Chapter 2: The First Alice
The first Alice was a courageous red one
Wielding a sword in hand, bravely entered this wonderland.
She was never a normal child. While other girls had always been content with their dresses and dolls, she wielded a sword in one hand and dashed at her mock invisible targets, slicing her imaginary enemy to shreds while her parents looked on at her in disbelief, shaking their heads in agreement. They did not have a normal little girl. The fire in her eyes was banked, caged in dresses, in a weak female child's body, but it burned with an intensity that made people draw away from her.
And so, when she walked in the streets, always grasping that mock sword in her hand, never letting it go since it was first bestowed onto her as a child, mothers drew their children away from her. Her beauty was too fierce, too sharp and embittered with an everlasting fire for any man to approach her.
A lost cause, all she had were her dreams. Her wonderful, wonderful dreams in which she was not imprisoned in this weak body, in a world which looked down at her courage, her fire. When one day, a small white figure, a pure white rabbit, had beckoned her to a door, blood red and had said, "The people beyond this door are yours to do with what you see fit. This is your world Alice, make it to your choosing."
When she had opened the world, it was her hometown, the city full of people who drew away from her, who shunned and ignored her because she was so different. Her face twisted into a smile as she grasped her every-trustworthy sword, her brown eyes now a startling crimson, a scarlet spade etched into her sword hand.
Slicing down everything in her way
She was followed by a bloody red path
She laughed as she slaughtered the ignorant; she smiled her thin blade-like smile as they futilely tried to run. Her sword was stained crimson, its blade no longer made or wood, but of razor sharp steel that bit and carved into human flesh.
Her clothes, which always started a humble white, were always stained crimson, a scarlet color so beautifully blinding that it was all she ever wore. Her face, white and cruel, was always adorned with a curled smile of delight as the grass around her was stained red: a path that forever marked her existence.
What did she care that those of reality feared her, hated her, and tried to ignore that fact that she was alive? Here, in her world of red and carnage, she was ruler! She was not man, not woman, not child, not human. Incarnate of destruction and death, she cackled with delight as she sliced, slashed, carved, and stabbed. Here, she was the hero, the villain. Everyone would be forced to recognize that she was alive. And she was wrath itself!
This new Alice deep in the woods
Was trapped as a wanted fugitive
This dream was no different, she continued to make her red path, her face and clothes slick with the blood of the fallen, as she laughed. "Am I easy to ignore now? Can you shield your children from me now?" she screamed as she pounced on her victims like a vulture.
The heads of her parents, their faces twisted everlastingly in painted horror, hung at her waist by the hair. They were the first to die, to pay for their transgressions, for daring to ignore their abnormal daughter with blazing eyes.
But as the screams of horror subsided, she found herself in the woods, surrounded by trees, their knarled branches leaning menacingly close to her. Raging, she lashed at them, cutting off branches and vines, leaves scattered like droplets of blood. "No more blood Alice, no more blood. We cannot drink anymore. Our ground is putrid, you have soiled our roots. We wither, we grow sick because the blood of the fallen is poison. Stop your wrath Alice. No more blood."
"This is my world!" she shrieked, glaring at the trees with her frightening scarlet eyes, her dress soaked with blood, dripping to the red-stained ground, "And I say blood! Let there be blood! I am death! I am wrath! Let there be more blood! I will never be sated until the blood of the ignorant, those who foolishly denied me are falling around me.
There were no more people in the forest so she resorted to scratching at herself, gashing her own flesh until her own blood started to stain the ground. She laughed. Alice laughed as her red path grew more and more, shining an eerie crimson in the light of her wonderland.
If it weren't for the red path that she made
Her laughter morphed to screams as the branches and vines of the trees bound her, thorns piercing her body, her red clothes, until her blood flowed ever more freely to the ground. Her sword fell to the ground and she was lifted up in her cocoon of thorns and nettles, stabbed into the ground like the grave of a knight.
Blood drizzled to the ground like rain as Alice screamed. "This is a dream. Let me out. This is my wonderland! Let me out!"
Her eyes, once red and fearsome, were now brown and fearful. The spade upon her right hand burned as even her mouth was pierced and bound by thorns, her mouth filled with the taste of her own metallic blood.
"Let me go, let me go, let me go!" she screamed. Suddenly, as the thorns wrapped round her head, obscuring her vision, she saw the white rabbit, which had lead her to this wonderland, this nightmare.
It smirked, its nose twitching, as the face morphed into something ugly, something scarred and broken, but piecing back together one by one.
"Dear dear Alice, my knave of spades, my Red Alice. This is the wonderland you created. You are wrath. And you will stay here, forever"
She had no breath left to scream, forever encased in thorns, blood steadily dripping from her tomb. Her sword lay stabbed in the red path in front of it, stained with the blood of thousands, waiting.
The little dream smiled and looked over at his tapestry, which shone with red, scarlet, with the wrath that his first Alice had brought. He was getting stronger; one person was going to stay with him forever.
So who shall be next?
No one would ever think she even existed.
The little town was quiet, everyone was sound asleep. A couple looked worriedly upon the body of their daughter, whom they loved very much, as it lay, cold and quiet except for rhythmic breathing. She had started to fall asleep more and more until she had never woken up. The mother wept, the father teared, but their daughter was never coming back.
=LINE BREAK=