6 More Fantasy Stories

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  The mirror was still the same, no matter how long she looked at it. Her reflection looked sad and dishevelled, and it cried once again.

  Mirror tears crawled down the wrong side of her face.

  *****

  The next day was the same: breakfast, cleaning, washing, cooking, Queenie. Alice didn't speak much to anyone, but no one seemed to notice. Tom was gone most of the day and Queenie just huffed around the house in her dressing-gown and complained. Alice had another headache, worse than before, and it lasted until after supper.

  In the afternoon, Alice did the wash, and went outside to hang it on the clothesline. It was a cool, breezy day, but the sun was out enough that Alice thought it would dry the clothes.

  While she was pinning wet clothes on the line, she looked across the alley behind the house. There were some children playing in the street, chasing each other over the bricks in a wild game of tag. There were boys and girls, and they were quite young, only six or seven years old, perhaps. They shrieked and giggled and ran in circles, echoing down the alley with their flutey squeals.

  Alice stopped for a moment in the middle of hanging a shirt. She watched the children as they shouted and ran, as their pink faces smiled and sparkled. She watched them, but she did not smile. They only reminded her that she had none of her own.

  Alice wanted children, desperately, but she could not have any. She and Tom had tried, too many times. She knew that she could never be a mother.

  She watched for another moment, then turned quickly away and got back to business. She hung clothes, deliberately ignoring the children, trying to shut out their laughter.

  *****

  The next day was the same.

  That night, she went back to the attic, but the mirror was still the same.

  *****

  The next day was the same.

  That night, she went back to the attic, but the mirror was still the same.

  *****

  By the time she had escaped to the attic the next night, Alice truly felt wretched. She was sick and tired, exhausted from her housework and broken by Queenie's nagging. She was fed up with Tom, who hardly seemed to remember she was alive; she felt like a maid, cooking and cleaning for the man of the house, hardly worth his notice. Day after day, it was always the same, eathing away at her a little at a time.

  Now, it all fell in upon her. She wished she had never been married, that she had never met Tom. She wished that Queenie would die, and that she could escape from this horrible dream she was caught up in.

  The laughter of the children kept playing through her mind.

  This night, Alice just stumbled up the stairs in her nightgown, not even bothering to bring a light. She threw open the trap-door, lurched up into the darkness, and let the door fall shut behind her. It slammed loudly, and Alice thought that she heard Queenie shout her protest downstairs.

  Fumbling across the attic in the dark, Alice made it to the mirror. She saw its surface, reflecting back the shadows, and touched it with a shaking hand. As usual, nothing happened.

  Alice broke into tears. Slowly, she sank to her knees, dragging her hand down the pane, clawing the smooth, cool surface in helpless desperation.

  For a long time, Alice wept in the darkness. She sobbed and choked until her nose burned and her throat hurt. In her mind, she heard the children laughing, and Queenie complaining, and it all swirled around and overwhelmed her. She wished she could die.

  How had she become like this? Where had she gone wrong? She was so happy as a girl, so bright and carefree and hopeful. She had had such a good time in the old house, with her mother and father and sister. She had had so much fun and love, and so much laughter.

  And she had been to Wonderland.

  Still sobbing, Alice looked up once more at the mirror. It was still dark, still reflecting the shadows. There was nothing there at all.

  She pulled herself up and stared into the emptiness. She couldn't see her reflection well, just the bright whites of her eyes.

  She looked closer, trying to make out more of her face in the darkness. Her eyes seemed a little strange, a little wider than usual; they stared back, but somehow, they did not seem right. She leaned in closer, squinting at her reflection, forgetting to continue sobbing.

  Her reflection, however, did not lean toward her. In fact, it jumped back, causing Alice to gasp in surprise.

  "What?" she whispered, catching her breath.

  She looked in the mirror, at her eyes. They weren't hers.

  Neither was the nose. It was small and round and pink, not at all like the one she was used to looking at.

  And the face was furry. She noticed its ears, pointing straight up through the top of the mirror.

  "The White Rabbit!" she shouted, smiling for the first time in days. "He's here, he's really here!"

  Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the image vanished, and was replaced with Alice's own. Only now, her image was different; her hair was still limp, her eyes were still bloodshot, her skin was still pale...but she was smiling. Her thin pink lips curled up in a smile of pure joy, something she had not seen for a very long time.

  "Come back," she said, her eyes lighting up. "Come back, Rabbit. Please..." She reached for the mirror, her hand coming up on both sides. Suddenly, the image began to blur, to mist over with a gray fog; Alice tried to touch the pane, but her hand went right through.

  "Oh my God," she whispered. "Finally! Oh, it's finally happening again!" She pushed her arm through the mirror, and it disappeared into the mist. Then, she put the other arm through, and it was gone, also.

  Holding her breath, she stuck her head through, then scrambled the rest of her body in along with her.

  On the other side, it was as dark as the attic had been. As Alice crawled through and looked around, she could see very little of her surroundings. She looked in front of her, and it was dark; she looked on both sides, and it was also dark; behind her, it was dark, broken only by the mirror, through which she glimpsed the dim outline of her attic.

  She looked up, and it was dark. She looked down, but she couldn't see any ground there. Everything was black, pitch black as far as she could see.

  Alice felt as if she were in a large room, or outside. There seemed to be a big space all around her, and she did not feel closed in.

  "Hellow?" she said, slowly getting to her feet. "Rabbit? Are you here?" There was no answer except the echoes of Alice's own voice. They faded off into the distance, like echoes in a big cave.

  "Hello? Is anybody here at all?" she said.

  "Hello? Is anybody here at all?" repeated her echoes.

  Alice walked away from the mirror a little, looking into the darkness for signs of anyone approaching. "Hello? It's Alice. I've come back."

  "Hello?" said the echoes. "It's Alice. I've come back."

  Alice walked on a little more, squinting through the dark. "Is anybody here at all?"

  "Is anybody here at all?" asked the echoes.

  "Oh, please," said Alice, getting a little worried. "Won't someone talk to me?_"Oh, please," said the echoes. "Won't you be quiet?"

  Alice jumped, wondering how her own echo could contradict her. "What did you say?" she asked into the darkness.

  "I said, won't you please be quiet! How can I get any rest with you going on all the time?"

  The echo had a good point, Alice had to admit. If she kept talking, the echo would not get any rest at all. For a moment, she said nothing, trying to think what to do next.

  "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I don't mean to bother you, but could you tell me where everyone is? I came for a visit, and no one seems to be about."

  "Just shut up! I need some rest!" shouted the echo.

  "Oh, if you'll just tell me where everyone went to, I'll be on my way and I won't say another word. I promise."

  "Hmm," said the echo, thoughtfully. "I'll think about it."

  It was quiet for a very long time, as Alice stood and waited for the echo's answer. She shuffled he
r feet and looked around some more, still peering into the darkness for signs of her old friends. She walked around in a little circle, wondering what was taking so long.

  For what seemed like several hours, Alice waited and waited, but there was still no sound. She began to grow restless, and impatient to see Wonderland again.

  Finally, when the echo continued its silence, Alice spoke. "Well?" she said.

  "NOOOO!!" screamed the echo, so loud that Alice had to put her hands over her ears. "NO NO NO NO NO!!!" The echo was terribly loud, like the roar of a passing train, and seemed to fill Alice's entire body.

  The echo kept screaming, over and over, louder and louder until Alice could not stand it any more. "NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!" it bellowed. "NOOOOOO!!!"

  "Stop!" screamed Alice, her voice drowned out by the blasting sound. "Oh, please stop! Please, you're hurting me..." Her face twisted into a grimace of pain, and she doubled over. Her head throbbed and hurt, and she thought it would explode.

  "NO NO NO NO NO!!!" repeated the echo, mercilessly.

  Alice began to run, holding her ears and racing as fast as she could into the darkness. She had no idea where she was going, or where she could possibly run to, but she ran. Somehow, she had to get away from the sound, from the incredible pain that was shooting through her skull. She ran and ran, and the echo seemed to grow louder.

  "NO NO NO NO NO!!! NO NO NO NO NO!!!"

  She seemed to keep running forever. On she went, as fast as she could, but there was no end. All around her, it was just darkness, just emptiness with no one and nowhere to run to. Alice's lungs hurt, and she got a cramp in her side; her skull throbbed, and her legs began to ache. Still, she went on.

  "NO NO NO NO NO!!!" screamed the echo, driving her on.

  "Help!" screamed Alice, finally dropping to the ground. Her body gave way, and fell in a heap on the black surface. Alice thought that she was going to die.

  Then, suddenly, the noise stopped.

  Alice looked around in surprise, her head still pounding; even though the noise had stopped, it continued to echo and drum in her ears. Slowly, she took her hands from her ears, frightened that the screaming might start again.

  Alice winced, realizing that her head ached worse than ever before. Gingerly, she rubbed her temples, wishing that the pain would stop.

  As she gradually began to recover, Alice wondered at how strange everything seemed. Wonderland had never been like this before. Certainly, it had been weird, even scary when she had visited; but it had been fun, and Alice had always felt safe here. Though there were some decidedly unfriendly people here, they had never really tried to hurt her, and she was never injured in any way. It was never like this. She wondered why things were so different, why it was so dark; most of all, she wondered where everyone was.

  As the minutes passed (at least she thought they were minutes; she never could quite tell in Wonderland), and the noise did not return, Alice brushed herself off and stood up. She decided to keep walking, to see if she could find anyone. After all, what else could she do?

  She took a few steps forward (at least she thought they were forward; she couldn't really tell in the darkness) and stopped. Off in the distace, she thought she saw a light.

  Alice smiled and sighed, hoping that she had finally found the way to her friends. Peering into the darkness, she saw that the light was a big circle, shining like a spotlight on the ground. It was only one spot in the middle of the shadows, and it seemed very far away; however, it was the only thing that Alice could see anywhere, except for herself. She began walking quickly toward the light.

  As she approached it, though, the light seemed to get farther away. Alice frowned and quickened her pace, wondering why she was not getting any closer. It did no good, however. The faster that Alice walked, the faster the light faded away.

  Alice walked faster and faster, trying to catch up. Eventually, she broke into a trot, then started running. Still, she got farther and farther away, until the light was a tiny point way off in the distance.

  Seeing that she was not getting anywhere, Alice finally stopped in her tracks. When she did so, she noticed that the light stopped moving. In fact, it seemed to be getting closer. Soon, it was as close to her as it had been before she started walking.

  Alice threw her hands in the air and sat down, trying to figure out how to reach her destination.

  No sooner had she touched the ground, than she was suddenly right in the middle of the light. She squinted her eyes, unused to the brightness after spending so much time in the dark.

  "I see," she said to herself. "That's the way things usually work in Wonderland. The harder I try to get somewhere, the farther away I get; when I stop and sit down, I'm there! I had forgotten..."

  Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, Alice looked up to see where she was. When she did so, she was pleasantly surprised. Her eyes lit up and she smiled with delight, happy at last to see a friendly face.

  *****

  Chapter Two: Scrambled Eggs

  There before her, sitting on a section of white picket fence, was Humpty Dumpty.

  "Oh, finally!" laughed Alice, leaping to her feet. "Finally, I found someone! Oh, how I've missed you!"

  Humpty Dumpty stared at her, his large white body shining in the light. He was shaped exactly like an egg, with a face across his front and arms and legs in all the normal places. He was just as Alice remembered him, from the last time that she had been through the looking-glass.

  "Now is that any way to speak to me? Just who do you think you are, marching in here and calling me 'you'?" Humpty snorted with apparent disgust.

  "What do you mean?" said Alice, genuinely puzzled. "I didn't call you anything."

  "Oh, add insult to injury, why don't you?! There, you just did it again! Hmph!" Humpty crossed his arms and stared angrily down at her. "You said 'I missed you,' then 'I didn't call you anything'! That was a contradiction in terms, you see! Non sequitur! Faux pas! How dare you refer to me as you! Obviously, I am not you in the slightest!"

  Anxious to get him in a pleasant mood, Alice spoke softly. "I'm really quite sorry," she said, thinking how best to address him. "I didn't know that would upset y-...I mean, I didn't think to call y-...Oh, what should I call you, please?"

  Humpty Dumpty winced when she said 'you,' then pointed a finger at her in an authoritative way. "Obviously, you are called 'you' and I am called 'me.' If you wish to speak in any sort of intelligent or decent fashion, you must address me as 'me' and yourself as 'you.' You see, it only makes sense."

  Not much, though Alice to herself. "Yes, I suppose it does," she said to Humpty.

  "No, no, no! 'I' suppose nothing of the sort! 'You' do! Please, I wish you would learn, really!" Humpty snorted and rolled his eyes.

  "Um, 'you' are sorry," said Alice, slowly, trying to get it right. "'You' just wanted to, um, speak with 'me'."

  "No, silly! In this case, the proper usage is 'I,' not 'me.' Remember, 'I before me except after 'we''! That rule always applies, you know. Oh, except in Patagonia, of course, under the light of a second-quarter moon."

  "Of course," agreed Alice. " 'I before me except after we'."

  "Except in Patagonia," prompted Humpty.

  "Under the light of a quarter moon," finished Alice.

  "Second-quarter," corrected Humpty. "Would you like to hear some poetry?"

  "Oh, yes!" said Alice, delighted. She truly wanted to hear some of Humpty's poetry. Indeed, it was wonderful just to see him again, just to speak with her old Wonderland friend, no matter how silly the conversation. It brought back such wonderful memories.

  "Very well. This one is called 'Oh Happy Child.' Either that, or 'The Bloody Babe'." Humpty cleared his throat in preparation for the recital.

  "How can a child be happy if it's bloody?" asked Alice. "One title seems quite pleasant, the other, sad. Are you sure it's the same piece?"

  "First, I am not 'you'!" Alice bit her lip, realizing her mistake. "Second, of course it's the same
piece! I should know!"

  "Did you...I mean, did me write the piece, then?"

  "No, but I am an artist, you see. I am allowed to use an artistic license."

  "Oh, you...me mean that me can take liberties with certain things, right? For the sake of art."

  "No, no. That means I can use this little card here." Humpty reached in a pocket and pulled out a small card. His name was scrawled across the bottom. "See? This is my artistic license. It means I am an artist. I can do whatever I please, you see?" Humpty slipped the card back in his pocket, then settled himself and cleared his throat. "Now then, if I may: 'Oh Happy Child,' or, 'The Bloody Babe'. Ahem...

  Oh happy child, free and wild,

  Dance among the happy fields.

  See the sun there, shining brightly,

  Burning your skin until it peels.

  See the grass there, sharp and thorny,

  Cutting your feet and slicing your heels.

  See the pebbles by the water,

  Jabbing your scars until you squeal.

  See the branches hanging down,

  Poking your eyes so you can't see.

  See the roses, pretty posies,

  Thorns tearing the flesh from off your knees.

  See the bear there, dancing round you,

  Chewing your arms with pointy teeth.

  See the bees sting, watch the wolves bite,

  See your blood in the happy fields.

  Oh happy child, bloody babe,

  Bleed among the happy fields.

  See the worms crawl, feel your flesh fall,

  Food for the happy fields.

  YUM!"

  When Humpty had finished, Alice felt sick. She felt like vomiting; Humpty's poetry had certainly never been like this before. She said nothing, and held her stomach for a while instead.