Wonder

Hours earlier, Alice had eaten a beautifully crumbly jam tart. The base had been thick and stodgy like a sodden carpet which had draped the floor of her mouth with buttery goodness. The filling was a luscious sweet red jam that spilt over the edges, dripping like morning dew. Over the top there was a crumbly coat of sugar and butter mixed with almonds that had been crisp as the coldest winter morning but warm as crackling fire. The tart was everything Alice could have hoped for in a delectable dessert but then why did her stomach feel weird? Not the normal weird that Alice prized herself with, the odd weird that is very dangerous.

One of Alice’s favourite pass times, not passing time of course as that would anger him so, but what she loved to do in the afternoons on long summer days was to sit in the meadow where it had all began 10 years ago. Her head lay back against the hard nooks in the weeping willow as her eyes snacked on the delicious surrounding; blue bells that chimed to the rhythm of the breeze, buttercups that smothered the ground with its succulent spread, dandelions that waved their manes ferociously in the wind and if you listened close enough you could hear the roars fading in and out. Everything was just as it should be, weird and wonderful, but her gut had an odd feeling in it ever since that jam tart. Maybe the sugary syrup had stuck? Maybe the crumble had clumped? Maybe it was a warning?

Just as her eyes were taking one last bite out of the fresh afternoon sky, the weeping willow opened her mouth in one big crying sob and Alice went tumbling down into the hole. The rabbit hole. She floated down like a twirling helicopter, but something was different than last time. The walls of the hole had been chipped away, the pink salmon wallpaper tore back to reveal clumps of mud; the furniture had become dusted with the icing sugar of old age and the clocks all had ticked their last tock. Her pale blue slippers plopped onto the white tile of the chess board beneath her; thank goodness otherwise she would have to wait for the black’s to make their first move. So, moving swiftly onwards, Alice tiptoed onto each new white tile and made her way to the room of doors. But to Alice’s dismay it was now the room of un-doors.

Each of the colourful wooden doors had been ripped off their hinges, the doorways were constantly gaping at her with exasperation as if they couldn’t believe it either. “Well I guess that means I don’t need a key then,” Alice said smugly to herself while she stepped through the un-door which had teacups painted across its brim. Hastily, she walked down the checkerboard path before someone could sweep it away. As she turned the corner to pass a large oak tree she felt a claw swipe the ribbon in her hair. Quickly she pointed her nose up to find a catfish looking her dead in the eyes. His ginger fur covered his entire front half like a gingerbread biscuit but from the bottom downwards was the scaly tail of a fish like an orange chainmail. “pardon me good sir,” Alice spoke, “but I believe that this ribbon is mine.” The catfish carried on staring at her with a sly look in his eyes as she carried on walking down the path. There was something fishy about him, thought Alice.

Her fingers wrapped around the gate handle of the Hatter’s garden and as she pulled it open it made a ghastly sound, not dissimilar to a cracking teacups. “why is a clothing rack like a lion?” came a voice from a few meters away. The Mad Hatter sat on his pink cushioned armchair and sipped from an empty, chipped teacup. His eyes buzzed around as if watching a fly, but really he was just mad.

“why is a clothing rack like a lion?” Alice returned.

“because they both have coats” Beamed the Hatter. Now Alice knew there was something terribly wrong in Wonderland after all. Hatter was not nearly as mad as he once was, Hatter had never been able to answer his own riddles. What was happening? Alice perched at the edge of a seat to try get a closer look at the Hatter. Just then the March Hare came hopping back from the kitchen with a tray of baked goods. Carrot cake, carrot pie, carrot roulade and what looked like carrot crumble was placed in front of Alice like a masterpiece of artwork. There was a twitch in the Hare’s left eye, it kept closing rapidly as if his eyelids wanted to share a secret with each other. Alice needed to investigate.

“I am awfully sorry good sirs, but I must dash, lots of people to do and things to meet” she sung. But before her hand could leave the surface of the crinkled tea stained tablecloth, the Hatter smashed his teacup on it. Alice flinched but Hatter remained firm.

“don’t go Miss Alice,” Hatter pleaded, “don’t leave. He’ll get you too.”

“who will?” Alice trembled

“Yes. Yes indeed Miss Alice,” the Hatter replied. “I was thinking the same thing. March Hare, who will get the next round of tea?”

Knowing that she would never get the answer out of him now, Alice quietly retreated from the table while the next number kicked in. As she ventured further and further into Wonderland, the wonder part become stranger and stranger. She passed the Caterpillar on his mushroom a few times before deciding to ask for directions. Knowing too well that she would spend half an hour introducing herself she started with “Hello again, Mr Caterpillar, I am Alice”

“Yes I know who you are,” he replied in a solemn voice. His pipe was no longer to be seen; in fact his appearance was a lot clearer without the smoky haze surrounding him. Noticing Alice’s interest in the lack of colourful murky letters filling the air he proceeded to tell her about his newfound lung cancer. Which was not a surprise to Alice as he had smoked like a piece of smoked salmon. That is when it clicked again. Wonderland was losing its strangeness.

Passing more of her friends she once knew, she realised that all of them were less abnormal than they were 10 years ago. Cheshire looked like he was having an off day and almost looked as though he had been frowning, the White Rabbit was not late, the dodo had finally gone extinct, and the Queen had not had any recent executions. The wonder was fading from Wonderland, and she needed to get it back.

 Then, from behind an old weeping willow came a dark figure and instantly Alice knew it was the he, that Hatter had been talking about. Time. Time was his name.

“Why Alice, what a nice surprise,” Time chimed, “I hope you haven’t come to ruin my plans” the right of his moustache made a jerk upwards to show that it was almost six o’clock. His fingers were gripping a clock and his eyes ticked back and forth between her and the face in his hands. It all made sense in Alice’s mind. The clocks not ticking. The Hatter, the Hare, the Cheshire, everyone. Time had passed. Time had passed all of them; and with that he took their childish wonder.

“Alice,” Time rang, “ you seem to old to be playing such childish games. I obviously have missed you out. I haven’t passed you quite yet my dear”

Alice didn’t want to grow up. Alice didn’t want to lose her strangeness. She needed to escape time. She needed to escape the fate of her Wonderland friends. Without hesitation Alice jumped for the weeping willow and found herself back in the meadow. Back with the blue birds and bluebells.

She must have eaten a bad jam tart. But now she knew she couldn’t let time pass by. She needed to use it all. So, with the in mind, Alice never returned to the meadow to pass away her summer afternoons, but she decided to use Time to her advantage and did childish, wonderful mischief and always made time for tea.