Alice Part 8

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X.

As the train gathered speed, Alice took a closer look at the other passengers on board. It was ‘standing room only’ in the most literal sense, as there were no seats, and many of the animals were not well-adapted to sit in seats anyway. There were squirrels, dormice, rabbits, oysters, hedgehogs, frogs, various birds and even an alpaca. The train was gathering speed rapidly now and Alice looked on in some alarm as some of the smaller animals began to roll towards the back.

“Eek!” said a squirrel, as it tried to cling to the hem of Alice’s trousers. They were going really fast. Alice looked out the window to find she could no longer see the ocean, just a racing blur of technicolour. Were they going faster than light? Alice began to tumble towards the back too, and suddenly felt she didn’t want to be on this train anymore; she was scared. Why couldn’t she have stayed on the beach, collecting shells?

“Ow!” she said, as she hit the back of the carriage, and dislodged a disgruntled hedgehog from behind her.

“Watch where you’ve flying!” said the hedgehog.

It was pandemonium: animals were piled up at the back of the train, all bickering with one another. Many of the birds had tried flying to keep up with the speed, but it was too fast for them, and they too were hurled towards the back; a large seagull was draped over the eyes of the alpaca, which was in turn draped across Alice and the other animals.

“I wonder were the gnat is?” said Alice.

“I’m right here,” said the tiny voice by Alice’s ear, and Alice fought the urge to swat at it.

“This is quite a way to travel, isn’t it?” said the gnat.

“Indeed!” said Alice. She was so vexed she could say nothing else.

“Trains have really gone downhill if you ask me!” said the hedgehog.

“No-one was asking you!” said the squirrel.

“Now, now, don’t bicker,” hooted an owl, who was spread in a most unbecoming way against the back of the carriage.

“Where are we going?” said Alice.

“To the White Tower, of course!” the animals all squeaked, hooted and chirped in reply.

“But why?” said Alice.

“Because we want to go, stupid,” said the hedgehog. “Why else would we be here?”

Alice thought he was only grumpy because she’d squashed him slightly. She wondered when this terrible train journey would end.

The Cheshire Cat materialised then, in mid-air in front of Alice.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Not really,” said Alice. “What is the point of this?”

“The train is a great metaphor for life, don’t you think?” said the Cheshire Cat. “It can be rather a bumpy ride.”

“This isn’t funny!” said Alice.

“That depends on your view,” said the Cheshire Cat. “I like to view things a different way.” And here he flipped over onto his back in mid-air and grinned at Alice, upside down.

“Who are you? And why are you different to all the other animals?”

“I’m a cat,” he said simply. “And don’t expect me to tell you my secrets, for we cats revel in mystery. But I am not the mystery you must solve. In this case, I am simply the messenger.”

“So, you’re not the one who’s behind all this?”

“Oh no – I’m a cat. I may know things humans don’t, but I’m no inventor. I think there’s someone you should meet. You’ll find him in the White Tower. Right at the very top, if you can find it.”

And he disappeared.

Eventually the train began to slow down, and it finally came to a stop at the bottom of a hill. Alice and all the animals unfurled themselves, grumbling, from the back of the train, and got off. Alice looked up at the hill. The White Tower stood on top of it, gleaming in the sunlight. She looked around as a flamingo pushed past and saw that all the animals and birds were heading off in another direction.

“Where are you going?” she called after them.

“To the Visitor’s Centre and Cafe,” they replied in unison. Alice shook her head and started walking up the hill.

“Goodbye,” said the tiny voice in her ear.

Alice reached the top in time to see the Cheshire Cat’s tail disappear through a half-open door at the foot of the tower. A biting wind came from nowhere and the door blew shut. Some butterflies flew past that were the colour of autumn leaves.

Alice walked up to the tower and stopped outside the small wooden door, which was painted a peeling blue.

She’d been wanting to come here for so long…

She took a deep breath and turned the handle.

Alice Part 7

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IX.

But no, they were flying to the other side of this strange world, where it was still daylight, and Alice could see the sea. They landed on a soft, sandy beach. Alice recognised the place from real life, though she knew they were still in the dream world.

“How do you know?” asked the Gryphon, as though he could hear her thoughts.

“Because there is me,” said Alice. And it was true; there, a little further off down the beach, was the child-version of Alice, staring at the waves.

“This beach holds a special place in your memory, doesn’t it?” said the Gryphon.

“It does,” said Alice. This was where she’d had her childhood holidays. This was the first place she’d seen the sea; she remembered seeing it on the car drive down: a big black line that broke the sky. A monstrous thing. And she remembered the beach: the tangled clumps of seaweed, the dead jellyfish, like shipwrecked space-beings. Her parents warned her not to touch them.

The beach looked different now: with combed golden sand, there was not a dead jellyfish in sight. The young Alice was watching the waves, as though entranced. A golden light seemed to faintly halo the scene.

Alice went and crouched down next to her.

“What are you looking for?” she asked gently.

“I’m waiting for my ship to arrive,” said young Alice.

Alice wondered whether she was playing a game. She noticed there were lots of colourful shells buried in the sand around their feet.

“Would you like to collect shells while we wait?”

Young Alice nodded. “Okay.”

A little further off, the Gryphon had curled up on the sand and gone to sleep. Alice wondered why he had brought her here. There were two brightly-coloured buckets sitting on the sand nearby and the two Alices used them to fill with shells. There were a lot of different shells, all different colours and shapes.

Alice felt like they were waiting for something more than a ship to arrive. She noticed, not far off, the start of a train track that ran alongside the sea into the horizon. She wondered whether a train would come soon? There was nowhere to buy tickets…

“Why are you sad?”

Alice looked at the child version of herself, who was watching her curiously.

“I’m not sad.”

“You are – I can tell.”

Alice had forgotten about child-intuition. She thought about what young Alice had said. She was a little lonely, maybe. She wasn’t really sad. She had things she wanted to do she never seemed to get around to doing. Maybe adult life wasn’t as she’d imagined it’d be when she was eight years old… which was nearly twenty years ago now.

“I’m not sad, Alice. I’m just –” What could she say to the child version of herself, who would one day grow up to be her?

“Did you write those stories you wanted to write?” asked young Alice.

“I wrote some of them down, yes.”

Young Alice brightened. “Does that mean you’re a famous writer?”

“Not exactly – I work in an office.”

Young Alice was puzzled. “Why do you do that?”

“I need to make money. I need to pay my bills.”

“Are you married?”

“No, Alice.”

“Do you have a house?”

“I have a little flat of my own. It’s okay.”

Alice felt she should add more. “I’m going to write more stories, though, Alice. And I’m going to get them published. And I’m going to travel. I’m going to go on adventures, and make lots of new friends.”

Young Alice shook her head. “You’re lying.”

Alice’s heart sank. “I’m not. I’m going to do those things.”

“I want to be happy when I grow up. Or I might as well stay being a child.”
Alice looked out towards the waves. It seemed an eternity before she noticed there was a ship on the horizon.

“Look!” she said, pointing.

Young Alice nodded soberly, as though she’d never doubted its coming. Then, in no time at all, the ship was at shore.

“I have to go now,” said young Alice.

“Why?” asked Alice.

“Because all things must come to an end.”

Alice nodded and hugged her younger self tightly.

“I won’t forget you.”

Young Alice nodded, and carried her bucket of shells onto the ship. When she was onboard, she waved at adult Alice as the ship bore her away over the horizon.

Alice kept waving until the ship was out of sight. Then she stared at the blue horizon.
She was broken from her reverie by the sound of a train arriving along the track by the sea, and a Dodo in a conductor’s hat was waving tickets and shouting. She looked for the Gryphon, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She heard little voices singing by the water’s edge. She turned and saw a small group of oysters walking eagerly towards the train, though she hardly knew how, as oysters don’t have legs. Still, walking they were, and singing sweetly in high-pitched voices:

““Will you walk a little faster?” said one oyster to another,

“The headmaster’s close behind us, and he’s threatened to tell Mother.”

See how eagerly the little oysters all do strain!

They are waiting on the shingle, and they want to board the train!
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you board the train?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you board the train?

You can really have no notion how delightful it will be,
When you board the train and look out of the window to the sea!
But you might think, “No way, no way!” and threaten to abstain,
And we will say, “Okay, okay, but you should board the train.”
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you board the train?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you board the train?

And you might ask, “What point is there, of going for the ride?”
So we shall say, “There is a tower, on the other side –
There’s a tower you will get to if you choose not to refrain,
So turn not pale, humanoid, but come and board the train.”
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you board the train?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you board the train?”

Well, Alice was convinced. She ran to the Dodo waving the tickets.

“Get your tickets for the White Tower! Last train!”

“I’d like a ticket please,” said Alice eagerly.

“There you go,” said the Dodo.

“Don’t I have to pay?” asked Alice.

“I’ll accept a few of those shells,” said the Dodo, nodding his head at the bucket Alice still carried.

Alice gave him the bucket of shells.

“Take them all.”

“For me?” asked the Dodo in astonishment. “Good heavens, I’ll be a rich man!”

Alice boarded the train after the oysters. It was rather crowded inside with various animals, even though she’d seen no-one else get on.

“Perhaps this ‘No-One Else’ is more popular than you think,” said a tiny voice by her ear. Instinctively Alice swatted at her ear, as the voice had sounded like the whine of a gnat.

“Hey!” said the voice, and then whined off.

The train started to move, very slowly. Alice looked out the window towards the sea.

Alice Part 6

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VIII.

The garden was dark and flanked by high hedges. Up above, the sky was dark blue and peppered with stars. All was quiet in the Queen’s gardens – only the occasional snore punctuated the silence. This was because here and there was a guard, standing asleep; they were using their lances to prop themselves upright. Alice guessed this was to make it look less obvious they were sleeping, as if the Queen caught them it would be “off with their heads”.

She crept around the walkways of the massive garden, careful not to wake any of the guards. It was somewhat like a wide hedge maze. She could see the Queen’s palace, not very far away. She wondered where the Gryphon was that the White Knight had mentioned? She turned to look back at the Knight on the hill, but couldn’t see him in the darkness at this distance.

Just then, she heard footsteps. She crept behind a clump of rosebushes and peeked out. A moment later a guard, in red armour, walked past.

When the coast was clear, she crept out from behind the rosebushes and carried on down the path, as quietly as she could. She came to a square with a fountain in the middle. The tinkling of the fountain seemed noisy in the night air. Beyond was a path to another square, which had a statue of a Gryphon standing in the middle. She was just about to start moving again when, out of nowhere, a voice said: “Where do you think you’re going, Miss?”

She broke into a run towards the statue. Just as she was about to enter the second square, two guards blocked her path. She was escorted back to the palace. She heard a horn blown in the distance. The guard to her right nudged a sleepy guard they passed and said, “Go and find out what that was.”

They led her up the wide steps of the palace and through the double doors into a spacious, ornately decorated hall, where the Red Queen sat in the middle on her throne. The Red King sat on a smaller throne beside her.

The Red Queen was a tall, imposing woman with an air of severity. Her husband, meanwhile, was a small, timid-looking man. As their titles suggested, they were both dressed entirely and elaborately in red.

“Well, well, what have we here?” barked the Red Queen. “An intruder! What are you doing, trespassing in my grounds?!”

“I’m sorry!” said Alice. “I just wanted to talk to the Gryphon. I understand he can take me somewhere important.”

“The Gryphon has no business with a person like you,” said the Red Queen. “He is under my command, and will do my bidding, just like everyone else in my kingdom. Kevin! Stop fidgeting!”

“I’m sorry, dear,” said the King, looking awkward. He promptly stopped fiddling with his whiskers.

“As I was saying,” the Queen said icily, “he shall do my bidding.”

“Then I’m sorry to take up your valuable time,” said Alice, curtseying. “If you’ll let me go, I’ll be on my way, and you won’t have to see me again.”

“Let you go?!” exclaimed the Queen. “How do I know you’re not a spy? Well? Who are you? What do you call yourself?”

“I’m Alice, your Majesty.”

“Alice? That’s an unusual name. A little Victorian; sounds made-up to me.”

“Now Susan, dear –,” started the King.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Kevin!” said the Red Queen, turning impatiently upon the King. “And address me by my title in front of strangers!”

She turned back to Alice, her face red. “I’ve had enough of you already. You’re irritating me. Off with her –”

She stopped because the head of the Cheshire Cat suddenly appeared, five times its usual size, in front of Alice, grinning at the Queen.

“Hello Susan,” it said.

This time the Queen really did go red.

“WHAT IS THIS?!!!” she screamed, enraged. “KEVIN, HAVE YOU BEEN SMUGGLING CATS IN?”

“No dear!” protested the King.

“YOU KNOW I HATE CATS! OFF WITH ITS HEAD! OFF WITH ITS HEAD!”

In the confusion that followed, Alice made a dash for it – out of the palace, back into the gardens, and she ran towards the square where the Gryphon had been. All the guards were running back towards the palace, alerted by the Queen’s screaming.

“What a horrible woman!” thought Alice. She ran back to the square where she’d seen the Gryphon, but it had disappeared. What now?

“Alice!” said a voice frantically behind her. She turned around and the Gryphon was there. It was the size of a horse.

“There’s no time to lose!” said the Gryphon. “Climb onto my back. Hurry!”

Despite her reservations, there were guards running towards her now, so Alice clambered onto the Gryphon’s back; he gave a flap of his great wings, and they went up, up into the air, at dizzying speed. Soon they were rushing through the stars.

“Sorry to startle you like that,” said the Gryphon. “But they know I’m a spy now. I can’t go back there.”

“What will you do?” asked Alice, who was quite determined not to look down.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go and live in the Dark Forest. Or maybe I’ll get a job in a supermarket. It’s a toss-up, either way.”

Alice presumed the Gryphon was using humour, and found it rather odd. Generally, mythical beasts are not known for their sense of humour.

“Where are we going?” shouted Alice over the rushing wind.

“Somewhere very special,” said the Gryphon. “It’s important to you.”

For a moment Alice wondered if they were going to leave the dream world and go back to her reality.

Alice Part 5

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VII.

She looked up to see a tall white horse standing over her, with a short knight in silver armour sitting upon it.

At first, she could say nothing, because she didn’t understand how the Knight had suddenly appeared without making a noise.

“Are you hurt?” asked the Knight. “Here, let me help you.” And he dismounted his tall horse to help her up off the ground.

She numbly let the Knight help her to her feet. He really was rather shorter than she would have expected a knight to be: in fact, she was somewhat taller than him. He had a stocky build, and, when he removed his helmet, revealed himself to be middle-aged, with a greying beard and kind blue eyes.

“What is your name, young maiden?”

“Alice,” said Alice.

“Alice,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I am the White Knight. And what, may I ask, are you doing here in the Dark Forest all alone?”

“I got lost,” Alice said simply.

“So I see. How did you end up here?”

Now there was a philosophical question, no doubt.

“The Hatter and the Hare sent me here.”

“I see. You should not listen to the delusions of madmen.”

“The Hatter said you would lead me through the Dark Forest. I’m trying to get to the White Tower, you see.”

“Ah. Well, I can certainly do that. I know this place very well. I’ve been here a long time. Far too long, actually.” A mournful look passed over his face. “It’s nice to have some company for a change.”

Alice was curious. “Why are you here?”

“The White Queen whom I served is missing, presumed dead. It’s the Red Queen who rules this land now. I have been banished to this forest, for she cannot stand the sight of me. I was lucky, really. Most people she dislikes don’t survive. Maybe I should view it as a special sort of favour.”

He chuckled, though there was little humour in it.

“Perhaps she still sees some sort of use for me. In my old life I was a Demon-Slayer, you see.”

“A Demon-Slayer? There aren’t any demons in the forest, are there?”

“Oh yes. But they are afraid of me. They hide behind the trees.”

Alice looked around her at the dark, hulking shapes of the trees. She remembered the voices which had taunted her.

“They haven’t been bothering you, have they?” asked the White Knight.

“Some of them were talking to me earlier… but I couldn’t see them.”

“That’s because they’re too afraid to show their faces while I’m around. To be honest, most of them are pathetic creatures. It’s the shadows which lend them their threat. If you could see them in broad daylight, you’d laugh.”

Alice sensed a hush in the forest, and felt sure the demons were listening, but while she was with the White Knight, she felt safe. His presence was reassuring.

“Would you like to ride Snowdrop? We’ll travel much faster that way.”

Alice looked up at Snowdrop, who looked back at her and snorted gently.

“Er…okay.”

“Don’t worry, he’s perfectly safe.” The Knight patted Snowdrop’s long nose affectionately.

First, the White Knight commenced to mount Snowdrop, which was quite a sight, as the horse was so tall and the Knight so short and stocky. Alice waited patiently while the Knight struggled to swing his leg over the horse’s back. Then, when he was safely seated, the Knight held out a gloved hand to help Alice up behind him. They set off at a steady trot.

“Let me sing to you the song of the Demon-Slayers,” said the White Knight.

“Okay,” said Alice.

The White Knight cleared his throat and began:

“Hark! I hear the demons coming –
I hear their footsteps softly drumming.
Their faces are so unbecoming,
Grimacing at me.

Men of honour, stop your sleeping –
Can’t you hear the women weeping?
While the demons keep a-creeping,
In amongst the trees.

From the trees rebounding,
Let my horn-blast sounding
Summon all the White Queen calls
To honour nigh-astounding!

Men of honour, on to glory!
See your courage famed in story
Harken to these words we sing ye –
May they never fade!

See the demons – see them running!
Where is now their evil cunning?
Their faces still so unbecoming,
Scatter, evil ones!

Our brave steeds are wildly neighing,
Our brazen horns are hoarsely braying,
While the women keep on praying
For our mortal souls!

See! they’re all afeared!
Frightened and bat-eared!
Ever they shall rue the day
They saw my mighty beard!

Now the demons fly before us!
They’ve had a fright or my name’s Doris!
So raise the loud exulting chorus,
“The woods are safe again!”

“Erm, that’s very nice,” said Alice gently. “Did you make it up yourself?”

“It’s a traditional song the Demon-Slayers used to sing,” said the White Knight. “Of course, I’m the last of them now.”

“What happened to the White Queen?” asked Alice.

“Nobody knows. She just disappeared one day. And I’ve been banished to this forest ever since.” He heaved a deep sigh.

Alice felt sorry for the White Knight, who seemed like such a nice gentleman, living here in the forest all alone. She wished there was something she could do to help him.

Snowdrop picked up speed, until soon it seemed they were virtually flying, judging by the way the trees were whirring past.

“All the paths look the same,” shouted Alice, as the wind whizzed through her hair.

“Yes, it does look like that to the untrained eye,” shouted the Knight, “but when you’ve been here as long as I have, you start to know your way around.”

“I wish there was a way you could get out of here.”

“The only way is if the Red Queen will let me go, but I doubt she’s ever going to. She’s a very headstrong woman.”

“Perhaps I could talk to her.”

“I doubt she’d listen to you, Alice. In fact, I’d rather you stay away from her. She won’t listen to anyone but herself.”

“But there must be a way,” thought Alice. Then, a thought struck her.

“Is this my dream?” she asked. It occurred to her, you see, that the Knight was the only person she’d met so far who seemed like somebody she could completely trust.

The Knight seemed puzzled by this question. “I don’t know, Alice,” he said after a while. “If this is your dream, what would become of me after you wake up? I should disappear, and though my life isn’t very interesting, I shouldn’t like to disappear completely.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” said Alice. “It just occurred to me that if this is my dream, I could set you free.”

They had reached the edge of the forest. The Knight helped her down off his horse, and raised his visor to look at Alice.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Just focus on your own journey. You have much to learn.”

“But what about you?” said Alice.

“There is a friend of mine who lives in the gardens of the Red Queen,” said the Knight. “A Gryphon. He has to take you somewhere important.”

“Great, back to riddles again,” thought Alice.

“But whatever you do, you must evade capture by the Red Queen. Watch out for her guards. They are everywhere. I can go no further, but I shall watch you from this hill, for I can see over the Queen’s gardens from here, and if it looks like you are in trouble, I can raise a diversion.”

“What is this, a game of chess?” thought Alice. For suddenly it seemed to her that she was just a pawn. It wasn’t really her dream at all – she was in someone else’s dream, and they were playing games with her. But who?

But she only nodded to the Knight.

“I’ll miss you,” said Alice. And it didn’t seem wrong to say so. For in such a short space of time, they had really bonded. Time didn’t work properly here, wherever ‘here’ was – not like it did in the real world.

“I’ll miss you too, Alice. Really, I will. How I wish that things could have been different, and I wasn’t confined to the forest! Ah, how I wish I could turn back time! But Time has a habit of getting between us and the people we care about; between us and the things we wish to do. And, alas, it cannot be undone.

“Try not to make a false move, Alice, but remember, if you do, I’ll be watching, and I will do all I can to assist you.”

Alice thanked him with tear-rimmed eyes, and they embraced, then parted, and Alice walked down the hill towards the Red Queen’s gardens alone. As she did, she turned back to look at the White Knight one last time: the solitary figure by the horse on the hill; in gleaming silver armour that caught the moonlight. The poor, brave Knight, who she would probably never see again.

Alice Part 4

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VI.

As she progressed further the forest began to grow very dark. There were strange noises all around, and the trees seemed to lean in on her. As she walked along the narrow path, a familiar shape materialised on a branch above her head. It was the Cheshire Cat!

“Why, hello Alice,” said the Cheshire Cat, grinning down at her. His teeth looked very sharp, and seemed to glint strangely in the dim light.

Alice stopped in her tracks. “You!” she said. “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“Only to teach you an important lesson. But really, you brought yourself.”

“What are you trying to teach me?”

He grinned wider. “You’ll see. How did you find the Hatter and the Hare?”

“Crazy,” said Alice. “Are there any sensible people here?” Though she thought she knew the answer to that.

“Oh no,” he said. “We’re all mad here.”

“But I don’t want to be around mad people!”

“You have no choice, Alice. You see, you’re entirely bonkers too. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite normal, in fact.” Here he stretched himself and yawned.

Alice wanted to know how being mad could also be normal. But decided not to ask the question.

“A great many people are mad,” continued the Cheshire Cat. “But the real tragedy is, they try not to be. To pretend they are normal. I want you to fall into your madness, Alice. I think you have real potential here.”

Alice wondered what he meant by this. But instead she asked, “Is it far to the White Tower?”

“Not far,” said the Cheshire Cat lazily. “On the other side of this forest you’ll come to the kingdom of the Red Queen. But I must warn you, she has quite a temper. Be very wary of that one, and always keep your head. One false move and she’ll have it off.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Alice.

Here the Cheshire Cat began to fade.

“Don’t go,” said Alice. “Stay.” For she was afraid of being in the Dark Forest on her own.

“I’m afraid this is a journey you must take alone,” said the Cheshire Cat. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to be amongst mad people?”

Here he grinned, and faded out, slowly, until his grin was all that was left hanging in the air. Then that faded too.

True, he was mad, thought Alice, but compared to the others he spoke a strange sort of sense.

Now the Cheshire Cat was gone it seemed even darker in the forest. Alice continued along the narrow path, which took many twists and turns. She heard strange bird calls in the darkness around her, but couldn’t see the birds which made them.

“Must be the calls of the Jubjub bird,” thought Alice, though she’d no idea where she’d got that fancy from.

“Perhaps I am mad, after all,” she said aloud. She had spent quite a lot of time talking to herself on this journey.

After a while, the path forked into three different routes. Alice stopped and tried to decide which one to take. What if she picked the wrong one? Would they all lead to the Red Queen’s kingdom? What if she somehow went around in a circle? She wished there were signposts. There simply weren’t enough signposts in life, she decided.

As she hesitated, the calls of the Jubjub birds seemed to be getting louder. It seemed they were speaking words now:

“Choose! Choose! Choose!
Now! Now! NOW!”

Alice took a deep breath and picked the path on the right. She hoped it was the right path, after all. Oh dear – she was making puns in her head now. She’d been here too long.

After a while, she definitely felt like she’d gone around in a circle. The problem was that everything looked the same. There were no landmarks – just endless dark trees and the unchanging path. But was it her imagination or was it getting colder and even darker? There were no fluorescent mushrooms here to light her way. A little further and she came to another fork. Or was it the same fork? It was all very confusing – this time she took the centre path.

She wished for a moment she had her phone, so she could look at the satellite map. But what would it say? Dreamworld? Wonderland? Nowhere-land? Where was she? Inside a weird dream or hallucination? Was she going crazy? Was this all happening inside her head?

“Thoughts are cheap,” said the voices from the trees. “But time is worth a thousand pounds a minute.”

Alice looked around, but couldn’t see where the voices had come from.

“Who’s there?” she asked, though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Better not speak then,” said the voices from the trees. “Speech is worth a thousand pounds a word!”

“I’ve had enough of this!” said Alice, and she ran, while the voices jeered at her. She ran, in what she hoped was the direction of the Red Queen’s Kingdom, for she wanted to get out of this creepy forest as fast as she could.

After a time, she came to another fork where the path split into three, and she took the left path. She carried on running until she was quite out of breath.

“How much farther?” thought Alice, for the air was getting very cold now. But she kept going and going, until she came to another fork, and here she stopped, despairing. She was quite convinced she had gone around in a circle, and had made no progress at all. She was lost!

She sank down to the cold ground and put her head in her hands. Would she ever get out of here?

Just then, a deep, gentle voice said, “Excuse me, young lady. Are you lost?”

Alice Part 3

On By Nicola SloanIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

V.

This wood was different from the last. It was large and dim and the trees were more real-looking. Here and there were giant mushrooms that glowed faintly with a dim phosphorescence. Alice wondered if she would bump into any other famous characters soon.

After a time, she heard what sounded like drunken singing somewhere ahead, and the clinking of china cups.

Surely it couldn’t be…?

She came out into a clearing in the wood.

There was a large wooden table, set out as though for a tea party, and at the head of the table sat the Mad Hatter. His eyes were closed as though dozing, but he nodded along as if in a trance to some jazz music that came from a small digital radio. The March Hare was dipping crumpets into a bowl of cream, hiccupping and singing softly to himself. She noticed the Dormouse curled up on the table, snoozing next to the teapot.

When the March Hare saw Alice he started, and threw a crumpet at the Hatter. The Hatter’s eyes snapped open and focused on Alice.

“Alice!” he cried. “How lovely to see you!”

Alice had that odd, out-of-place feeling again. “There must be a mistake,” she began, “I’m not your Alice –.”

The Hatter looked down and patted his pockets in confusion, then checked himself.

“I never said you were, I just greeted you as Alice because I know you are an Alice!”

“He calls everybody that,” said the March Hare, hiccoughing.

“Please, sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea!” said the Hatter.

Alice sat at the table, the opposite end from the Mad Hatter. She pushed a pile of dirty cups and saucers away from her.

“You must have been here a long time. There are cups and plates everywhere.”

“Time?! There is no Time here, Alice, except the present. For here it is forever five, and forever tea-time! Will you have a crumpet?”

“Um, okay,” said Alice, hoping secretly it would be served on a clean plate.

The March Hare threw her a crumpet, which she caught one-handed, and he giggled.

“Be a lamb, old sport, and throw her the butter too,” said the Hatter.

“It’s okay!” said Alice. “No really – I’ll get it myself.”

As she rose to get the butter, she looked around the table and saw there were many empty places with clean cups and saucers set in front of them, as though they were expecting guests.

“Who are they for?”

“Why, they’re for us. We merely move on a place when we’re finished.”

“What happens when you run out of places?”

Here the Hatter looked alarmed, and the March Hare started singing loudly while banging the table with his teaspoon:

“Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!”

The Dormouse stirred and mumbled in his sleep.

“Don’t mind the Hare,” the Hatter said confidentially to Alice through the uproar. “He has OCD.”

“Now, let’s change the subject,” he said, louder this time. “How about a riddle? They’re always fun! Pray, can you tell me, Alice, why a raven is like a writing desk?” The March Hare quietened down.

“I know the answer to that!” Alice said eagerly, thinking that here was a riddle she could answer at last. “It’s because Edgar Allan Poe wrote on both.”

The Hatter’s eyes widened and he took a small tatty notebook from his waistcoat pocket. He flicked through its pages and said, “That’s quite a good answer. Better than the one Mr Carroll gave… He said they both produce a few notes, though very flat, and you can’t put either of them wrong-end-first…”

Alice’s ears pricked at the mention of “Mr Carroll”.

“Wait – “Mr Carroll”? Do you mean Lewis Carroll?”

“The very same.”

“Is he here then?”

“Oh no, he’s not here. You can’t see him, can you? He lives in the White Tower.” And as he said it Alice could hear the capital letters dropping into place of their own accord.

“Yes, a nice chap,” The Hatter continued, “An inventor.”

“He invented you,” thought Alice.

“Tart?” said the March Hare.

Alice started. “What? Oh, no thank you.”

“Bread and butter? Battenberg? Biscuit?”

“I’m fine, thank you, really.”

“How about more tea?”

Alice looked at her empty teacup. “I haven’t got any tea yet. How can I have more?”

“You can’t have less. But you can always have more than none.”

Ah, semantics. Alice decided not to argue, and reached for the teapot instead.

“Selfie!” cried the March Hare, and he produced a smartphone from his waistcoat pocket and snapped a photo of them at arm’s length.

“This can go on my Instagammon account,” he said, looking at his phone.

Well, this was a Wonderland full of surprises.

The March Hare then pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his other waistcoat pocket.

“A drop of whiskey for your tea?” he asked Alice.

The Mad Hatter giggled like a twelve-year-old who was in on something naughty.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Alice.

“Suit yourself,” said the Hare, and he took a big swig from the bottle, then passed it to the Hatter. The Dormouse hiccoughed in his sleep.

“I think now would be an excellent time for a sing-song!” announced the Hatter. “Who’s with me?”

And here the March Hare consented with a drunken “Hurrah!” The Hatter did not wait for further encouragement, but leapt up onto the table, upsetting tea things as he did so, and he began to caper about as he sang, merrily:

“Oh, better far to live and die
Under tea’s influence – I fly! –
Then play a well-betrodden part
With a hatter’s head and a hatter’s heart.
Away to the “normal” world go you,
Where people still lace-up their shoes
But I’ll be true to the thing I be
And shout: “A hatter – that is me!”

“For I am a hatter – hurrah!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a hatter! Hurrah!

“When I sally forth to pour my tea
I call myself the royal “we”
And eat a few more tarts, it’s true,
Than a cultured hatter ought to do.
But even the Queen on her high-class throne,
If she wants to call her crown her own,
Must manage somehow to get through
More scrumptious tarts than ever I do.

“For I am a hatter – hurrah!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a hatter! Hurrah!

“For I am a hatter – hurrah!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a hatter! HURRAH!!!”

Alice was left with a slight ringing in her ears after this little display. Amazingly, the Dormouse hadn’t woken up. She wondered how he could sleep through such a racket. She gently prodded him with the end of her teaspoon. He giggled, said “Fudge!” then carried on snoring.

When they had settled down again (although the March Hare kept intermittingly banging the table and shouting “Hurrah!”) she asked the question that had been on her mind.

“How do I get to the White Tower from here?”

“You must go through the Dark Forest yonder,” said the Hatter mysteriously, waving an arm in a vague direction behind him.

“Is it far?”

The Hatter took out a pocket watch and consulted it.

“Seven steps from here,” he said decisively.

But Alice knew the tower was more than just a few steps away.

“The White Knight will show you the way,” continued the Hatter.

“Seven steps,” muttered the Dormouse in his sleep. “Seven steps”.

It made no sense to Alice, but she wasn’t going to argue with these eccentrics. At least she had something to go on: she knew she had to go through the Dark Forest, and the White Knight would show her the way – or was the Hatter simply talking nonsense? If ever there was a warning for the effects of too much caffeine, he was it.

She rose from her seat.

“Don’t go!” cried the Hatter. “Stay and have your tea!”

“Or at least a Bakewell tart,” said the Hare.

“I want to find Lewis Carroll. I need to speak to him,” said Alice. And as she said it, she knew it was true, though she didn’t know why.

“At least don’t go without provisions!” cried the Hatter. “You’ll need all your strength in the Dark Forest.”

And here they began to ply her with biscuits and cakes, cramming them into the pockets of her cardigan. The March Hare tried to give her a teapot to carry, but she flatly refused this. And so, with her pockets full of crumbling sweetmeats, she thanked them for their kindness and went on her way.

“What do they do if they need to sleep?” wondered Alice. For she got the strong impression, you know, that they never left that table.

Alice Part 2

On By Nicola SloanIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

I’ve decided to publish my Alice novelette in sections here on my blog, every Wednesday and Sunday. Any comments and constructive criticism are welcome! To read the first part click here.

 

…She followed another bend, and then it was straight ahead of her: the exit to outside, through which fresh air and beautiful golden light came pouring in.

Alice walked towards the light…

 

II.

And emerged into a beautiful garden. There were tall flowers all around her, and bees buzzed busily through the air.

“What a beautiful garden!” thought Alice. The grass was soft, and the air was warm. If this place was a dream, she wanted to stay here a while.

Not far away she could see a neat little house, which the garden must belong to, and beyond the garden there was a forest. Through the treetops poked the top of a tall white tower. Alice decided she had to go there; she didn’t know why. It seemed to pull her somehow.

“Still, I might stay in the garden a while longer,” she said to herself.

Though there was something strange about this world. The air felt curiously soft, if such a thing can be understood. Like marshmallow-air. And the birds sounded different, as though they were singing in a foreign language.

“Where on Earth am I?” Alice wondered.

As she walked, she brushed past a large bush with flowers on, and the flowers flew off and turned into butterflies. Very strange. Certainly like no butterflies Alice had ever seen.
As she was walking, she caught sight of the birds that were singing as they flew from tree to tree.

“Oh! A bluebird!” said Alice. “And a pinkbird! And, a greenbird! And an-an orangebird –” She shut up now. It sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears. There was no such thing as an orangebird, even though, indeed, the bird she had just seen was bright orange. They were all the colours of the rainbow, in fact.

Just then, a gigantic puppy came running and barking over the grass towards her. It looked like a chihuahua, but was the size of an elephant. She didn’t much like the size of its mouth – she was afraid it might eat her. So, she dashed out the garden gate and ran into the lane.

A sign pointed down a path into the woods. It said, “This way!”

So she followed it into the woods, where the path was too narrow and the trees too close together for the puppy to follow her in.

 

III.

“Whew! That was a close one!” said Alice. Still, she was disappointed she didn’t get to spend much time in the garden. She would have liked to stay there a while; it was much nicer than anywhere she knew in real life. But at least she could look for the tower.
But where exactly was she? And why did all the trees look exactly the same?

“What a strange place!” Alice said aloud.

“You might well say that,” said a voice from the trees, “as you are living inside an artificial reality.”

Alice stopped and shook her head like a cartoon character. Did she just hear a voice? She wasn’t sure – it was almost on the edge of consciousness.

“Did someone just say something?” she asked out loud.

“I did,” said the voice.

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s a very personal question. Who are you?”

“I’m Alice,” said Alice, after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“I-I think so. Though I’m not quite sure where I am.”

“Then how can you be sure who you are?”

This seemed such an odd question to Alice, that she had to pause and think about it for a moment. All the while she kept on walking through the trees, and the voice seemed to follow her, though she never saw the speaker.

“I’m still me,” Alice continued, “I just don’t know where I am.”

“Who’s to say that a person is the same person if they are in a different place?”

Alice was getting slightly vexed now. “Look, I don’t want a philosophical discussion!” she said, perplexed. “I just want to know where I am!”

“You already know,” said the voice, simply. Then it didn’t speak again.

A giggling sound came from above her. Alice looked up. It was a squirrel, looking down and laughing at her. Who knew that squirrels could laugh? But Alice was already getting used to the extraordinary, and she kept on walking, musing over what the voice had said. Where was she? Surely not – surely not –? Was this place inside her head?

There was the sound of a piano being played somewhere, rather strangely and off-key. But the sound was soothing, nonetheless. As she walked through the wood, she seemed to be getting closer to the source of the music.

All the trees really were exactly the same, she realised. Not like real trees, but more like trees in a computer game or something.

The piano sound was getting nearer.

Finally, the trees started to thin and she could see a bright silvery stream crossing the path ahead of her. The piano was really loud now but she couldn’t see a piano anywhere. She reached the end of the wood and emerged onto a grassy bank. An arched wooden bridge crossed the shallow, silvery stream that rushed past, tinkling over rocks…

And that’s when she realised the piano sound wasn’t a piano at all but the sound the stream made as it rushed over the rocks. Well, of course. Alice shrugged and crossed the wooden bridge to the other side.

 

IV.

On the other side of the stream was another grassy bank and more woodland ahead, but it was fenced off, so Alice kept walking along the bank, following the bend of the wood, with the stream on her left-hand side. She stooped to look at some flowers in the grass. They looked as though they were fake. She picked one and it crumbled to dust in her hand. This place was certainly very odd.

She started as a large yellow-and-purple bee flew past, whistling merrily.

“Morning,” said the bee, as it bumbled past.

“Morning,” said Alice, after a moment’s hesitation. Well, of course the creatures could talk. Hadn’t she just seen a squirrel laughing?

After a while she saw, sitting on a picnic blanket, a very familiar nursery-rhyme figure. True, his appearance was much altered, as he was criss-crossed all over with bandages and band-aids, but there was no mistaking that distinctive shape: it was Humpty Dumpty.

As Alice approached, Humpty Dumpty watched her warily, as though he was afraid she might attack him.

“Hello,” said Alice. “Are you Humpty Dumpty?”

“Of course I am!” said Humpty Dumpty. “Who else would I be?”

Although he said this with some irritation, Alice noticed he trembled as he spoke, and his eyes were wide and wary.

“I’m sorry – please forgive my intrusion. It’s just I’ve never met a celebrity before. I don’t really know what to say.”

Humpty Dumpty seemed mollified. “It’s okay,” he said.

“Excuse me for asking, but are you alright? You have an awful lot of bandages on you.”

Humpty Dumpty flinched and said, “I’m okay – just fell off a wall, that’s all.”

He looked so downcast as he said it that Alice couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Humpty Dumpty said nothing.

“Do you know where this place is?” Alice asked him.

“Of course I do,” said Humpty Dumpty, “or I wouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s just, I’ve come here, but I don’t know this place at all.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“I didn’t mean to – it was an accident. The Cheshire Cat yawned and I fell down his throat.”

Humpty Dumpty scrutinised her suspiciously. “What an odd thing to say! Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Alice didn’t like his scrutiny.

“You know,” she said after a pause, “I’m not quite sure that I am. Forgive my intrusion Sir – good day!” And here she curtsied. She felt it was expected somehow.

Humpty Dumpty nodded goodbye and Alice continued walking along the bank.

“If this is a dream,” she ruminated, “why don’t I wake up?”

She tried to remember how she normally woke herself from dreams – say if she was having a nightmare. She tried pinching herself, but it didn’t work.

Then she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and said, “Wake up, Alice! WAKE UP!”

She opened her eyes. But she was still on the grassy bank. Something wasn’t right – if this was a dream, it felt very real. But how could it be reality?

Up ahead, she saw a shepherd boy sitting against a tree. But, instead of a flock of sheep, he had a small herd of green pigs (if ‘herd’ was the right word for pigs – Alice wasn’t sure). The pigs snuffled and frolicked merrily on the bank, while the shepherd boy watched some nymphs bathing and playing in the water. It made for a slightly strange pastoral scene.

Alice approached the shepherd boy. “Excuse me,” she said, “Is this a dream or am I awake?”

The shepherd boy didn’t even look at her. “That depends on what you mean by ‘awake,’” he said, looking towards the river.

“Why must everyone speak in riddles here?” thought Alice.

Alice was distracted then by the nymphs’ squeals of laughter. She turned to look at them. They were difficult to make out somehow – their silvery forms reflected the light so it was difficult to focus the eye on them. They whispered to each other and splashed water at Alice. Alice walked away, their laughter ringing in her ears, feeling odd and out-of-place in her office clothes.

Then she spotted a gateway into the wood, with a large signpost over it that said:
THIS WAY!

Well, that was a clear enough message. She opened the gate and walked though.

An Alice. In Wonderland?

On By Nicola SloanIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Bored? Got a few minutes to spare? Here is the intro to my soon-to-be-published novelette, a spin-off of the Alice stories by Lewis Carroll:

 

It was a sunny, late September day. The clouds were fluffy and far up in the bright blue sky. Alice sat at her desk by the window in the open-plan office, playing Solitaire and daydreaming. Once again, she had been left behind by her work colleagues to answer the phones while they all attended an important meeting. Alice was okay with this, though, honestly: she was used to being the odd-one-out.

There were no phone calls this morning though and all was quiet. Alice looked at the big clock on the wall. It was an unusual clock to have in an office: old-fashioned and very large, and the seconds seemed very loud. Endlessly ticking life away, here in the dreary office, when Alice would much rather be outside enjoying the sunshine and reading a book. The minute hand of the big clock was coming up to twelve.

Alice sat and played Solitaire on her computer, waiting for the inevitable moment when her peace would be disturbed. Already, her eyes were growing heavy – she had stayed up late last night. She had a habit, you see, of staying up too late so she was tired for work the next day. As she recalled, she had been doing nothing in particular; just browsing online, and had ended up researching Mad Tea Party ideas, Alice in Wonderland-style. She only wished she had enough friends to invite to such a party.

She carried on stacking the cards: red, black, red, black – she glanced at the big clock: less than a minute to twelve. Any moment her work colleagues would be back, and then she’d have to look busy.

The clock was so very loud. It echoed through her head as though the inside of her skull was a large, empty hall:

Tick,
Tock,
Tick,
Tock,
Tick
Tock….

She jerked her head up suddenly. Had she been dozing off for a minute there? She really needed to start going to bed earlier. She blinked her eyes and focused on her computer screen. Where she saw the big face of a stripy cat looking at her, with big yellow eyes, grinning. It looked very much like the Cheshire Cat, from the Alice stories. Its teeth were very sharp. Why was the Cheshire Cat on her computer screen?

It looked at her for a moment, still grinning, and then it said:

“Wake
Up,
Alice!”

It grinned even wider, then yawned. And it yawned and yawned; sucked up so much air as it yawned that Alice was being pulled towards her computer screen, towards the Cheshire Cat’s mouth, which opened like a gaping tunnel before her. This was very irregular! She tried to scream, but –

 

I.

She was falling, down and down, head over heels.

Tumbling down through darkness that had no end. She was falling, but falling very slowly. It wasn’t very scary, but Alice felt she ought to scream, for posterity.

So she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Instead, letters formed in the air like smoke. They said:

“Aaaaaargh!”

And then:

“Aaaaargh!”

And then, for some reason:

“Uuuurgh!”

Alice stopped trying to scream. It was pointless. What was the point in screaming if no one could hear you?

So she was falling, floating, down in the darkness without end. But she could see outlines of objects now in the gloom around her. She could hear the ticking of clocks, echoing, reverberating, and then she saw them: clocks of all shapes and sizes, floating around her. Even cuckoo clocks.

Cuckoo!
Cuckoo!

She could hear laughter echoing in the darkness, and she was pretty sure it was the Cheshire Cat laughing at her. Then she could see other objects as she was falling past them: bookshelves crammed with books – “All that knowledge!” Typewriters too; “I really must get around to writing my novel,” she thought to herself.

As she was trying to make out other objects in the dark, she became aware of a black-and-white chessboard coming up beneath her. It got bigger and bigger as she fell closer, until she realised it was a black-and-white-tiled floor coming up to meet her.

Alice landed lightly into a heap on the chessboard-floor. She got up, brushed down her office clothes, and peered around. The darkness was so intense she couldn’t make out anything around her, only the chequered floor.

“Perhaps my eyes will adjust in a moment,” she thought to herself.

Suddenly she saw a pair of eyes blinking at her out of the darkness. They were the beady eyes of some sort of animal.

“Hello?” Alice said uncertainly, and realised she could speak again. She stepped gingerly towards the pair of eyes. Then she could make out a tunnel behind the animal, and the creature turned and bumbled off down there.

“I wonder where I am?” thought Alice, following the creature.

She was in a large tunnel – large enough for a human to walk through. It was just light enough for her to see that the eyes around her were the eyes of badgers. They stopped and snuffled at her curiously as she went past, seemingly unafraid of her.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever. She lost sight of her guide around a bend, but it didn’t matter, because she realised she was getting close to daylight – the tunnel was growing lighter, and was that birdsong she could hear?

She followed another bend, and then it was straight ahead of her: the exit to outside, through which fresh air and beautiful golden light came pouring in.

Alice walked towards the light…

The City Of Omalas Part II

On By Nicola SloanIn Uncategorized2 Comments

To read part one click here.

 

woman girl eyes blur
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In short, I had everything I had ever wanted, but for one thing, one thing in which I couldn’t seem to get my way. I couldn’t get the image of Lord Vertigo out of my mind, and I desired no other man, no matter how many eligible suitors I had. Many nights I implored for his company; I sent him letters by dove, but to none of these did he reply.

So, one day, I left my palace and made my way to the Council building in my horse-drawn chariot…

Once there, I enquired at the door where I might find Lord Vertigo.

“He’s out, Your Highness.”

“Where did he go to?”

“On official business.”

I began to suspect that the doorman was keeping something from me. At first, I grew impetuous: “Do you know who I am?”, and then I grew angry. I pushed the doorman to one side, threatening to set my dogs upon him if he dared to follow me, and then I searched the Council building. I looked high and low, but Lord Vertigo was nowhere to be found. Neither did I find any other Council members.

Finally, there was just one place left to look: a stairway in the basement that led underground.

I began to descend the uneven stone steps, my dogs still close by. My only source of light was a small lantern I had found.

As I descended further and further down the subterranean stairway, the air began to grow cold and dank and foul-smelling. The walls were covered with a slimy moss I could hardly bear to touch. Still I pushed on, holding my nose.

I reached the bottom of the stairway after what felt like years, and was faced with a heavy black door that looked cold and clammy. I gripped the icy handle and turned it, slowly. I could hear my trembling breath in the dead, flat silence.

The door opened with a heavy creaking sound, and a foul stench from the room beyond hit me like a breath exhaled from a gruesome beast. My dogs howled and whimpered and ran back up the stairway, their tails between their legs, so that I was left alone in the dark with only the guttering light of my lantern for company.

I was afraid, but I also felt curiosity, and the curiosity won. I had come this far, after all, so what was the point in going back? With this in mind I entered the room behind the door.

What a sight did I behold in that room!

Such a gruesome sight I had never seen! Such a pitiful, frightful, disgusting sight.

A vast cage, filled with beings that were once human, crawling like dogs. Some were naked; others swaddled in filthy rags. Their pale skin appeared to glow faintly in the dark like spectres, or the strange, tragic-looking fish that exist at the very bottom of the ocean. Skeletal and wasted, they clawed at each other in the throes of madness. Their eyes were huge, glassy and glazed, like miserable moons.

I knew at once what they were: they were The Damned, the rotten foundation upon which this seemingly flawless city was built. They reached out to me between the bars of their cage, moaning.

I turned and ran, all the way back up the stairs, out into the basement, up into the hall and out of the Council building, never looking back. I dived into my golden chariot and raced homewards.

On the way back, it seemed that the city had changed. Things were not as they had first seemed: I could see the fakery; I could see the corruption. Omalas was crumbling around me, quite literally breaking into pieces.

Faces leered at me from windows, laughing at my horror and confusion. The marble drive that led to my palace was now crisscrossed with cracks: it seemed as though it might crumble apart at any moment. And my palace no longer shone like a pearl: it was the white of old bones in the wan sunlight.

But inside, nothing seemed to have changed. Was it possible I had been imagining things? Perhaps nothing I had just seen had been real. I surrounded myself with my courtiers, to bring myself out of my dark mood, which was the result, I decided, of a strange delirium brought on by the onset of a fever, and nothing more. A bit of company was what I needed.

But I found my courtiers irksome now. Their mindless, empty laughter grated on me like a violin played out of tune. When I peered into my looking-glass, a huge crack shot up the centre, splitting my reflected visage into two; I screamed, dropping it to the floor, where it shattered into a million tiny pieces.

I screamed again, in rage and confusion, and my courtiers screamed too, as if mocking me, and when they did so their faces began to melt like plastic, so their expressions became huge gaping yawns of misery. As one, we all screamed, and the sound rang through the palace like a death-knell.

I knew then that their beauty had been nothing but masks to hide the truth: that they were The Damned, just as surely as those creatures beneath the city were, and just as surely as I now was, for the Council had surrounded me, and my dogs were not there to defend me. They had come to take me away, for they knew that I knew the truth.

Out of my senses, I fell to the floor at Lord Vertigo’s feet, clutching desperately at the folds of his robe, and implored him not to take me to The Damned, but to come to my bedchamber instead. He did not respond to my request, but his face was grim.

I was forcefully removed from my palace, and transported back to the Council building in a cage on wheels drawn by four huge tigers. I was jeered at by the citizens of Omalas and some threw eggs at me. I wept and implored Lord Vertigo to let me go.

I was taken down to the dungeon where The Damned are kept and here I now lie as I tell you this story, one of many. I am weak, hungry and miserable, but I still have some resolve. I believe that Lord Vertigo loves me, and is secretly on my side, but keeps up a pretence of devotion to the Council through fear for his life. However, I am sure he is harbouring a plan to rescue me.

He will rescue me, and then I will become the Queen of Omalas once more, and he shall be my King. The Damned shall be executed, and so shall the rest of the Council, and I will have absolute power and the freedom to exercise my will however I choose. This is my belief, and it keeps me going through the long hours of eternity amongst The Damned.

THE END.

The City Of Omalas

On By Nicola SloanIn Uncategorized1 Comment
woman wearing grey long sleeved top photography
Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Pexels.com

“We have chosen you to be our Queen, for never before have we seen such physical and intellectual beauty amongst living beings. You are the Chosen One – come and live with us in Omalas, our beautiful city.”

 

I suppose I should begin my miserable tale by telling you how I got here in the first place. A long time ago – or at least it feels like a long time ago – I was taken from a lower plane: a planet called Earth.

I remember it well: I was walking along an empty road, gazing up at the thick white clouds that filled the sky that day. As I was gazing, an opening formed in the clouds, making a sort of portal, and I was dragged up into the air, unable to resist, towards that portal from which bright white light was issuing.

On the other side, I found myself in the centre of a large circular room. There were long windows all around, through which the purest light came pouring in and illuminating the white walls and floor.

Sitting in front of me, in a semi-circle of ornate and richly patterned silver thrones, were eleven men and women, all beautiful in appearance, wearing long and flowing white robes. Looking down, I saw that I too was wearing a white robe.

The man who sat in the centre of the semi-circle was the most exquisite being I have ever seen. His name, he said, was Lord Vertigo, and he was the leader of the Council of Omalas. I wish I could adequately describe to you his beauty, for such I have never seen. He had long, straight hair and high cheekbones.

But the colour of his eyes and hair were impossible to describe, as they always seemed to change. I hold his image in my heart always, and I hope that one day I will see him again.

But more of him later; I will move on with my story now. Lord Vertigo, the leader of the Council, said to me:

“We have chosen you to be our Queen, for never before have we seen such physical and intellectual beauty amongst living beings. It would be a shame for you to stay on such a lesser plane. You are the Chosen One – come and live with us in Omalas, our beautiful city. You shall be granted the gift of everlasting life, and have a palace of your own, and all the friends and lovers you’ve ever imagined. Come, live with us, and be our Queen.”

The way he spoke was supremely elegant, and his propositions irresistible. Of course, I was a little surprised to be spoken so highly of by such a creature as he, but naturally I accepted the offer, and requested that Lord Vertigo would visit me in my new palace.

I was transported to my new home in a golden chariot drawn by four horses. The city itself was grand and imposing, with huge white buildings that resembled seashells in their beauty and intricacy. The roads were wide and cobbled with stones that sparkled in the sunlight. The citizens of Omalas were otherworldly with their colourful robes and radiant faces. Youth and beauty abounded; of age and ugliness, there was nothing to be seen.

The grounds of my palace were entered through high golden gates, and then I was taken up a long and winding drive that appeared to be made of marble, snaking its way through a lawn of lush green grass. My palace shone like a pearl in the perfect pristine sunlight.

Inside, it was exquisite in every detail, from the master bedroom, presided over by a king-size four-poster bed; to the white marble bathroom, in which the bath had the dimensions of a small swimming pool; to the banqueting hall, filled with huge oak tables laden with all the food and drink you could imagine.

I revelled in my palace and my new-found glory. I twirled around and around in my cavernous ballroom, laughing with glee. All of this was meant for me. I suppose I’d always known, secretly, that I was the Chosen One.

I was glorious, I was decadent, I was truly alive! I threw masquerade balls and dinner parties; I surrounded myself with servants and courtiers, Lords and Ladies of the highest distinction. Two sleek black dogs followed me everywhere; they were my favourite companions of all.

I carried a looking-glass with me at all times so I could admire my beauty; this city was fair, and so were the people in it, but I was the fairest of them all, for I was the Queen.

In short, I had everything I had ever wanted, but for one thing, one thing in which I couldn’t seem to get my way. I couldn’t get the image of Lord Vertigo out of my mind, and I desired no other man, no matter how many eligible suitors I had. Many nights I implored for his company; I sent him letters by dove, but to none of these did he reply.

So, one day, I left my palace and made my way to the Council building in my horse-drawn chariot…

To be continued…

(P.S. Happy New Year to all my readers!)