Chapter Text
You blinked awake, laying in bed. The room was still dark, stars shining in from outside your window. You rolled over in bed. You were sweaty, and your face was stained with tears. Another nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind. A quiet, eerie silence filled the room. As you were beginning to fall back asleep, you heard something scampering by in the hallway.
Through the door, you heard a muffled voice.
You recognized it, although you couldn’t quite place it, and rose out of bed to investigate. You cracked open the door to your bedroom and peered down the hall. The only thing you saw was the back of someone clothed in white. You noticed a cotton tail attached to their pants as they disappeared around the corner.
Not sure if you were still dreaming or not, you stepped back into your bedroom and closed the door. There was an oil painting on the floor of your bedroom; it depicted a beautiful red palace. You felt like that wasn’t the picture that had used to be there, but you couldn’t quite remember what had. You decided that you weren’t fully awake yet and quietly made your way over to the bed. When you sat down, however, your body didn’t make contact with anything, as though nothingness had replaced where your mattress had been. You yelped in surprise, grabbing at blankets that slipped through your fingertips. Your comforter billowed up at your sides, rising like waves around your arms and legs. Without anything to grab onto, you passed through the silky sheets. As they flapped about your limbs, fabric began to press and fold itself around you, your pajamas transforming into a puffy blue dress. A frilly white apron righted itself around your waist, checkered and striped stockings pulling themselves up your thighs as shiny black heels slid over your feet. And then you fell completely through.
You began to fall further and further down in the darkness, almost as though you were falling straight to the center of the earth. Your body twisted and turned, your legs coming up over your head, your arms sticking out as you spun this way and that. You might not even know which way was up or down had you not been falling in a specific direction. You figured out how to right yourself, the skirt of your dress catching with the air. You kept falling. Eventually, you saw a hazy glowing light from under your feet. Slowly, it grew closer and closer. The light was coming from a few different types of lamps, which you watched curiously as you passed by. Some were plain-looking oil lamps, others had enormous lampshades clad with golden tassels. Some were adorned with curved bronze shells at their base, others with miniature porcelain statues. You were passing doors and cupboards as well, although none of them were within arm’s reach. A few of the cupboards were open, and a variety of poisons could be seen inside. You recognized the names of many, although you weren’t exactly sure why. Lists were nailed to the sides of the hole you were falling through; upon closer inspection they appeared to be grocery lists. They depicted mostly normal foods, although you saw one that ended simply in “puppies.” Paintings were hung along the walls of the hole, as well. Most of them depicted some sort of man, although you were falling too fast to make out the details of his face.
Eventually, you’d been floating down long enough to spot checkered floor tile. You continued your descent, which you noticed was much slower than it had been initially, and landed on the tile almost gracefully. You looked around and brushed yourself off, not quite sure where exactly you were. You sighed. It always felt like you were stuck in ridiculous situations, one after the other.
“I’m late! I’m late!”
You saw someone pacing about, trying a few of the doors along the hall you’d found yourself in. He was wearing white breeches, which ended just below the knee, along with a thin white coat, with accents of red and gold. Ivory bandages were wrapped around his limbs, visible along his hands up through his suit’s sleeves and from his black and white button boots up to the end of his breeches. What caught your attention, aside from his strange clothing, were the pair of ears sticking up from his messy hair. They were white, too, with pink velvety insides. Rabbit’s ears.
“I’m late, I’m late!” he cried.
He must’ve been the figure you saw outside your door.
He kept pulling on doors, but they all seemed to be locked. It took you a moment to realize that perhaps you should help him. Or ask him where you were.
“Excuse me, sir-”
He kept exclaiming about being late, periodically checking a large pocket watch from his waistcoat. It stated that it was approximately seven o’clock in the morning. You approached him, hoping to get his attention. He kept hurrying on, before turning sharply to go the other way. You were standing right there, and the two of you subsequently collided.
“I’m so sorry!” You helped him up. “Are you okay?”
“Okay?! ‘Am I okay,’ she asks! Why, I’m late!”
What’s a rabbit got to be late for, you wondered. You had opened your mouth to say something to him before he cried out once more.
“You’re late!”
And with that, he hurried off again. You were quite dumbstruck, watching after him with a confused expression. He managed to find a door that was unlocked, pulled it open, and stepped inside. The door closed loudly behind him.
You were late?
You were late!
“I have to get to work!” you proclaimed to nobody in particular. You rushed over to open the door the rabbit had disappeared through. It was locked.
You tried a few of the other doors (they were locked, too) before going back over to the place that you’d landed and looking up through the giant hole. You could see neither where the top of it was, nor any way you might be able to climb back up. Your boss would be furious, you thought to yourself. He hates it when you’re late.
You looked around the hall. It ran two directions opposite each other. It seemed that where you had fallen was in the center, lines of doors running along the rest of the hallway. Rows of glittering lights hung from the high ceiling. You headed off in one direction, trying almost every door along the way (some were too big or too small to be easily opened - or opened at all). You must have been walking for about ten minutes before you saw a hole in the ceiling. You approached and looked up. Sure enough, the hole looked identical to the one you’d fallen through. You looked down the hall ahead. And then back behind you. Some of the doors looked familiar, but you hadn’t been paying close attention. You kept walking. And ended up back under the hole after a few minutes. This time you specifically recognized a small green door you’d seen earlier, barely big enough for a dog to pass through. You went over to it. Still locked. You had no idea what to do and so kept walking along the strange endless corridor a few more times.
You decided maybe another approach to the situation would be better, and began looking along the walls for anything that might help. One of the doors was so tall you couldn’t reach the handle, and another so short that it was scarcely bigger than your hand. You crouched down and tried the knob of the tiny door, trying to grab it gently so as not to break it. It swung open. You leaned in along the ground to look through the door. It appeared to be another long hall. You got up and tried the giant door. You couldn’t reach it standing on the tips of your toes, but when you hopped, your hands closed around the long handle. With some difficulty, you managed to pull it down enough so that the door could be opened - which you accomplished by swinging forward. Your heels clicked against the floor as you dropped back down.
In front of you was a large kitchen, polished wooden cabinets and countertops that shone like pearls. It seemed familiar somehow, although you couldn’t quite place it. Behind the sink were beautiful tiles carved with miniature stories of knights, and princesses, and poets. All manner of food were sitting out, pans of half-cooked breakfasts and bowls filled with luscious salads. Pastries of all colors, shapes, and sizes adorned silver platters. There was even an old coffee pot with a long shining spout and an even longer handle. You walked around the kitchen, hoping that perhaps the chef would be back to help you find your way home. There was a small tray on the wide table in the middle of the room with a number of tiny cakes. “EAT ME,” they requested. There were also a few cups of steaming coffee. “DRINK ME.” You decided to keep looking around. You passed the oven, where there was a tiny mirror hanging along the wall. You leaned forward, gazing at your unfamiliar wardrobe. Something else caught your eye, though. When you looked at the reflection of the kitchen in the mirror, everything was different. Everything was rotten. You spun around, breath catching in your throat. But when you did, the kitchen was as neat as ever - the food appearing as fresh as it always had. You turned back around and leaned in closer to look through the mirror. It reflected rotting fruit in dull, chipped bowls and rotten pastries, flies buzzing around the platters. Even the appliances and countertops seemed broken and filthy. The only thing that appeared the same in the reflection was the platter of cakes and cups of coffee sitting on the table at the center of the room.
You took a breath and went over to it. You took a cake and one of the cups of coffee and presented them before the mirror. Even the tags, beckoning you to eat and drink them, seemed the same in the mirror, although the words weren’t backwards like you’d expect. You set the cake down, wary after seeing the amount of food that was actually rotten, but decided to press the cup of coffee to your lips.
You only took a sip, in case something was wrong with it, and then set it down. It tasted good; it was smooth and only slightly bitter. It tasted almost floral. Your fingertips did feel a bit weird, so you hoped that you hadn’t accidentally drank some kind of poison. Maybe drinking coffee from magical kitchens with deceiving appearances wasn’t a good idea. Slowly, with stars dancing before your eyes, the kitchen began to grow. Or, rather, you began to shrink. You kept shrinking and shrinking until you were no bigger than perhaps a foot tall. You looked around the now giant kitchen, and wondered where you were supposed to go from here. There had been no other exit, not even a window to try to crawl through. You decided to go back out the door you’d come through, which seemed at least three times its original size. Curiouser and curiouser this world you’d found yourself in seemed.
You went back down the hall, realizing that now you could probably fit through the other door that you had opened. Sure enough, although you had to crouch to get through (it was a little taller than half your height), you made it to the other side. You were now in another decadent hallway, dark violet carpeting directing you forward. There were doors on either side of you still, although they were spread much further apart than they had been. The black wallpaper had a design of small crests, although for what family you could not quite place. There were many paintings lining the walls: some of the white rabbit, some of a man in a plague doctor mask, and some of a woman in a large red dress decorated with playing cards. You kept walking down the halls, looking around at the many clocks you were passing by. Most were large grandfather clocks, although others hung on the wall alongside the different paintings. Chandeliers also decorated the hall, keys hanging down from some of them. You reached up to run your hand through a small bundle of them. They clinked together like chimes.
“Lost, my dear?”
You turned around, although nobody was there. A painting along the wall caught your attention, showing someone looking at you with piercing eyes. You weren’t sure you’d noticed it before. The figure from the painting had a large top hat with dark purple ears protruding from along the base. One eye was hidden behind a monocle, the other focused on you. His suit was black and purple, with a striped tie at the collar. It was grinning quite widely at you, a usually friendly gesture that now sent a wave of goosebumps down your arm.
“It’s not polite to stare,” the painting remarked.
“Sorry, I’ve just never seen a painting talk before.”
The painting was still. A voice behind you said, “You must not have seen very interesting paintings before.”
When you turned, there was the cat from the painting. His white gloves were clutching a cane with the skull of a cat in place of a ball. There was also a long, fluffy tail curling around behind his legs. It was purple and striped, much like his tie.
“Do you know where I am?” you asked the cat.
“Certainly,” it said. “You’re here.”
You tried not to show the slight annoyance that his response produced. “Well, where is here?”
The cat only smiled wider and stepped off through one of the doors in the hall. “Simple,” it said as the door closed behind it. Its voice echoed through the hall. “Here is somewhere where there,” he appeared through another door much further down, “isn’t.”
His tail swished back and forth as you sighed. You began walking through the hall, not sure where you were going. You decided to try to ask the strange feline one more thing, but it had already passed through another door and disappeared. When you heard footsteps behind you, you turned and he was there once more.
“Excuse me,” he faced you as you called, “sir?”
You weren’t totally sure how to refer to someone such as he, although he only grinned wider as you spoke.
“Could you tell me which way I should go?”
“I could, indeed. But that depends on where it is you’d like to get to.” Your head swiveled to the side, alerted by the voice of the painting. The cat from in front of you had disappeared again.
“I need to get to work.”
“Go ahead, then.” He was beside you now. “I’ll fetch a mop and bucket.” He passed behind you, and when you turned to look, he was gone.
“Wait!” You turned all the way around, startled when he was in front of you. “I meant I need to get back to where I work.”
“Where do you work?”
You hesitated a moment. “I can’t remember.”
“Then, how am I to help you?”
You felt that was a reasonable question, one which you had no answer for, so you thought to yourself a while.
He waited patiently as you did, before lifting a gloved hand and gesturing to the side down the hall. “This way is alright.” His other hand lifted to point down the other side of the hall. “And this way, all left. Take your pick.”
You were starting to get tired of this, honestly, and decided he wasn’t going to be any help. You decided to keep walking.
“But, you know…” his voice echoed through the hall. “If I were trying to find a rabbit,” you looked behind you, “I’d follow a snake.”
He was gone.
You decided to keep walking through the halls, trying to keep track of what you were passing in case you ended up looping back around. You looked in a few doors as you went, even though most of the rooms were too dark to see into. The ones that weren’t, however, held the most curious things. One room was filled to the very brim with books, a place you’d have liked to visit if you didn’t have somewhere else to be. Another was filled with clocks and watches - nothing else. Even the marble floor was reflective enough to make it appear as though the room had nothing but time. Another room seemed a bedroom of sorts, filled up with eclectic trinkets. There was a metronome pendant, with an eye along the end, swinging back and forth, and a dartboard with a letter of some sort stuck to where the bullseye should be by a knife.
Another room made you stop in your tracks. The ceiling was high and domed. And filled up completely with stars. You went in, closing the door behind you, and stared up at it. It seemed almost part of a palace of some sort, with large Greek columns supporting a small pavilion at the center. You couldn’t really see the room’s walls, instead it just looked like the horizon. It seemed as though the entire night sky had been spread across that room. There were a few steps leading up to the pavilion. There were tables scattered through its inside, topped with clutter. The books on them told of the legends of the stars, and maps depicted the different constellations. You paused by one, illuminated only by a small candle and the light of the ceiling.
The writings told the myths of Caelum, the Slayer of Beasts, and Canisuis, the Great Wolf. The first was a man who angered the gods with his arrogance. He drowned in the sea trying to chase after a monster that didn’t exist. The second was a wolf foretold to devour the world at the end of times. You thought the stories sounded familiar, but as you read them through a second time, you noticed there was something not quite right. Still, you flipped through a few more volumes and letters along the table. One of them seemed like a love letter; to whom, you couldn’t say for sure.
You looked back up to the ceiling, your eyes tracing along the different constellations of the night sky. A sense of sadness was filling you up. Almost as though you were forgetting about someone. You felt something brush along your arm, but nothing was there.
You exited the room, quietly and solemnly. It felt as though you were on the cusp of remembering something very important. And you felt very sad. There’s no point in dwelling on such sadness, you figured, especially when you couldn’t remember what it was that was making you sad. And so you were off again down the hall.
You opened another door to peek inside. It was the door to a garden, a great number of large flowers dancing together in the breeze. They were all at least three times your size: roses, peonies, daisies, and lilies. And they all had the faces of people along the centers. Where a sunflower’s seeds should reside, instead a young woman with dark freckled skin. They were swaying peacefully, but when you’d stopped to listen, you heard they were also talking quietly amongst themselves.
“I thought so. You’d think a queen would be married by her age, wouldn’t you?”
“I certainly would! But, haven’t you heard? She’s in love with someone already.”
“You old ladies are nothing but a bouquet of gossips! Can’t we have more meaningful conversations? I’m tired of hearing about the queen.”
“Well, that’s all fine and dandelion, but what, then, would you like to talk about?”
“Hm. Dinah, what do you think? You haven’t said much.”
“Yeah, Dinah. Peony for your thoughts?”
“I was just thinking about that young man who passed by here earlier. Wasn’t he that knave?”
“Yes, indeed! I do believe that he is meant to be executed this very afternoon.”
“He is a thief, you know. I say he deserves to lose his head.”
“Oh, you know nothing about it! I think he’s innocent. And I thought I said I wanted to quit talking about that dreadful queen.”
“Don’t speak ill of the queen, or she’ll come for your head, too.”
“I rue the day!”
You closed the door to the room quietly, not wanting to seem impolite by listening in on their conversation.
You kept down the dark hallway, looking through a few more doors. One was boarded up. Naturally curious, you pulled against them. The wood must have been old, as the boards came off quite easily. The door opened with a creak as you looked inside. It seemed to be an office of some sort. Seated in a chair was a cat, much like the one you’d seen earlier. Instead of a purple suit, he was wearing a white one, a similarly lightly colored tail visible every now and then from behind his chair. Standing before him was a man with a large hat and a plague doctor’s mask. His suit was black and red, and he had a very menacing aura about him. The two of them stopped talking to look at you.
“You!” the man with the mask yelled. “It’s you!”
“Me?”
You were trying to remember if you’d ever seen such a man before when he rushed towards you. “You broke my machine!”
You jumped and ducked out of the room, slamming it shut as he dove to reach you. You braced yourself against the door in case he tried to come out, he was obviously angry about something, but the only thing you could hear from the other side of the door was yelling and pounding.
It didn’t seem like he was going to open the door anytime soon, maybe he couldn’t, so you kept off down the hall. After a long while of walking, you ended up at its end in front of two giant double doors. You opened them. The door led you outside to a large garden. A small forest could be seen a while off. You looked back behind you, there was nowhere else for you to go, and stepped out through the doors. You were hoping to see the rabbit again. Since he’d been the one you’d seen before you’d fallen down the hole, perhaps he knew of a way back.
You went down a path, approaching the forest. There was a large tree; underneath it, a long table, perhaps with about twenty seats. There were all kinds of different teapots, big ones with flowers and vines and tiny ones that surely could hold no more than a drop. In place of a tablecloth were different technical drawings detailing intricate machinery and their parts. There were also trays of food: white puffy breads, desserts sprinkled with sugar, scones topped with jams, and cookies of all sorts. Chipped porcelain cups, plates with symmetrical patterns, silver forks and knives, and napkins folded this way and that were also spread throughout the table. Most notable, however, were the variety of machines. They buttered bread, poured tea, swept crumbs off of the table, and gestured wildly as they did. Some of the blueprints littered about seemed to be drawings of the very machines that were buzzing around the table.
Seated in one of the chairs at the corner of the table was a man with a wide hat with feathers, pens, and notes stuck in the ribbon at the base. His face was strangely covered by a plague doctor’s mask not unlike the one the other man had earlier. The beak stuck out, with lenses over the eyes on either side. He was wearing a suit, white jacket hiding a light blue striped waistcoat. Colorful thick fabric was bunched at his collar, evening gloves covering his hands. Sitting beside him was a large bear donning a blue victorian tailcoat, matching his partner, with tiny golden daisies patterned along the edges. He had on a tiny hat, as well, with long brown rabbit ears spouting from the brim. To his side was a stuffed mouse.
You regarded the man with the plague doctor mask.
“Are you a doctor, sir?”
He looked up to you, having not noticed you before. “A doctor?! Absolutely not. I haven’t enough patients to be a doctor, you know. No, no - I am a hatter.” (You weren’t quite sure if he’d said patients or patience.)
“A hatter?”
“Certainly! Except I don’t make hats.”
“You don’t make hats? How can you be a hatter, then?”
“One can be two things at once, can’t they?”
“Well, sure, but how can someone be one thing if they also are not?”
“How can you do the right thing but also not be doing the right thing?”
You thought about his question for a moment. “I’m not sure that a philosophical debate is going to explain how you can be a hatter if you don’t actually make hats.”
“If you aren’t sure, why bring it up at all?”
You blinked at him. He was both making sense and not, which only made you more and more confused.
The bear (or was it a hare?) offered you a cup of tea.
“No, thank you.”
He insisted.
Not wanting to seem impolite, you accepted, seating yourself at the table. “Well, alright. Maybe just half a cup, please.”
Pleased that you did, he held the cup up to one of the machines that was slicing bread. It sliced the teacup in half and he filled it up under another of the machines before handing it over to you. You took it, a little unnerved.
“Thank you very much,” was all you could think to say. “Do either of you know where I can find the white rabbit?”
“Well, sure. He always passes by at about twelve o’clock.”
“What time is it now?”
“Six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock?!” you jumped up. “In the evening?”
“Correct. Although,” the hatter took out a large pocket watch. In its background were tiny figure sketches of planes. “It is always six o’clock here.”
“How can it always be six o’clock here?” You leaned forward to peer down at the watch. It was very clearly broken, and it looked like there was a smear of butter along its side. “Your watch is broken,” you told him. Maybe that was why it was always six.
“It is, isn’t it. Such a nuisance!” He shook the watch dramatically.
“Why don’t you fix it? I’m sure you could figure out how.” You seated yourself back at the table, taking a sip of your tea.
“What makes you say that?” The eyes of his mask peered into yours.
“You built all these machines, didn’t you?”
“How do you know I built them?”
You thought about that for a moment. “Did someone else?”
“Of course not! Only I am capable enough to design such fantastic creations.”
A tinge of irritation formed as he spoke. “Is it six o’clock everywhere else? Or just here?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea! We’ve been having tea for - how long now?” The man turned to his neighbor. You still were not quite certain whether it was a hare or a bear.
Whatever it was, it grumbled out a reply.
“Right, about three days now.”
Three days? That’s quite a while to be having tea. “Well, I apologize gentlemen, but I really must be on my way.”
“You wouldn’t like to stay for another cup? We’re just about to switch seats.”
“No, I think I’ll be taking my leave now.” You stood from the table, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. The man tipped his hat to you.
“Good luck. I’m sure you’ll find the white rabbit before (L)ong. In fact, I don’t think he stands a chance!” He smiled at you.
You smiled back at him.
“You’re smiling at me,” he said.
“I am. Most people do when someone’s smiled at them first.”
“How can you tell I’m smiling?” His head cocked to the side, the lenses of his eyes glittering.
You weren’t really sure how to answer that; his mask was completely covering his face.
“Well, you were smiling, weren’t you?”
He just kept sipping his tea, which you now realized didn’t seem to make much sense; he was just tipping the cup up towards the beak of his mask.
Just as you were stepping away from the lavishly decorated table, the man spoke once more.
“Oh, and take him with you, too.” He pointed to the stuffed mouse. “All he does is sleep and take up space. There’s hardly enough room as it is.”
One of the machines gingerly picked up the little mouse, holding it out to you. “Hardly enough room? There’s plenty of chairs,” you said indignantly.
The man didn’t respond, simply letting a mechanical arm pour him another cup of tea. You sighed and took the little mouse into your arms before going off towards the forest. It was pretty poorly made, you noticed. The stitching looked all wrong. You dismissed it, and kept going. It was as good a direction to head as any, you figured. And besides, there was nowhere else to go, save for the hall you’d come out from. The forest was very peaceful, although a great many signs were hanging from the trees. They pointed this way and that, which you found particularly unhelpful. You just kept walking in a straight line through the forest, hoping you’d come across some kind of path or trail. If you didn’t, you supposed it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. You were sure you’d come across something, if only you walked for long enough.
You came across something, indeed. As you were walking, quite innocently at that, you heard a loud noise coming from deeper within the forest. The unmistakable sounds of branches splitting cut through the air. You stopped, looking nervously into the forest’s shadows. After a minute or so, you didn’t hear anything more, and so, with a quick glance behind you, you kept walking forward. Sure enough, the sounds began again, much louder this time. You had the feeling something was coming towards you. Something big. Just as soon as that thought entered your mind, a large snake came burbling out from deep within the woods.
Feeling very much like your life was now in danger, you ran off in the other direction. Its jaws bit into the air, its eyes aflame as it followed. You ran faster, your dress catching on twigs and bushes in your way. The beast drew nearer, slithering between the trunks of trees. Nothing seemed to slow it down, any and all obstacles were pushed aside by the ferocious monster. It hissed as you leapt over mangled roots, ducked under clouds of thick leaves, and wove between the trees’ wide torsos. All the while, the enormous snake was only coming closer. You turned back to look into its black eyes, running as fast as you could, when you remembered something.
“Wait!” you cried out, skidding to a stop. You practically fell as you did so, the snake also coming to a halt. You held the mouse up to it. “This is yours, isn’t it?” The snake slithered forward a little, lifting its head to look at the tiny mouse. It approached and coiled up around your legs and waist, grabbing the mouse in its jaws. It even draped itself over your neck momentarily, it was a very heavy snake, before it slithered off peacefully.
Glad you weren’t about to be eaten, you let out a breath and looked around. You’d been walking aimlessly before, but now you didn’t even remember what direction the hatter and the hare were in. With nowhere else to go, and remembering the strange ramblings of the cat, you set forth in the direction the snake had gone. Hopefully you were going the right way. Although, here, there seemed to be no right or wrong ways, you mused.
You’d been going for no short amount of time, when the trees around you seemed to shift. It wasn’t outright frightening, the way they lengthened and towered over you, but eerie just the same.
“I hear you’ve met the Jackerwock,” a voice called to you from up in one of the trees.
You turned to see the cat, stretched out along a branch. He was reclining against the trunk, his hat tipped forward over his eyes like he’d been napping. His striped tail swished back and forth under him.
“I have. And you know, I really don’t appreciate constantly being chased by giant snakes. A warning next time would be nice.”
“Constantly?” The cat lifted his hat to look at you, his grin only stretching wider.
You hadn’t meant to say that, but you didn’t correct yourself either. “And I’m really getting tired of being lost.”
“Come have a catnap with me, then. It really is much more comfortable up here than it looks.”
“I don’t mean that kind of tired,” you huffed. “I need to find the white rabbit.”
“The white rabbit, you say?” He tipped his hat back forward over his eyes. As he did, it fell over his entire body, swallowing him up. “I believe he’ll be at the trial,” another voice said.
When you turned, you saw his signature grin floating above another tree’s branch. When you blinked, the rest of his form was there, too. His grin only stretched at your obvious confusion.
“Come down from there,” you told him. “I can’t have a conversation with you if you’re always appearing and disappearing like that.”
He grinned wider still. “Certainly, my dear.” He stepped off of the bough of the tree, floating languidly down in front of you. His coat fluttered behind him.
“What did you say about a trial?”
“There’ll be a trial later. The queen is prosecuting the knave.” The cat dug through the pocket of his jacket, producing a tiny queen of hearts playing card. Printed on the back was the date and time for a trial.
“¡Todos son bienvenidos!”
“All are welcome!”
You read the card over, before handing it back to the grinning cat before you. He tucked it back into his pocket.
“How do I get to the trial?”
“You could always steal something from the queen. Then, they’d have one just for you,” he winked.
“How do I get to the one for the knave?” you said, unamused.
“Ah,” he stepped aside. “Why, it’s right over there, I believe.”
Leading out from where the trees of the forest had formed a sort of wall around you, was a path. Flowers blossomed along its sides, leading out towards what looked like a grand palace.
“I wish you would stop doing that, Cat.”
“Stop doing what?”
“Whatever it is you’re doing!”
“What am I doing?”
“I don’t know! Making everything seem strange.”
“Who’s making everything seem strange?”
“You are!”
“I am what?”
You set your hands on your hips and turned away from the mischievous feline.
“Everything feels different here,” you muttered to yourself as you made your way over to the path. “Everything is wrong.”
“Is everything wrong?” he inquired, leaning against his cane. “Or simply not the same?”
When you looked back at him, he was gone. His cane, which had momentarily been upright, fell with a thump into the grass.
Trying to ignore the strange creature, you turned back and set off down the path. The palace came closer into view. It was mostly red, with some emerald green accents. It was tall and imposing, with large columns standing before the entrance. In the gardens before it was a large maze, that, upon closer inspection, held a variety of rather deadly obstacles. Cleavers hung above certain pathways, ready to fall at the pull of a tripwire; Maces swung side to side, and there was even a pit of fire further in. If you were being honest with yourself, which you often tried to be, you most certainly did not want to go in there. You stood at the beginning of the maze, looking in. You had the feeling that this wasn’t the first time you’d had to pass such weapons to get somewhere.
The maze’s bushes whispered to each other as a breeze swept your dress side to side. You supposed this might be the only way home. What if there was nobody else who knew how to get out of this place? Save for the cat, you supposed. He struck you as someone who knew much more than he’d like you to believe. You doubted he’d ever be much helpful, although he did point you in the direction of the trial. You mulled over these things before deciding to step in.
You heard conversation off in the distance, so that was the direction you tried to go, and despite the dead ends and violent weapons being directed towards you, you ended up finding where the voices were coming from. You rested your hands gently against the maze’s bushes, peeking around the corner.
“Duchess!” a monotone voice cried out. “You are under arrest!”
The voice was coming from a small robot. It, along with the few others around it, was dressed in a red and black suit. The front bib, instead of being white as one would expect, was patterned with card suits. The hearts stood out, bright red whereas the other suits were black and slightly smaller.
“Under arrest? Me?” The old woman the robot was addressing put a hand to her chest. She had a short afro and a long white dress, open in the front to reveal thick layers of frill. She was also holding a small parasol, protecting her face from the sun. She seemed familiar somehow, like you were looking at an old friend.
“For the crime of kidnapping our majesty’s beloved pet-”
“I daresay that was an accident. You know, my eyes aren’t what they used t-”
“-you shall be beheaded momentarily!”
You gasped softly. Beheaded!
One of the robots must have heard you, because it looked in your direction. “Intruder!” it accused once it noticed you.
You figured you ought to duck your head back behind the corner and run off the other way, but you worried that the poor woman might end up being taken along to the guillotine if you did. You did notice, however, that she didn’t seem particularly worried.
“I’m not an intruder,” you said, emerging from behind the corner. “I’m looking for the knave’s trial.”
One of the robots nodded. “It is due to begin soon.”
“Perhaps one of you could escort me there? I’m terribly lost.”
The moment your request left your mouth, the different robots began to disperse amongst “I’m quite busy”s and “I am needed elsewhere”s. You watched them go, noting their apparent lack of work ethic.
“I can always help you along to the trial, dear. It’s just this way.” She smiled and walked over, linking your arm with hers affectionately. “I’ll have plenty of time to show you the way, now that I’m not to be killed.” Her voice was oddly cheery considering the subject. “And the moral of this is that sometimes miracles do happen!” She winked.
As strange as the Duchess was, you couldn’t help but smile. She led you through the maze, although your worry over her safety grew with every step. Perhaps she didn’t notice the arrows that shot at your back before you turned the corner, or maybe she didn’t hear the spears falling down to where you’d stepped forward from almost a moment too soon, but she was not swayed by the maze’s various deterrents. Instead, the two of you kept walking, as though you were taking a leisurely stroll through the park, towards the palace.
“I believe the queen is finishing up a game right now. When she does, the trial is sure to start,” she told you.
“A game?”
She nodded. “She does fencing, I believe. With swordfish. Except she doesn’t use any of that ridiculous safety equipment.”
“Won’t she have you arrested if she sees you?”
“Probably. And the moral of that is, ‘revenge is a double edged sword.’”
She said this quite confidently, but you weren’t sure that it really made sense. Even so, the two of you quickly fell into conversation. She seemed to be a very kind woman, although on more than one occasion you had to repeat what you’d said rather loudly into her ear.
After a while of walking, you noticed that you were indeed nearing the entrance to the palace. It seemed twice as beautiful the closer you got, and ten times as large. As you exited the maze, you helped the Duchess up the stairs to the castle. Looking back, you saw that the maze was in the shape of a large rectangle, a heart-shaped garden in the center. You went to the door, standing at least twice your height in front of you. It was, as well as the columns behind you, decorated lavishly. The Duchess bid you farewell as you entered the great castle.
Letting the doors close quietly behind you, you stepped into the foyer. Crimson velvet carpets stretched forward and up two sides of a large staircase. Where they joined, branching off into halls on opposite sides, there was a large painting on the wall. Looking back at you was a young woman, thick hair pulled back and shaped up into two curves over her head. The silhouette of her hair reminded you of a heart, the lines of her face drawing down into a thin jaw. Where her hair was pulled back and secured at the front, it was a beautiful red, but the two large curves of curls were not. As you stepped forward, you saw that most of her hair was dyed a dark emerald green. It was beautiful, shining under painted light like strands of jewels. A voice from deeper in the castle brought your attention from the magnificent portrait.
“¡El juicio está comenzando! ¡El juicio está comenzando!”
“The trial is beginning! The trial is beginning!”
Realizing you’d been distracted, you hurried forward, pulling the skirt of your dress up with one hand as you ascended the staircase. You heard a large sea of voices coming from one hall, and you quickly went in that direction. After poking your head into a few rooms while the voices grew louder, you eventually stepped into a wide ballroom. The domed ceiling was painted beautifully, and a large chandelier hung down from its center. You only regarded it a moment, as your attention was grabbed quickly by the ruckus before you. You noticed the queen, sitting atop a throne at the head of the room. Her dress was as captivating as her hair: puffed sleeves, bulbous skirt, and a tight corset. Forming her collar, and visible under her top skirt, were ruffles of cards.
At her side, the white rabbit. He was dressed as he had been earlier, the white of his outfit a stark contrast next to the queen’s dark reds. His limbs were still wrapped in bandages, you wondered what for. Robots bustled to and fro, all wearing their red and black suits. A variety of others, both humans and not, crowded the room. There were seats, arranged similarly to that of a courthouse, but most were mulling about in the middle of the room. Through the mass of people, someone standing before the queen caught your eye. He was looking right at you, although you couldn’t see his face. His arms and hands were skinny, skeletal almost. He was wearing a long white blouse and trousers, with no socks or shoes. He looked sickly. And sad, you thought, with a pang in your chest. Within an instant, he was gone as people passed in between the two of you.
“Order, order!” The white rabbit tried, desperately, to silence the crowd.
His efforts did little, however, until the queen spoke in a booming voice. “SHUT UP!”
Everyone stopped talking immediately, rushing to their seats. As the path before you cleared, you noticed the man whose face you had not quite seen was standing with his back to you, facing her and the rabbit. He was in chains, two large robot guards standing at his sides.
“You may read the accusation, Rabbit,” the queen beckoned.
He nodded and pulled out a scroll. He read it aloud; it was a poem of some sort, detailing how the Knave of Hearts stole the Queen(of Hearts)’s tarts. Surely, there would be more to it than just a silly poem, you thought doubtfully.
“First witness,” the rabbit announced. “Hatter!”
The hatter from earlier stepped forward. You hadn’t even noticed he was there! Sure enough, when you looked through the crowd, you met the eye of the hare (or was it a bear?). He waved at you happily with a paw.
The queen groaned. “Oh. It’s you.”
The hatter glared at her defiantly. “Yes, it is.” He took a sip from the teacup in his hand. “And I didn’t see anything!”
“Are you blind?” the queen asked him.
“Of course I’m not blind,” he spat. “How could I be a hatter if I’m blind?”
He wasn’t a hatter at all, you thought to yourself.
“Then you must have seen something.”
“I most certainly did not,” he said. “I was having tea.”
“A complete boondoggle,” the queen muttered. “So you have no evidence?”
“Boondoggle?” The hatter looked offended. “Teatime is the most important time of my day.”
His companion in the crowd yelled something to him.
“Yes, and the only time in my day, at that!”
“It’s a waste is what it is,” the queen told him. “There are much more interesting things to do with one’s time. Like executing people, for example!”
“No wonder your hair is so large,” the hatter said. “It has to make up for how tiny your brain is!”
She rose from her throne growling. He gulped. The crowd fell into a tumultuous boom.
Really, they looked like bickering children, you said to yourself.
“Off with his head!” the queen yelled.
The hatter jumped and ran out the doors, chased by a few robots.
“Who’s the second witness?” The queen turned to the rabbit.
“The Duchess,” he declared. “Duchess!”
When nobody stepped forward, a robot leaned in to whisper in the rabbit’s ear. He nodded.
“I believe you asked the Duchess to be executed, your majesty.”
“Did I?” It didn’t seem like she fully remembered. “Oh, well. Next witness!”
“Those are the only two witnesses, your majesty.”
She hummed and then announced to the court. “Then, he shall be executed! Off with his head!”
“Wait!” you cried. “Is that it?”
You stepped forward before the queen. The knave’s head turned slightly to look at you.
Something about him seemed oddly familiar. The sensation of having forgotten something, or someone, tore through your chest once more.
“What are you babbling about, peasant,” the queen demanded.
“That was the most ridiculous trial I’ve ever seen! There was not a single piece of evidence presented to warrant execution, let alone a single piece presented at all.”
The queen turned her head away from you, clearly insulted at your judgment of her system.
“There are no more witnesses,” the rabbit said. “He has no defense.”
“So you’ll slaughter a potentially innocent man?”
“'Slaughter' isn't quite-”
“I’ll be his defense.” You stepped beside him, looking fiercely into the rabbit's eyes.
The queen watched you for a moment, before standing from her throne once more to speak. “If you decide to place yourself in the position of his defense, should he be found guilty and charged, you will be charged with the same sentence.”
“If he’s beheaded, I will be, too, then?”
“Correct.”
You lifted your chin. “Fine.”
The queen sat back down, crossing one leg over the other. She gestured to the rabbit to continue.
“What is your defense?” he asked.
You tried to think. You weren’t a lawyer! “Well, the only accusation is that from a poem. How can that determine guilt?”
“Because it says he stole the tarts. You can read it yourself.”
“It’s hogwash.”
The crowd gasped.
The rabbit spoke. “Do you, or don’t you have any evidence to prove his innocence?”
You were feeling nervous now. You were sure they couldn’t prove his guilt, but neither could you easily prove his innocence.
You turned to the knave to ask him if he had an alibi.
“No speaking to the accused!” the rabbit yelled.
“No speaking to the accused?! I’m his defense!” You felt anger bubbling up under your skin. “This entire court is a disgrace to the very concept of justice!”
The queen gasped. “Off with her head!”
“Nonsense. If you do not have a reason to convict the knave, you do not have a reason to behead him.”
The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, in awe that you were arguing against the court. The white rabbit stepped forward.
“Need the consequences for the knave being found guilty be repeated? Can you, in good faith, take on such risk just to protect a dying man?”
You looked over to the knave, his head hanging low. His cheeks were hollowed out, his skin gray and dull.
A dying man.
“Of course I will.” You stepped forward. “I will always try to protect the people that I care about.”
Your mind began to swim. How did you know him?
“Even if you’ll lose your life for it?”
“You know nothing of family if you can't comprehend why I would gladly sacrifice myself to help him.”
Your mouth and your mind were working separately. Each word tumbled from your lips like habit, while your brain desperately scrambled to keep up.
“You’re nothing but a pathetic martyr!”
“And you’re nothing but a silly rabbit who cannot understand the ideas of love!”
The white rabbit was silent.
“If I do not help him, who will? Surely, not you. Not you, safe behind the judge’s stand. Nor you,” you turned to someone in the audience. “You’re only here to be entertained.” You faced the rabbit again. “No, I must do it. Because there is nobody else to.”
He considered you for a moment. “And what about yourself, then? Who will be there to help you as you’re led to the guillotine?”
You faced him with fire in your eyes. “Myself.”
He watched you.
“I will be there for myself. And I will neither tremble nor plead.”
The crowd began to roar.
“And I,” the queen said. “I will be there, too.”
You looked at her, surprised. She just gave you a knowing smile.
“And I!” The hatter came in from behind you.
“Braw raur!” His companion stood.
The audience's voices throughout the ballroom were deafening.
“And I.” The cat appeared beside you, one hand on your back. His grin tilted towards you.
Everyone leapt forward out of their seats. Their yelling faded as you appeared outside the castle in the garden at the center of the maze. A puff of smoke whirled around your feet momentarily before dissipating into the cool air.
“I daresay you’ve turned that idiot court up onto its head. Well done, my dear.”
You put a hand to your head, disoriented. There was a beautiful fountain at the center of the garden. Flowers bent and waved at your feet. Somewhere behind you, a bird chirped.
“I suppose you've had enough trouble for one day.” He led you forward gently, towards where there was an open door in the maze’s wall. The space behind it was just more bushes. “You’ll find your home through that door.”
You leaned to look through it.
“That’s not a door.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and try it? If you think you can handle whatever’s on the other side, of course.”
You turned to look at him.
“You’re not really a cat, are you?” you asked him.
He smiled at you, almost affectionately. “Not quite.”
“What are you then?”
“I haven’t the time to either explain or wish you farewell.” He smiled. “So, hello, Assistant.”
And with that, he pushed you forward.
You awoke in your bed with a start. The figure in the oil painting was back.