by Lotus Rose
The Queen of Hearts sees Cinderella press the blade even more firmly, causing him to yelp and cease any further protestations.
The Storyteller daintily lifts Sleeping Beauty’s head, places the magic top hat atop. When her head once again lowers, it does indeed crush the brim. The Queen of Hearts notices the Hatter wince as a result of it, but he refrains from open protest.
The Storyteller says, “There. Now I shall connect with Alice in her dreams once again.” He takes out a slip of paper and reads from it, “Once upon a time there was a little girl who could use her magical abilities to open a dream connection with Alice in the outside realm, and one night, this night, she did…”
They watch as Alice appears, floating above the bed. This time she appears much older, perhaps even in her twenties! She is also no longer blurry like the last time.
Alice looks around with frightened eyes, her body swaying and turning as if she is floating in water. “What’s going on?”
The Storyteller says, “See? The hat has strengthened the connection. Alice is not actually here with us in the room, but the illusion is much stronger this time.”
Alice says, “Illusion? Is this another wonky dream?”
“Yes,” says the Storyteller. “We are communicating to you through the dream pathway, but we here in Wonderland are real. Can you sense it now?”
Alice looks around. “Hatter? Is that really you?”
“Why, yes it is, my girl! I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you too! Well, at least the kinder version of you with a heart. I didn’t really get to know that version of you before I left.”
The Storyteller says, “So now you accept that Wonderland is real?”
Alice twists in the air and looks at him. “Why, yes. The doctors told me it was all delusions, but now I can sense you’re real. I can feel…that hat…” She points. “That’s the hat that’s tuned in to me.”
“Yes,” the Storyteller says. “We’re using it to strengthen the link.”
“Link…” Alice murmurs. “That girl. It is like I can feel her mind. She’s Sleeping Beauty. Your daughter. She’s reaching out to me.”
“Ah!” the Storyteller says. “How nice. Tell her I love her very much.”
“She knows. She likes to listen to your stories.”
“Ah, yes, I’m glad to hear it. She is one of the fairy tale beings, which is what we want to talk to you about this night. This girl is Cinderella, another of the fairy tale beings.”
Cinderella gives a nod.
Alice nods back. “I know of the fairy tales, but in my realm, they are just stories.”
The Storyteller says, “But the fairy tale beings all exist for real in Fairy Tale Land. The Brothers Grimm brought them into being. But they wish to cross over, to be ‘real’ in your world, Alice. And you have the power to help pull them into your realm.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you are very special, Alice. The Chosen One. You’re one of the few beings who’s been in both realms, so you serve as a kind of connection between them. And you have such a strong imagination. All you have to do, is believe strongly enough in the fairy tales, in order to release them from Fairy Tale Land into Wonderland. Then you can call them over to your world, and the fairy tales will be able to cross over. Without you, they can’t.”
Alice says, “Crikey. But why would I want to do that?”
The Queen of Hearts sees Cinderella whisper something into the Hatter’s ear.
He says, “Because, my darling girl. Let’s face it, your world is boring. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Yeah,” Alice says, sullenly. “It’s much more boring than Wonderland, that’s for sure.”
The Hatter grins. “But imagine how much more interesting things could be with real live fairy tales running about. Why, it’d be magical, stupendous, exhilarating!”
She grins. “Will they meet with me?”
The Storyteller says, “Yes, because you will call them to you. They will be bound to you, in a way. Oh, you’ll love meeting the fairy tale beings. They’re so loving and friendly and kind. You’ll make so many magical friends. Won’t that be smashing?”
“Oh yes, it sounds splendid! And will my old friends from Wonderland be able to cross over as well?”
The Storyteller says, “I’m afraid not. But the fairy tale beings are not originally from Wonderland which is why they’ll be able to. However, if the fairy tale beings cross over, it’ll weaken the boundary between the realms, and you’ll be able to communicate with your Wonderland friends much easier.”
“Righto. Well, it sounds splendid. What do I have to do?”
“Start believing in the fairy tale beings. Believe that they are real. And, in your mind, call to them to enter your realm. Your imagination is powerful, so that is all that is needed. The situation is somewhat complicated, since the fairy tales are currently hidden away in their own realm. But if you believe in them, they will be unleashed into Wonderland. It may take a few days, though, as your belief builds.”
“Okay. I will start believing. I already believe six impossible things before each breakfast. It is my habit.”
“Excellent. Just be careful, and think only pure thoughts. You mustn’t let any of your thoughts grow dark and twisted. Hmm…” The Storyteller rubs his chin. “Just as a precaution, for the sake of your own safety of course, can you think of any things that could possibly be used to twist your thoughts, if they got into the wrong hands? Just out of curiousity.”
Alice arches a brow. “Twist my thoughts?”
“You know, make them dark and corrupt. That sort of thing. Something we can look out for, for your sake…” The Storyteller smiles soothingly.
“Umm…” She bites her lip as she thinks. “I was known to always be sweet and innocent, until I had a mishap with losing my heart. But I’m better now. Now I don’t think dark, vicious thoughts.”
“Yes, but, would there be a way to force you to, or trick you? Maybe a spell, or—”
“Stop! I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sweet and innocent! Got it?!”
The Storyteller smiles cordially. “Of course you are, my dear. I’m sorry if I upset you. We’ll leave you to your sleep. You can get to believing in the fairy tales. And soon, they shall become real.”
“Yes, yes. Okay. I will believe so fiercely in them! Well, goodbye Hatter! And everyone else.” She scowls at the Queen of Hearts. “Cheerio!”
They say their departures to her, before the Storyteller pulls the hat from Sleeping Beauty’s head, and the image of Alice disappears.
The Storyteller is still rubbing his chin after Alice’s image disappears.
“Well,” says the Hatter. “I had my doubts, but I think I had you guys all wrong. It certainly sounds wonderful that my dear Alice will no longer have to live in such a dreary unimaginative world and will be able to make so many fairy tale friends, speaking of which, where is my kiss?”
Cinderella giggles and plants a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, madame,” the Hatter says, and begins to blush.
“I wonder…” the Storyteller mutters to himself. He peers down at Sleeping Beauty. “Darling, when I was talking to Alice about things that might turn her thoughts dark and twisted, did you by any chance, read any of her thoughts? After all, that was the whole reason I asked her in the first place.”
The Queen of Hearts, while gazing at the girl’s face, sees a twitching of the girl’s eyelids and brow, though her eyes remain closed.
“Ah, yes,” the Hatter says, “You must protect Alice from such things. Good thinking.”
Ignoring the Hatter, he says, “Can you tell me what you saw in her mind? Can you whisper it to me?” He leans his ear and listens. His face shows disappointment as her face remains serene and still.
“There,” Jacob says. “I saw her finger twitch.”
“What?” the Storyteller says. He rises up and stares at her hand for a few moments. “Jacob, won’t you please fetch me that quill
and ink, my good chap?”
Jacob does so, bringing a quill pen and a bottle of black ink as well as some paper from a table on the other end of the room.
“I’m hoping,” the Storyteller says, “that if she can’t speak, she can at least move her fingers enough to write it.” He places the paper next to her. He dips the quill pen in the ink stand he’s set on the nightstand, before placing the pen in the girl’s hand. It’s not a very good grip, but stays in place.
“Now can you tell us?” he asks her.
The room holds its breath in anticipation. But rather than writing anything, the girl turns on her side. Her arm lashes out as she does so.
The Queen of Hearts hears a clunk and sees the girl has somehow managed to knock the bottle of ink on its side. The ink has formed a puddle inside of which lays the rose that had been in the ribbon of her hat. “How’d she manage to do that?” the Queen of Hearts cries out. “Why, I hardly saw her move at all! And that rose…”
The Hatter giggles. “Ah, the rose is turning black!”
Jacob and Wilhelm begin hunting about for something to wipe the spill up.
“Drat! Maybe we could try again… Wait. Black rose.” The Storyteller smiles big. “That’s it.”
“What is?” the Queen of Hearts asks.
“She has given us her answer,” the Storyteller says. “We must seek the Black Rose.”
The Queen of Hearts lets out a laugh. “Oh, the clever little sleeping scamp!”
The Hatter says, “Ah, so now we know what to beware of.”
The Storyteller says, “I know of the rose’s challenges. Only Cinderella and Malice may possibly attain it.”
Cinderella says, “I look forward to attaining this Black Rose.”
“To keep it out of harm’s way?” the Hatter says, sounding a little confused.
Cinderella says, “No, because I am looking forward to becoming twisted.”
“Huh?” the Hatter says.
The Storyteller says to Cinderella, “I know where it is. I’ll send you and Malice to seek it. And use it to alter Alice’s thoughts.”
“Wait,” the Hatter says, “You want to twist her thoughts? But don’t you need her to call forth the fairy tales?”
The Storyteller says, “That we do, but with the Black Rose, we’ll be able to make the fairy tales turn dark and twisted. Once they cross over to the outside world, they’ll have no further need for Alice, and will be able to kill her.”
“Kill Alice?” the Hatter says. “You told Alice they would be her friends!”
“We lied. We needed Alice to believe that in order to get her to cooperate with us. Once our twisted fairy tales gain entrance into their world we shall unleash devastation and destruction upon them.”
“What?! No! You can’t do that. You can’t kill Alice!”
“Sure we can,” the Storyteller says.
“No! You promised me you were gonna help Alice!”
“Take him out of here,” he tells Cinderella, who pulls the struggling Mad Hatter away as he screams, “You promised!”
Chapter 8
Malice approaches the man known as the Storyteller and the fairy tale being known as Cinderella in an open field. A guard card had informed Malice that they were holding the Mad Hatter captive, and if she ever wanted to see him alive again, she should cooperate. She’d been instructed to come alone to go on a mission with this Cinderella person.
Malice stands scowling at the two.
“Greetings. I’m the Storyteller. And this is Cinderella.”
Cinderella curtsies.
“If I go on this mission, you’ll let the Hatter go?”
“Of course, My Queen,” the Storyteller says. “I hate to impose, but you two are the only ones who could possibly retrieve it.”
“What do you mean?” Malice asks.
“Well, the Black Rose has become specifically obsessed with Alice, and since you’re her twin, it’s also focused onto you.”
“I’m her reflection, not her twin,” Malice corrects.
“I beg your pardon,” he says with a slight bow. “The Black Rose sets its challenges specifically for whomever it wants to be found by.”
“Hmm?”
“To put it simply, only you or Alice and Cinderella can overcome its obstacles. And since Alice isn’t here anymore, you are the only one left in Wonderland who’d even be able to locate it in the first place.”
Malice sighs. “So how do I do that, then?”
The Storyteller says, “I’ve been thinking about that, and researching old fairy tales, and I believe I may have the answer.”
Malice scowls. “What’s with all these dagnabbit fairy tales in Wonderland, lately? First there’s Cinderella, and now this one? And you want to release even more fairy tales into Wonderland?”
“Yes.”
“Stupid fairy tales. I hate them.”
“Excuuuse me!” Cinderella says. “I so happen to be a fairy tale.”
“Well, whoop-de-doo for you,” Malice says.
Cinderella crosses her arms and harumphs.
Malice sighs. “So how do I find this stupid Black Rose?”
The Storyteller says, “I shall aid you in the endeavor.”
“Huh?” Malice says.
“I’ll help you,” he says. “I’ve researched my archives and looked up the tales of the Black Rose, and I believe you, Queen Malice, may be the queen foretold of in the legends, the one who shall fulfill…” He begins rummaging in his pockets, pulls out a card. He hands it to Malice.
She reads the word: Prophesy on the card as the Storyteller echoes, “The prophesy.”
Malice scowls. “I hate prophesies more than I hate fairy tales.”
“Oh what a sourpuss!” Cinderella exclaims.
The Storyteller says, “Oh, I think you’re just a bit tiffed because we’re forcing you into this by holding your friend hostage.”
“Well, yeahhh!” Malice says sarcastically.
Cinderella says, “The Hatter’s pretty cute, isn’t he? Do you two have a thing?”
“Yes, I agree he’s cute.” She shakes her head of her crush-like thoughts. “But, a thing? Heaven forbid! Why, I’m 15, and he must be at least 25!”
“15,” the Storyteller says. “It’s interesting, because the prophesy mentions that age.”
“Bollocks to your prophesy!” Malice shouts.
The Storyteller smirks. “Now, remember we are holding your beloved Bonkers Hatter hostage. Things will go much smoother if you just cooperate.”
Malice crosses her arms and mutters, “He’s mad. The Mad Hatter.”
“Irregardless. I shall begin my tale now, and by so doing, send you upon your quest. So…once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a queen who was little more than a child. She inherited the throne upon the death of her parents. She was spoiled by her nobility and soon developed a mean streak.
“The little child queen loved roses but she felt red roses didn’t suit her. She was becoming more vicious and cruel and yearned one day to hold a fabled black rose. No one had ever seen one, but they knew it was magical indeed. There were legends that an ancient order of monks kept black roses, safe from the general public, because the monks felt most people could never handle their power.
“Well, the young queen was determined to attain one, and she turned to dark sorcery to aid her. She performed all sorts of spells and all manner of obscene rituals to call forth the Black Rose. Dozens of things she tried, that all failed, until years later, when she was 15, a cloaked figure visited her and handed her a black rose.
“The queen was enthralled, lost in rapture, spending days at a time inhaling its scent. She would pout when people tried to make her do things other than inhaling its fragrance. Then one day, she’d had enough. She walked out of her castle, alone, and went into a forest. In a hidden place, she sat in her throne in a secret hideaway, where she inhaled the fragrance without any further interference. In her mind, she ruled over an imaginary kingdom of dar
kness and ruthlessness, of which she was the queen, and she became lost in those thoughts as her heart and body withered away. But before she died, she left the gift of the Black Rose waiting for the next queen worthy of possessing it.
“To prove her worthiness, the next queen had to be heartless and had to pass the challenges. Before that first queen sat in her tomb and sealed herself inside, she set a series of challenges that the next potential owner of the Black Rose must overcome to possess it.
“And so, with the challenges having been set up, she sat, inhaling the rose’s fragrance, ruling her imaginary kingdom in her mind, until her body passed away in her throne, but her mind was elsewhere, within the sweet scented realm of the Black Rose.
“The first queen was the start of it all. And throughout the centuries, the pattern has repeated, as the Black Rose once again seeks out a new owner, a new 15 year old heartless queen. The Black Rose calls out to them, yearning to be possessed by them, calling them to surmount its challenges. And on this day, still it calls out, to a new 15 year old queen…” He holds his hand out toward Malice and bows. “Ta da!”
“Oh! That’d be me! What do I have to do?”
The Storyteller says, “In order to hear the Black Rose’s call, you must be absent of heart. I heard you have some kind of ticky heart or something?”
Malice sighs. “Here’s the deal. When I first came into being, I was a copy of Alice, except I was missing a heart. Because of that, I acted like a cold and heartless person. But someone named the Tinkerer created a ticktock heart for me, that has kindness programs built in, that help me be kind to others.”
The Storyteller says, “I believe you’ll have to turn your heart off. That way, you’ll be heartless, as far as the Black Rose is concerned.”
Malice pouts. “I don’t know how to turn it off, but it has been behaving rather wonkily lately, turning off and on. I don’t like how I behave when it’s off. I get vicious and mean, and cruel.” She shakes her head. “I’d rather not invoke that state voluntarily.”
“Nonetheless,” the Storyteller says, “you should try, for the Hatter’s sake.”
Malice bites her lip in worry. She doesn’t know what else to do, and feels defeated. “I’ll try,” she says quietly. “Excuse me.” She turns away from them and begins slapping her chest, hoping to jostle the mechanisms of her heart. After several tries, she doesn’t feel the cold, heartless feeling come over her, so she turns back around. “That didn’t work.”