Chapter III: The Past Must Be Paid For…
Alice slowly opened her eyes. An endless blackness was laid out before her. She sat up, rubbing her sore head…
Something tells me this isn't going to be enjoyable…whatever "this" is…
"About time, Alice."
Alice froze. She knew that voice all too well…
She turned around.
"…Cheshire-Puss?"
It certainly looked like the cat: emaciated nearly to a skeletal form, tattooed with arcane symbols, with a silver hoop earring in one pointed ear, piercing yellow eyes, and wide, malicious grin filled with dagger-shaped teeth. However, the cat before her was a deep violet color, rather than the familiar light gray, and seemed to be wrapped in a toga-like robe of the purest white. A belt, strapped about the cat like a quiver, held what looked like a large, brass dunce cap, or else an enlarged candle extinguisher that had no handle, against his bony back.
The strange, purple cat grinned a bit wider.
"I suppose that response was expected…but you are incorrect."
"Wh-who are you? For that matter, WHAT are you?"
"I am," the feline began, and then paused dramatically, before finishing, "The Ghost of Christmas Past."
Alice raised an eyebrow.
"You look more like a cat, to me."
The cat's eyes narrowed. Alice's own eyes widened as she looked into the glowing, yellow irises of the "Ghost;" in those eyes, she saw a very twisted Christmas, watching as a man was held up by another man, shrouded in an executioner's hood, and thrown into a boiling vat, filled with treacle, sugar, plums, brandy, butter, and cream…the ingredients of plum pudding. The man screamed in agony, his own flesh beginning to melt off his bones to join the mix. The scene disappeared, and a fine gentleman, in a black top hat and cape, with a bushy moustache, tipped his hat to another figure, dressed in similar clothes, but in shades of blue, and bid him a happy Christmas…only to be promptly stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake, with a holly branch tied to it. As the unfortunate fellow fell, gargling on his own blood, to the court, a third scene appeared: a husband and wife, both dressed in their finest, seated at a table, across from each other, a sprig of mistletoe above them. The woman poured each a drink – wine, Alice guessed – and they both kissed. Then, the lady took a sip…and then began to gasp for air, before slumping onto the table, dead…
"Please…put on your cap…cover it…!"
"WHAT?" hissed the beast, its eyes now filled with flames – literally – engulfing a familiar house. Alice cringed, trying to close her eyes, but finding herself unable to.
"What?" the Ghost cried out again. "Would you so soon put out, with your human hands, the light that my eyes provide? Is it not enough that YOU caused me to have this same cap in the first place?"
Alice shook her head hastily.
The eyes cleared, and Alice swallowed hard.
"Those…those are things I said…aren't they?"
The Ghost nodded.
"Morbid, wasn't it?"
"Yes...yes it was. Pray, tell me...what have you come to me for?"
"Your welfare, naturally."
Alice snorted.
"With all due respect, I believe a good night's sleep would be just as conducive as a visit from a feline phantom."
The Ghost Cat shrugged.
"Your salvation, then. Now, follow me."
The Ghost turned, and began to walk away. For a moment, Alice stood still.
The cat stopped, and turned to her, purple lips lowering slightly in the Ghost's equivalent of a confused frown.
"Are you coming, or not, Alice?"
The young lady hesitated one more time, but then shrugged, chalking it up to another dream or hallucination, and followed the grinning specter. As they walked, the creature's eyes began to glow brighter and brighter, until they seemed to be a pair of flashlights. Alice watched, curious, as the infinite darkness ebbed away, to reveal...
Alice stared, a nostalgic and delighted smile creeping onto her face.
"Why...this is Christ Church! My house wasn't far from here!"
The Ghost of Christmas Past nodded.
"Indeed. Do you remember the way home?"
"Remember it? I could walk it blindfolded!"
The cat raised an eyebrow, looking at Alice mildly.
"How strange," it observed. "After having forgotten it for so many years. Let us away..."
The cat reached up and placed a claw against Alice's hand. She sucked in a sharp breath, as, suddenly, the world around her seemed to spin and change shape...
She was now at her house.
Alice looked upon her childhood home. The yard was covered in a beautiful blanket of sparkling snow. The old cherry trees her mother had planted in the yard were devoid of leaves, their branches almost seeming to cradle the snow on them like babes in white blankets. A wreath hung over the front door, and the two-story building was warmly lit within, if the glow of the fireplace, seen from one window, was any clue.
At the sight of this same glow, Alice's smile faded fast.
The Ghost's eyes widened.
"Your lip is trembling, Alice, dear," it purred. "And...forgive me for noticing, but you have something running down your cheek."
"Nonsense," Alice snapped, wiping a hand across her face. "Just...something in my eye, that is all."
The Ghost eyed her doubtfully.
"These," it said, "Are merely shadows of things that have been...images of the past, long unseen by your eyes. They will have no knowledge or consciousness of our visits."
Alice nodded in understanding.
"Come," the Ghost purred. The phantasmal feline padded up to the wooden gate. The frosted latch opened, and the gate swung open. It placed its feet onto the stone path that lead through the snow-coated garden up to the door of the Liddell household. Alice followed.
The door creaked open, and the ghostly, purple cat and his charge entered the house, and headed for the living room.
Alice smiled again, despite herself, at the warm scene inside.
The tree was beautiful...the smell of fresh pine and peppermint was so enchanting and welcome to Alice's nostrils. Lovely glass and ceramic orbs of red and blue, mixed with candy canes and gold and silver garland, hung upon every branch. At the top of the tree was a star of shining gold, and beneath was a white blanket. Parcels of various shapes and sizes were under the tree, wrapped in brightly colored paper and ribbons. Her mother and father were seated on a sofa, with her father, Arthur's, left arm across his wife's shoulders.
Alice's eyes widened slightly, the deep green orbs glistening with tears, unable to fall, when she saw herself, eight years old, her childhood self's own eyes glimmering with amusement and excitement, her smile warm and cheery, wearing a blue nightgown and thick wool stockings. Alice's older sister, Elizabeth, sat beside her on the floor, clapping her hands girlishly, also still dressed in her nightgown. Like Alice, she had black hair and green eyes. However, her hair was cut shorter than her younger sister's, and she was also taller, and more plump, and wore an orange nightgown, rather than a blue one.
The Ghost of Christmas Past grinned at the older Alice's beaming face.
"Go on, Lizzie!" laughed the younger Alice Liddell. "You open the first present!"
The plump little girl in the orange nightgown nodded exuberantly, and reached out with soft, warm hands toward a tiny box in red wrapping paper, without a ribbon. She hurriedly tore open the paper, caring not for any sense of orderly manner whilst doing so, and opened up the small, black box inside. She let out a squeal of glee.
"It's a keychain!" she cried out. "A gold keychain!"
"We thought you could use something to hold the key to your room," said the mother. "You seem to be very good at losing it! If you want, you can wear it around your throat, like a necklace."
"Thank you, Mummy!" giggled the girl, and rushed out to hug her mother.
"Now, Alice," Arthur Liddell said. "It's your turn."
Alice picked up a small, soft package, wrapped in green paper and a yellow ribbon. She bit her lip, gazing curiously at the package.
"It feels like…cotton, or fabric…"
"Well? Go on!" laughed Elizabeth. "Open it up! Let's see what you have!"
Alice did so, opening her gift more slowly and more carefully than her sister…
Both the younger and older Alice gasped.
The package contained a small, white stuffed doll…a toy rabbit, with polished, black, wooden buttons for eyes. It was warm to the young girl's touch, and the eyes, while only made of wood, still seemed to be filled with a sense of fun and spirit, at least in the firelight.
"It's wonderful!"
"Merry Christmas, Alice," chuckled Arthur Liddell.
"Oh, thank you, daddy!"
As the young Alice reached for her father, the scene faded away. Once again, Alice and the Spirit of the Past were alone in a dark, dark place.
"That was before you found Wonderland, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Alice said. "I always thought Rabbit looked like my doll…even after The Fire."
The spirit nodded.
"You never had any friends before you found Wonderland, aside from that toy, did you?"
Alice shut her eyes and shook her head.
"I wasn't liked…the other children at Oxford teased me, because I daydreamed so often and liked to read so much. I preferred to be alone; the books were my escape, until Rabbit took me down that hole. My favorites were the fairy tales, by the Brothers Grimm."
"Let's move on to another Christmas," the spirit purred, as if Alice hadn't said anything at all. Once again, things seemed to spin…the darkness began to dissipate, to be replaced by swirling colors…
As the world stopped whirling, and the tones and shapes settled in their places, Alice realized she was floating in the air, above the River Thames. In a small boat below her, she saw her father, her sister, and her younger self, all dressed in lovely Sunday clothes.
Also in the boat, taking notes, it seemed, was a man with curly hair, dressed in a frock coat. His eyes seemed to dance, as if all the laughter in the world was stored inside them and wanted to burst out.
"Dodgson…"
"Hm?"
Alice took a deep breath and turned to face the Ghost.
"Mr. Charles Dodgson…he and my father were good friends. He had a soft spot for me. When I first came back from Wonderland, I told him about my adventures during a fishing trip he and my father had. Father thought I was just being silly, but Mr. Dodgson believed me…or seemed to anyway. He wrote a book on my adventures. When I went to Wonderland a second time, I told him, and he wrote another book. I kept heading back to Wonderland afterwards, but I decided not to tell him anymore stories about my journeys. He published the stories under the moniker 'Lewis Carroll'"
"What happened after The Fire?"
Alice paused.
"I don't know. I never saw him again."
"This Christmas seems different from the others, doesn't it?"
Alice nodded.
"It was oddly warm that year…no snow, no frost. But the wind was positively frigid, I'll admit. He claimed to have written it in the spring, but I don't know why…perhaps he forgot the day. He had a strangely warped sense of time, to say nothing of a poor memory."
There was a short silence.
"I wish to return home, spirit."
"You cannot," the Ghost growled. "There is one shadow more you must see."
The world spun round and round again, and Alice was back in her house.
She had a bad feeling about this Christmas…her older sister was now a young woman, about her current age, and she, herself, was older, too. Her father's hair was starting to gray, and her mother looked more weary than usual.
This was all too familiar, and not in a good way.
"Things change," she said, a sense of urgency etched into her voice. "The Past is Past, and I can't change it. I won't-"
"You MUST."
Alice winced, both at the violet-toned cat's commanding voice and the sudden, whining groan that came from her younger self.
"Socks?"
"Well, you needed new ones…"
"But I wanted toys, and books!"
"Alice, it isn't what you want that matters. It's the thought that counts!"
The girl huffed and stomped away.
"Alice!" called Elizabeth.
She walked off to her bedroom. Her sister, mother, and father were left in the living room. All three sighed, almost as if in chorus.
"She hasn't been the same since I said I was leaving home," Elizabeth mumbled, sadly.
"Don't blame yourself, dear," her mother whispered. "Alice is getting older. She needs to learn that Christmas isn't about…well, what she thinks it's about, on her own."
"We spoiled her when she was smaller, that's the trouble…"
"Arthur, it's no one's fault but little Alice's. We'll talk with her tomorrow. For now, let her go to sleep. We should head off to bed to."
Her father sighed again.
"I suppose you're right, dear. Goodnight. And goodnight to you, Lizzie."
"Goodnight, dad. Mum."
Lizzie headed upstairs, her parents went off to their own bedroom.
"Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Shouldn't you put your photography toolkit away? I swear, one of these days, they'll fall over and burn up the walls!"
"Nonsense, my love…we haven't had a problem yet."
"Well, all right…"
They vanished.
For a while, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, soundlessly, the front door creaked open.
And there, in the dark shadows, stood Dr. Angus Bumby.
Alice's fists clenched tight.
"Show me no more."
The Ghost ignored her.
Bumby smiled a sick, dead-looking smile, and crept toward the stairs, heading for the girls' bedrooms…
"Stop it," Alice growled softly, tears coming to her eyes.
The door to Elizabeth's room creaked open.
"Oh, no!"
The door shut. Muffled yelps, whimpers, and bestial snarls echoed from behind it. After several minutes, these were reduced to a series of ominous, raspy, sucking sounds…someone gasping for breath…
Then there was silence.
The door creaked open again, and Bumby exited, his clothes looking more rumpled than usual, panting like the cur he was. In his hand was Elizabeth's keychain.
"Take me back!" Alice choked out.
The Ghost made no reply. It's eyes were burning once again.
Bumby turned toward's Alice's room. He peered inside for a moment, and then shut the door. He began to stalk back downstairs.
"Spirit, please, enough! Why do you delight in torturing me…?"
The Ghost of Christmas Past grabbed Alice with a paw, his claws digging into her dress.
"I am a cat, remember?" he hissed, eyes filled with a dark, deadly blaze of light. "I warned you already: these are all shadows of things that have been. They are what they are. Do not blame me for the memories you've fashioned!"
Alice was startled.
Then, like a fearsome fire that now matched the one that was overtaking the Liddell house as Angus Bumby made his escape, Alice felt a familiar, murderous rage fill her. She grabbed at the Ghost's conical cap, and slammed it over its furry face, extinguishing the agonizing heat and light of its eyes, and causing the world to go black around her again.
"HAUNT ME NO LONGER!"
The furious, feline phantom hissed and spat, trying to free itself…but was ultimately overpowered. It seemed to shrink and melt away under the cone, which, as Alice released it and took a step back in the endless dark, vanished in a swirl of golden mist.