Alice walked through a forest, following a white figure up ahead. An incessant ticking rang out, echoing through the trees. The figure sped up, swerving back and forth. Alice picked up her pace trying to catch the figure before it ducks out of her view again, her breath gasped in short spurts and her legs tired. The trees above her seemed to be growing, or she was getting smaller. The figure stopped in a clearing up ahead.
“Hello there,” Alice shouted, in what she believed to be a friendly manner “do you need help?”
The figure startled turning around quickly, Alice only caught a glimpse of the long whiskers, before the figure turned quickly running away.
A rabbit
“Hey, wait up!” Alice called.
She followed the rabbit deeper and deeper into the forest before she realized she could no longer see him.
He disappeared
“Hello?” Alice said tentatively, taking another step forward, “Rabbit? Are you here, aaah”
The ground had disappeared she was
falling,
falling,
falling
Aah, Alice jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed she looked at the clock on her nightstand, 5:37 A.M.
It was a dream, it had only been a dream.
Alice heard the sounds of the city beyond the walls of her studio apartment, sirens were blaring and people were bustling on their morning commute. Alice got out of bed, and walked over to her desk. It was covered in stacks of books, Alice had loved reading her whole life, she enjoyed immersing herself in fictional worlds where the rules of reality didn’t apply. She bent over her desk, her yellow hair falling across her face as she shifted the piles of books. Finally, she found the one she wanted, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Her uncle
It had been a long time since she had thought about her uncle or this book. She flipped through the book to an illustration of the White Rabbit, the same rabbit in her dream.
She shut the book with an exasperated sigh, she thought she was past this. She hadn’t dreamed of Wonderland for years. The whole world thought that the story had been a figment of her uncle’s vast imagination. That he had made up all of the wondrous characters, but he hadn’t. To her uncle, Wonderland was just a story, an idea, but to her…
To her it was real
11 years ago, Alice went to Wonderland. 11 years ago she met the White Rabbit, Cheshire Cat, Mad Hatter, and The Queen of Hearts. 11 years ago she woke up in her bed to her family’s anxious faces hovering above her, whom she told she had gone to a wonderful place called Wonderland. For 11 years nobody had believed her. Countless therapy appointments, family interventions, and interviews later, she didn’t know if she believed her story. Her uncle, the writer, had come to Alice and seemed willing to listen to her side of the story, but really he just needed ideas for his next big project. Now the whole world knew Alice’s story, except nobody really knew her story.
Alice hated whenever her mind went down the rabbit hole of self doubt and reminisced about events that had happened years ago. And besides,
None of it was real
Alice shook herself, and tried to put her mind on other matters. She needed to get ready for work. Alice left her apartment building and headed over to her place of work, The Strand. The weather was pleasant and a floral scent filled the air, reminding her that it was springtime.
Her favorite time of year
Alice arrived at The Strand in time to open the store, for the next few hours she busied herself helping customers. By the time her lunch break rolled around, she had forgotten about her earlier stroll down memory lane. Alice decided to take her lunch to Central Park and spend some time reading in her favorite spot. After she had found a spot around the large lake in the middle of Central Park, she sat down to read her book.
Where is it?
Oops, Alice had accidentally put her edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in her bag.
Well, might as well read it
Alice opened the book as she leaned back on the grass, the sun shone on her and she began reading. Alice wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she looked up from her book, and a white figure darted in her peripheral vision. She closed her book and stood up, looking for where the figure had vanished. She thought it may have gone into the woods, so she headed into the trees.
There it was again, a white streak.
Alice raced after the figure, she felt the pounding of her heartbeat as she raced through the trees. She burst into a clearing and there stood the figure, with its back to her.
“Hello” Alice said, “Are you the white rabbit? Please I have to know it’s not just my imagination.”
The figure turned around,
It was Alice, as a child
“I don’t understand” Alice said,
“When was anything about our lives understandable?” Young Alice asked “And when did you start letting other people tell your story?”
“I…I don’t…know?” Alice said uncertainty, “I guess it was easier to let other people come up with their own version of what happened to me, a version they could comprehend”
“Hmm…but Wonderland was never supposed to be comprehensible” said Young Alice “It’s supposed to be mad”
Mad,
Mad,
Mad
The word echoed around her, and she jolted awake. Her book was lying on top of her, Alice got up, then she picked up her book and lunch. Alice walked for a while, and pondered a dream. She had come to a decision.
It was time to write Alice’s version of Wonderland, the true, mad version of Wonderland.