Into the Library

A/N: This doesn't fit any sort of prompt on here that I know of. Its just an idea for a story I head, and I would appreciate any feedback you have to offer!

Alice walked into the library. It was a warm day, but its peak had passed. In England, it was surprising how quickly the temperatures could drop, even in July. She padded up the steps; she didn’t have enough energy to go any faster. The large doors loomed above her, open wide to let in some air, as the library was incredibly stuffy. A light breeze followed her in, as she stood to absorb the sight.

The library was the type of place that made you pause and look. It had originally been an Elizabethan Townhouse, but it had been converted slightly (to make it suitable for storing books). Still, it was impressive. On the first floor, the Factual and Other Non-Fictions section, towering bookcases lined the whitewashed walls, sticking out slightly where the blackened beams were. Small, latticed oriels rested above them, allowing the light to flow in at an odd angle. It landed in golden shafts before Alice, as if laying down a magnificent golden carpet just for her. The beams reared up high above her head, meeting at roughly 130°. The great, sweeping staircase was carved with beautiful, intricate wooden books. Some were shut, others open. The ones that were open spilled out various items, such as trailing ivy, a waterfall, a knight and some star constellations; the intention of these was to look as if the stories were coming to life.

Alice walked along the golden path to the staircase. It was the second floor she wanted, not the first. The second floor was easily as impressive. The beams here had been carved also, but these bore a liking to flowers and vines. They arched over her head, and, in the little varnished notches, small octagonal prisms of iron and glass served as lanterns. They had already been lit, and there flickering light merged with the sunshine emitted by the floor-length French windows along one wall. Along the other three, there were bookshelves, even larger than the ones one the first floor. Knowledge was good and all that, but a healthy imagination was worth more than all the factual books in the Oxford Library. For this floor was the fiction section, and Alice’s favourite.

She trotted to the mobile ladder, and swung it around to the fourth bookshelf along the left, climbed it so she could access the top shelf, and counted thirteen across from the right. It was there. Her favourite novel. Pulling it off the shelf, she sat on the top of the ladder and gently opened the covers of Alice in Wonderland, unabridged original with detailed illustrations by the author. No one knows how long she sat there, reading, but closing time came and went, the librarian locked up, and dusk fell. No one noticed the child in a blue summer frock who sat atop the ladder on the second floor of the Great Elizabethan Library.

The darkness was making it too difficult to read by now, and it was that jogged Alice out of her reverie. That, and also the fact that a purple cat was grinning at her from the opposite side of the library. She stood suddenly, letting the book fall from her lap to the floor. She hopped off the ladder and hurried across. He grinned broadly, exposing a smile like the crescent moon, then faded from view. Alice stopped dead in the tracks.

“What on e-”

“Care for a cup of tea, missus?”

She whipped around to see a hare sat on the rail of the ladder, holding a chipped piece of china that could only be a teacup. She backed away into the bookshelf, scared.

“It’s terribly rude not to answer, you know.” Giggled a voice behind her. A man jumped over her head, twisted mid-air, and landed in an extravagant bow.

“Mad Hatter, at your service.”

“Would you care for a cup of tea, missus?” repeated the hare. He was now clutching a bent teaspoon, and he rattled it irritatingly around the cup.

“I suppose…” She was more confused than scared now, and was beginning to feel curious. “Was that the Cheshire Cat I saw just then?”

“Indeed it was.” A deep, melodious voice said, slightly mournfully. She looked to the armchairs near the window, and saw a fat, green caterpillar puffing on a pipe. Smoke rings twisted like halos around his head, changing colour as she watched.

“Could you stop blowing smoke rings, Pillow? You’re tainting the tea.”

The Mad Hatter was sat next to the Hare now, energetically pouring milk into his cup, not seeming to notice it was flowing over his trousers and dripping down the ladder. Alice giggled.

“Pillow.”

“They are terribly immature for their age.” The caterpillar tutted, shaking his head. He refused to speak for the rest of the evening. Alice walked over, and sat on the bottom step, carefully avoiding the milk that was soaking into the carpet. A mouse popped his head out of the teapot.

“Do you like milk with your tea? And as for sugar, one, two, or three?” he squeaked.

“Two, I guess.” She said, still mildly dazed. The Cheshire cat reappeared, and took a swipe at the mouse, who ducked. She didn’t ask how they got out, she was just enjoying meeting the characters from her favourite book. The Hare buttered a scone with salted butter, then spooned jam.

“Salty butter and jam?” she asked, doubtfully.

“Of course, my dear.”

He handed it to her, and she took a bite. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she murmured.

A white rabbit popped out from behind some shelving, and hollered, “I’M LATE! I’M LATE!” before dashing off down the stairs.

“Well, bye then!” called the Hatter, leaning backwards.

Alice smiled, and took what looked like a Bakewell Tart from the cake stand.

“Take three to dunk in your tea!” the mouse advised.

She did as he had asked. Yet another surprise. She was feeling warm and sleepy. She was full, and contented. She lay down on the steps, and closed her eyes. The Hare generously covered her in a napkin.

“Sleep well, my dear.” Whispered the Hatter.

Her eyes closed, and didn’t open.

…

Someone was shaking her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up.

“Hatter?” she asked.

“Sorry dear?” the librarian looked baffled.

“Oh, sorry.” She said, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, dear. You just fell asleep here. I don’t know how we didn’t find you before.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know why I fell asleep,” Alice responded.