Alice in Wonderland- Through the Looking Glass

by Kari Sutherland

  Not sure what she could possibly say to fix things, Alice retreated. After one final glance at the Hatter’s trembling frame, she ducked through the front room and out into the sunlight.

  M ALLYMKUN and the March Hare sprang to their feet, their faces hopeful, when she emerged. Behind a fretful McTwisp, the Tweedles clustered together with Bayard, and Mirana’s arms floated out from her sides as she leaned forward expectantly. Alice felt the weight of her friends’ eyes on her.

  “He doesn’t even know who I am,” she admitted mournfully.

  At once, the group’s faces all fell. Alice bit her lip and trudged dejectedly away from the door. The Hatter had always been so confident in her, even when she wasn’t sure of herself. On her last trip to Underland, he’d insisted she was the Alice, the one they’d been waiting for, regardless of what anyone else said. Now he treated her like a stranger.

  “What’s happened to him?” Alice asked.

  “It’s as we feared.” Mirana’s voice trembled. “He’s caught a terrible case of the Forgettingfulness.”

  “The Forgettingfulness?” Alice repeated as they headed into the village.

  “It’s when things go in one ear…” Tweedledum pointed to his ear.

  “And out the other two,” Tweedledee finished, his hands flying away from his head.

  “It all goes back to the Horunvendush Day,” Mirana said. She stopped by a fountain and waved her hand over the water. In the spray, images of a fairground with colorful booths and smiling people appeared.

  “He has always somehow blamed himself for his family’s death,” Mirana continued as Alice recognized Hatter’s relatives in the scene.

  In it, Zanik and Tyva Hightopp stood talking under an old oak tree. His cousins loudly raced past as his aunt and uncle paused next to a DRINK ME stall.

  A trumpet blare announced the arrival of Mirana, who rode a white horse, the White Knight and Hatter following on foot behind her. Spotting his family, Hatter tentatively raised one hand to wave just as a dark shadow loomed overhead.

  With a defiant shriek, the Jabberwocky dove out of the sky. The dragon seemed just as fearsome as when Alice had faced it. Its skin was dark as pitch and covered in armor-like scales. Its razor-sharp claws swiped through the air. All around the fairground, people screamed and ran for cover.

  The Jabberwocky swung its massive head, the crest around its neck flaring as it roared out a stream of fire, lighting up booths and banners. Crackling sounds and smoke filled the air.

  As the White Knight charged forward to face the beast, Mirana’s horse reared in fright. Hatter lunged for the reins, jerked the horse around, and quickly led it and Mirana away from the clearing. Flames swallowed up the fairground.

  Mirana stared into the gurgling water of the fountain, remembering. Hatter had been so brave that day, whisking her away to safety. If only his family had been as fortunate. When Hatter returned to look for them, he had only found ashes.

  In the glittering spray of water, the image of a younger Hatter stood among the blackened wreckage of the Horunvendush celebration. His face was pained, matching the devastation that surrounded him.

  The image faded and the White Queen turned to Alice with a grave expression. “And he has lived ever since with the weight of their loss,” she said.

  Manifesting just over Mirana’s shoulder, Chessur’s bright green eyes flicked toward Alice. “So you see, dear Alice, like a tree, our present problem has its roots in the past…” he said.

  “I see,” Alice murmured. “I think.”

  “Which is why we were hoping you might go back into the past and save the Hatter’s family,” Mirana said, sweeping her hands together and pulling them to her chest.

  “Go back in time? But how?” Alice asked. She’d never considered such a thing before. If it was possible—oh, if it was—there were so many moments she’d like to relive! She could see her father again, maybe save him, too. Although, perhaps it was a magic that worked only in Underland.

  “The Chronosphere,” Chessur said, interrupting her thoughts, his voice loaded with something Alice couldn’t quite pin down. Was it awe? Like all the cats she’d ever known, Chessur never seemed to consider anything impressive or superior to himself. For him to use a tone of such deference was unusual…and intriguing.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said. “The Chrono-what?”

  “The Chronosphere. It’s the heart that powers Time. Legend has it, it lets one travel across the Ocean of Time,” Mirana explained.

  Alice looked around at all her friends. McTwisp was fiddling unconsciously with his pocket watch. The March Hare’s nose twitched uncontrollably, and Mallymkun glared up at Alice challengingly, as if she thought Alice would refuse to help. Scraping at the gravel of the road, the Tweedles shifted back and forth on their feet, while Bayard gazed at Alice with his large eyes. Floating lazily above them all, Chessur groomed his tail.

  “But why me?” Alice asked, turning back to Mirana.

  “None of us can use it because we’ve already been in the past. And if your past self sees your future self…” Mirana’s voice trailed off.

  “Yes?” Alice said, nudging. “What happens if your past self sees your future self?”

  “Well, no one actually knows,” Mirana admitted. “But we know it’s catastrophic.”

  “It sounds dangerous. And complicated,” Alice said.

  Chessur popped into the air next to Alice’s shoulder, startling her. “It’s not impossible, merely unpossible,” he said.

  Alice paused for a moment, but there was really nothing to think about. “Hatter is Underland, and Underland is Hatter. If he is in need, I will help him, no matter what.”

  The Tweedles broke into applause. His ears flopping, the March Hare leapt with joy, and Mallymkun nodded approvingly.

  Smiling, Mirana took Alice’s hands. “We rather hoped you might say that.”

  As far as Alice was concerned, there was no time to lose. The quicker she could get started, the quicker they’d get their beloved Hatter back. “And where exactly is this ‘Chronosphere’?” she asked.

  “In the hands of Time, of course,” Chessur purred.

  “Well, I suppose all things are,” Alice said. “But where is it now?”

  “In the hands of Time,” Mirana repeated. “It’s his.”

  Alice blinked. “I’m sorry. Time is a ‘he’?”

  Her friends nodded. Alice tried to imagine Time as a person, wasting away hours and minutes, never needing to worry about running out of himself. Or maybe he was vindictive; after all, Time flew when you were having fun, and dragged when you were miserable. Not to mention his habit of taking good people—like her father. Then again, perhaps he was just careless and flighty. You could never find Time when you needed it—him. Well, regardless, she was going to convince him she needed to borrow his Chronosphere.

  “So,” Alice said to Mirana, “where does Time spend himself?”

  Mirana turned and led Alice and the others into Marmoreal Castle. They walked for some time, winding up and down stone stairways and past abandoned tapestries, until they came to a part of the castle Alice had never seen before. The room they entered had a black-and-white marble floor, the tiles spiraling to the center, where the only object in the room stood, tall and imposing.

  It was an enormous black grandfather clock whose ticks and tocks echoed loudly in the space. The sound was oddly ominous.

  Drawing closer, Alice saw that the clock was bound in dozens of old ropes. Mirana approached it warily, as if the clock might swallow her whole.

  “He lives in a void of infinitude. In a castle of eternity. Through here.” Mirana gestured at the clock as she spoke. “One mile past the pendulum.”

  Alice watched the pendulum swing, its rhythm hypnotic. Only when Mirana stepped between her and the golden arm did Alice snap out of it.

  The White Queen waved her hands in the air. “Opening time!” she said. As her fingers traced intricate patterns in front of her, the r
opes around the clock began to twist and unravel. Alice gasped as they lifted outward little by little, revealing themselves to be thousands of white butterflies. They swirled around her before fluttering out the far window. Turning to Mirana, Alice raised one eyebrow in an unspoken question.

  “Keeps the riffraff out,” Mirana said with a shrug. She dug into a pocket of her white dress and drew out a brass key. Carefully, she fitted it into the front of the clock’s glass door.

  “Everyone, get ready,” she said.

  And then she turned the key.

  As the door opened, a fierce vacuum sucked at the air in the room, pulling it into the clock. Mallymkun clutched at the March Hare’s kerchief to keep from being tugged in as well. Even Alice was drawn a step closer to the clock and had to kick her legs apart to brace herself.

  Just as quickly as the wind had begun, it fell off. Tentatively, Alice approached the ornate wooden frame of the clock and peered in past the pendulum.

  There was no light, just an infinite stretch of darkness. Alice shivered.

  To steady herself, she went over her tasks. “Find Time’s castle, borrow the Chronosphere, travel back in time to Horunvendush Day. Save the Hatter’s family from being killed, and thereby save the Hatter,” she muttered.

  “Simple…seemingly,” Chessur said from behind her.

  Alice turned to see everyone bunched together, anxious smiles on their faces. Well, she wasn’t going to accomplish anything by waiting and worrying. She faced forward again, ready to begin.

  Mirana reached out, her hand stopping Alice.

  “Time is extremely powerful and apparently quite full of himself,” the White Queen warned. “So mind your manners. He is not someone you want as your enemy.”

  Alice bit her lip. No, she did not want to be on Time’s bad side. After nodding first at Mirana, then at the others, she ducked into the clock. As she stepped inside, she heard Bayard call out, “Fairfarren, Alice!” But she dared not look back.

  ALICE TEETERED on the edge of a black void. One more step forward and she would have plunged into an infinite abyss. At the thought, her skin broke out in goose bumps, and she rubbed her arms to try to warm herself.

  Far across the void, the black spires of a Gothic castle stretched upward. But there was no way to get there. Alice sighed in frustration. The sound was swallowed up quickly, like it had never happened. Then she heard something—a rhythmic beat, like a drum…or a clock.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Peering down, Alice saw a stone walkway yards beneath her and twenty feet away, but it was ticking its way toward her. The length of it reached all the way across the chasm to the castle, and it seemed to shift closer every second. It looked like it was the second hand to an enormous clock with the castle sitting at its center!

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Alice shifted her stance and bent her knees. Ten feet away, then five, four, three…

  Tick.

  Tick.

  As the stone hand ticked into place below her, Alice leapt forward. She swayed for a moment, but her years aboard the Wonder had given her superb balance, even on moving objects. Brushing her palms together, she strode confidently along the two-foot-wide path toward the castle.

  DONG! Out of nowhere, a thunderous clang rolled across the void, vibrating the walkway beneath her. It felt like an earthquake, and Alice stumbled, her feet slipping off the stone path. Her fingers scrabbled furiously at the gritty surface as she slid over the edge.

  At the last second, just when Alice thought time (or rather Time) would be the death of her, her hands found the cool stone. Whew, that was too close, she thought.

  Shifting her weight, Alice started to pull herself up, but the second hand ticked just as she reached forward. She lost her grip, sliding backward until she was dangling from just one hand.

  Don’t look down—that was what they told people who were afraid of heights. But Alice had never had that phobia. And she had no choice now but to look down. Her eyes swept her surroundings as she looked for an escape.

  There!

  Far below her, she spotted what must be the minute hand. The second hand was ticking her closer to it, second by second. She just had to hang on a bit longer.…

  Tick.

  Her palm holding the stone edge began to sweat.

  Tick.

  She dug her fingers in, focusing all her energy on holding on tight. She’d never clung to time as desperately as she did then.

  Tick.

  Alice unfurled her fingers and let go as the second hand lined up with the minute hand. For a breathless second—she knew it was a second exactly, because the hand above ticked the time—she hung almost weightless in the air. Then she smacked down onto the rocky pebbles of the minute hand, landing hard on her bottom.

  After taking another few seconds (tick, tick, tick) to catch her breath, she slowly got to her feet. Moving more carefully, she resumed her journey to the castle. Luckily, the minute hand was more stable and a good deal wider, and no more gongs rang out.

  At the end of the walkway, she clambered up a set of steps that looked like melted black stone. Soon the huge gates of the castle stood before her. How tall is Time? she wondered. She’d never felt so small—and that was saying something, considering she’d once been only three inches tall.

  Alice stepped up to the door and leaned her body into it.

  CRRREEEEEAAAAAAK. With a groan of protest from the hinges, the door swung open.

  Beyond it lay a massive hallway with gigantic carved columns soaring toward an arched ceiling. Staring in wonder, Alice passed through them. There were stairways and walkways all over the place.

  Letting out a loud squeal, the columns next to her turned. Their bases were actually cogs! The movement set off a chain reaction, rotating enormous gears that sank halfway into the floor.

  All around her, the tools of time wound and turned like parts of a well-oiled machine. At the end of the hallway, another immense door loomed. Time certainly likes to make a grand impression, Alice thought as she pushed her way into the next room.

  Built on the same grandiose scale as the rest of Time’s castle, the throne room was a vast obsidian chamber. The ceiling was so far above her Alice could barely see it. Gothic arches lined the walls, with more looping overhead, breaking up the space. Straight in front of her, a large staircase led up to a raised pedestal with a throne. A shaft of light pierced down from directly above the throne.

  The man of the hour—and day, and week, and year—was sprawled on the throne. Dark, bushy muttonchops stood out against his pale skin, and a tall black headpiece rose majestically from the top of his head. Sticking out from both sides of his fur-lined cloak were enormous sculpted shoulder pads, almost like wings, which gave his torso an hourglass shape. One of his gloved hands clutched a black scepter, and his eyes were shut tight.

  Alice had not expected to find Time sleeping on the job, but then again, it wasn’t like he was ever really off the clock. And he had to sleep sometime, she supposed.

  For a brief second, one of his eyes cracked open; then it dropped back shut without registering her. Or so she thought. He didn’t even twitch as she climbed the staircase toward him.

  Then, out of nowhere, Time seemed to jolt awake. Alice practically heard a boing of springs and coils jerking his body upright. She took an involuntary step back as his silver eyes fixed on her. Gathering her confidence, she cleared her throat and swept forward. If she could negotiate with the merchants of Hong Kong and visit with the empress of China, she could work out a deal with Time.

  “Good day, sir,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you might have time to speak with me?”

  It was a greeting worthy of the most genteel London society. Even her mother could not have found fault with it.

  Time chuckled to himself. “Time?” he said. “I have all the time in the world, young lady.” He waved his hand languidly in the ai
r. His leather vest creaked as he leaned forward with sudden intensity. “The question is…will I spare any for you?”

  “That is the question, sir,” Alice replied politely.

  “Do you promise to be amusing?” Time asked.

  “I don’t know.” Alice’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s rather a serious subject.”

  “Well, I am a rather serious person. For I am Time. The Infinite.” His eyes focused on something above Alice’s head, as though he was imagining a crowd of admirers. “The Immort—Wait…what time is it?”

  Bringing her hand to her mouth, Alice muffled a laugh. It was a rather odd question coming from Time himself. Luckily, Time was busy and didn’t notice her reaction.

  He flung open his vest and peered downward to where, in place of a heart, a beautiful clock ticked in his chest. Time tsked to himself.

  “Hang it all! How infinitely ironic! I’m going to be late!” he cried.

  Without a second glance at Alice, he bounced out of his throne and charged toward a door, his long cloak flowing behind him. She ran after him, not wanting to lose Time.

  Moving at a brisk clip down an endless hallway, Time outpaced her with his long legs, and Alice had to hurry to catch up.

  “Keep up,” Time barked. “You have precisely sixty seconds in eighty-five seconds’ time.” He squinted at her and nodded in the direction of her pocket. “Why do you carry that fallen soldier?” he asked.

  Puzzled, Alice patted her pocket and drew out her father’s broken pocket watch. How had he known it was there? “This? It was my father’s,” she explained.

  Time studied it briefly, then turned away. “A fine-looking instrument. Though I’m afraid its time has expired.”

  She raised her chin. “My father was a great man. His watch reminds me that nothing is impossible. I wouldn’t part with it for anything in the world.”

  “Everyone parts with everything eventually, my dear,” Time drawled.

  Before she could respond, he spun and pushed through an intricately carved set of doors into yet another immense room.