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Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Page 5--Alice Gothica Part One, Con't

“Have you got any one pairs of two?” The Lamb repeated.
Suddenly, Alice found herself speaking an old rhyme:

Little child, little child, have you any rules?
Yes sheep, yes sheep, happiness too.
Sorrow for the old man who limps with a cane
Anger and sultry for the girl who paces this lane
And pain for the little boy who’s bitten nightshade
Little child, little child, have you any sense?
No sheep, no sheep, only six pence

The little Lamb sighed, “If only I needed one pairs of three…”
But when Alice turned to once again argue with the little thing, she found it had disappeared.
“Oh! I wish these creatures didn’t disappear so!”
Alice began walking down the path again, but no matter how far she went, she could never get past the yew tree.
“It certainly does not agree with one to walk somewhere and get nowhere at all,” she explained sternly to herself, “What a bother it would be, being late for school and running in place forever!”
“But to be stationary is to be mobile…”
This time Alice did not jump at the new voice. She was getting rather used to these strange goings and comings. Rather, she marched right up to the yew tree with her hands on her hips, and began scolding.
“Now I have had just about enough of you!” She exclaimed, pointing her finger at the tree.
“And I have not nearly had enough of you. We haven’t even properly met!”
Alice scowled and made a most unladylike noise. “And how is one to properly greet a tree?!”
The leaves rustled and Alice looked up to see quite a large butterfly winking its owl-eye wings at her.
“Why would one need to greet a tree when its resident is the one not being introduced?”
Alice gasped and touched her fingers to her mouth, her rings rather cold, “Dear me, I am so terribly sorry, Butterfly.”
“An excusement is in order. You have introduced me but I have not introduced you. What are you at present?”
“At present?” Alice puzzled this as she had always found herself constantly herself.
“Well, at past I was a branch of leaves, and in the future I will be Owl, however, at present, I am Butterfly.”
Alice blinked hard, and sure enough, Butterfly did seem to be rather more like Owl presently.
“Whoo are yooou?” Butterfly Owl hooted.
“Well…presently I am Alice.”
“And what presently makes you sure you are an Alice? For you seem to be more like a Jabberwocky at past and a kitten in the future.”
“A what?”
But Butterfly Owl was now only Owl and presently flew away.
Alice flopped down under the yew tree, her silver chains jingling, “What ever will I do?”
As Alice sat under the tree, she found the grass slowly rising up to meet her.
“Dear me! This grass grows rather fast!”
When the grass was tickling her knees she stood up and yet the grass seemed just as tall as it had been when she was sitting down. When she looked up she saw that the yew tree was enormous. Alice swayed as she inhaled a sharp acrid scent. Her mind felt like bees ground down like dulled butter knives. Her heavy-lidded eyes, only slits, viewed the grass burning like coals in the brazier. She sniffed again and her head swam.
“My word! I’ve shrunk!”
Indeed she had. Close by were leaves large enough to fashion clothes out of. As she pulled back the blades of grass she found herself among towering toadstools capped with red and white spots.
“It’s almost like a village of sorts. I wonder who lives here…”

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