

The fat man rose off the ground and slugged the elderly man in the eye, causing the pensioner to fall over on his back.

"No, please don't…I was just showing you…aargh!"

The stronger of the two put out his cigarette with the other's face.

A third accompanied them, but she barely noticed their miniature battle.

A small child, no more than seven years old, sat among the dustbins, her seat a pile of McDonalds wrappers. She had barely anything but burlap to keep her body warm, and her feet were adorned with Wellington boots two sizes too large.

She waited.

As she waited, she attempted to read a disregarded book she found a month ago. The words, the letters, to her they were nothing but nonsensical blobs. However, the pictures that lavishly decorated each page, depicting lush green trees and bushes, bright blue skies…

Smiling cats…

He's here.

The panther, the animal that could walk through the streets unnoticed by all but her. He walked towards her on his hind legs, his forelegs behind his back as if they were arms, his face bearing a grin that never went away.

"Hello. How are you?"

He slowly sat down beside her, his tail still moving in a rhythmic manner.

"Would you like some pie?"

The panther whipped out a slice of pie from nowhere and handed it to the girl on a china plate. This pie was hers; no-one else could ever obtain a pie just like this one. She savoured every bite. Her way of thanking the panther was for her to unveil her face, previously hidden by dirty brown hair, and smile.

"You're welcome," growled the panther.

"No! Get away from her!"

A cloaked person stepped out of the shadows, frantically waving his arms.

"She's mine! I'm going to help her!"

The panther kneeled down on all fours and snarled ferociously, still grinning. "You're not laying a finger on her, whoever the hell you are…"

The fat man rose from where he was sitting and turned towards the intruder. "Oh great…"

"Stay away!" cried the hooded figure, waving his arms in a timid manner. "I can stop you…"

The panther sprung from his position and leapt towards the figure, salivating jaws wide open. Before he could finish the attack, the figure rapidly shot out his arm and grabbed the panther by the neck.

"Get your hands…"

The feline was quickly thrown to the ground, face first. The child looked grimly at her friend, now lying on the floor helpless. Before she could help him up, the cloaked figure grabbed her small hand and ran around the corner.

The fat man lumbered after the pair, shaking his flabby fist, oblivious to the panther's presence.

"Hey, come back here, what ya…"

He turned around the corner and saw that both the child and the cloaked figure had disappeared into the night.

"What the hell…"

The fat man just shrugged off the strange occurrence and decided to go back to torturing the man who was annoying him.

"Wake up!"

"Wake up!"

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!"

She groggily rose, and slowly forced her eyes open so she could observe this new surrounding. She had been taken from the dirty, filthy alleyway and had now found herself resting on a plush bed, facing a magnificent waterfall trapped behind a large window.

"Good morning!"

The optimistic voice came louder as an anthropomorphic white rabbit came into view, a plate of eggs and bacon in his hand as he had promised.

"Here's your breakfast!"

When she reached for her breakfast, she noticed…what had happened to her hand – claw? Yes, that's it, a large claw, covered in fur the same colour as her hair. She looked down and saw that while she was still wearing the clothes from last night, her body had changed: covered completely in dark brown fur, with a long tail poking through. The white rabbit completed the shock by pulling out a mirror from his back.

A giant mouse peered out from behind the glass.

"I'm sorry," said the white rabbit, "but you can't be human here. It's still a small price to pay."

The mouse backed away from the rabbit, and tried to hide herself behind a pillow.

"Don't be af…oh, this is about what I did to your friend, isn't it? I had to. You see, his kind are dangerous…"

She threw a pillow at him in defence.

"OK…OK…but I must tell you something about him…"

The panther walked slowly under the reaching claws of the bent, naked trees that were lined across the path to his master. He never really liked going here; a stretching field of grey soil, deprived of life and joy. Nevertheless, he came to the end of the path, where his master lay in wait.

"Your majesty…"

He stopped at a long dinner table, where several people sat. These were all lunatics, those who had died insane. They were unable to rest, so this was where they stayed until departing to the afterlife. However, the panther paid attention to only three patrons.

At the table sat a hare. An elongated hare at that, approximately five feet tall, wearing a formal jacket, bowtie and spats. His brain was attached by wires to a huge clock that was connected to his chest; this clock didn't have numbers, but the first letters of months. The lone hand was permanently pointing to March.

At the table sat a dormouse. It was also somewhat larger than the rest of its kind, with long scruffy fur that almost made it look like a large dust bunny. It bore only one eye, and it almost looked like it was about to fall out.

At the table sat the master.

He clutched his teacup with boney claws, his head bowed down so his top hat hid his face.

"Sir, there's something you should know…"

"You see, you shouldn't fear me, I want things to be better for you. I know that world can be cruel…I lost someone…"

The Rabbit turned towards a huge painting adorning a wall, portraying a smiling blonde female human.

"Oh…Mary Anne…"

He instantly turned back to his guest, with a slight look of embarrassment.

"Anyway, afterwards, I retreated out of that world and into my 'house' in the Otherworld. Now I can become a Creator, for a special room in my house allows me to create my own world. While most Creators bring people to their worlds to keep them in their world, I want to help you become a Creator like me and find your Otherworld house."

"She's here?"

The master rose his head, revealing his face; no more but two eyeballs atop a blue tube.

The panther kneeled down before his master once more. "Yes, Hatter."

The Hatter jumped up on the table and danced around in an ecstatic manner.

"Oh, what fun!" He became so excited, his eyeballs grew larger until they exploded, spraying water everywhere.

"March Hare!" The March Hare reached under the table and pulled out a cardboard box full of replacement body parts, just in case something like this happens.

"But that…thing ruined my experiment. I was going to be that girl's friend, then when she reached adolescence, I was going to see whether or not she was going to become a Cheshire Cat like me…"

"But, Mark, this is even better!" the Hatter told the panther after screwing in his new eyeballs, "This means we can have a little contest. You are going to go into the Otherworld neighbourhood, and convince her that she should be like you. You prove your experiment successful, and I get a new member in my Cheshire Cat army. I, on the other hand, will send out miscellaneous minions of mine to either help her become a Creator, or send her insane there and then. I get a new patron for my tea party, and you die for not succeeding. Win-win for me, win-lose for you."

Mark growled reluctantly. "Fine."

"Good. Hopefully this won't be like Dodgson…but I digress. Good luck, old boy!"

With that, the panther departed, all the while looking over his shoulder at his insane master.

"Good luck looking for your house!"

The mouse-child exited the rabbit's house and found that while it did look somewhat like a 'regular' house, it had no garden, no back yard but was rather hovering over a pure white abyss. There was a bridge over the abyss that resembled a centipede, each of its 'legs' having a house attached. She descended down the staircase that attached the house to the road, noticing the mailbox that showed the host's name.

Perfect.

She then made her way across the road, searching for her new home.

Until the smell of freshly baked pie drifted through the air.

Mark stood right behind her, both of his forelegs clutching an apple pie still fresh in its tin.

"Come on."

She stopped for a few minutes, and turned to face the panther slowly and unsurely.

"Don't be scared. We're best friends, remember?"

His grin grew wider and wider.

"My life. My kind. Is power."

He lifted up the mouse-child in his arms, rose her to the air and twirled around with her, as if they were family.

"You had nothing in the world in which you were born. And even if you go to your house, you won't have a real mummy and daddy there." He gently placed her down. "I could be your father, your big brother, whatever you want me to be…"

The conversation was interrupted by a baby's scream. A pram rolled between the couple, turning the girl's attention away from the panther and towards the screaming infant. The moment she lifted the baby in her furry arms, it instantly clamed down and began chuckling.

"Pig!"

Before Mark could do anything to deal with the baby, he was whacked in the back of the head by a slimy, blue tentacle.

The baby ceased chuckling and then began to scream once again.

Did it grunt?

Its fingers and toes began to shrink and some even melded together until they formed cloven hooves. Its ears slowly moved towards the top of its head and began to unfold like a fan. Its nose and nostrils grew wider and its body gained more fur.

A pig.

"Pig!"

The creature that had attacked Mark fully revealed itself – herself, the baby's mother, a fat blue monster with three eyes and large tusks that reached to her temples.

"Give me that baby!"

She used one of her arms – tentacles – to throttle the girl and the other to reclaim her child. The girl was thrown down onto the pavement while she had to watch what the mother did to her infant.

The mother stuck a knife into her baby's chest.

She ripped out its eyeballs with her tentacles.

She tore it in two as entrails dripped onto the road.

She devoured the baby.

She ridiculed her dead child.

"Little brat. He deserved it."

The mouse-child ran.

Mark clawed the mother in the face. "I almost had her, you know."

She wrapped her tentacles around the panther and repeatedly threw him on the pavement as if he were a hammer. "You're going to have to try better than that."

Mark was released from the monster's clutches, rubbing his head in agony. "I will…you'll see…"

The sobs grew louder.

The mouse-child descended down the wooden stairs, deeper into the damp, dingy basement. She had heard weeping, bawling, crying, loud melancholy noises coming from a huge wooden door on the pavement. When she made it to the end of the staircase, she stepped into a puddle. She turned around and saw a host of hybrids; several animals were sitting in the dark room, the only illumination being a flickering light bulb. Most of the animals were birds, and were just staring at the light bulb that was dangling from the ceiling, waiting for it to go out. The origin of the loud sobs sat alone in the corner, a turtle, scaly arms instead of flippers to dry his eyes.

A dodo rose from his seat. "Welcome…you're a child. I suppose you're looking for your house."

She nodded.

The dodo gave her a bitter look. "Don't." He sat down and again and sighed. "We were Creators ourselves, but we gave up our worlds; they were driving us mad, and that is what…he wants. However, we are too afraid to go back to the world of our origins." He pointed his wing to the sobbing turtle. "He has been in the Otherworld for over a century. He spent years in his world, and when he realised the error of his ways; it was too late. If he were to go back to the real world, he would die of old age on account of how much time he has spent here. He fears death, which is why he chose to join us."

The dodo rose again, and put his wing over the mouse-child's shoulder. "It's too late for him. It's too late for me. But it's not too late for you. Flee. Go home."

She began to weep in protest.

"I don't care how bad it was there. It was better. You are in real danger."

Her claws began to grow.

"What's happening?"

What had once been a human hand, what had once been a rodent's paw, was now a large feline claw.

Mark stood on the staircase, leaning on the walls, his tail casually swinging.

She swiped.

The dodo fell to the ground.

Dead.

She smiled.

"Good. Forget the house. Be mine."

He made his way down the staircase and cradled the mouse-child in his forelegs, causing the turtle to cry even harder.

"No…don't…you heard what do…do…do…do…"

Mark burst the door open and cackled wildly.

"I won! I won! I'm the greatest! She's mi…"

Two women approached – glided towards – them.

Two beautiful, identical women, with silver hair that rippled like water and flowing robes that sparkled like a stream in the early sunlight.

"Don't go with him…"

"Dodo was innocent…"

"You killed him…"

"He had suffered…."

"Don't go with him…"

Both women raised their arms and the mouse-child floated away from the clutches of Mark, and into their own waiting hands of comfort.

"Child…"

"If you find your house and create a world…"

"You can help…"

"You gain forgiveness…"

"That panther is a demon…"

"He's not really your friend…"

"He was lying…"

"Go…"

"Find your world…"

"Redeem yourself…"

She leapt from the bosoms of the two silver angels and ran off into the streets once more.

Mark's eye began twitching. "You…you…"

The women laughed heartily. They held each other's hands and began to fuse with each other, until they formed a rotting corpse in a formal suit, who was still laughing. Mark rapidly knocked the head off the zombie, leaving it to fall on the floor, still laughing, still laughing.

"Give up?"

The Hatter stood next to his minion, hands clasped in anticipation.

"Forget it, I am going to win."

"Shut up," snarled Mark, "I'll find a way…I just might have it…"

"I say! Child!"

From another house emerged what looked like a giant egg in a tuxedo, elegantly walking down the steps which connected the house to the road with a cane in his hand.

"Where are you going? It's dangerous for a young girl like yourself to be out here!

"Oh, wait, I know, you want to find your house! Why bother wasting all that time and energy creating your own world when you could come to mine? I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need! Don't listen to what those dodos and those turtles are telling you! Come to my world! There's everything there!

"Look at me! I'm an egg! I represent new life! You'll have such new life in my magnificent world, that you will!"

The egg held out his hand.

"Come on, join me!"

She didn't do anything.

"Come on!"

She turned away.

"That's it, you little brat!"

The egg held the mouse-child up over his 'head', if it could be called that and threw her across the pavement, so she was left dangling above the pale white abyss. The egg marched angrily towards her, ready to perform the grand finale to his attack…

When another feline pounced on him.

In an instant, the egg was shattered into pieces when a grinning leopard seemed to leap from the sky and pounce on him, in defence of the mouse-child.

"You okay?" the leopard asked the girl in a feminine tone as she helped her up.

The girl nodded.

"You know," said the leopard, "I was like you once. I had lived on the streets my entire life…always hungry…never…" She began to choke between sobs, with thick tears wettening her furry face. "But…but now…I can make people pay. When I was young…someone offered me this job, being a Cheshire Cat. Now I slink into these people's houses, and make sure that they have nightmares, yes, they deserve nightmares, they deserve to have nightmares until they are driven mad.

"Won't you help us spread nightmares?"

Several grins slowly materialised, dangling in the air like a mobile. Then gleaming eyes opened above these grins, each and every pair turned towards the mouse-child. The bodies then began to form, revealing leopards, panthers, lions, tigers, ocelots, jaguars…every feline imaginable.

"You can be like us."

"You can have power."

"You can feel true joy."

The cats all began to change their smiles; the smiles they had when they first appeared were those of malice and anticipation, now their grins were congenial and welcoming.

"Silly little girl. We only want what's best for you. Don't listen to what anyone says. We were all once humans like you, but now we belong to the Otherworld, spreading nightmares to anyone we can think of. Don't think we're evil, nightmares can be necessary…"

She wasn't listening.

That house…

It spoke to her…it looked…so…familiar…familiar, like an old toy taken from the attic. It almost seemed to beat…as if it were her heart…

She ignored the felines and ran excitedly towards her house…her world…her creations…

Come

She ran faster and faster

Come

She ran up the stairs

Come to me

She froze when she touched the doorknob.

She should have entered, she should be a Creator, she should have created a world, a majestic world, where the sky is always a pale blue, without a single cloud…grass is lush and plentiful…flowers of all varieties spring from the ground…the air is always filled with song and laughter…no dark alleyways, no violence, no hate and shouting…

She had longed her whole life for that opportunity…

With her only chance to obtain her dreams, she froze and did absolutely nothing.

"Well, well, well…quite the quandrary…"

Mark.

"If you open that door, you'll end up like the dodo. You'll end up like the turtle. You'll end up like the egg. Come with us and you can punish people like these."

She shook her head and began to cry.

"You…little…bitch…after all I've done for you…after being your friend…after all the pies, the companionship…you…"

He reached for her neck with claws outstretched, but before he could make his move, he was knocked over by an unseen force.

The Hatter. The Hare. The Dormouse.

"Your Majesty!"

The Hatter smirked. "You lose."

"I'm sorry," said the March Hare, "but you're of no use to us."

The March Hare grabbed a clock from a pocket of his jacket. He tore off both hands of the clock and stuck them in Mark's heart.

The Hatter danced around on the spot while laughing boisterously. "TIME'S UP."

She ran to her former friend, putting a hand on his bleeding chest.

"Get away…fro…me…this is…all your fault…"

Dead.

She wailed and mourned wildly, the air filled with her troubled screams.

The March Hare gave the mouse-child faux-sympathetic looks. "Aw, poor child."

"I get it," said the Hatter, "you don't want to be a Cheshire Cat or a creator. You just want to go home and be human…"

She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Well, you can go out with a bang, you know…"

Out from the Hatter's sleeves flew a deck – several decks – of playing cards that blocked her vision for a few seconds. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a hedge maze, being chased by the cards themselves.

Which way, which way?

Dead end.

Dead end.

Dead. End.

Wait…

She saw a huge metal door labelled 'Exit' at the end of the maze.

She burst through the door.

The playing cards followed her through a black abyss, marching and marching even faster.

"I can smell your madness…"

She ran away from the cards…

Running…

Dragon.

A horned dragon, the wall of fire behind it accentuating its gleaming red scales, its eyes flickering wildly, its head and elongated neck poking through a gaping hole.

The dragon grinned suggestively.

"Off with her head."

The cards pulled out their axes.

"Off with her head!"

Her feet began to…melt…she was stuck to the floor, waiting for death…

"Off with her head!"

The cards raised their axes and threw them down.

"Off with her head!"

off

with

her

head

Back in the alleyway.

Back with the garbage, the rats and the angry fat man.

No Mark.

No panther, no pie, no companionship…

Just her and her book…

Her happy, colourful book…

What could have been…

We're all mad here…