Down the Rabbit Hole (Again)

This is just a little short story I wrote. Feel free to comment with your opinion. Any criticism is welcome, good or bad!

Alice stood up, her joints creaking, and her cane shaking with the force that she was leaning on it. She felt that a walk around the garden was in order. The nervous housekeeper hurried forward, anxious to help, but Alice impatiently shrugged her aiding arm away. She was getting more and more stubborn and opinionated with the day. She determinedly tuned out the protests from the staff, refusing any offers of help. She kept repeating continuous, irritable claims that she had to check on the progress of that lazy gardener ("The slacker!") and made her steady, increasingly more determined way to the door.

Once out, she breathed a sigh of relief at the breath of fresh, clean air. A light breeze ruffled her white, sparse hair. She hadn't felt the need to get outside like this since... She pushed the thought away. She hobbled towards the woods, stumbling occasionally on the uneven ground. The fall leaves crunched underneath her feet with every cumbersome step, and a slight chill nipped at the air, leaving her nose as red as a cherry tomato. She continued her surprisingly rapid progress, as if she were possessed. She hadn't moved this way since... She pushed the thought away again. She had no idea where she was going. She only knew that she had to get somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, and fast. Once she entered the woods, she continued on a bit, her skirt snagging at branches she was unable to hop over anymore, at the ripe old age of 89. She stopped at what seemed like a familiar spot, but she couldn't be entirely sure. Her memory wasn't as acute as it once was. She surveyed the area, squinting skeptically. "Huh," she grunted, vaguely satisfied. "It'll have to do." She decided to ease herself down slowly into a sitting position at what looked to be a nice spot. There was a rustle in the underbrush not too far away, followed by the cracking of twigs and a dissatisfied, "Oof!" Alice searched for her spectacles, straining her eyes trying to see what had made the sound. She found them atop her head. Then a white rabbit slowly took several slow steps, loosely resembling the bounds they might have once been, one hand at his aching back. "I'm late! I'm late!" it cried in a quavering voice. "Oh no! I'm late!" Alice did a double take. All this was startlingly familiar, too, almost reminiscent of... But Alice had blocked the memory from her mind so long she could no longer recall what it had consisted of, specifically. The white rabbit had apparently goaded itself into scurrying, because it gave an almost youthful scamper and disappeared down a rabbit hole concealed right next to Alice, appearing not to notice her. Alice leaned a little to the side to peer curiously in the hole, pushing the overgrown grass aside, and her balance was easily overthrown. She teetered on the edge and then, barely snagging her cane, she was hurtling down into endless blackness.

            Once again, she was falling for what seemed like forever. The feeling of being weightless was one she hadn't felt in a long time. She was old, and gravity had been tugging down on her since age 45, her feet staying firmly planted on land all the while. She tiredly wondered which longitude she was at now, triggering unintentionally a lifetime worth of memories, concealed within a very eventful, and long forgotten, day.

            All her cherished and beloved memories came flooding back to her. She had relived each one daily, hoping that they would come to pass again, but they never did. Until now. Now, of all times, when she had banished all those memories from her mind from age 50, bitterly assuming she was too old for adventures. She had forbidden anyone to speak of her adventure, because she could not bear to think of what she could not have anymore. She stayed, alone, friendless and without family, in her quiet house swarming with her staff, almost a hermit, and by choice. She barred all others from her life, never venturing out, no one coming in. It was the way she liked it, or so she thought. Until her comfortable, heavily aided life became cloying. Until she craved the freshness of the air outside, the scent of adventure. Until today.

            She was hastily returned to reality with an uncomfortable, "Ker-WHUMP!" and the sound of her back giving out. She used her knobbly, arthritic fingers to feel the damage, and grimaced. That would do nothing for her rheumatism. When she was done being preoccupied with her back, she stood up, grasping her trusty cane, and gazed around the room. She saw, as expected, a hall. However, the hall was no longer brightly colored. The furniture and tapestries were faded, and everything was covered in a liberal coat of dust. Alice saw, once again, the garden, through the tiny door, but it was overgrown, and everything was wilted, dying, and brown. She frowned, but had no intention of crying a puddle of tears, as before, that engulfed the entire room. She could still see the water stains. She approached the EAT ME cake and the DRINK ME bottle. The cake was stale and moldy. It looked like it had been kept in the room, uneaten, for 76 years, which it probably had. A fermented scent was coming from the bottle, and it pervaded the air in the room unpleasantly. Alice wrinkled her nose. She reached out, and after several shaky tries, grabbed the tiny, tarnished key. It was so rusty it would be a wonder if it fit in the lock. She unsuccessfully tried to scrape of some of the rust, then, bracing herself, drank the foul smelling drink. The shrinking effect had somewhat faded over time, so she did not shrink as small as last time. She hoped the same could be said for the cake, as some things become extra concentrated over time. She opened the door, cake in hand, and then, remembering the mouse and the fish that had appeared last time. She looked back to find a mouse skull, several decaying fish carcasses, and a few more aged fish flopping around on the decidedly dry carpet. Alice cringed at the sight. "Au revoir!" she said aloud, in tribute to the mouse, thinking to herself that time had definitely not stopped in Wonderland.

            Alice successfully entered the key into the lock and opened the door. She decided to stay of small stature for her jaunt across the garden, and set off through the overgrown, dying forest of plants. It took an incredibly long time, but at last, she reached the spot where the rabbit was due to appear. Thankfully, he was just as slow as she. He strode with difficulty and a limp to where she is standing, and then creaked in his ancient, wheezy voice, "Mary Ann, my dear. Please enter my humble abode and collect for me the Duchess's gloves and fan. My memory is so bad that I appear to have forgotten to grab them, and I now cannot remember where they are. My eyesight, however, has receded too much to search for them. Now where are my spectacles?" With that lengthy speech, he squinted around, then pulled out a pair of gold rimmed pince-nez, then gave a little start and squeaked, "Quickly, Mary Ann! I must have them at once! I'm very late!" Now there, Alice noted, was the old White Rabbit; impatient, anxious, eager to please, and not punctual at all. She hobbled off to retrieve the gloves and fan, thanking her lucky stars that the rabbit had not noticed her diminutive size.

Once she reached the White Rabbit's house, she struggled to reach the doorknob, standing on the tips of her toes and reaching her arm up as far as her back spasms would allow. As soon as her fingers made contact with the door, however, it swung open on its hinges. Alice walked inside, wondering where the gloves and fan could possibly be concealed. Thankfully, though, they were in plain sight on a nearby dressing table. Alice snagged the objects, and began to walk as quickly as she could toward the door, hoping to make a quick getaway before she inevitably began to grow. She did not want to trouble poor Bill the Lizard again, so he could keep to his gardening duties. Unfortunately, just as she was reaching for the handle again, she shot up, her head breaking through the ceiling in a shower of wood planks and rubble. “Bill!” she heard the rabbit screech from outside. “Bill! Come quickly and climb down the chimney!” Poor Bill came. Luckily for both his and Alice’s sake, lizards live an incredibly long time, and Bill was no worse for the wear. He was surprisingly spry for his age, and a lot less nervous than he was 76 years ago. He climbed down the chimney in a trice. However, neither of them was sure what he should do once down the chimney, so they both sat there avoiding each other’s gazes uncomfortably. Alice’s arm, as before, was dangling out the window, and all the town gossips were coming to gawk, wheeling their wheelchairs and hobbling shakily on canes. Their voices, like rusty gates, penetrated the damaged walls of the White Rabbit’s home, carrying tales of a “giant among creatures,” and how she would eat everyone alive in their beds. “It’s been scientificishally proven!” cried a particularly active busybody pompously, reveling in her own knowledge. “The only way to banish it to its land above the clouds is to cast stones at it!” she claimed self-importantly. The other creatures, awed by her smarts, obeyed her advice. The stones, once again, immediately turned into little cakes, which Alice eagerly partook of. She was tired of being large, and famished from the day’s walking. She shrunk back to her normal size quite quickly, or almost normal at least. She was still a foot and a half shorter than she had been before the adventure began.

However, Alice still had no intention of crying a lake of tears. She began to walk towards the mushroom where she knew the caterpillar would reside, muttering a quick apology to the rabbit and Bill and handing him the gloves and fan. Upon approaching the mushroom, Alice’s first impression was that the mushroom was very shriveled and dry. Her second thought was, Whatever happened to the caterpillar? For the caterpillar’s hookah lay unused, and the caterpillar himself was nowhere in sight. She walked around to the other side of the mushroom, scanning for any sign of him fleeing. On the other side, curled up in a tight ball, was the unmistakable corpse of the caterpillar. “Farewell, old friend,” said Alice sadly. However maddening he was to talk to, he was still a friend. Alice ate each side of the mushroom in turn, preparing to be screamed at, ogled, and assumed to be a serpent, but all she saw above the trees was a clump of feathers floating idly through the air, and a very satisfied looking fat cat. Alice sighed bleakly, then skillfully ate the right ratio of mushroom to make herself small enough for a small estate. She walked in. The house was in an extreme state of disrepair. There were cobwebs scattered everywhere, an inch of dust on everything, and no lamps lit anywhere in the house. There was, however, a warm yellow glow issuing from the kitchen. Alice stepped around a rather large spider and made her way to the kitchen. She walked in to observe a middle aged man, who must have been the Duchess’s baby during the first Wonderland expedition, two very, very ancient ladies, almost antique, and a tired looking Cheshire Cat. The cook was throwing dishes, right on cue, but the pepper in the soup was not making them sneeze properly. The cook expressed her frustration at this turn of events by throwing even more dishes, narrowly missing the occupants of the kitchen, until the kitchen was littered with shards of aged glass and there was not a whole dish in the entire room except for the cooking pot. The cook looked about ready to throw that, too. The Duchess, her son, the cat, and Alice each flinched, but before the deed was done, Alice hastily said, “Here, wait, let me examine the pepper first.” The cook obediently and patiently waited while Alice squinted at the label on the pepper, then cried in surprise, “Why, my dear woman, the expiration date on this pepper was 54 years ago! No wonder it isn’t peppery enough!” The cook looked astounded, but lowered the pot. The kitchen’s occupants looked immensely relieved. The cook mumbled something about getting some more at the supermarket, gathered a basket in her arms, and left. The Duchess and her son faked a sneezing fit dutifully, and Alice played along with the sniffles. Then the Duchess said, “Dear, won’t you hold the baby… Oh. Never mind.” She looked over and noting the size of her “baby.” Then she took a breath, to administer her confusing lecture of riddles, morals, and jumbled quotes, and Alice hobbled out of the kitchen at top speed. Once outside, she noticed the Cheshire Cat in a tree. “It was the other tree,” she helpfully informed the cat. The cat promptly climbed down, and scampered up the correct tree, thanking her profusely. “Now, dear girl… woman… lady, I mean, the March Hare’s house is over yonder… well, you know the drill,” said the Cheshire Cat obligingly. He then proceeded to disappear, leaving a pair of spectacles and a tired looking grin hovering in the air. What the grin lacked in enthusiasm, it made up for in size. A clump of graying fur fell to the ground. Alice tried to mimic the grin, but her dentures popped out with the effort. She picked them up and dusted them off, inspecting the damage, then slid them back in, smacking her lips to get rid of the dusty taste.

Alice hobbled to the March Hare’s home, eager to get the exhausting and infuriating tea party over with as soon as possible. It turned out, though, she needn’t have bothered. The March Hare had given up the ghost, and the Mad Hatter was nearly deaf. He didn’t hear her approach, and, due to her size, did not notice her, while the Dormouse stayed asleep the whole tea party. The Mad Hatter’s efforts to awaken him just weren’t as violent and effective anymore.  Alice managed to sneak three cakes and a cup of tea under their noses, and then set off to play croquet with the Queen, bracing herself for the worst.

Alice encountered the playing cards, once again, in the Queen’s garden. However, this time they were trying to grow roses. “This is just a tangle of branches and dagger sized thorns!” one cried. “We need roses, or we’ll be beheaded!” shrieked the second. The third only whimpered and moaned. Alice took into account the dying rose bush and the wilted, dry flower petals littering the ground, then grabbed a nearby hose. She didn’t know if her idea would work, but this was Wonderland, where anything was possible. She marched authoritatively over to the bushes and turned the spray of the hose on the whole row. The bushes magically grew green, and blossomed red roses left and right. The card soldiers gasped in admiration and sighed in relief, and then fell to their knees before her. “We can never express how grateful we are, madam,” breathed the seven of spades happily. “No, never,” echoed the nine of hearts and the two of clubs. Alice impatiently grunted, “Up, all of you,” then hurried grumpily to the croquet lawn.

The Queen, quite senile and gray haired, kept shouting orders, forgetting she did, and then screeching them again. The wrinkled King, quite composed, was sitting in a lawn chair nearby, contentedly fiddling with an ear trumpet.  What looked like an entire faded deck of cards, minus the three that had been fretting over the roses, were assembled on the lawn in neat rows facing the Queen. “Everyone grab a flamingo!” cried the Queen crudely, and there was an unceremonious rush to gather the finest flamingos, ideally the ones that were not standing slumped on one leg, heads tucked beneath a wing, sound asleep. Alice, to slow to get a prime flamingo, was stuck with one that was snoring like a freight train. “She’s tiny!” cried the Queen, pointing rudely at Alice. “Off with her…” The Queen trailed off, looking around bewilderedly, as if she had never seen the grounds before. “What was I saying? What are you all doing here? What are these flamingos doing here too? Why are you not attending to your duties?” the Queen said contradictorily. All the card soldiers rushed off to their jobs, hastily dropping their flamingos in their hurry. The Queen strode away, mumbling something about a bubble bath. The King had nodded off in his lawn chair and was oblivious to the world. The Cheshire Cat then slunk up, looking confused at his lack of audience. Alice had no time to inform him, however. She had an appointment with the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon.

She found the Gryphon, with the Mock Turtle sitting glumly beside him, exactly where she had expected them to be. With the mournful air of getting something over with, the Mock Turtle began a depressing ballad about being a real turtle in his youth. The aged Gryphon seemed to find his song an effective lullaby, for the slow beat and the soft notes combined lulled him to sleep. The Mock Turtle was soothed by the Gryphon’s consistent, rumbling snores, for he, too, drifted off to sleep. Alice found it took great effort not to drop off as well; her eyes were drooping and her breathing slowing and evening. She stifled a yawn, and forced herself to stand. Just then, an out of tune trumpet sounded, and a footman bellowed a royal summons for the jury. The two comatose creatures woke up with a start and a noise of surprise, shaking the sleep off in fluffy layers. Alice began to walk steadily to court, where she knew her presence was required for the trial to proceed.

Upon reaching the court house, Alice took a seat with the jury. “Order in the court!” called the King of Hearts, acting as the judge. He pounded the gavel, then adjusted his ear trumpet so as to better hear the evidence. “We will now hear from the first witness for the prosecution, after which the witness will be cross-examined.” The Queen of Hearts pompously conducted herself to the stand. “The prosecution recognizes the first witness,” called a lawyer, decidedly unqualified. The Queen recited smugly, with many flourishes, “The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer’s day. The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, and took them clean away.” She then reseated herself, looking quite pleased and self-important. A nervous looking doctor hurried up to the stand at her impatient snap of the fingers, quickly crossing his eyes and examining her through a magnifying glass. Alice heard Bill the Lizard (who was in the jury) remark that this wasn’t quite how cross-examining usually worked in his day, but it would have to do. The doctor for the defense retreated from the stand after professionally observing aloud, “The witness appears to be telling the truth.” The Knave of Hearts approached the stand, stooped over with wispy white hair, saying unconvincingly and simply, “I didn’t do it!” He then seated himself, twitching nervously. A more purposeful doctor strode importantly to the stand, doing the same as the doctor preceding him. “This vagabond,” he declared. “is blatantly lying.” The court gasped, shocked at that strong statement. After this bold assumption, first the Mad Hatter (who infuriated everyone with his evidence, which was very indirect), then the Duchess (who also infuriated the court with ceaseless riddles that she deemed to qualify as evidence), attended the stand. “The court,” said the exhausted King loudly (his ear trumpet had fallen askew and he was quite deaf without it). “will take a short recess to discuss the verdict. The court, followed curiously by Alice, went outside and rushed, shrieking, to an enormously creaky and rusty playground.

 “Recess!” the jury screamed, while Alice looked on. It was a mess of aged creatures, people, and voices, each complaining in turn, “My back!” “My leg! I think I’ve sprained my ankle!” “Oh, I’m too old for this!” “Ooh, did you hear Thelma Newt? She’s wheezing awfully!” Alice had to call some order to the situation. She called at the top of her lungs, “What’s the verdict?” “Guilty!” the jury replied unanimously, with one voice. Then a giant bell rang, and recess was over. “Awww!” whined the court, filing inside. “Single file, senior citizens!” briskly called the gruff old leader of the card soldiers. “Declare the verdict!” commanded the King, banging the gavel as the court was seated. The jury had chosen Alice as a prime candidate for delegate. “Guilty!” she cried. Everyone glanced apprehensively toward the Queen, who was twiddling her thumbs idly and gazing unconcernedly out the window. Then she remembered herself. “Oh, yes, off with his head!” she cried.

The executioner eagerly rushed forward, his back cracking and popping as he raised the dull bladed axe, which was encrusted with rust, and had a rotten wood handle. With a final, thundering, “POP!” Alice suddenly grew back to her normal size, which was several feet taller than her previous one. The Dormouse, startled at the noise, abruptly awoke. “You can’t grow like that! You’re taking up all the air!” he squeaked in complaint. The executioner stopped, staring in surprise at Alice. The King, taking Alice’s rapid increase in size to mean she had suddenly stood up, said, “Yes? Another witness to approach the stand?” Alice took the executioner flaunting the axe so it caught the light, shining with a dull sheen, to be her cue. She walked slowly towards the stand with cautious steps, careful not to knock over the jury box as she had before. She was very grateful that Rule Number 42 had been amended since her last visit. She stood dramatically in front of the stand, before saying, “He is guilty! He stole the tarts!” and then sitting down with great grandeur. “The FINAL verdict?” queried the King. “Very guilty!” quavered Bill the Lizard, acting as delegate. “Very well!” said the King. “Court will adjourn, and the beheading sentenced previously will still be administered!” The executioner, who had not beheaded anyone in years, rushed the rest of the way forward, swung the axe, and beheaded the Knave in a swarm of paper shreds, devoid of ceremony. There was a final pop, and Alice grew once more, breaking the ceiling. The card soldiers began to climb her cane, she could hear the Queen distantly hollering, “Off with her head!” but it didn’t matter. It was all so far away; there was a buzzing in her ears; everything was fading; her head was beginning to spin, and then, with a rush of wind, she was spiraling up to where she had sat next to the rabbit hole.

After that incident, Alice never shut out family, friends, or Wonderland from her life again. She accepted that she may be old, but she would never be too old for adventure. In fact, she recognized that adventure was too old for her. She lived until the ripe old age of 98, and enjoyed every minute of her rapidly dwindling life. And however failing her memory became, she never, ever forgot Wonderland. Ever. 

The End