by Rose, Lotus
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m quite dexterous. It’s just my eyes that are the problem. You’ll see when you get my age.”
“You use big words.” (She really doesn’t think the words are that big, but she’s practicing her deception skills.)
Amazingly, he manages to use the tips of his claws to cut the deck.
As she deals five cards to each of them, Alice makes small talk. “So, if I crossed the line to the Eighth Square, would you enjoy killing me?”
“Oh, very much so. Little girls have so much red inside of them. You don’t notice until you bring it out of them.”
“Ah, I never really thought about it that way.”
“That’s because you’re a prissy, innocent little girl.” He takes the five cards in his claws. The cards are rather tiny in comparison to his claws. It’s amazing that he can manage to hold them so well. “Hold on a second.” He rummages again in his pouch, brings out a pair of spectacles and puts them on. “It’s the eyes that are the problem, you see.”
Alice nods supportively.
She looks at her own hand. She has four jokers and the Ace of Spades. There isn’t a Thirteen of Heartless, which is what she wants, so she turns in four cards, so she’ll get four back.
The Jabberwock turns in zero cards. She peers at him, but his poker face is inscrutable. Despite the fact it doesn’t help her game, she likes his poker face, because it doesn’t reveal his scary fangs.
Alice looks at the four cards she’s been dealt back. The Thirteen of Heartless is amongst them, the others are two jokers and the Ace of Spades. So it turns out the Thirteen of Heartless is capable of cheating after all, not that she minds.
She shouts, “I have the Thirteen of Heartless! That means you have to fold and confess!”
She isn’t sure what’s supposed to happen next, but what does happen is that the Thirteen of Heartless begins to glow.
In a dazed voice, the Jabberwock says, “I fold. I had five jokers. But what’s this about confessing?”
As she gathers the cards up, she says, “Yes, is there something you’d like to tell me?”
A look of exquisite perturbation comes over the Jabberwock’s face. He tries to fight it for several more seconds, but finally he blurts, “Okay, I stole the Queen’s tarts, okay? I confess!”
With a condescending pout, Alice says, “Well, you know what happens now. You must do the honorable thing.”
“Yes,” he says. He bows his head. He scooches his glasses up, now picks up the vorpal blade.
Does he not realize he doesn’t need the glasses anymore? Perhaps I should tell him, she thinks, but she doesn’t want to break his momentum. She slips the deck into her pocket.
The Jabberwock meanwhile kneels in the grass, with the vorpal blade laid out in front of him. Alice stands in front of him, watching the ceremony with a big grin on her face.
The Jabberwock begins to recite his poem.
The Jabberwocky code has made,
Us conduct ourselves with honor.
We live and die by our own blade,
So soon, I shall be a goner.
I kneel today in loathsome shame.
I’m fully confessing my crime.
And for this dishonour to my name,
It’s hari kari time.
The Jabberwocky creed, it is firm,
Every sentence the same, there’s just one:
To wriggle my guts like a worm,
For soon with my blade they’ll be spun!
I stole the tarts, it now is clear,
Beyond any and all disavowal.
So with my vorpal blade, I fear,
It’s time to disembowel!
One two! One two! Now a fatal boo boo,
By my own vorpal blade has been done!
And now with a stir that’s so fast it’s a blur.
Ow, see how my entrails are spun!
I feel so much pain as I’m dying,
I ask of you, behead me please!
I see now that you are not crying,
But I beg of you here on my knees!
Delicately, the Jabberwock transfers the sword by its bloody handle to Alice. It is dripping all over red.
Now Alice decides to make up some poetry, recalling the old Jabberwocky poem and mimicking a stanza.
“And will I slay the Jabberwock?
Death by my hands, a coocoolicious girl!
O frabjuous day! Callooh! Callay!
I chortle as I whirl!”
Alice spins in order to give force to her blow. The Jabberwock is upright, exposing his neck for her. When she whirls completely back around, blade out, there is no one two—there is only one, as the vorpal blade slices cleanly through the Jabberwock’s neck. His head flings off to the side and the neck stump gushes with blood.
Alice is quite satisfied with herself. She is after all, not a skilled swordsman. She watches the body twitch until it is still. She looks to the Jabberwock’s head—its eyes are still open, but staring dead.
She throws the blade to the ground, then inspects her hands, covered in blood.
“Ooh icky!” she proclaims with wrinkled nose.
She does her best to clean her hands, puts the hat back on.
She hears a crunching sound and looks down to see that she has stepped on the Jabberwock’s glasses. “Oopsy! You’ll have to schedule an appointment with the optimist or you shan’t be able to read!”
She looks over at the Jabberwock’s head.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. If you didn’t want them stepped on, you shouldn’t have left them lying about.”
The Jabberwock doesn’t respond.
Alice walks toward the outer edge of the Eighth Square. Just before she enters, she tries again, saying, “Shadow? Shadow are you there?” But the shadow doesn’t appear. She shrugs, then steps over.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Showdown
Alice crosses the outer line of the Eighth Square. As she does, she feels a sudden weight atop her head. She discovers that there is a crown underneath her top hat. “Of all the curious headgear!” she exclaims. “Imagine wearing two hats at once, when one of them would do! It’s unfitting for a queen, if that’s what I am now.”
She taps the top of her hat but has no vision of Malice. “This thing doesn’t work, anyway.”
So she takes off the hat and holds it in her hand and is satisfied with just the crown on her head. And now she enters the Looking Glass House and looks around. It’s been so long since she’s been in here, but it’s like she last left it, except much dustier.
Perhaps I should dust it as I wait. I do hope I don’t have to wait too long.
When she walks into the room where the looking glass is, the room looks like an ordinary room, with the looking glass on the wall. There’s the clock on the mantelpiece. There’s the table with the chess board on it and its pieces.
She almost doesn’t want to, but she looks into the mirror. She has no reflection. She first came to Wonderland through the mirror, and she wonders if she can leave through it as well. But when she presses her fingertip to its surface, she finds it’s just a solid, regular mirror. Perhaps when she had a heart, that might have made her cry, but the tears don’t come. All she knows is that she must get her reflection and her heart back, but she can’t really remember why.
She sighs. “This place is a mess! Is there a duster about?”
There is a cabinet set against one of the walls—as she’s opening it and peering inside, she sees there are a couple of books and an old stopwatch. She is just about to investigate these curious relics when she hears someone call out behind her, “I hope I’m not too late…for your unhappy birthday party.”
Alice turns around to see Malice standing in the doorway. Malice is also wearing a crown, holding the bloody vorpal sword in one hand and a large blue cloth sack in the other.
Alice says, “Malice. Welcome. What’s in the sack?”
“It’s a surprise for later, for your unhappy birthday par
ty.”
“You mean our happy birthday party.”
“Oh yeah, right.”
“So my shadow told me you’ve decided to recombine with me in the mirror?”
Malice nods. “Absolutely. And I brought our heart too. The Mad Hatter had it, the jerk. But I gave him a little justice.”
Alice nods. She points. “The magic Looking Glass is over there. If we get reflected by it at the same time, we’ll come together again, just like before.”
Malice looks. “Yes, I can’t wait. I just want things to be the same as before. Less complicated that way. But first, we have to deal with the heart.”
“Hmm? Why not recombine first and then deal with the heart?”
Malice rolls her eyes. “Are you stupid? You need to play the game using the card to get your heart back, right? You can’t play by yourself. That wouldn’t work, right?”
“Wouldn’t it?” Alice isn’t sure.
“Well, of course not. You need someone else to play with. Our shadow explained it to me. The order of events has to be, put the heart in first, then recombine in the Looking Glass.”
“But only one of us can win the heart. How will that work?”
“Well, my dumb twin, that’s how games work right? There’s a winner and a loser.” She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it’ll work. Just one of us needs to win the heart, then in the looking glass mirror, it’ll make us the same again…it’ll make us mirror reflections.”
“Are you sure?” Alice asks.
Malice nods. “Absolutely. Trust me?”
“Well, sure. You’re me, kind of. Gotta trust myself, right?”
Malice nods. “Right.”
Alice sets the top hat open end up on the table next to the chess board. “So the game will be—”
Malice interrupts. “Yeah yeah our shadow told me all about it. If one of us tosses the Thirteen of Heartless in the hat, that person will be able to put our heart back in. Let’s play! It’s only a matter of time before someone makes it.”
Malice reaches into her sack and pulls out a wooden heart-shaped box. There are still objects inside the sack. Malice opens the box to show the heart to Alice.
It looks like a cartoon version of a red heart, but around the edges, it’s turning black.
Malice, seeing her expression, explains, “It gets blacker the longer it’s left out. But don’t worry. It will probably recover once it’s in the proper place inside one of our chests!”
Alice says, “Yes, that’s where it has to go. I’m sure there must be a good reason to have a heart. After all, many had to die to recover it, so I suppose we should get to it.”
Malice grins, says, “Exactly.”
So they get to work taking turns tossing the Thirteen of Heartless at the hat. After half a dozen times or so, Alice finally makes it. “Ha! You lose.”
Malice just sticks her tongue out playfully.
Alice picks the heart up out of its box. She’s still holding the card, which begins to glow with a white light. Not quite knowing what to do, she presses the hand holding her heart onto her chest.
Her hand begins to go into her chest, as if she’s pressing it into a reflection of herself on top of water. She feels no pain, only a soothing warmth.
“It’s working!” Alice shouts.
“Wonderful!” Malice shouts.
When Alice’s hand reaches the point in her chest she thinks a heart should be, she lets go. She feels the heart twist, shift inside her, settle into place. She pulls her hand out. She places her hand atop her chest and she smiles big as she feels her heart beating.
She raises her head to look at Malice, but before she entirely lifts her chin, she feels a hard blow to the side of her head, almost knocking her off her feet. She shouts in surprise.
She stands dazed for a few seconds, dizzy. She feels her hand jerked down and she falls to the ground. Before she can get her bearings, she feels another blow to her head.
Now she feels as if her hands are being held behind her, hears clanking sounds. She can offer no resistance, stunned as she is. “What?—” She raises her head to see Malice grinning down at her, holding keys in front of her.
Malice says, “I bet you’re wondering what’s going on.”
Alice just stares stupidly, still dazed.
Malice says, “Well, I just knocked your head about a couple of times, then while you were out of it, I chained your hands to the table leg there.”
Alice pulls at her wrists, but they’re bound behind her. She hears the tinkle of metal chains. “Why?”
“Why? I’ll tell you why. First, as to this card.” She holds it up for Alice to see, then rips it in half—the card shrieks pitifully. Malice tosses the two halves of the card in opposite directions.
“Why did you do that? He did you no harm!” Alice feels tears well up in her eyes and begin to roll down her cheeks. At the same time, she kind of feels that the card was funny when it shrieked like that.
Malice looks down at her disdainfully. “Eww. That’s gross. I had to make myself cry recently. Had to use peppers in my eyes. Never again. But you, with your heart. Why you seem to cry on a dime! If only I had a dime!” She rolls her eyes.
Alice tries to discreetly test her chains, but they tinkle.
Malice says, “I wouldn’t try.” She tosses the keys on the ground, then lifts the vorpal blade from the table top. “I’ll kill you with no remorse if you try to escape. I’m quite heartless, unlike you. But then again, your heart is partially blackened, so that should prove interesting.”
Alice doesn’t know whether to risk trying to fight her way out or not, but then she remembers. “But if you cut me, you cut yourself. We’re mirror images.”
“Dummy! When I knocked you upside your head, did I knock me on the noggin too?” At Alice’s blank expression, Malice answers, “No, I didn’t. Once you got the heart, we ceased being mirror images. Why, I could kill you if I wanted, and it wouldn’t affect me. And you know what? I planned this all along. That’s why I let you win on purpose in the hat tossing game. I’m more clever than you, you see. Besides, who would actually want a heart anyway? So inconvenient.” She’s beaming with pride. “And maybe having a black heart is worse than having no heart at all!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Oh, well I guess you’ll see, won’t you? I might just let you live to watch it torment you. They poison the soul.”
Alice starts trembling. She definitely doesn’t want to die. Meekly she says, “What do you want?”
“You mean, why am I not killing you right now? I’ll tell you in a sec. But first, I have prezzies for your unhappy birthday party!” She does her best to clap while holding the vorpal blade. She backs away, kneels, reaches her free hand into the sack.
Meanwhile, Alice is wondering if she might slip the chain off the table leg, then rush Malice, but she has that blade. Or maybe she could reason with her, or maybe Malice has some reason to keep her alive…
Malice pulls the Jabberwock’s head out of the sack. “Behold! Scary monster! You did this!”
Alice feels remorse wash over her. “I—that wasn’t me. I mean, I was heartless then.” She recalls stepping on the Jabberwock’s glasses and stifles a giggle. That’s so wrong to think like that. What’s wrong with me? Remorse comes over her again.
“Wo ho ho! I wouldn’t have believed it! But having a heart really makes you all sorry and regretful and stuff? Wow! I mean, whoa! I just had to see it with my own eyes, before I kill you. Oh, but I have another gift.”
Alice feels more tears rolling down her face. Did she just say she was going to kill me? Should I make a last ditch effort to try to save my life?
Malice pulls another head from the sack. She is holding it by the top, presenting it to Alice. It’s the Cheshire Cat’s head.
The cat’s head yawns, but Malice can’t see. Malice says, “Now this is a grand trophy. I want to make a collection of heads.”
The cat’s head opens its eyes
, sees Alice and the grin widens on its face.
Meanwhile, Malice says, “Before I kill you, I want you to realize just how clever I was in killing this guy. And I did kill him. He only had one of his nine lives left. And me and the Queen of Hearts—”
The body of the Cheshire Cat materializes beneath his head, then twists in a blur. Alice sees red claw marks sprout on Malice’s face, going from her temple to across her eyes. She shrieks, drawing back, striking out with the blade that connects solidly with the front shoulder of the cat. The cat crashes to the ground and lies bleeding. He stands and hisses at Malice.
Malice, her face now bleeding profusely, still holding the blade, seems to consider for several long moments what to do next, before she flees out through the door of the hut. She shouts, “This isn’t over!”
The cat says, “I think she’s gone.”
Alice says, “I thought you used up your nine lives.”
“Well, I suppose I must have miscounted. Did it take me long to come back to life?”
“Nah. I think you chose the right moment.”
“Thanks I think. It’s been a strange day. I met a hot kitty today. And next thing I know, I’m here.”
With a crazy laugh, Alice says, “Strange?! Why yes, I’ll say it’s strange! Imagine a world where one’s own reflection tries to kill you, and cats actually have nine lives! Why it is a world that could only exist in a dream!” She shuts her eyes tightly. “Why this must all be a dream!”
She opens her eyes to see the Cheshire Cat’s head floating woefully in front of her. “I’m afraid not, my Queen.”
Alice wipes a tear from her cheek. “Maybe I can go back through the Looking Glass?”
“Maybe.”
“Even though I don’t have a reflection.”
The cat shakes his floating head. “Well, no, you can’t go through the mirror if you don’t have a reflection, my Queen. But the good news is that now you are a queen.”
Alice sighs, now it suddenly strikes her—the realization of what she has done, the characters she killed, when she didn’t have a heart. She feels overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt and the tears well up and flow down her face, dripping on the ground.