A/N: Oh wow. I had a great response to the last chapter, holy moly. Thanks you guys :D
Well, I'd like you guys to know that I'm sorry my updates take a gosh darn long time. I baby-sit my brother's kids, and it's just really hard to write when I have a three year old, a ten month old, and a five month old climbing on me :) Um, well, I have a contest thing to propose to you. I'll announce it at the end, because I can.
Chapter Three.
"He's… going through my things? The Mad Hatter, the one from the Tea Party… he's, he's… Oh my," Why must my life be so strange? Is it because of something I did? When I pushed that one kid down at the playground when I was ten because he made fun of my Mom, or when four years later I smoked out for the first time at that same playground? Is this all just some sort of sick punishment? Why me?
But I didn't voice that. I didn't say anything. I just plopped down on my couch, fingering the tattered maroon threads.
"Yes. The Mad Hatter. Really, is this all that much of a shock to you, dear Charlotte Alice? Didn't your Grand Mother ever tell you about her Grandmother's trip to Wonderland?" The White Rabbit's words made no sense, so I just didn't bother replying.
"So who should I look for first, Miss Rabbit?" I murmured, but then almost jumped when she answered me.
"I think that the Hatter would actually be best to retrieve. He's probably somewhere in your undergarment drawer now, knowing him…" She rambled off and I leapt out of my sitting position, sprinting down the darkened hallway like an athlete.
"THAT'S WHERE I KEEP MY STASH!"
………
Why do females wear such strange lacy garments? Really, I just don't understand the purpose. No matter how appealing to the eye they are, they really wouldn't do the female any good if she was-
"You! What are you doing?" I wretched my hand from the cherry wood dresser, dropping the offending garment into the agape drawer. In a flash, that darned girl had jumped in front of me and slammed the woodwork, making a loud crash as the force caused a small glass of water to smash delicately onto the floor, scattering glass everywhere. I looked from the shards on the worn wooden floor to the girl's manic, flustered face.
"What?"
"Why were you going through my things?" Her gray gaze steeled onto mine, causing me to shrink back. I scoffed to hide my tid bit of fear.
"Well I never! All I wanted to do was try to get to know this new Alice better and-"
"First off, my name isn't Alice, or Charlotte-Alice, it's Charlotte. Or Charlie, or Char, or whatever you wish to nickname me, I don't care. Alice is my middle name, and thus you do not have to entitle me-"
I lost track of what she was saying and began to titter around the room, taking in everything. The last time I was out of wonderland, things were much, much different. Although I do believe I was in this house, it looked a lot more… Hmm, alive. Yes, alive is the right word. My fingers trailed lazily on the walls, and along the mushrooms that were growing sporadically there.
"Are you even listening to me, Mad Hatter?" I turned with a flourish.
"Ah, ahem, ahh, no, I was not, it seems. Luckily, Charlotte Alice, your words don't mean anything to me, and thus I was not missing anything. But," I stepped closer to her as her face seemed to get stormier and stormier, "I would prefer it if you just called me Hatter."
………
The two took this moment to really absorb the other. When he saw her, he saw the gray eyes, turning like storm clouds; hair the color of those things that they called 'electrical wires', twisted into braids and some dreads and looking overall like a flooglesnork's mane; her skin, an 'olive' tone, but hadn't seen the light of day in so long it looked pale and translucent, and marred by small white and pink scars and beauty marks and freckles. He looked down and (once again) took in the curvaceous figure, not exactly an hourglass yet. The figure belied the girl's age, as did the somewhat roundness to her cheeks. Wide hips were cloaked with a casual (albeit dirty) grass green, floor length dress. He guessed, looking at her impossibly round eyes and lips, that she was a mere teenager.
When she saw him, she saw green eyes. Eyes as green as grass after a spring rain, growing between dirty concrete sidewalks. She saw his gangly height and stature, easily peaking at more that six feet; frazzled dirty blonde hair, with maybe an orange undertone or streak; the eccentric clothing, from the black top hat to the purple tail-coat, opened to reveal a tangerine and lime vest over a simple white button up, and the long, black trousers. She saw his hands held awkwardly to his side, his cream colored fists clenching and unclenching. The freckles on his nose made him look like a five year old, but the girl dazedly thought that he was probably around twenty-four years of age.
They saw each other, and then they looked away. The girl shook her head awkwardly and broke the silence of the moment.
"I'll call you Hatter if you call me Charlotte. And only Charlotte." He smiled despite her somewhat guarded expression.
"Aha, a deal then? I rather like deals. It's a deal, Miss Charlotte." He jovially grabbed her small hand and shook it, silently appreciating the contrasting softness of her palm and coarseness of her slender fingers. He then silently cursed when she took her hand back, and her peaceful expression once again went somewhat sour and her palms settled on those hips of hers.
"Now, go into my living room, and sit with Rabbit. I have to get the Cat and the Hare." She shook away the ridiculousness of the sentence she let past her lips and ushered the man out of her room, grabbing her Marlboro's and a lighter on the way out.
………
I stretched my legs and once again relished the feeling. The feeling of having two legs and two arms, both long and strong and not ending with claws. Although the claws did make me feel a tad more vicious, less defenseless, I would prefer being (mostly) hairless any day. My gaze traveled once again out of the window whose seat I was curled on, relishing in the sight and sound of rain pattering against the grimy glass and thunder cracking dangerously in the distance. But of coarse, my small little world was penetrable.
"Ah, ha, there you are, Cheshire Cat." I turned my head a fraction of an inch to look at the girl, in her muddy, 5'6" glory. In my current form, it wouldn't be hard to run and grab her where she stands and-
"Well, are you going you come or not?" She had been speaking. Hm, probably something useless. I'm sure this Alice isn't at all very different from the last one. Still full of stupid, thoughtless, childish yammering. I smirked.
"What was that, Charlotte Alice? I'm afraid I wasn't listening." I watched as she rolled her eyes and sighed, bringing her hand to her face and rubbing her eyes tiredly. She moaned something sounding like, 'why don't these damn people listen to me?' before turning her sights back to mine.
"I said that Rabbit wants to tell me why you all are here, but she'll only do it if you're all together. So can you please, for the love of God, get out of my dusty attic and into my less-dusty-but-still-dusty-living room?" She finished with a huff. I leapt gracefully from my perch and I could feel those jellied orbs in her eye-sockets follow my every movement, following the trail my feet (not paws) left on the dusty floorboards, following the chorded muscle that made up my arms and legs, following my hardened, predatory gaze.
Following my body as I walked right past her. Following the sound of my fleeting voice as I disappeared a body part at a time. Following the gust of wind my sigh blew at her neck.
"Yesss, Miss Charlotte Alice. Will do."
………
Now, to find that damn March Hare. Where could a storybook character turned teenage boy have disappeared to? Rabbit said that sometimes they just disappeared, that it was common or something. Disappear like that Cat boy just did? Or is it only the Cheshire Cat that can disappear piece by piece? Why was this all so goddamn strange?
I rubbed my eyes again, taking a drag on the tar-stick in my fingers, letting the gray smoke fill my lungs until it burned and I was sure that I probably had lung cancer. I let the breath go and watched the smoke filter in front of my eyes, and curiously, twist and turn into an arrow, pointing me down the hall to my left.
"What in the world…" I blinked. Did my cigarette smoke just point me in the direction of my bathroom? As I stared the smoke in question turned into a hand, shaking, it seemed, with disappointment. It danced behind me and poked the small of my back.
"Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going…" I walked as quickly as I could with a very solid smoke-hand following me, eventually nearly falling to the floor of my bathroom, the light already on and the door slamming questioningly behind me. I whirled around, banging on the door, gripping the handle and turning it to no avail. I huffed, a small curl of hair flying back to its' place. A sound from behind me startled me, making me fall backwards onto my behind and scrambling to get my back against the door. The shower had stuttered to life, water steaming onto my tile floor. I stood shakily, deciding that maybe a shower would be nice. After all of this craziness, I could use the calming, sobering effects of a shower. Maybe they'll all be gone when I get out? All of the vines, and mushrooms, and all the drugs, and all of the little girls and strange men…. All gone. And I can be back with my family and… and… Never mind. That sure as hell won't happen. Not in this lifetime.
Stripping off the filthy dress, I stepped carefully into my shower, relishing in the feel of the hot water. For that moment I didn't care about the state of the old house, I didn't care about Green eyes, I didn't care about the tendrils of smoke floating out of the showerhead along with the steaming liquid, but I just breathed. I breathed in that smoke, letting it congeal in my lungs, and I grabbed the soap and rubbed it half-heartedly over me, and then shampooing, conditioning. Moving mechanically. I barely noticed when hands grabbed my shoulders, moving up to my neck.
"Charlotte. You… you're the reason, Miss Charlotte. You're the one that has got her so, so angry, angry, angry, you dense girl. You child…" The Blue Woman's voice cut through the steam and left only smoke. My eyes opened wide and I froze.
"Who is angry with me? Who are you?"
"Who? WHO?! WHO ARE YOU?!" The voice boomed drowning out everything, drowning me. I was drowning, unable to breathe, the smoke the smoke the smoke…
I turned and there was no one. I was standing naked, soaking wet in my room. I shivered and collapsed to a drenched heap on my floor. Helpless helpless helpless.
………
My father's smile, my mother's laugh, my brother's hands. I missed everything. I missed nothing. I prefer the drugs, I prefer my family, I prefer the drugs, I prefer the drugs, to you, Mom, I'd rather be high, Dad, I don't care about you, Jack, I don't care I don't care I don't. I never will.
"You'd rather be alone, Charlotte?"
"Yes." Lies. Always lies. I lived and breathed false truths. The falsehood grew in me like a fungus, like a cancer. "I love you too much to put you in a rehab center, just just just live in the house you'll come home come home come home when you're ready ready ready…"
"I love you, dear."
Silence returned the oath, and I left my house.
………
I dressed quickly, and trudged down my hallway, happy for once for the company (although insane) as their faces came into my vision. I walked past them into my kitchen, looking for something to settle my stomach. I opened the fridge and screamed.
"Oh my, finally. Finally. Took you long enough to open the damn door. They really should make these death trap things open both ways. Who knows what or whom could be trapped in a fridge…?" The March Hare stumbled out of the depths or my refrigerator, keeping his shoulders and back straight. 'Trying to keep his dignity', I though tiredly. I just hung my head, quite honestly not surprised anymore. After this, I don't think anything could surprise me. I grabbed another plum from the center shelf, pulling it from the vine that seemed to have sprout only recently. Closing the door I grabbed a bag of cookies from the counter and sat on the floor in front of my new houseguests, all settled quite comfortably on my couch. Excluding Cat, who was pacing thoughtfully to my right. Rabbit smiled.
"So I'm guessing you want an explanation?"
………
The Red Queen looked to her new charge, taking in his curved spine, the 5 o'clock shadow that never seemed to leave his face. The yellowed eyes that watched everything. He was the perfect one to help her move out her plan, no matter how seemingly unintelligent. Her thoughts moved back to his previous question and a cruel smile moved back unto her pale, perfect, beautiful face.
My kingdom was perfect.
Charlotte, wonderland was in a state of chaos. More so that normal, that is. Everything had lost its color, everything was wrong, in the bad way.
I ruled with an iron fist. That whole damned world was mine. I could murmur a word and people, men, would rush to do my bidding. All was well, all was dead.
The Red Queen, the Queen of Hearts, ruled just about everything. She ordered people dead all of the time. I have lost so many friends… Mary Anne… but that is beside the point. Everything was wrong until, well, you, I guess.
One day, color returned to Wonderland. People began to hope, began to rebel against me. All was 'beautiful' they said. All was right. Oh, but not to me. My power dimmed. I was over thrown.
It was your imagination, Charlotte. You see, your mind is our world. Your mind, and your mother's mind, and her mother's mind… All the way up to The Alice. The original. She created out world, and since then, it's been clinging to all of your minds, all of your creativity and childhood whiles. But, you see, when the Alice was, well, committed, that was when her childhood, her imagination died. Wonderland turned gray, and the Red Queen ruled. But, then you came along. Your mind is the most unique, most imaginative yet. Your mind is our haven. But, lately, everything seemed to be a little too Wonderlandish, I guess. Things began disappearing, people began disappearing… Coming to your world. The Overworld.
This girl, this New Alice, she unleashed it. She unleashed MY domain unto her world.
Your mind was so fragile, so broken. You had no real sense of reality. So, I'm guessing that's where we came in. Wonderland was able to filter in through those cracks in your subconscious and well, here we are, Dear.
She stole it. Stole my world. I want it back.
………
A/N: Oh man, that was crazy. I feel crazy. Is it bad that every time I write an update for this I feel somewhat insane? Hmm, well, um, yeah. You should all tell me how you feel about that. Do you like the context of my story? Do you like the characters? Do you like that I switch perspectives every two seconds? Tell me. C:
Contest-Thing: First person to guess at where I got the name for this story (Talking Bird) gets… whatever they want. For real. And no Google :)
I made a play list on Imeem of what I write to. Mostly St. Vincent, Bright Eyes, Manchester Orchestra, and Death Cab for Cutie.
………