Embedded Files
“Fuck.”
Alison groans as she looks down at her dress and her surroundings. She slaps her hands to her face and drags them down her face in frustration.
Of course! Of course, this would happen to her! She can’t believe it. Ridiculous.
One minute she’s running as fast as she can away from that stupid mansion and the next she’s tripping and falling down, what was it? A rabbit hole? An awfully big rabbit hole if it was.
God help her if she’s losing her mind.
Now she’s standing in this weird room where the walls are different heights and the floor is uneven. Blinding colour patterns on the walls that just look horrible together. Seriously, who designed this place? It looks like a messed up child’s playroom really. Even that’s a stretch.
What’s even stranger is that she’s no longer wearing that puffy ball gown she ripped. Or even her bloomers and heels. Nope, now she’s in a tiny blue dress that hugs her torso and puffs out around her waist falling just above her knees. A white apron on top of it. She has black nylons on along with two striped black and white socks. One’s pulled up to her knee while the other pools around her caff. And to top it all off she has some black Mary Jane’s on.
She doesn’t remember changing her outfit, ever. Since that ball gown was practically a three-person job to take on and off. And the new outfit isn’t something she would ever wear given the choice. She doesn’t think blue is her colour really. Though the nylons are quite nice and the lack of bloomers too.
None of this changes the fact that she is in an unfamiliar place with no idea what to do next. So first plan of action? Figure out where the hell she is.
She sighs, shifting in this childish dress as she walks further into this strange place. The ceiling slowly gets lower and lower the further she goes until she’s practically crawling on her knees. Though eventually just as she’s about to turn back around a tiny door appears. One that tiny dog could fit through.
“Really? Lord, how is someone supposed to fit through that?” Alison groans again as she eyes down the door, sizing it up and considering maybe forcing herself through if she must.
Of course, before she does anything of the sort the tiny door handle speaks to her. Because apparently doors can talk and it scares the life out of her.
“You are just quite too large, silly girl.”
“JESUS CHRIST-“ and the only logical thing to do when something scares the near life out of you, is to punch it head-on. So that’s what she does.
Her fist flies before she can even think of something else. Slamming her fist hard into the handle, hearing a loud bang as the wall shakes from the force of her fist. She feels how the handle wasn’t hard or felt as normal metal should but instead soft like a human’s face. It bent with her hand just as punching a human would and she swore she heard a crack like a small skull being shattered.
She lets out heavy breaths as she leaves her fist where it landed on that door handle's head. Trying to fully comprehend what she had just done. The thought of possibly killing the door handle with her fist crosses her mind as she collects herself. Leading to her widening her eyes and pulling her hand back, afraid of what she’ll see in its wake.
The sight left behind by her fist is quite horrific really.
Thick dripping blood is covering the front of her fist when she pulls it back, leaving long red sticky strings similar to melted cheese as she makes distance between the door handle and her fist. The door handle's eyes are rolled back into its head, showing the complete whites of its eyes and watching how trails of blood slowly fall out like pools of tears. Its nose is completely broken off, separate from the door’s crushed head and currently still sticking to her fist. Its whole head thing is flattened like a pancake, blood splatters all across the door and the wall beside it. The head seems to be slowly falling down no longer attached to the door itself. Leaving a dark dripping trail of sticky red behind as it slides painfully slowly. Sure enough after a moment or two the handle falls off the door completely like a head falling off a human. All organs she could never name spilled out all across the floor all drenched in blood and bloody red strings attached as it falls face first to the tiled floor.
…Holy fuck- Did she really kill a door handle?!
She moves back slightly in confused horror. Shaking her fist to get the blood off but the door handle's nose is the only thing that falls. Slamming against the wall with a splat and promptly falling down to join the bloody mess of leftover organs. Without really thinking she instantly wipes the rest of the blood off on her white apron, easily staining the thing red. Which makes her curse herself. But it’s too late.
She brings the end of the apron up and tries rubbing the door handle’s blood off only to make it much much worse. As she’s focused on the now awful-smelling blood the tiny door creaks and slowly opens, pushing the door handle’s head as it opens. The head and sticky organs roll as the door pushes it off to the side, streaking the ground with the liquid as it moves. Covering the coloured tile a gory red.
She pauses in her actions, pulling her gaze away from the mess of the door handles head and staring at the door blankly as she sees a dense tiny forest on the other side of it. Then she shifts to her hands and knees and bends down to properly look at the world behind the door. She pushes her brown hair behind her ear and opens the door a little further. As soon as she reaches eye level with the door she shouts upon seeing a little man on the other side.
She moves back again, putting distance between the two of them as the man steps through the door.
“Good day, m’lady!” The little man smiles wide, taking his brightly coloured top hat off and tipping it to say hello. He looks down and sees the smeared blood from the door handle across the floor and laughs, smile never leaving his face. A haunting sound really, especially after looking at some rather gory blood.
“Ah! What a shame! I thought his blood would have been a stunning gold! One that would be sellable later on! But now it is just quite messy. What an inconvenience!” The little man flips his top hat back on and bends down on one knee to inspect the blood. He pulls one of his pink gloves off and lets his finger run through the smeared blood. Coating his fingertip in the sticky substance thoroughly, along with a skinny string of organs and bringing it up to his mouth. The thin string breaks as he slips his finger into his mouth and sucks it clean of any blood. Lapping his tongue across his skinny finger to ensure all of the liquid has been swallowed.
Alison’s jaw drops as she watches the little man’s lips and tongue run across his finger, watching him taste the door handle’s blood. The door handle she just murdered with her fist! Brutally as well! The little man hums at the taste, pulling his finger out of his mouth with a little pop and string of saliva. He chuckles and licks his lips like he ate the finest meal ever.
“Hmm, definitely not extremely delicious either. Mediocre at best. Truly a shame.” The man sighs, wiping his finger off on his suit jacket as he stands with a shake of his head.
“But no matter! There are far more important matters we must participate in!” He smiles wide again, teeth and all as he slips his glove back on. The glove this time is yellow instead of pink, though Alison doesn’t remember him having more than one coloured glove?
“You are much too large, my dear! Come come! Do come down here, yes? Let us properly introduce!” He gestures for her to reach his level and she looks at him like he’s insane because really he probably is. Considering he just tasted a door handle’s blood. A door handle she murdered may she add!
“You’re a crazy man! I can’t just shrink and even if I could I would not wish to be acquainted with someone who tasted a door handle’s blood! That’s insanity!” She shouts, gesturing to the door and the head seemingly rotting quickly on the floor if the smell and drying blood was anything to go by. God the smell is horrible! Like an open trashcan full of dead rats.
The little man laughs loudly again, shaking his head. “You call me insane yet you are the one who committed murder to an innocent door handle, are you not?” …okay yeah he’s got her there. But still!
“Again, I can’t shrink!” She gestures to her, apparently, large self. A pointed look thrown in his direction.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so, my dear?” He snaps and suddenly a small bottle is falling from out of nowhere into her hands. She catches it easily, eyeing the strange bottle filled with a supposed liquid of some kind that shifts between all colours of the rainbow.
“Is this drugs?” She raises an eyebrow at the man as she shakes the strange bottle. A chuckle escapes herself as she brings it up to eye level.
“Yes!” He responds happily and honestly, she didn’t actually think it was a drug of some kind. It was a theory, yes, but not an actual possibility to her. But this man just happily proclaimed that this strange liquid is in fact a drug. Which, odd. Very strange. Isn’t the whole point of giving someone else drugs for them not to know it’s drugs?
“Don’t think of the details too much! It is a shrinking drug! Just one sip and you will be back to normal height!” Normal height? And here she thought she was a normal height.
She sighs as she lowers the bottle and considers her options. One, go back the way she came and see if she can trace back her steps back to that god-forsaken mansion. Two, take the drugs that could quite possibly kill her or worse and see where that takes her. Or three, squish the tiny man and find a way through the door herself.
Oh god, she’s really considering murder as an option again. That definitely calls for more than one confession, whenever she gets back home. God, forgive her.
All of her options are horrible, to be honest. No way she’s going back to that hell hole of a mansion, and she really doesn’t want to commit another murder.
So with nothing better to do, she pops the lid off and downs the strange bottle without letting herself overthink it. And no surprise she passes out.
“You demon! You drugged my daughter! My innocent daughter!”
“Ma’am. I’m afraid that she is no longer your daughter.”
“No! No! She will not be one of them! She-“
When Alison wakes up she finds herself walking through a forest. Not even resting or sitting down. No, she was already up and walking when she woke up. And that tiny man is with her. Only the tiny man is no longer tiny, rather he’s taller than her by a foot! So the drugs did shrink her!
She looks down at her hands and dress and instantly notices the blood is no longer anywhere on her. She stops in her tracks and gasps, holding her hands out in front of her in disbelief.
“Oh? What is it, my dear?” The man stops in front of her. Smile still ever present on his face but his outfit is drastically different from the multicoloured suit and top hat outfit he had on before. No, this time he wears a loose blouse with a tight corset followed by a long skirt that trails behind him but is open in the front to reveal some leggings. All of it is mismatched and a variety of different colours scattered all over the place. Along will several different accessories that definitely do not match his entire outfit. The only thing that’s consistent is his puffy hair which looks stained by paint splatters.
A man in a dress though? How strange…
“Is something the matter?” He tilts his head, resting two hands on the cane that he suddenly has.
“Um…” she mutters, taking in his very feminine presenting outfit and her own lack of blood stains. “Your outfit…” is what she lands on eventually.
“Ah! Yes! It is quite fabulous, is it not?” He looks down at his attire, offering a small spin. Clearly not bothered in any way about his outfit. An outfit he could quite honestly be killed for. “But I do believe that is not what concerns you now. We are on a time limit, after all.”
“Well I mean… it kinda does?” She phrases her sentence as a question because now not even she’s convinced of her own concerns.
“Where are the… Um, you know, stains?” She gestures to her now clean white apron.
“What stains?” Now she’s even more confused. What does he mean what stains? He was there to see the killing of that door handle! He even tasted the damn blood for God's sake!
Of course, before she can protest he turns on his heel and gestures proudly in front of them to the sudden large flower garden they’re in. One that she didn’t even realize they entered. The flowers are much much taller than both of them. Almost the same height as normal trees. Towering over them tauntingly. It reminds her of Eden.
Alison will not lie. They are quite beautiful.
“Maybe you mean pollen stains!” He calls happily and instantly the flowers all spark to life.
Honestly, she really shouldn’t be surprised that most things are coming to life in this strange place she’s in.
The flowers yawn and seemingly stretch their vines. Waking up from a deep sleep it seems. There are many different flowers. Daisies, roses, tulips, spider lilies, bleeding hearts, nearly any flower one could think of seems to rest in this vast bed. And all of them are alive.
The man walks through them proudly, head held high and Alison with no other option follows closely behind him. The flowers glare down at them, almost judging them as they walk through. Their stares weighing heavy on her shoulders. Like a burden to bear. But the man seems oblivious to them, or if he knows he doesn’t care in the slightest.
“Hatter, why have you woken us? Why are you here?” They walk right up to a large Purple Carnation bending down slightly to look down on them. An elegant female voice speaking to them from the Purple Carnation's sharp face.
“And with her no less!” A bundle of tulips speak up with squeaky voices. Giggling soon afterwards to one another as they reach forward with their leaves and poke and prod at Alison’s dress and hair. Alison shouts and pushes all of their offending leaves away aggressively to no avail. Not until Purple Carnation silences them with a quick hush.
“Oh, you will forgive me, Purple Carnation. We are just passing through.” The man grabs Alison’s forearm, gripping onto it in almost a protective manner if she had to guess. The way he says ‘you will’ rather than just ‘forgive me’ definitely rubs Alison the wrong way. The phrasing of it is strange. Like he’s demanding one to forgive him rather than taking accountability.
…but she’s sure she’s just looking into it too much!
The Purple Carnation scoffs, shaking her head or rather the flower part of her, and glaring down at the man.
“Ha! I’m sure. You know, Hatter,” she spits out what Alison assumes is his name with venom lacing her words. “I am starting to lose my patience with you.”
Hatter glares back at her, though he still keeps that freakishly weird smile on his face. “And I as well. Careful with your wording, Purple Carnation .”
Purple Carnation tisks with a click of her leafy tongue, looking away from Hatter. Whispers erupt within the flower bed. Nothing Alison can properly make out of course but the sound of them is loud. Alison chances a glance around all of them. Seeing them all muttering to themselves while keeping their eyes focused on herself and Hatter. She finds herself leaning into Hatter if only to put distance between herself and the gossiping flowers. Hatter complies easily, wrapping an arm around her waist almost too sweetly.
“One day, Hatter,” the whispers instantly stop as soon as Purple Carnation speaks up. “One day our flower bed will thrive. And your threats will mean nothing no longer.”
“And one day I will bring shears.”
Gasps erupted throughout the flower bed. A mix between scared and downright shocked whispers fills the air. Purple Carnation doesn’t keep them quiet like before. She allows the whispers to slowly increase in volume. Fear running wild. Until the flowers are near screaming in fear and frantically shaking every which way since they can’t actually get up and run. Their petals fall and so do their leaves, some of their roots springing up out of the ground. The noise is almost deafening actually. Like several sirens blaring, or the sound of a nuclear explosion.
Hatter keeps his gaze locked with Purple Carnation the entire time. Seemingly not hearing the screaming sounds of the flowers fear not even making him flinch. Whereas Alison is pressing her hands against her head aggressively, trying to block out the bloodcurdling anguish each flower voices. It's maddening. Alison thinks if she stays here for one moment longer she just might scream as well. She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against Hatter’s shoulder. Begging to anyone who will listen that the noise will stop. The screeching siren song that she swears makes her ears bleed.
Oh God, please hear her pleas, make the noise stop!
“My dear,” Suddenly Hatter’s sultry voice is breathing against her ear. Yet when she looks up at him he’s not even looking at her his mouth not even moving, still glaring at Purple Carnation. But she swears his voice is right there. “It is quite loud here, is it not?” She nearly scoffs at his obvious statement. But the pain in her ears outweighs the urge to mock the useless man.
“Do you not loathe the silence? Would you take the silence forcibly? I offer you your silence in the form of pulling weeds.” He hisses the last of his sentence and Alison feels something slip into her hand. Feels the cold metal of whatever it is against her head where her hands are pressed. She heaves a breath as her hand grips around whatever it is she has been given.
It's a handle, she concludes. And with that, there's not very many possibilities of what it could be from there.
It's a dagger. And a sharp one at that, she finds when she lowers her hand and touches the blade of the dagger. It's jagged, rough and so so very sharp. Deadly, just like the implication of its usage.
Like an apple. An apple full of sin.
She lowers both of her hands away from her head, the screaming noises around her becoming nothing but a blur now. Background noise. Like a wall has been placed between her and the noise and she’s the one overhearing it all. She looks ahead of her, where Purple Carnation stands. She sees Hatter pull his gaze away from Purple Carnation to look over his shoulder at Alison. His smile glued onto his face yet this time it feels sinister.
But she doesn’t think of that now. She can’t. Not when the noise is coming back to her and god her ears feel as if they’re bleeding! It's so loud, so so loud! She needs it to stop. Badly. The silence is a need. Is driving her insane.
God, please! Help her! Help her, God!
“Well, it seems you have become a weed, Purple Carnation.” Hatter bows to the flower, his skirt flowing behind him. Alison huffs, feeling herself lose a sense of control. Her vision becomes dizzy and a feeling of something dripping down her ears and mouth becomes known. Something sticky, tasting metallic. She stumbles forward, Hatter’s arm falling from her waist. She grips the side of her head with her free hand while the other one grips the dagger hanging loosely at her side.
It’s so loud.
“Pin her down!”
“She’s lost her mind!!”
“Extra security measures must be taken!!! Call the Do-”
In one instance the screaming stops. All of it stops. Alison and Hatter no longer stand in the centre of a lively flower bed. Instead, they are back in what looks like the dark dense forest from before.
Alison heaves out heavy breaths, hunched over slightly with wide eyes and shaking hands that just cannot stop moving. Confused about what happened and how she got to the forest. She looks up and looks at Hatter who now faces her once again dressed differently. Now he wears long dark velvet red overalls with large black boots. A suit jacket on top though it seems hastily torn into a crop. A fluffy neck accessory and a different top hat. Once again everything is mismatched and multicoloured.
Alison’s eyes go back to normal as her breaths calm while she straightens herself, feeling sticky all over. Then she looks down at herself to see if she’s changed at all only to see several bloody flower petals stuck to her outfit. Like one of those pressing art pieces, only the meaning and how the flowers got there is much much darker. Instead of an art piece, it seems she wears them like one would wear human skulls. Several blood splatters covering her head to toe, feeling the sticky liquid dry against her skin and pull at the tiny hairs all across her body. Even her tights and gloves are ripped. But honestly, she argues the flower petals are far worse. She pales when she sees the bloody flower petals, instantly thinking the worst. Because what else is she supposed to think?
The flowers… What happened to the flowers? She didn’t… God did she? Again?
How will she ever be forgiven?
Hatter huffs, whipping off his suit jacket’s shoulders dainty. Then, clearly not bothered by a thing, he pulls out a golden pocket watch from his overalls. He gasps and places a hand on his chest.
“Oh dear! We are running rather late! Are we not, White Rabbit?” He speaks dramatically, taking Alison’s hand within his own. Alison, incredibly confused, looks around for a white rabbit that is nowhere to be seen. What is happening? Why is this strange man acting as if nothing is wrong? Nothing is happening?? God this is horrible, tragically so. Her head aches from all the unanswered questions of it all and the blunt blindness the Hatter is displaying.
She thinks she might just strangle-
“Late?!? My, you are more than late, Hatter!” A White Rabbit jumps out from behind Alison. Sliding through her legs and hopping quickly away. Hatter laughs boastfully, turning on his heel to the direction the Rabbit ran off to. Grip still firm on Alison’s hand.
“Now now, there’s no need to be so upset, little bunny.” The Rabbit halts in its hopping. Turning to face Hatter with an annoyed huff, stomping its large foot against the ground.
“That is the White Rabbit to you, Hatter!”
“Join us for tea, bunny, will you?” Hatter nearly cuts off the Rabbit, bending at the waist down to be eye level with the small rabbit. The rabbit leans back away from Hatter, fear evident in its lifeless eyes, its little nose twitching.
“Tea?! There is no time for such-” The White Rabbit screeches as Hatter uses his free hand and grabs him by his two fluffy ears, holding him up to the Hatter’s height. He smiles at the Rabbit, just as he always does, yet Alison finds there seems to be more teeth to his grin.
“Join us for tea, bunny, will you?” Hatter cuts the rabbit off yet again, a certain annoyance lacing his words the second time. Alison can see the Rabbit shake with fear, shivering and glancing between the two of them. Its eyes shrinking in terror at the sight of Alison’s bloody hands and dagger. Alison doesn’t meet its gaze, unsure of what she should do in this situation.
Realistically she knows she should part from the Hatter, this man is the one offering her the dagger after all, leading her to sudden murderous behaviour. He’s insane, unstable and just a horrible person. But she fears what will happen to her if she does. He seems quite attached to her after all. Especially with how firm his hold on her is. A grip that seems desperate.
“I- I suppose one- one tea won’t hurt?” The Rabbit stutters, giving Hatter a fearful smile in return.
Hatter cheers, quickly walking forward to a large messy table that has suddenly appeared before Alison’s eyes just as everything seems to. Hatter finally lets go of Alison and throws the White Rabbit down onto a fancy red chair at the very end of the table. The Rabbit gasps and tries to make himself as small as possible as he watches Hatter closely. Hatter then pulls out a chair beside the Rabbit and gestures for Alison to sit.
“Oh, do come sit, my dear! Your tea might just get cold if you don’t!” Hatter walks over to Alison, guiding her to her seat with his hands on her biceps, squeezing them lightly. He guides her to sit down, pushing her chair in once she’s seated. She hesitates for a moment before muttering a thank you and dropping her dagger onto the table.
The White Rabbit flinches as she does so. Looking away from Hatter to the dagger. Then it glances at Alison and flinches again when noticing that Alison is already looking at him. His ears droop, flattening against his head as he shuffles to the very back of his chair. Very clearly uncomfortable.
Alison watches Hatter grab a large baby pink teapot from under the table around the White Rabbit’s chair. Snapping and having two blue cups appear before him, allowing him to pour the tea into both of them equally. He hums as he does so, sliding the full cup of tea towards Alison, keeping one for himself and not giving the Rabbit any. Then he gently places the teapot back under the table where he originally grabbed it.
“My dear Alison! You have not taken a single sip yet! Is the tea I have provided truly that terrible?” Hatter speaks after Alison seems to be zoned out staring at the table and doesn’t drink for quite a while. He’s sitting across from Alison with a rather large and misshapen tea up in between both of his large hands. He tilts his head at Alison, still smiling no matter what.
“Oh, uh… sorry.” Alison snaps from her daze, feeling herself drop the dagger she was gripping onto the table. She doesn’t remember gripping the dagger but she was zoned out for a moment. She then looks between the Rabbit and Hatter. Seeing Hatter eager for her to drink his lovely tea he put so much effort into. While the White Rabbit frantically shakes its head. As if to convince Alison to not even dare put her lips to the cup. Eyeing it like it’s the last thing it’ll do. Like the cup is the source of all of its fear.
She then swallows thickly around the lump in her throat and looks down to see the bright blue cup filled with tea in front of her. She takes the cup between both hands, feeling the hot liquid warm her hands from the outside of the cup and brings it close to inspect the liquid. A liquid she’s pretty sure might be drugs like last time. But she can’t be too sure. Maybe it is just tea, who’s to say, but she’s pretty sure tea isn’t supposed to be an almost sticky thick liquid that’s red… and smells of blood.
Looks like blood… smells like blood… is-
Oh good God, Heavenly Father, please-
“Uh-“ Alison looks up just to ask about the suspicious blood-looking liquid in her drink, only to catch the White Rabbit in the side of her vision no longer white.
She fully turns to look at the Rabbit, her vision filling with red as she sees the Rabbit no longer living to put it simply. Its soulless eyes plucked out harshly. The strings of nerves and arteries attached to the eyes hang out of the bleeding sockets that cover its entire snout and surrounding face in red. The leftover strings hiding behind its fur as the dripping blood makes it look like the Rabbit is crying a river. There's a large open gash slashed across its neck that opens like a hand puppet's mouth, revealing bone underneath that is just barely connected to the skull. Blood pours down its entire body from the large gash, seemingly never-ending. Globs of it sticking together in its fur, staining its fluffy white fur, making the fur hairs stick together. As well as its rather dapper suit jacket that was once so clean and tidy, now staining crimson. Its entire body is limp, jaw hanging open unhinged and also leaking with blood like a running tap with its head loled to the side completely still. The blood pouring out from its exposed neck slowly drips drips drips down into an open teapot resting in its lap. The same baby pink tea poot the Hatter used before, only with the blood it’s becoming much much darker. The Rabbit’s blood is filling the pot up to the brim and even leaking out at the lid all over the chair and ground. Overflowing with how much blood leaves the now dead White Rabbit.
Alison compares the sight to a waterfall.
One that makes her stomach sick.
“Darling!” Hatter laughs like someone told the most hilarious joke known to man. “If you wished to drink something much sweeter, all you had to do was ask!”
She’s confused what he means but she can clearly remember gripping the dagger within her hand earlier as the Hatter served up the tea. And as she considers it further she can definitely feel something wet drying on her face. She pales at the realization, frozen in her seat. Did she strike the Rabbit while she thought she was zoned out?
Meanwhile, Hatter leans forward, cup in hand, and catches some of the falling blood into his cup. He stirs his drink with his bare finger, staining it red and Alison notices the White Rabbit’s eyes floating at the top of his drink as he does so. Like little sugar cubes.
Alison thinks that she’s actually going to hurl.
So just as the Hatter moves to sip his bloody mess of a drink, Alison slaps a bloody hand to her mouth and pushes herself out of her chair, grabs the crimson-stained dagger and rushes off into the forest. Hatter doesn’t even flinch as he watches her run off. He just waves.
“The poor boy! We must terminate the patient!”
“No! No, I will never let you hurt my daughter in such a way!”
“She’s a maniac! Fuck- she-!”
Alison hurls. Any food she’s eaten recently pouring out of her stomach out of her mouth and onto the multicoloured grass. Her eyes water as it all pools around her feet uncomfortably. The grass beneath seemingly trying to keep the barf away from it as it moves away like it’s alive. She grips a hand on a purple tree as the last of it leaves her. Her other hand occupied by the dagger. The dagger she’s not exactly sure why she grabbed, maybe for a sense of safety? She’s not sure nor does she really care at the moment.
God, she wants to go home. She’ll beg for forgiveness before the altar for all she cares. She’s not sure what sins she’s committed before this whole situation, but whatever they were she’ll do anything to get rid of them. If only for her to leave. She wants to leave this place so badly. She’ll do anything at this point really. Everything aches and her mind is reeling. She can’t understand what’s happening and why it’s happening to her. She’s a sane, holy woman! She really is! Yet she’s killed, over and over.
She coughs, the coughs ripping through her and leaving her huffing with a string of saliva, disgusting snot and tears running down her face. It's disgusting. Horribly disgusting. The smell, the way it’s sticking to her shoes, the tears in her eyes, the dizziness, the blood, god, so much blood. All over her.
Just killing one creature after another like a madman. And in such gory tragic ways.
“It is because you are unstable.”
Alison gasps as she looks up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and wiping her hand off on her no longer white apron. Holding up her dagger threateningly and cowering up to the tree she was resting on. Looking every which way for that echoing voice that called to her. She can’t properly pick up where it comes from. Due to its floaty sound that bounced nearly everywhere.
She considers the voice being from God himself but she argues she would be dead if that’s true. Last time she checked, she is very much alive.
“Unstable? Ha, no surprise there. Take a look at my apron, will you?” She scoffs at hearing the obvious. Because seriously! What stable person would do such a thing really?
“No. Unstable in the mock of reality.” It speaks again, although this time behind her. When she whips around she once again sees nothing. Where is this voice coming from?
“Speaking riddles are we? I have no time for riddles. Show yourself.” Alison grits her teeth and grips her dagger tight enough to turn her knuckles white, finding that whoever is speaking to her is truly testing her patience.
“Why show oneself, when oneself doesn’t truly exist? When one is but an idea of consciousness?” Alison hears the voice almost purr near the end of its sentence. Like a lazy cat.
“But one supposes to break into reality, one must first exist to you.” Alison watches a dark blue and grey fluffy tail swish right in front of her eyes.
She jumps forward, away from the tree and looks up to its branches, pointing the dagger up at whoever it is. There rests a cat. Its body is skinny enough to see its bones hugging its skin outlining all of its ribs and ridges. It looks like the poor cat hasn’t eaten in years, it looks practically dead with so little fur and tight skin. Though its tail is the only part of it that is full and puffy. Almost double the size of the cat itself. Its teeth are sharp and taunting blue eyes have sharp slits. It seems to be the source of the voice after all.
“Great. Another talking animal.” Alison groans, rubbing at her temples with a shake of her head. Lowering her dagger once knowing the cat isn’t currently threatening.
“Not quite.” It tilts its head, nuzzling into the tree further. “To you, one is but a mere cat. In reality that is but fakery.”
“Listen, kitty-”
“Cheshire.”
Alison stumbles over her words after being cut off, taking a moment to recover. “What?”
“Cheshire Cat. That is who one is. One was simply correcting you.” The cat smiles a sickening grin as it shifts and rolls over onto its bony back slowly.
“Oh… Yes, listen, Cheshire Cat, I have had quite the rough and very strange day understand? I want to leave. Go home. I will do anything at this point! So I have no time for your stupid riddles.” Alison huffs, crossing her glove-adored arms over her chest, letting the dagger dangle in the air and instantly regretting it upon feeling a mix of sticky drying blood and vomit.
Cheshire chuckles anyway, raising its tail above its body and swatting at it. “Time is a construct. It doesn’t truly exist. Only an idea many follow behind. Many including yourself.” It stops swatting at its tail and turns its freakishly oval head towards her. “You’re running short on it, are you not? One is afraid it is almost dawn. And at dawn, the flowers grow back. Hatter will not be pleased.”
Alison's lost. Truly she is. Every word that leaves this stupid cat’s mouth makes no sense of any kind. She killed the flowers, did she not? How can the dead revive themselves? And she’s sure it is nowhere near dawn. The is bright in the sky at the very top of it all. Itching at her skin.
What does it mean Hatter won’t be pleased?
Cheshire sits up suddenly. Grin falling off its face as it looks off intensely at the way she came. Its ears twitch and its tail flicking as well. In a way that makes it seem it’s about to pounce any moment from now.
“Alice-”
“Alice?”
“-You must go. You cannot stay here any longer. This is not where you belong. You must wake up.” Cheshire speaks urgently, completely ignoring the fact that it got Alison’s name wrong. Close but still wrong. Alison rolls her eyes, not believing the stupid cat one bit.
“Wake up? Yeah sure. Stupid cat.”
“You must!” It hisses aggressively, turning and glaring at Alison. Its hisses are drastically different from the near-sinful ones Hatter lets out. Cheshire’s hiss is a warning. Its claws gripping at the tree, Alison takes a step back and raises her hands in mock surrender. “Go to the Queen Of Hearts! Find her! She is the way out!”
“But-”
“Quickly!”
Alison hears the sounds of birds flying out of trees making all sorts of squawking noises and she assumes that something is coming. Something is scaring the birds away and something has Cheshire on edge. Something is coming and she must run.
She feels a large gust of wind hit her, cutting at her skin harshly. Her headband nearly falls off as she throws her arms up to block the wind away from her face. It’s harsh and slashes against her skin like thousands of tiny knives. It makes her knees buckle and she thinks she’s about to be blown away if this continues any longer.
Cheshire hisses, clutching onto the tree bark as the wind ruffles its fur. Starting into the face of the near tornado of wind. It glances at Alison once more before hiding itself behind its tail and disappearing entirely. As soon as it’s gone Alison takes that as her cue to run. Afraid to face whatever is approaching. She wastes no time in running away. Pushing against the dirt and letting the harsh wind push her away.
She kicks up rocks and grass as she runs. Her breath coming out rough, ripping through her lungs. She pushes past trees and swerves left and right in hopes that this unnamed entity won’t reach her. All until her feet slide against the ground in a stop right up to the edge of a large cliff.
She gasps, nearly falling forward and seeing the curved world below. The world below the cliff curves upwards and rolls like waves on water would. Millions of different colours paint the ground of hedge mazes, roses and even a messed up castle that seems to glitch out of reality. And the sky filters through all of the colours of the rainbows every time she blinks. It’s all insane to look at, mind-breaking. How the world easily breaks all laws of physics and defies logic. It’s dizzying. Making her feel sick at the mere sight of it all. A sight one would see when tripping on mind-bending drugs.
Yet even as she steps away from the ledge, afraid of falling down, the wind doesn’t let up. It pushes her forward like it wants her to fall off of this cliff. She faces it, trying to push against it and resist the force of it. But her legs are weak, and her feet slip against the rock and dirt. She yelps as her foot loses its footing and nearly falls off, but she regains her footing quickly afterwards.
However that doesn’t mean anything when directly after, something shoves at her shoulders and she’s falling backwards.
“Let me see her! I can help her!”
“Ma’am, law enforcement has this under control!”
“No! They’re going to kill her!! Let me-!”
Alison thinks death would be far more pleasurable than this. Slamming into the ground against her back and feeling everything rush out of her. Her back screams in protest, but she’s not dead. She wishes she was after that fall. Her back’s not even broken. But it all hurts so much.
Alison curls into herself, rolling onto her side in unbelievable pain. It brings tears to her eyes, just knowing the entirety of her back will be bruised black and blue until the end of time. God, it’s killing her. She breathes heavily, trying to see if breathing through the pain will help but nothing does. The stabbing ache in her back persists.
Wherever she is, she hates it. She hates this place she’s stumbled into. Hates what it’s made her do and what it’s given in return. Nothing good has come from this place. Only a broken door, ripped up flower roots, pooling tea blood and now a wish of death over a killing back pain.
She’s had it. She wants out, needs out. She can’t stay here any longer. If she does, she thinks she’ll lose her mind! God, hear her, she will do anything! Anything she swears!
Alison heaves, shifting onto her hands and knees as she overcomes the painfully slow decreasing back pain. Her hands shake as tears fall out of her eyes, watering the grass pathetically. She feels the stiff grass poke at her hands and knees, feeling like the edges of daggers against her skin. Both her gloves and fishnets ruined to near shreds.
She pants, drool falling past her lips and a mix of blood and snot falling out of her nose as she stares at the ground. The fluids falling out of her in disgusting ways all mixing together beneath her. Wincing when she moves ever so slightly. But eventually after one too many cries of pain, she’s hunched over standing. Hands on her red scraped knees. Burning under the weight of her whole body. She pushes her hair back and in one movement she stands, letting out a weak scream at the crack of her back.
Yeah, death sounds really good right about now.
Regardless she is standing. Standing, aching, and ready to leave. Doing whatever it takes to get her out. She looks to her side and sees her jagged dagger, dried in blood with flower pollen and white fur stuck onto the dried blood. She grabs it quickly, inspecting it and spinning it in her hand once before gripping it tightly. She stands upright again and the weird glitched-out, structurally incorrect castle is the first thing she sees.
This will be her way out. She just knows it.
She heads towards the castle. Slowly and with a limp to her. Breaths heavy looking like a psychotic killer. But she could care less. Everything hurts and she wants to go home. She pushes on, swinging the large castle doors open to reveal a large red ballroom. Guests dressed in fine suits and dresses look over at her with gasps. Shocked at her attire. Holes in her outfit, brown hair a mess and blood stains everywhere. The music that was once playing for the guests to waltz to stops with a dramatic crash. Until everything is silent.
“Who goes there?!” A loud commanding voice shouts. The sea of people parts until Alison is face to face with a woman dressed in blacks whites golds and reds. Such colours are associated with demons. Her hair raised up into a heart shape, with a big puffy ball gown styled like playing cards. Her face is covered in pure white makeup along with red lips shaped like a heart as well. She grips a staff with a large heart on the end.
She stands against a throne, all intimidating and large. Scary to a normal person Alison assumes, maybe a commoner. But Alison can’t shake the feeling she’s seen this woman before. Yet the idea would be insane considering she’s never been in the presence of what she assumes is royalty.
“Are you deaf, child?! I said, who goes there?!?!” The woman shouts, all glares and gritted teeth. Alison shifts, holding her breath as she places a hand on her hip with a wince. She remembers Cheshire saying something about a ‘Queen Of Hearts’. Alison’s sure that if that person would be anyone it would be the intimidating woman standing at the throne.
“Are you the Queen Of Hearts by chance?” Alison calls, voice hoarse and raspy. The Queen looks offended, a gasp pulling past her lips as she places a hand on her chest.
“Who else would I be?!” She scoffs loudly with a laugh. The guests hesitantly joining in her laughter though the sound of it is awkward and forced. Alison rolls her eyes, these people are followers. They don’t think for themselves. It pisses her off.
“Alright then, tell me this.” Alison takes a step forward then another, limping weakly with each step she takes towards the Queen. The crowd gasps, stepping further away clearly in fear of this deranged girl coming any closer to them. Alison can see what she assumes is different red playing cards walking towards her. They hold spears and look like royal guards. How silly is that? Playing cards as royal guards?
Strange. But she doesn’t fear them at all. They’re just paper really, hopefully. If her knowledge of regular playing cards serves her right.
“Ah! You vile child! What are you doing?! Approaching your Queen uninvited in such a state!!” The Queen shouts, pointing the end of her heart staff at Alison as Alison reaches the steps leading up to the large throne.
“How does someone leave this place?” Alison asks, completely ignoring the Queen’s shouts and screeches. Gripping her jagged dagger tightly.
“‘This place’?! What? Wonderland?!” The Queen scoffs, looking left and right at her guards as she takes a step back. Gritting her teeth as she gestures for the guards to take hold of Alison.
‘Wonderland’? Is that what this place is called? This freaky world split from God? This world with mismatched colours and crazy people? With talking flowers and animals, telling her all sorts of bull? This world akin to hell?
“Curiouser and curiouser…” Alison finds herself giggling. What a strange name really. Wonderland. Definitely a wonder.
God, she really has lost her mind, hasn’t she? This place is bringing the worst out of her. Giggling like a mad woman with bloody clothes and an even bloodier dagger.
“One cannot leave Wonderland! Unless it makes you leave!!” The Queen seethes down at Alison, finding her laughter utterly disrespectful and truly annoying. The card guards point their red and black spears at Alison, threatening to strike her down at any given moment. At the Queen’s command, Alison could be killed. She finds the mere idea of her death quite exhilarating actually. How strange.
“Well then, there must be something someone can do for Wonderland to force them out, right?” Alison takes a step closer to the Queen. “Cheshire said you’re the way out, care to tell me what that implies?”
The Queen splutters, looking completely baffled as the back of her knees hits her throne and she falls down onto it. Sitting down on her plushy throne with a huff. She grits her teeth, collecting her confusion, filtering back to anger.
“It implies nothing! You silly idiot! Ha! I have no time for your idiocy!!” The Queen Of Hearts stomps her feet, nearly turning red with rage as she slams her staff into the ground. Alison finds the whole sight humorous. The Queen is almost like a toddler having a tantrum.
“You are a fool! A fool committing unspeakable crimes!” She screeches, Alison notices how some of the esteemed guests wince at the sound of their Queen’s voice. As they should with how ear-piercing and horrible it sounds. Alison wonders if the Queen would make such sounds if her vocal cords were ripped out. Would they still vibrate with her screams?
“Crimes must be punished for what is action without consequence?” The Queen snaps and suddenly two of the strange card guards are grabbing Alison’s wrists and pinning them behind her back. Twisting her arms harshly, enough that Alison fears they will break her bones if they push further.
Her jagged dagger slips from her grip when her hands flex to lessen the uncomfortable twist. It bounces off the stairs, making a ringing noise as it slams into the ground and skids a good few feet away. Alison curses, throwing a glance at her way out pitifully.
Her attention quickly gets drawn back to the Queen though, as there’s a harsh prick at her neck. A prick akin to a needle. Alison considers the prick being an actual needle as she turns her head but is proven painfully wrong when it appears to be the Queen’s pointed heart staff. This is proven when the staff cuts across her neck from the movement of her head. Cutting a thin line that dribbles a little blood. Staining the tip of the heart and making Alison suck in a harsh breath, feeling the cut move against her throat.
She's not sure if falling off a cliff and surviving is worse than this or not.
“I sentence you, you idiotic little girl,” the Queen takes a step forward, smirk wide on her face with her eyes filled with a crazed look. Her face close enough to Alison that Alison could nearly make out each hair on her ugly face.
“To death.” She whispers, a horrid chuckle leaving her. Then she’s stepping back, making quite the scene, and pointing at her.
“OFF WITH HER HEAD!!” The Queen shouts, spit shooting out her mouth. The crowd around them cheers, thrilled at the idea of beheading another person. Alison thinks it’s mad! Incredibly so! Because really, all she did was crash a party at best. Threatened the Queen at worst. Is that really deserving of death?
Alison expects panic to fill her. What with her being held roughly, firmly and being sentenced to beheading. She's in a nearly inescapable situation, of course, anyone would panic. Begin to beg maybe. But Alison fills with rage. Red-hot anger boils inside her. Threatening to overflow and her target is right in front of her.
So she thrashes. Gritting her teeth, ignoring how it opens her neck wound further causing more crimson liquid to paint her neck and dress collar. Stringing the dress red, with a hint of purple. The guard cards, though seemingly made of paper, put up quite the fight as well. Their grip is strong, unyielding. But so is Alison.
The Queen shouts incomprehensible words, possibly another silly tantrum. Whining about Alison actually putting up a fight. She stomps her feet, Alison feeling the vibrations of the action, ordering her guards to dog pile on top of Alison. Alison takes a step back, pushing the guards along with her. Nearly missing the two guards trying to jump on top of her. She chuckles as they fall, just like a tower of playing cards being blown away by the wind.
She shuffles back more and the two guards holding her wrists suddenly lose their footing and fall down the steps leading up to the throne. Freeing Alison from her uncomfortable twist in her arms. Alison sighs, bringing her arms back in front of her and shaking them out. The Queen fumes, Alison can see her turn red with rage. Jumping up and down, shaking the ground, and screaming mindless rage. The guards move quickly, not giving Alison any room to properly think of how to counteract.
But she guesses that’s what daggers are for. Acting before thinking.
Alison turns, quickly making her way down the stairs, so grateful that this world gave her flat shoes rather than the heels she wore before all this Wonderland mess. Because she thinks she’d probably kill herself falling down the seven steep steps before the Queen cuts her head off. Alison skips the last two with a jump that makes her wobble slightly when she lands. Bringing her attention back to her aching back and actively bleeding neck.
She groans, bringing up a hand to cover her neck wound as she bends over slightly with a grimace. Her hand slowly gets covered in the hot liquid falling restlessly from her neck, but she has to push forward. The dagger should be a few steps away, then she can consider worrying about her wounds.
“My my, my dear. Looks like you have caught yourself in quite the sticky situation.” She hears a sultry laugh close to her, followed by her bloody dagger appearing in her vision. She gasps, quickly looking up to see who it is and finding none other than the Mad Hatter.
“Hatter?” She mutters, looking the man up and down and seeing him dressed in a puffy ball gown. One that matches the rest of the guests here in style yet stands out in colour. He still has a suit jacket and the dress is layered in ripped fabric, raised up slightly compared to the other dresses in the room showing his boots underneath the dress. He’s bowed slightly in front of her, dagger flat on his palm as he offers it to Alison.
“Who else?” Another chuckle as he grabs Alison’s free hand. Placing the dagger in her grip and curling her fingers around it manually. “You are almost free, darling. You can taste it, can’t you?” He whispers, voice deep and teasing. He takes hold of her shoulders and turns her towards the Queen, pressing his chest against her back as his gloved fingers trail down her entire arm slowly. Sending shivers down her spine as she faces the Queen.
The Queen of Hearts looks terrified. Heaving breaths as she slowly takes steps back until the back of her feet hit her throne. Alison’s surprised at the sudden character change, wondering where that demanding presence went. The card guards too look horrified, shaking in their boots both literally and figuratively. They look like they expect Alison to attack. Like they expect her to kill them all in one slash. Bathe in their blood and move on like nothing happened at all.
Or maybe they don’t fear her?
“Why do you hesitate, my love?” Hatter whispers in her ear, more seductive than ever before and it unnerves Alison substantially.
“‘My love’?!” She takes a step away from him, glancing at him over her shoulder.
“This is your escape, darling. One strike, just one. Off with her head, if you will. Wouldn’t it taste so sweet?” He hisses his words like a wicked sinful snake ordering her to take a bite of the apple. An apple that Alison knows would taste so sweet. Just one bite and juices full of flavour would overwhelm her taste buds. The taste of sweet victory, of freedom. God, it would taste so good…
“Quickly now, before the sun rises.”
Forgive her Lord, she is no better than a sinner.
Alison heaves. Breathes heavily as she hunches over. She feels sticky, sticky all over. Her bones ache and her mind is running in all sorts of directions. Her vision is blurred, but she can clearly see red. Red all over her vision, covering it head to toe and it confuses her. It’s loud too, so loud. Like a siren, or alarm. Blaring and showing no signs of stopping. But there are no people.
Which is strange, wasn’t she just in a ballroom?
Alison swallows harshly, her throat dry from what feels like overuse and lack of water. She blinks several times, trying to collect her vision again in order to make sense of things. She moves to run at her eyes with the balls of her hands but feels her gripping something. She doesn’t think twice about dropping it and quickly rubbing her eyes. Whatever it was clatters for a moment before sounding like shattering glass.
It’s then she pulls her hands away after seeing stars in her vision, wondering what the shattering glass was.
But what she sees is worse than anything she could have ever imagined.
It’s her mother.
Bathing in a pool of blood. Her own blood. Eyes wide with fear and mouth hung open in what looked like a scream. But she makes no noise. Because how could she? When Alison can see her vocal cords disconnected from her body, as well as her head ripped from her neck. She can see her mother's bones, her arteries, nerves, organs all of it. Torn from her mother and spread out all across the floor before her.
Alison slowly looks around, bringing a shaking hand up to her mouth. Around her lies doctors, nurses, and even armed police officers. Used billets scatter the ground, and the floor is nothing but red. Like someone spilled a can of paint. Or rather, someone spilled dozens of people’s blood.
Alison looks to whatever made the shattering glass noise and sees crimson-stained shards of a mirror. Some of the glass is stuck in her hand, she notices. Little bits of it pulling blood from her body. There are doors in front of her. One of those expensive glass doors that she recognizes as the hospital's front doors. They’re wide open, showing the dirt road outside, and the sky.
Through it all, through the confused haze, Alison feels sticky. And the sun is rising in the sky.
She escaped.
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