Welcome to Underland Wonderland

The wind whistled through her ears, as she picked up speed after spotting the blur of white and blue, leaving the pressure and the problems for a moment in this mad dash of life. Further and further the chase had gone, till it stopped in front of a giant pawn. She was no longer on the Ascot estate. The birds have stopped singing along with the wind.

Alice's eyes widen at the spectacle before her, a decrepit abandoned theme park stood defiantly against time. Nature has long gone through the process of reclaiming its land with vines interlinking the rusted fence and colorful mushrooms both real and manmade alike plopped around. Walking along the fence, she spotted a gap and eased herself in.

The details of the walls of the theme park were realistic, eyes of the cartoony card men were filled with anguish or fear behind their visors holding up man upon man on their shoulders, in between the small spaces where mythical and known creatures in clothes with their stitches so on point if she were to touch them, the texture of fabric could be distinguished. What high class materials were these: Plaster of Paris, marble, wood?

Wandering further down the banner above the entrance was carved in, "Welcome to Wonderland/Underland" it read, unable to distinguish whether the letter was "u" or "w" due to weathering and grime. Pushing the gates open was an almost easy task thanks to the rusted lock and mildew formed. The pathway branched off to different directions with overgrowth of flowers and plants afoot. The lack of human noise, accentuated the cacophony of natural orchestra: the afternoon sun glinting on stolen gems from birds, wind through the shaking leaves, the wasps or bees wings beating, and a bird squawking in the distance…

Yet a sound

Punctuated the air, akin

To a heartbeat

A hear tick

To a mecha ni c-a-l pock et wat ch

Alice raced on to follow the noise that didn't belong in this forgotten Wonderland, through the bridge over the moat, into the mouth of the castle.

Prevalent theme of children board games influenced the architecture with pieces haphazardly piled or mounted, obstructing her from finding the origin of the ticking noises. Finally, she found the source of the mechanical heartbeat in the throne room. Light filtered through the worn red lush curtains, creating a mixed atmosphere of mystery in the promise of forbidden treasures and a boding undertone where someone's life could end in murder.

Alice stepped closer to the monarch's throne finding a large hole on the dais, peering down the abyss a sense of vertigo rippled through her body. Attempting to stabilize her bearings, Alice felt the ground give in and the wind knocked out of her. All too fast she tumbled down the rabbit hole.

In panic, Alice's arms flailed around trying to grab a hold of spare furniture or the edges of broken floor that whizzed passed her. Everything around her was on speed dial, while her body felt suspended through time. Alice shut her eyes, raised her arms to her head to brace for impact. Within moments, the sound of ancient springs groaning under the sudden weight churned out.

Quizzical, Alice peeked open her left eye to survey the aftermath. Deeming the area safe from gore, she fully opened her eyes and the drum of the whiplash hit her hard. Cradling her head, Alice slid down from the pile of mattresses, landing unsteadily on the ground. The probability to be alive from such a fall and landing on mattresses, were astronomical, thought Alice.

Noticing the doors that aligned the circular room, Alice's hand reached out to try the handles and knobs. Each were locked, slumping against the last door a glint of light caught her eye. A mirror partially hidden behind a mattress reflected light from a keyhole of small door the size of a cat flap.

Making her way towards the mattresses, Alice passed by a glass table that had non-descript glass bottles of various sizes littering the surface. Except for one bottle tagged "Drink me," curious Alice lifted the object up, her eyes widened after spotting an ivory key half an extent of a finger underneath it.

With the vigor of a madman, Alice went around the room trying the doors yet again with more hope.

None of the doors have made a budge, the small shape and groove of the key clenched in her palm, somehow told her not to give up. If there is a key, there must be a lock. Alice tried the last and smallest door; readily it swung open to allow its interior to be viewed.

Expecting to see another room, instead Alice was met with another world. It was only wide enough to fit her head through, what good would that do? Perhaps she could capture insects with her mouth or let the rain fall on her to sedate her thirst? Preposterous, she thought. She wasn't up to date with the weather patterns nor did she know which insects would be poisonous or ever try her skill in capturing bugs with her mouth.

Looking back into the room, Alice became aware that something in the mirror moved. Closer Alice got to the mirror; the reflection was no longer a reflection but video of some-sort of the rabbit she followed out of Ascot Manor. He drank a tagged bottle watching the tag disappear from his paw and reappearing beside the empty ones on the table. The finely dressed rabbit begun to rapidly shrink, surely there is something in this room that made her hallucinate? The rabbit patted down his petticoat and peered at his watch again, before leaving he took a biscuit from a tin the size of thumb near the foot of the table.

Turning back to where the rabbit once stood, Alice searched the floor near the table. Alas the biscuit tin was there, opening it tiny biscuits with the words "eat me" were iced on top.

The only logical thing that came through to Alice that this could only be just a dream.