by Lotus Rose
“Oh my!” Malice exclaims. “I’ve never heard that. The Jabberwock, I mean our Jabberwock never mentioned that his monsters once ruled this place.”
Kingston says, “That’s odd. Perhaps he has been made to forget.”
Malice says, “But you remember, and you’re in Wonderland, so how come you aren’t forgetting too?”
He shrugs. “Hey, I don’t have all the answers.”
“So why don’t monsters rule over this land anymore?”
“The Queen of Hearts. Of course, she wasn’t called that back then—she was Miss Hearts. This was back when she was still a little girl—she and her guards fought the monsters and drove them out. She slaughtered many and almost wiped the bandersnatches out completely. Something happened to the jubjub birds too, but I can’t remember right now. The jabberwocks and shifters relocated to their own areas. And not only that, but she drove out all the little girls, too. They ended up all crowded in what would become Jabberwock Valley...along with the jabberwocks. That led to its own disastrous result.”
Malice says, “Little girls? Why did she drive them out?”
“I suppose only she knows for sure. Many shifters seem to think she was jealous of them—either their beauty or their cuteness.”
Malice thinks for a moment. “Alice was a little girl when she first arrived here.”
“Indeed. But she had the magical tears. Perhaps that’s why the Queen of Hearts kept her around. But I came to warn you about the diabolical plan of the...Snick?”
“Don’t you mean the Snark?” Malice says.
“Uh yes, that’s it. I must’ve temporarily for— Oh no! It’s happening!”
“What is?” Malice asks.
“I’m forgetting! I must hurry, and warn you before it leaves my mind entirely!”
“Please do!” Malice says.
“The Snark came to me because he wants to overthrow Wonderland and reinstate Woeland to its former greatness. He figures he can do that if he takes control of your body and pretends to be you. I recommend you be extra cautious. But if he can’t control you, he has a plan B. If the Snark isn’t captured, he shall go to Jabberwock Valley and try to take control of one of their leaders in order to get the jabberwocks to follow him. So, the jabberwocks must be warned. Since they are so isolated, your best bet would be to enlist your Jabberwock to inform them. And...oh...what was I talking about?”
“That the Snark wants to go to Jabberwock Valley and wants to reinstate Woeland?”
Kingston’s brow furrows in confusion. “Snark? Woeland?”
“Yes, the Snark is a creature who takes over his host’s body.”
He shakes his head. “Never heard of it. But Woeland...isn’t that the land that existed before Wonderland?”
Malice decides to get as much information as she can from Kingston while he can still remember. “What happened to the bandersnatches?”
“I don’t know what those are.”
Well, might as well throw out a bunch of questions and see what sticks. “How many snarks are left, and how come our Jabberwock doesn’t kill little girls, and how many shifters are there, and why did the Queen of Hearts stop the aging of citizens of Wonderland?”
All throughout Malice’s rapid string of questions, Kingston shakes his head, but at the last one, he seems relieved to be given a question he can answer and says, “I imagine she wanted to keep herself from aging. Of course, you’d have to ask her.”
“So did she create Wonderland?”
He shrugs.
“So where did Woeland come from and what was the point?”
He shakes his head. “I apologize, Your Highness, but I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Umm, I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten why you even called me here in the first place.”
Malice groans aloud in frustration. “I didn’t call you. You requested an audience with me.”
“I did?”
After a few more minutes of questioning, it becomes clear the boy can’t recall any further useful information. So she excuses herself to meet with the Storyteller.
CHAPTER FIVE
MORLEY IS STANDING, while Malice and the others sit at the round patio table with the man known as the Storyteller—they are in a lawn area of one of the gardens of his castle. The Storyteller is a very powerful man, who can alter reality when he wants to, in order to create an “interesting story”. This, despite his mild appearance as a middle-aged man with a bald spot and glasses. He’s also Sleepy B’s adoptive father. Malice recently learned that Sleepy B had originally come from Jabberwock Valley and her parents had been killed by jabberwocks, but the Storyteller had been secretive about the details.
Malice holds up the stethoscope and asks the Storyteller, “Do you happen to know how to interpret something called Morse code?”
“I do indeed. Why?”
“I believe you already know.”
“Yes. Come come, let me have a listen.”
The Storyteller listens to her heartbeat for half a minute or so. “Ah! I’ve got it!” He removes the device from his ears. “The message is ‘property of the Tin Knight’.”
“Who’s the Tin Knight?” Malice asks.
“You don’t know?” the Storyteller says.
“No, that’s why I asked.”
The Storyteller shrugs.
Malice sighs. She suspects the Storyteller actually does know, but when he refuses to reveal something, there’s no way of getting him to talk.
She looks at Morley, the pink flamingo, who says, “I haven’t a clue who he is.”
She looks at Humpty, who says, “Nor I.”
She looks at Hatter. He shrugs. “Never heard of him. But I daresay, if the heart is his, he may appreciate getting it back.”
She glares at him.
“My apologies, dear. I do realize you happen to be using it at the moment.”
“Indeed,” she says. She sighs. “However, it seems my heart may have had a previous owner. Did the Tinkerer make it for this Tin Knight person first?”
The Storyteller just grins, tight-lipped.
“Oh very well. I can see I won’t get any information out of you.” Malice decides to just cut to the chase: “So, I assume you have been watching my tale unfold.”
He nods. “Of course, but I haven’t been taking an active role in the direction of your story. Ofttimes, it’s best to simply allow narratives to unfold naturally.”
The Mad Hatter cuts in, “And sometimes it’s more of a laugh to let them unfold ironically, aye gov’nor?” He makes two clicking sounds with his mouth, and nudges the Storyteller with his elbow.
“Please don’t touch me,” the Storyteller mutters.
The Storyteller is known for using magical storytelling cards, each labeled with a literary term. In the past, he’d been quite fond of the “irony” cards.
Hatter looks offended, but says, “Sorry, mate.”
Hatter is currently seated to her right, looking like his usual self—like a crazy man in his mid-twenties, wearing one of the top hats he makes, which is why he’s known as the Mad Hatter.
To Malice’s left sits Humpty, the cute glasses-wearing boy of 17 years of age, who used to look like a huge egg, but has since become a human boy, and one of Malice’s crushes.
Morley, behind Humpty, had refused a chair. He is like most of the flamingos, who prefer to stand. But unlike most flamingos, he’s heavily into reading and writing poetry. When he’d heard that Malice wished to partake of the Storyteller’s black rose, he’d insisted on tagging along.
Morley can be a bit irritating at times, but at least the Cheshire Cat isn’t here, so Malice won’t have to tolerate them both at the same time.
Malice says, “So the Queen of Hearts seems to think that eating a little bit of the black rose petals will do me some good.”
The Storyteller thinks for a moment. “Aye, it might act as a dampener, to keep your heart from overheating.”
Malice says, “So I know you have one of t
he black roses...”
The Storyteller says, “But there may be side effects. What an interesting story complication...” He’s lost in thought.
The Mad Hatter says, “I’m glad you’re interested.” He moves to pat the Storyteller on the shoulder, but remembers, and stops himself before he does. He pats Malice on the shoulder instead.
And Malice feels a bit tingly from Hatter’s touch. This is because she has a crush on him. Of course, there are complications. Because Hatter is in his mid-twenties, while Malice is only 15. She’s closer in age to Humpty, who she also has a crush on.
Of course, there are all sorts of complications with Humpty as well. Humpty had started out liking Alice. But then Alice had left to live in the Outside World. But since Malice is the mirror image of Alice, others often think of her as basically the same as Alice, though the real Alice has a regular heart.
After Alice left, Malice suspects that Humpty had merely shifted his feelings for Alice onto her.
But Malice has been thinking about that a lot. Is that really so bad? Because, isn’t she basically Alice, but with an “M” in front, and a ticktock heart instead of an organic one?
Oh wait.
My ticktock heart. That’s what I’m here for: to fix it.
She focuses her attention back to the situation at hand.
The Storyteller says, “The Queen of Hearts may be on to something. If you ingest just a little bit of the petals, it may help prevent your outbursts of heartlessness.”
Malice looks down. “Yes, the last time... Well, they tell me the last time I had one of my...episodes, I went off a bit on F-me Shoes. Do you know anything about that?”
“But of course!” He raises his hand with his index finger pointing upward. “For I am the Storyteller!”
Malice resists the urge to roll her eyes.
The Storyteller is so fond of handing out his literary tool cards—well, he needs to be continually handed the “Melodramatic” card, she thinks to herself.
“Is it true she left?” Malice nudges
“Indeed, it is, lass. I myself helped her cross over.”
Malice asks what has been nagging her mind. “So she shall fight against Alice?”
“Of course, according to the Rules of Story, she is in the queue to fight the Fairy Tale Slayer.”
“In the queue?” Humpty says.
The Storyteller answers, “Not, a literal queue, my lad. I meant, she shall await her turn to fight Alice, since according to the Rules of Story, the twisted fairy tale beings can only attack her one at a time.”
Humpty sputters, “She’ll attack Alice? But she always seemed so nude. Nice! I meant she always seemed so nice!”
Malice huffs and crosses her arms.
Hatter says, “Yes, she was an admirable young lady, with many fine attributes...of her character, I meant. I wasn’t referring to her body.”
Malice glares at him, causing him to draw back, and say, “What?”
Malice sighs and unfolds her arms. “Yes, I admit, she was nice, and she took care of Sleepy B.”
“Yes, nice!” Humpty blurts. “That’s what I was just saying! Nice! Not naked. Well, I mean, of course, she was naked too. You couldn’t help but notice, not that I did...” He starts blushing.
Malice groans and covers her face with her palm. “Please...just stop talking.” After taking a few moments to listen to him being silent, she continues, “So I’m sorry that I ran her off. That’s why I need the black rose treatment, to prevent me from losing my temper again, and hurting my friends.”
She smiles at Hatter and Humpty, who’s still blushing. Morley is more of an annoyance than a friend—she’d once ripped his throat open with a razorblade before she got her ticktock heart, but she smiles at him too, just so he won’t feel left out.
The Storyteller shakes his head. “But if you manage to control your outbursts, that would make for a less exciting story, don’t you think?”
Uh oh. This is not going well. I need to convince the Storyteller, by appealing to what he cares about most. “But, I fear my heart is malfunctioning more and more, and may stop working altogether without the black rose petals. If that happens, I shall become cruel and heartless—I shall be a villain, in the story. And stories need a hero!”
The Storyteller nods. “I hear what you’re saying. But others could pick up the roles of the main heroes. Perhaps Humpty here, or Hatter.”
Humpty shakes his head. “I’d rather be a secondary character.”
Hatter says, “And I think I’m too mad to be a hero. Not that I don’t enjoy it. Being mad, that is. Being a hero’s too much responsibility for my tastes.”
Malice says, “Aww, thanks chaps, for your support.”
The Storyteller taps his chin. “You being heartless may make for a most engaging tale. A mad, rampaging queen. Hatter and Humpty as reluctant heroes, forced into organizing the opposition...”
Hatter scoffs. “Me? Organizing? I can barely organize my shoes on my feet each morning! Pish posh. Organizing...” He rolls his eyes.
Meanwhile, mild-mannered Humpty says, “I hate to admit it, but I don’t believe I have the temperament to lead rebellions.”
Forgive me for what I’m about to say, Malice thinks. “You see! They’re both quite incompetent! That’s not the story you want to witness! I propose a much more engaging tale!...” She smiles, teasing him.
The Storyteller says, “Do tell...”
Malice says, “Surely you know of my plan to travel with the Jabberwock to Jabberwock Valley.”
“Indeed. Now that would be an engaging adventure.”
Malice lifts her hand up with her index finger pointing up. “Ah ha! But if my heart fails, I will no longer have the desire to help Jabby! And I shall never go on the quest and have all manner of exciting adventures!”
The Storyteller taps his chin some more. “You make quite convincing arguments. I would most definitely like to see you travel to the land of the jabberwocks. Also, I am intrigued by all the romantic tension of your group, and of course, any romance, with or without tension, requires a heart...”
Malice gasps and feigns ignorance. “What? Romantic tension?”
She looks to her two crushes, to see that Humpty is blushing again, and Hatter is nodding for some reason—but his reactions don’t always make sense.
The Storyteller says, “Quite. The romantic aspects are an essential part of the saga.”
Malice groans. “Yes, without romance, things such as the vorpal fist wouldn’t have even worked.”
“Indeed,” the Storyteller says.
It had been Alice who had used the vorpal fist to tear Humpty Dumpty’s heart out, which had led to him being transformed into a boy. Alice had been horrified by what she’d done, and had thrown the fist back at the Tinkerer.
“What ever happened to that thing, anyway?” Malice says.
The Storyteller shrugs with a grin. “One of those mysteries.”
“Oh I see,” Malice says. “You do so love to keep your secrets, don’t you? The location of the Jabberwock’s beloved vorpal blade is something we should like to know as well.”
“So many mysteries,” the Storyteller says teasingly, with that infuriating grin again.
“Can you tell me anything about this ‘Woeland’ the werepig boy was talking about?”
“Woeland?” Humpty says.
Malice looks around, to gauge the reactions of her companions. Morley looks back with a puzzled expression and shakes his head.
Hatter looks puzzled as well. He says, “Whoa Land? As in, ‘Whoa! I just made the most amazing croquet shot’? Or ‘whoah’ as in, ‘Whoah, horsey, you’re about to run over the croquet ball I used to make that most amazing shot’?”
“Neither,” Malice says.
The Storyteller says, “It’s from ‘woe’, as in the opposite of joy.”
Hatter nods. “Oh, I see. As in ‘woebegone’.”
“Yes, yes,” the Storyteller says impatiently. “L
isten I have little interest in explaining what words mean to you woeful band of fools!”
“My goodness, such a temper,” Malice mutters.
The Storyteller says, “I grow weary of your company, but we can chat a bit more whilst the Mad Hatter fetches the black rose, and then this meeting shall come to an end.”
The Storyteller informs Hatter where the black rose is, and Hatter scampers off to fetch it.
Malice says, “You’ve got this whole castle all to yourself. Does it get lonely? You don’t even have any servants?”
“I don’t need servants. I manage fine by myself.”
“I think Sleepy B, I mean, Sleeping Beauty misses you.”
“She’s being obnoxious. That’s why I revoked her storytelling powers.” Sleepy B used to have powerful magical abilities she could use to monitor peoples’ stories and even alter them to make them more interesting. For example, she could cause it to rain, to make things more dramatic. Malice wouldn’t blame the Storyteller for thinking that was too much power for a young girl to hold.
Malice says, “She wants to go on the quest, assuming I can convince the Jabberwock to go...”
The Storyteller nods, gives a grunt. “It’s no surprise. It is inside of her—the desire to return to Jabberwock Valley where she came from. I believe it may be something she needs to do.”
Malice frowns. “But there could be danger, or who knows? What if she stays there and never returns? Don’t you think you should make up with her before she goes?”
The Storyteller doesn’t reply—he seems lost in thought.
“You have to at least tell her goodbye. Won’t you miss her?”
“Enough! She needs to start behaving or she won’t be going anywhere! Now, your time is running out before Hatter returns. So I suggest you ask your questions while I shall still allow it!”
Malice sighs. “Tell me about Woeland, please. I’d never heard of it before today.”
“Yes, yes,” the Storyteller says. “It was what this land was before it became Wonderland, it was ruled over by the Monsters of Woeland.”
Malice says, “Yes, Kingston, the werepig boy, told me that much. He told me the Snark wants to destroy Wonderland and revive Woeland.”
