Through the Looking Glass

by Carla Jablonski

  “Without me there is nothing,” Time declares. “If you were to die, no one would care. But if Time were to stop, this world would end!”

  You pop your head under the stalled tea, examining it. “Actually, quite impressive…”

  Time resumes. The tea pours onto your face, soaking you. You stand back up and look at Time. He’s breathing heavily and looks a bit worn out.

  “Now, when is Alice coming?” he asks.

  You pull out a chair and sit. You mop your face with the tablecloth, then tip back your chair and put your feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. “I never said she was, old bean! I merely said I invited her.”

  “What? You, you—” Time gets himself back under control. “Nicely done, sir. But now it’s my turn. You were asking when Now is?”

  Time looms over you. He opens his cloak to reveal his heart clock. It shows 5:59 p.m. Suddenly, you’re not so sure of yourself. What’s the blighter up to?

  “Now is precisely one minute to teatime,” Time declares. “And until Alice joins you for tea, it will always be one minute to teatime.” He sneers at you. “Enjoy your little party.” Time moves the clock in his chest backward and disappears.

  “Well, that was entertaining,” you say. “But now I think I’d like a bit of that pretty little pink cake.” You move to push up from your seat, only you can’t. You try to stand. You grunt, you strain, you struggle, but no matter what you do, you can’t get up!

  “Say, old chappies.” You keep your voice light, not wanting to alarm them. “Are you in any way troubled by a wee lack of mobility?”

  Mallymkun and Thackery wiggle their whiskers at each other in confusion. “Speak plain,” Mally says.

  “Can you get up?” you say.

  Thackery snorts. “Why, of course I—” A puzzled expression appears on his furry face. “That is to say I—” He gives Mally a worried look.

  Frowning, the Dormouse tries to move. “Uh-oh…” she whispers.

  All three of you try to get up with great effort: you break into a sweat, Thackery’s floppy ears stand straight up, and Mally’s eyes bug out. But none of you can move. Not an inch!

  “What’s he done?” Mally squeaks.

  “The blighter’s stuck us all at one minute to teatime!” You’d slam the table if you could pick up your arm. “Slurkingsluvishurksum!”

  You eye the delicious spread Thackery and Mally have laid out for tea. “Time is a cruel one,” you say bitterly. This is worse than if you’d stayed at home and listened to your father’s scolding all day long!

  Mally sighs. “We’ll never get to have any of this! It will all spoil!”

  “Spare the rod and spoil the tea,” the March Hare intones.

  “What the blazes does that mean?” you ask. You can’t even turn your head to glare at him. How frustrating.

  “How should I know? I’m as mad as you are, remember?” Thackery replies.

  You have no idea if days are passing, since the entire world around the table is frozen with you. No sunrises, no sunsets. Just loooong stretches to fill. Luckily, Mally and Thackery are two of your favorite people. Though just now Mallymkun is fast asleep and Thackery is trying to count how many different faces he can make. Not very entertaining.

  Then a figure appears on the horizon. As it approaches, you can make out a hatless head sprouting long blond hair. A dress with a pinafore. “It’s a little girl!” you say. She looks to be about seven or eight years old.

  “Hello,” she says as she reaches the table. “Are you having a tea party?”

  “Would you like to join us?” you ask.

  “Why, yes, thank you,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

  You hold your breath to see what will happen when she sits down. Will she also be trapped at one minute till teatime?

  She lowers herself into the plush armchair at the head of the table. Don’t get too excited, you tell yourself. The big test will be if she can get up again!

  “Excuse me, dearie,” you say. “Would you mind terribly passing the butter?”

  She picks up the butter dish and then—gasp!—she gets up and brings it to you. “This is a terribly long table,” she remarks, putting the butter dish down in front of you. “It must make passing dishes rather tiresome.”

  You blink rapidly. Can it be true? Can you actually move? More important, will it finally be teatime? You keep your eyes on her face as you reach for your teacup. There’s something very familiar about her.

  “Yes!” You practically chortle with joy. The teacup is at your lips. You managed to lift it from the saucer! And now you are going to have your tea, because it is, after all this time, teatime!

  “Gah!” You spit out the tea. It’s been sitting in the cup for who knows how long. Not only is it cold, but twigs and insects have fallen into it, and cobwebs crisscross the top.

  “Wh-wh-what?” Mally sputters awake. She shakes her head and narrows her eyes at the guest. “Who’s that?”

  You realize what has happened. “She’s Alice!” you cry. “Time said it would stay one minute to teatime until Alice joined us. Then this girl arrives and it is finally no longer one minute until teatime! It is the very time of tea itself!”

  You fling yourself back against your chair, proud of your deductive skills. “That was rather well done, don’t you think, Alice?”

  “You know my name?” Alice asks.

  You wave a hand at her. “We’ve met. But you were older.”

  She just stares at you.

  “Never mind, never mind,” you say.

  Suddenly, Thackery bounds onto the table, scattering dishes and spilling the milk jug. “Free!” he shouts. He twirls around, his ears flapping. “Time is on the move again!”

  Speaking of moving—now that you can, what do you want to do?

  DO YOU WANT TO TRY TO FIND SOMETHING EDIBLE ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE TABLE? GO HERE.

  OR SHOULD YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOUR NEWLY RETURNED MOBILITY AND GO SOMEWHERE—ANYWHERE? GO HERE.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  YOU STRETCH out a bit, then stroll to the far side of the table and grab some biscuits. It feels delightful to be back on your feet again, but you’re very curious about the child version of the Alice you met. You’d like to stay here to learn more about her. So you skip back to her spot at the table. You wonder what she could possibly have taken from Time. His favorite hat, perhaps?

  “Tell me, dearie,” you say. “How have you been spending your time?”

  “It’s been very confusing, actually,” she admits. “I’ve been so many different sizes today, I hardly know myself!”

  “Lovely!” you say. You are now in the best mood ever. Everything is delightful. “That sounds like a spectacularly fantastic way to spend the afternoon!”

  “Well, it wasn’t all that lovely for me,” Alice says. “In fact, it was very trying.”

  “Have any more?” you ask.

  “More what?” she asks.

  “Upelkuchen cake and Downsie Drinkies,” you say patiently.

  “Oh! Yes!” She pulls a huge slice of cake from one pinafore pocket and a shiny blue bottle from the other. You accept the cake.

  You’re about to take a bite when you remember your manners. “May I?” you ask her.

  “Please do,” she says politely.

  You take a big bite. You grow and grow until your head pokes through the trees. Startled birds caw angrily at you and fly off.

  One problem: now that you’re up here, how do you reach the bottle that will shrink you back down?

  Hmmm. Perhaps you didn’t think this all the way through.

  “Halllooooo down there!” you call. “A little help, please!”

  You think maybe you hear Thackery and Mallymkun shouting up to you, but you’re not entirely sure. It’s pretty windy above the tree line.
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  You scan the nearby trees, hoping perhaps a friendly bird could bring your friends a message. But all you see are those nasty Jubjub birds. They’d peck your nose before they’d ever agree to being helpful!

  Go here to continue.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  AFTER ALICE takes her leave of you and your friends, you bid the others good day, stretch your legs, and head into the woods.

  “Hello, hello,” you greet the sweet-faced flowers.

  “Hello, hello,” they answer.

  You spot banners flapping in the distance. Of course! It must now be the day of the Horunvendush Fair! Now that will be entertaining! You pick up your pace, then stop.

  Your family also makes the Horunvendush Fair a major outing. Everyone will be there—including your father. You’re still in no mood to see him. In fact, sitting at that table, never able to have your tea, gave you plenty of time to stew over the cruel things he said to you.

  You kick a stone and it skitters into the brush. You love the Horunvendush Fair. You take a deep breath, then stride purposefully toward the fairgrounds. You’re not going to miss it just because you had a fight with your father. Besides, your brothers and sisters and cousins will all be there, too, and you always have a good time with them.

  But as you approach the festive fairgrounds, you hear

  Go here to continue.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  Then you feel something tickling your knees and you suspect Mally is climbing up your leg. You hope she is bringing the Downsie potion with her. Otherwise she’ll have to make another trip.

  In any case, this could take a looooooooooooooong time.

  Well, at least the view from up here is spectacular!

  THE END

  BEING SO LARGE IS RATHER INCONVENIENT, ESPECIALLY AS MOST OF YOUR HATS ARE QUITE A BIT SMALLER THAN THE CURRENT SIZE OF YOUR HEAD. TO SHRINK DOWN AND TRY ANOTHER PATH, GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND START AGAIN.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  shrieks and screams—and they are not of delight. You stumble backward at the terrifying sight of the Jabberwocky, that dreadful dragon, beating its enormous wings as it lands on top of a small hill at the edge of the fair. It lets out a piercing howl, then breathes out searing flames. Everything nearby is instantly scorched.

  “No!” you cry. You have to find your family! You push against the panicking crowds racing in all directions and frantically scan the area. A row of colorful stalls goes up in flames as the Jabberwocky blasts another section of the fair. You can feel the heat on your cheeks, but you press on.

  A woman screams as her horse runs away with her. You quickly grab the reins. Only as you calm the horse and lead it to safety do you realize who the rider is: Princess Mirana! She calls her thanks after you as you race back to the fairgrounds.

  But it is now a devastated wasteland. You stand staring at the smoking remains of your father’s favorite hat as it comes to a slow stop at your feet.

  Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. They must all be dead. Victims of the Jabberwocky attack.

  You don’t know if you can bear it. Your last words to your father were said in anger. The last words you ever heard from him were that he was disappointed in you. And the rest of your family—perhaps you could have saved them if you had all been together.

  What should you do now?

  SEEK REVENGE AGAINST THE JABBERWOCKY BY GOING HERE?

  OR WOULD IT BE BETTER JUST TO TRY TO MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIFE? GO HERE.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  YOU SPEND days in Tulgey Woods trying to track the Jabberwocky. You follow clues like scorched tree stumps and smoking moss. Exhausted, you rest under a Tumtum tree, trying to figure out where to look next.

  There’s a sudden cracking of tree branches. Your stomach twists when you hear the whiffling sounds. The burbling. The Jabberwocky is approaching!

  You slip around to the other side of the Tumtum tree to get up your courage. “As soon as I see its flaming eyes,” you tell yourself, “I’ll whip out my Vorpal sword and go snicker-snack!”

  Hang on.

  You haven’t got the Vorpal sword.

  You were so intent on vengeance that you forgot a crucial detail: legend has it that the Jabberwocky can be defeated only with the Vorpal sword.

  And you very definitely do not have that. In fact, you’ve never even seen it.

  “Retreat!” you cry. You dash through the woods.

  A searing burst of flame ignites a bush beside you. The Jabberwocky is in pursuit!

  With each roar of the Jabberwocky, your heart pounds so hard you can practically see it bouncing in your chest. You don’t dare look back; it could sear your eyes shut!

  The Jabberwocky crashes through the brush, setting bits of the forest on fire! Flames lick at your heels, heat from its fiery breath making sweat pour down your back. Is this the end of you? Are you going to burn up in an inferno?

  Then you see it: your way out! A lake!

  You fling yourself into the water and swim as fast as you can. The Jabberwocky sends out a shooting blast of fire after you, but it is immediately extinguished. The creature paces back and forth on the shore, roaring and howling in frustration.

  You swim to the opposite shore. You have no idea where you are, but you know that you are dripping wet.

  You trudge for a day or two until you arrive at a town. “Excuse me,” you say to a colorfully dressed passerby. “Where am I?”

  She looks puzzled. “Why, you’re here, of course.”

  “Ah. But where is here, exactly?”

  “Where we’re standing,” she replies.

  “But what if I were standing over there?” You point across the street.

  “Then you’d be there. But it could be here. If you went there.” She gives you a suspicious look. “Say, are you putting

  Go here to continue.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  YOU DECIDE that the best tribute to your family is to have a good life making good hats. You push down the sadness as the years pass.

  Then, one day, you and Bayard are in the woods having a delightful game of fetch. He throws sticks farther and farther each time. You scramble after one on all fours and find yourself back at the site of the Horunvendush Fair. Even all these years later, the ground still smokes from the Jabberwocky’s flaming attack. You don’t like being here, but you’re determined to bring back the stick. You’re snuffling around an old tree stump when a flash of blue catches your eye.

  Puzzled, you reach into the stump and find a little blue hat. Your mouth drops open. This is the very same paper hat you gave your father when you were just a little hatter. He must have kept it! And this is where the Jabberwocky attack took place all those years ago. Your father must have left the little blue hat for you here as a sign that your family survived. Your mouth snaps shut when it dawns on you what this means: your parents, your siblings, your aunt, your uncle, your cousins—they’re alive!

  Go here to continue.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  me on?” Then she glances around and grins. “Di
d my sister tell you to ask these silly questions? She’s always pulling pranks.”

  You like the sound of a sister who plays pranks—and this delightfully daffy girl, for that matter. They seem like your kind of people. You clap her on the shoulder. “I think we’re all going to get along fine.”

  You stay here and go into business making flame-retardant hats, to help protect the citizens from the Jabberwocky. Not only are they spectacularly silly; they are decidedly practical.

  You think your father would have been proud of you in

  THE END.

  NOW THAT YOU’VE DONE YOUR BEST TO HELP FLAME-PROOF THE CITIZENS, PERHAPS SOME OTHER FRIENDS OF YOURS COULD USE YOUR ASSISTANCE. GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING TO SEE WHO ELSE YOU CAN HELP—OR BE.

  WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.

  You leap about, then go into your Frabjous Dance of Joy. You run to Bayard and tell him you’ve got some exciting news. You’re going to tell him and all your friends as soon as you both get home. It’s more fun that way.

  But when you share your discovery, you’re shocked! Nobody believes you. Not a single, solitary one of your friends thinks that your family is still alive. They try to convince you that you’re wrong, but you refuse to listen to them.

  There’s so much to do! You must prepare for your family’s return. You change your appearance and concentrate on work. You become the serious fellow your father hoped you’d be.