by Lotus Rose
Jacob’s voice cuts off.
The mouth on the wolf head Jacob is wearing moves as it speaks the words, “Give me back my head.” The Queen of Hearts finds it unnerving that there is now a wolf’s mouth where there had previously only been a mouth hole opening.
Wilhelm watches on, seeming uncertain what to do.
Jacob pulls the mask off his head. His eyes are wide with terror as he drops the mask to the ground and begins shrieking. Jacob runs from the mask and lies cowering on the ground.
“Thank you,” the pig’s head on the wolf body says.
The group watches in eery silence as the wolf body walks up to the wolf head on the ground. He presses one hand-like paw to the top of his pig head, holding it steady. With the other paw, he swings the sword, slicing through the pig’s neck, though it takes two blows to complete the beheading.
He tosses the pig’s head aside. As it lands, it glows white and disappears. The wolf body drops the sword, then picks up the wolf head, places it atop his neck. Through some sort of magical process, the head seals with his neck and forms into a fully functional wolf-head—no longer merely a hollow mask.
Without another word or a glance, the wolf bounds back up the stairs into the stick hut, and closes the door.
The Queen of Hearts lets out the breath she’d been holding. “Crikey,” she mutters.
Meanwhile, Wilhelm consoles Jacob, who keeps screaming about terrifying visions the mask filled his head with.
The Cat whistles. “That was a right and proper horror show, that was.”
But the Queen of Hearts is not paying enough attention to him to be annoyed. She is gazing at the necklace lying upon the ground. “When that mutt beheaded himself, he must have dropped his necklace from his stump. There’s the third key.”
As she carries the key to the door, Jacob seems to be coming around more, though he keeps muttering about “abominations rending his soul with the dark claws of the abyss,” and “nightmares of unspeakable and indescribable darkness that had never before been known by the mind of man.”
She ignores his babbling and gives forth a little clap when the third key is turned and the door vanishes, presenting a black-filled archway to the next square.
And meanwhile, the Knight just lies there upon the ground—she figures he’s dead.
But they have to make sure. They walk over to him. Wilhelm is still hugging his brother, comforting Jacob, who keeps whimpering about “unspeakable terror,” but at least he’s quieter now.
The Queen of Hearts nudges the side of the Knight’s chest plate with her foot. “Hey. You alive?”
The Knight jerks and his eyes pop wide open. “What what?!”
“Relax,” says the Queen of Hearts. “You were knocked unconscious by a wolf with a pig’s head. But he took his original head back and went back in the hut, but we got the key, so no worries. Now quit dilly dallying. We’ve got to go to the next square.”
“Very well,” he says.
They step through the archway labeled Heads into the next square that awaits them…
Chapter 29
The square labeled, Shoes, makes her think of the girl named Goody Two-shoes, and fills Malice with the hope the girl was spared from death.
The Cheshire Cat’s head appears floating in the air next to her as she steps through the pure black interior of the archway.
The surroundings around them instantly change.
They are now in front of a long wooden building. They face a door on one end of the building, upon which is a plaque proclaiming it as Cinderella’s Great Hall of Shoes.
Malice and the Hatter exchange glances.
“I wonder if she’s in there,” she says.
The Hatter nods. “The last we saw her, she was dying.”
Humpty shouts over to them, “Hey! Here’s a clue!” He’s looking down at a wooden sign set in the ground, off of which he reads: “The prince knows which shoe the key is inside.”
Malice says, “Ah. It seems Cinderella’s Prince may be alive and well in there too. And according to the sign, he knows where the key is that we need to solve this square.” She points down a little past the far end of the building, where off to the left a little, so that it is visible, is a door in an archway set in the ground with no walls or building around it. It’s labeled: Peas. The doorless archway to the team’s left is labeled: Thumb. The one to the right: Gingerbread.
She points at one of the windows on the side of the building. “I suppose the Cat will say he can’t interfere or participate…” to which the Cat nods. She says, “So I suppose I shall take a peek.”
As discreetly as she can, she peers in. Inside, she sees shelves upon shelves along the sides of the hallway lined with thousands of pairs of women’s shoes of all colors, patterns and designs.
It is breathtaking. There are shoes along the whole fifty foot length of the building, and near the middle, she sees Cinderella and her prince sitting across from each other.
The prince is sitting in a chair, but his wrists and ankles are chained to the floor, with four chains. Upon a table in front of Cinderella rests a crossbow.
Malice removes her head from the window and reports what she’s seen.
The Hatter says, “Well, according to the sign, the key is in one of those shoes. The only way to find out which one is to talk to the prince.”
Malice says, “So what do we do about Cinderella because…” She points at the sign on the side of the building that says, Trespassers shall be killed. “She has a crossbow and I think there’s a good chance she might not be so friendly.”
Tweedledee says, “Maybe the prince isn’t either.”
Malice says, “Maybe he isn’t, but at least he’s chained up, and we need to talk to him to get the key. The question is, how to deal with Cinderella.”
“You could kill her,” the Cat says. “The more gorily the better.”
Malice snaps him a cross look. “I thought you weren’t to interfere!”
“I’m not interfering, because I know you were all thinking it!”
At his cute pouty face, her features soften, the kindness emanating from her ticktock heart taking its effect. “Aww, I’m sorry kitty, but I don’t like to resort to violence unless it’s absolutely necessary, like in the last square, where it was self defense. I don’t want to kill anyone.”
The Cat pouts. “Well that’s not fun.”
Malice chuckles. “You’re bloodthirsty, but I love ya. No, we have to find another way.”
“Tie her up?” Humpty suggests.
“She still has the crossbow,” Malice reminds him. “Can we get close enough?”
“Distract her,” the Hatter says. “She’ll probably recognize me, unless her story has become too far twisted.”
Malice’s brows knit up in worry. “What are you suggesting? She could be dangerous…”
The Hatter flashes her a handsome dazzling smile, that she’ll never admit makes her knees feel a little weak. “It shan’t be a problem ’t’all, love. I shall merely draw her away, spend some time jawing with her, till you gain the key, then let the lass down gently and take my leave to join back up with you sorry lot.” A beaming grin.
Malice chuckles despite yourself. “But what if something goes wrong? You’re making light of it.”
“Ah my dear, you can’t get rid of me so easily.” He winks. “I’ll be fine. I’m quick on me feet, and besides I have the dagger, if she tries to take advantage.” Another wink.
“I just worry about you,” she says, but after more thinking, no one can come up with a better plan, and so Malice worriedly agrees.
Their plan is that the Hatter will open the front door of the hallway to distract Cinderella, so that Humpty, Malice, Tweedledee and the annoyingly-present Cheshire Cat can come in through the rear entrance to share words with the chained up prince.
They take their positions. Humpty is peering through the corner of one of the windows in the back of the building.
Ma
lice and Humpty stand on opposite sides of the back door, each holding a hefty branch in their hands. The Cat floats in the air behind them, making a pest of himself, as usual.
The plan is that the Hatter will call out to Cinderella, then get “second thoughts” and start backing away, which will hopefully draw Cinderella out toward him, where he will stall for time by talking with her, ideally with the door closed so she can’t see inside the building.
Tweedledee says, “There he is, he’s opened the door. He’s calling out something to Cinderella. Now she’s calling back. Hatter shook his head. Cinderella shook her head, she’s calling out, she’s walking over to him. Too bad she’s taking her crossbow. The Hatter is out the door now. I can’t see him.”
Malice can’t hear even a whisper of sound from inside through the door. “Okay, just tell us when.”
Several moments pass. Tweedledee says, “She’s walking through the door. Yes! The door is closed! Now’s the time!”
Malice, Humpty, Tweedledee, and the Cat all file into the hallway, running toward the prince.
A surprised look is upon his face as they run up to him. “Malice?”
“The one and only. Listen, we’re looking for a key to open a door to the next game square. Do you know where it is?”
The prince nods. “I do. It’s inside one of the shoes. It’s the same key as for my chains. But if I tell you where it is, you have to promise to unchain me.” Reading the expression on her face, he says, “Cinderella is my sworn enemy—my only desire is to kill her with my own hands. I don’t care if you go to the next square or not—I won’t stop you.”
“But the Hatter is out there!”
“I’ll occupy Cinderella so he can join back up with you. Please, all I want is my one on one duel to the death with her. It’s only fair you grant me that, if I help you.”
“Fine! I promise I’ll unchain you.”
The prince nods, points one of his chained hands at a shoe about fifteen feet away, among the thousands. “The yellow pair, fifth row from the bottom there.”
He directs Malice to the correct shoe, she looks inside it, to see the key. Soon the prince is unshackled. He says, “Thank you. You’re free to go.”
“No,” Malice says. “We must retrieve the Hatter.”
“Very well, but you must leave Cinderella to me.” He picks up an iron tipped spear from behind one of the shelves. It’s a much more dignified weapon than the branches Malice, Humpty and Tweedledee carry. The prince rushes to the closed door on the front of the building, with the group following.
The prince pushes the door open and recklessly rushes out. Malice follows more cautiously, motioning with her hand for the others to stay back. She is standing outside in the grass now, staring as she sees Cinderella hugging the Hatter—her back is to them, and Malice surges with jealousy. Was that how the Hatter distracted her, by making out with her?!
“Release him!” the prince shouts.
The embracing couple twists so now the Hatter’s back is to them and now Malice sees that Cinderella’s mouth is latched tightly onto his neck, drinking his blood, as he struggles weakly to escape. And now she sees that Cinderella still holds the crossbow, which she lifts and fires, sending a bolt sinking into the prince’s chest. The prince lets out a weak whimper—he seems to have trouble breathing.
And this whole time, Cinderella hasn’t released her hold upon his neck. The crossbow, empty of bolts, drops to the ground.
Malice raises the branch in her hand, prepared to charge at Cinderella, when Cinderella tosses the limp body of Hatter to the side, where he crumples onto the ground and his hat falls off—he lies unmoving—his body glows with a white light before vanishing.
“No!” Malice shouts, staring in disbelief at where Hatter’s body used to be.
Cinderella cackles and points at Malice. “I killed your boyfriend! Oh well, he—” She doesn’t get to complete her sentence as the spear the prince has thrown hits her in the middle of her chest.
The spear hits straight on, and hard, knocking Cinderella backwards off her feet, as the spear tip goes through her body. For a moment, Cinderella is suspended in a gravity-defying position—the top of the handle still sticks out the front of her chest, while the spearhead is stuck in the ground. Cinderella’s back is arched backward on the spear, her glass-slippered feet fall to the ground, but they are not what’s holding her up.
Next to Malice, the prince struggles to remain standing—he tries to take in air with weak, whistling gasps—the crossbow bolt has probably pierced a lung.
Meanwhile, gravity takes its effect on Cinderella as she begins sliding down the pole while she looks about with wild, confused eyes and grasps at the pole handle slicked with her blood.
And within Malice, a storm is raging. Her kindness program wants her to stay composed, because revenge is not the answer, two wrongs don’t make a right, and a just person must always show mercy, but she cannot allow her kindness program to reign.
She turns behind her to Tweedledee and Humpty. “Stay there,” she says, her voice sounding hoarse. She knows the Cat will not interfere.
Cinderella’s sliding body comes to rest on the ground. She grunts, struggling to rise but the spear skewering her still holds her in place. “Dammit!” she screams. “You bastard!”
Malice looks down at the pitiful “bastard” she is referring to. He’s struggling to crawl over to Cinderella, but he’s wheezing and coughing, a puddle of blood is growing beneath him on the ground. He attempts to speak, but cannot.
Cinderella is panicking, thrashing against her impaling spear, which holds firm. “That was a lucky shot, you bastard! I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
Malice stares at Cinderella, and her eyes narrow. She knows what she has to do to keep the kindness program of her ticktock heart from interfering.
She begins to slap her chest.
Slap. And next to her, the prince falls flat on his chest, only driving the crossbow bolt deeper. He struggles to rise again, and Malice feels so terribly for him.
Another slap. Cinderella lets out a moan and whimpers, grasping at the spear handle, afraid to pull it out, and Malice feels compassion for Cinderella, for going through such a horrible ordeal. Though they may be enemies, no one really deserves to be impaled by a spear.
Yet another slap to her chest, and this hit does the trick—she presses her palm to her chest, feels that it isn’t ticking, as a sensation of coldness spreads through her chest. Her ticktock heart has stopped working and she has reverted to a heartless state, no, not “reverted”, she has been reinstated to heartlessness.
“Oh god oh god,” Cinderella whimpers, finally coming to terms with her situation.
Malice walks over and looks down into Cinderella’s eyes, careful to stay out of reach of her arms and legs.
Malice says, coldly, “You killed him.”
Cinderella cackles. “Of course I did! And it was so easy. All I had to do was lead him on a little. He always liked me better than you.”
“Liar! He was my plaything. You had no right to take him from me!”
Cinderella does her best attempt at a shrug while being impaled. “Nothing you can do about it now.”
Malice sneers. “I can still get my revenge.”
The figure of the prince makes a racket at her words, but collapses again. Malice doubts he has much longer to live.
Cinderella glances at the prince’s inept floundering, then up at Malice. “Revenge won’t bring him back, but you never had him anyway. No guy wants a goody-goody. You’re almost as bad as Goody Two-shoes herself.”
“Not right now,” Malice mutters.
Malice sees the fear in Cinderella’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, since I turned off my heart, I am no longer limited by silly notions like kindness and mercy. I am more compelled by the notion of revenge, you see. For you took something from me which I highly valued, my Mad Hatter, so now you must pay the price for your indiscretion. And so now,
I shall kill you with my own hands.”
Again, the prone form of the prince makes an attempt at a protest, that only results in a bloody, wheezing coughing fit, with no words uttered.
Malice glares at him, “Oh, hush, you. Yes, I promised I’d let you have a go at finishing Cinderella off, but you hardly seem up to the task at the moment, now do you?”
The prince speaks a word that sort of sounds like a word starting with a W, but resembles more of a wheeze.
Malice cups her ear. “What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out. You need to work on your en-un-ciation. Now I shall talk to shoe girl here. No, no, you stay there. Don’t bother to get up,” she mocks. She looks down into Cinderella’s eyes. “I’m about to kill you, now. How do you feel about that?”
She shrugs. “Eh, I’m kind of looking forward to it, and my afterlife in the outside world.” Her eyes go wide with wonder. “Why, I hear it’s a world with so many shoes. There are factories that make them by the thousands and even stores that only sell shoes! Shoes shoes! Glorious shoes!” She coughs and makes gurgling noises.
“Why do you have so many shoes anyway?”
“Because I love them! They’re what I’m all about. I collect them!”
Malice rolls her eyes. “I noticed.”
Cinderella tries to say something, but hacks and coughs instead. “I haven’t got long,” she mutters, then grins.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I shall end your life, for you killed the Hatter, and I was looking forward to being held in his arms!”
“You were too young for him,” she says weakly, but still smiling.
“I would have been old enough eventually. And you robbed me of being kissed by his beautiful lips.”
Cinderella chuckles, then her eyes go shut.
“What?!” Malice shouts. “You can’t die on me! You robbed me of his kisses and I must kill you with my branch!”
Cinderella’s eyes pop open, and she sticks her tongue out. “Just kidding. Be careful what you wish for, because the Hatter will be back, and you might not like him as much the second time around.” She chuckles and coughs.