Welcome Eager Readers! (And Writers)

Thanks for stopping by. Please read our "About" page for some more information and please look over our submission guidelines that are on the right before submitting.

Enjoy, and Viva La Toucan

Laura, Toucan Editrice

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Page 6--Alice Gothica Part Two, Cont'd--Lauren Masterson

Alice plucked the possibly perilous Pocky from the pussy’s paw. Upon chewing the crispy chocolaty cookie, a curious chill crawled like a current coursing clouded veins and closing chasms. Creatures cavorted and contorted Alice’s conscience, cleaning cold crypts of certain conclusions. Enter in a weir with witty whimsical widjets and words. Quaint quandary quietly quelling the sound. Slowly, Alice turned and found a tail and claws, fur and paws.
“I’m a cat!” Alice shrieked. But the puss was gone. Only the half-eaten Pocky remained. A warm draft swept past bringing her the scent of tea. She followed the scent through the towering grass until she came upon a door. A single solitary black door stood amidst the grass and Alice could smell fresh air at last. Alice peered around the left side of the door, and then the right. She found no walls or barriers preventing anyone from merely walking around. However, with how peculiar everything had been, Alice found it would be best to knock first. When Alice brought her fist to the door a great bird swooped down and settled on the knocker.
“Lazing in the foggy dew!” it cawed.
Alice stared up at the raven as its great eye stared at her with the melancholy darkness of a starless night.
“Watching buttercups cup the light!” it rang out once more.
“I wonder if it’s another riddle,” Alice mused as the raven shifted, “I hope not, I’m growing weary of riddles.”
“Yippie! You can’t see me but I can you!”
“But I can see you, raven!”
“Beware the weir!” the raven screamed suddenly and promptly flew off.
The door itself was black with white inlay and a great spider knocker. When she knocked it sounded very quiet, no matter how hard she banged. Quite abruptly, the door was flung open by an annoyed Hare quivering and quaking.
“You needn’t bang so loud and so much!” the Hare burst with chattering teeth.
“I do apologize…” Alice said softly.
“Your voice! Your voice!” the Hare screamed grabbing his ears.
“Well you needn’t shout!” Alice shrieked and stamped her foot.
“Now that’s proper!” the Hare shouted, and invited Alice
inside. There was a table with a sag in the middle where a fat cricket dozed and teapots rattled and teacups rolled.
“Are you having a tea party?”
“Why yes I am! Care to join me?”Alice watched the Hare sink down into a plush black chair with red cushions. His black fur seemed even more startling against the red and his gold earring twitched with every breath.
Alice sank down in a chair opposite with green cushions that burbled like toxic water. The Hare then poured cups promptly full of tea.
“Why, there’s nothing in here!” Alice cried as she brought the empty teacup to her lips.
“Nonsense!” the Hare shouted as he twitched his ear sending his exotically enchanting earring erratically swinging, “There is plenty to go around my dear!”
Alice opened her mouth to argue once more but the Hare furrowed his frustrated face.
“Don’t you dare say that there’s plenty when I have had none!”
His tone was harsh and frightened Alice, which was ruining the fun.
“I’ll give you more once I’ve given less! Don’t you know it’s ladies first and cruel men last!”
“Who are you talking to?” Alice wondered as her head bobbed which way, hoping to see a man looking this way.
“You sir, know nothing about tea! I’ll have you know flabberjing is not proper and ill fit!”
By now the Hare had become so enraged with itself that it had begun beating itself with the empty teapot.
“Poor dear thing,” Alice sighed as she set down her cup and slowly walked away.
The towering trees seemed to taunt poor Alice as she walked by. The color drained from her face as eyes beamed from the leaves. Poor Alice, all alone and frightened. Poor Alice, no longer enlightened. Bloodshot and thirsty, so awake and tired. Poor Alice felt her head spinning and her body trapped.
Alice found herself looking into the glowing eyes of a spider.
“It is the end of the line,” his silky voice sang.
“The end of what?” Alice squinted, for his eyes were becoming quite bright.
“Of you!” His voice blared loud as a horn.
Then the light enveloped Alice and there was an alarming thud. The Red Queen painted Alice red and fairies of red, white, and blue screeched and ran. There was no more Wonderland. Alice was dead. She had been hit by a truck and broken her bones, every one.

No comments:

Post a Comment