Malice in Wonderland Bundle 3

by Lotus Rose

  Malice watches from behind as Hatter slaps his hands to the sides of his face. She can imagine the horrified expression on his face as he shouts out, “But I’m terrified. It’s driving me mad! And I want cake! I can’t stop myself!”

  Malice takes his words as her cue to jump in and take action, so, “Hey!” she shouts as she puts her hands to each side of his waist from behind. “We’re gonna help you!”

  She spins him around to face her.

  And now she can see the horrified expression on his face, as he says, “I tried! My mind, body...won’t obey. Flames making me crazy! Sorry!”

  “Enough of this dawdling around,” Malice says, “We’re going that way,” she gestures over her shoulder. “We’ll drag you if we have to. Of course, I’d prefer you cooperate.”

  “I’ll try,” Hatter says with a firm expression.

  Malice gives a single nod. She says to Humpty, “Change of plans. I’ll pull and you push, if it comes to that.” She tugs on Hatter’s arm, says, “Now come on, you daft bloke, only a few more feet to go.”

  Hatter nods, takes a few steps before stopping and wincing. He shouts out, “No, I must whirl! The cake will burn if I don’t whirl!”

  “Not the cake, again,” Malice mutters. She jostles Hatter, shouts, “Snap out of it.”

  “I can’t,” Hatter shouts, horrified. “Must whirl.”

  “No reasoning with this one,” Malice mutters. Before he starts whirling (which would prove to be a major inconvenience) she gives Humpty a look. Now she pulls on Hatter’s arm as she shouts, “Push!”

  And Humpty pushes on Hatter’s back.

  Hatter is sent stumbling forward—it looks as if he’s running, and he smashes into Malice who lets out a yelp and now she is stumbling backwards, at risk of losing her balance.

  And they stumble out of the fire.

  Malice finally trips on her own foot and falls on her back upon the cave floor—Hatter lands on top of her with an “Oof!”

  Malice looks around to get her bearings. Her face is very close to Hatty’s. Why, she could kiss him upon the mouth, if she wished. She sees Humpty’s shoes step to the side of her.

  Hatter is looking around. “What? We’re out?” He looks down at Malice’s face—she can feel his warm breath upon her lips. His body and arms feel like he is embracing her.

  Hatter seems embarrassed by their positioning, if Malice is reading his expression correctly. “My apologies,” he says softly. “I lost my head for a bit...”

  Why is he speaking in that manner—so softly, so tenderly? Is that what his romantic voice would sound like?

  “...not literally,” Hatter explains. “I mean, I didn’t lose my head like the Headless Horseman. I mean, I went a bit mad for a wee bit. But I’m through now, thanks to you.”

  Malice says, “I’m just glad that you’re still with us, with me...on top of me...face to face...” She looks in his eyes.

  Hatter is blinking rapidly. “What is it?”

  Without stopping to think about it, she leans up and gives him a quick kiss upon the lips. She giggles.

  Hatter looks offended for an instant, but now he smiles. “Naughty girl.”

  Malice says, “I couldn’t help myself. They were right there.” She means his lips.

  “Righto,” Hatter says. “Consider that your reward for helping me. Now that the debt is paid, let’s get out of this undignified position. There are children present.”

  “Har, har, har,” Humpty says sarcastically.

  Malice sits upright. She looks over to see Hatter on his knees, touching his lips with his fingertips.

  “What is it?” she says.

  “My lips. They feel all tingly.”

  Malice is about to say, “That shows you how powerful my kisses are,” but she doesn’t have a chance, because water pours down from the cave roof, filling the cave with the sounds of splashing followed by sizzling. The flames die down and vanish within seconds.

  Froud stands where they had left him behind. “Congratulations! You have passed the trial of the flame. It’s stronger proof that you may not have any remnants of little girl left inside of you.”

  Froud’s words set off a surge of the black rose’s inspiration within Malice. “Now...” she says. She stands proudly, her eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

  She proclaims:

  THERE IS NO LONGER any little girl inside,

  For, if there was, she’d’ve cowered and cried.

  For the trial of mud, and trial of flame,

  Would’ve caused her to flee, in terror and shame!

  MALICE TAKES A BREATH. She can feel more poetry coming on, but she doesn’t know what the words shall be.

  Behind her, Hatter shouts, “I feel it. The inspiration.”

  “What?” Humpty says.

  Malice turns to Hatter and says, “Inspiration?”

  “Yes,” Hatter says. “The inspiration of the black rose. I recognize the feeling from before. Oh, and now I realize I interrupted your poem with my utterance. My profuse apologies.”

  Before Malice can respond, Froud lets forth a loud groan of annoyance. “You kissed him?!”

  “What business is it of yours?” she says to Froud. But now she turns her attention back to Hatty. He’s not usually a very poetic bloke and she wants to encourage him to be more so in the future. “No need to apologize, love. Let’s take advantage of the situation. Would you do me the honor of reciting some verse, if you feel comfortable...”

  “The honor would be mine. I’d be delighted to follow your enchanting words.”

  Froud huffs and crosses his arms. He mutters, “Of course he’d be.”

  Hatter and Humpty glance briefly at Froud, but offer no response. Malice doesn’t even bother to glance at Froud as she gives an encouraging look to dear Hatty. “Go on then, love,” she says.

  “Froud’s jealous,” the Cat says, but no one acknowledges him. The Cat makes a hissy sound, as if irritated by being ignored.

  Hatter’s eyes go into the distant stare Malice goes into when the inspiration hits and now she sees what it looks like from the outside.

  Hatter raises his arm, slowly, and while holding it toward Malice, proclaims:

  AND SO, LIKE THE PHOENIX can only arise from flame and devastation,

  Here stands a big girl, a most glorious creation!

  HATTER BOWS, AND MALICE claps, and shouts, “Bravo!” She stares at Humpty until he reluctantly begins clapping as well.

  Hatter gestures with his hands towards Malice and says, “But I am nothing in comparison to you, love.”

  Malice curtsies. “Thank you. We are both magnificent!”

  “So the slug’s next?” the Cat says.

  “I should imagine so,” Malice says. As she looks at Froud, she’s reminded. “Wait! How did you know I kissed him? You couldn’t have possibly seen through the flames.”

  Froud’s posture straightens up—he clears his throat. “I see the time has come for me to come clean. In ancient tomes, I have read about what is known as the Black Rose Kiss.”

  Malice pretends to think upon that for a moment. “When I kissed you, I must have imparted some of the black rose onto you, Hatty!”

  Hatter snaps his fingers. “That explains my inspiration!” he says, playing along.

  Froud says, “I came across a description of the phenomenon during my studies. The kiss must be upon the lips.”

  “Ah,” Malice says. “What an intimate and potentially awkward technique. But in this case it was a pleasure, since Hatty and I are such close friends.”

  Hatter is nodding his head quite rapidly. “Yes, yes, such good friends, and nothing more!” He touches his lips. “Still tingling.”

  Froud says, “So when Hatter began talking about the poetic inspiration of the black rose, I figured that you must have kissed him.”

  Malice says, “And you kept trying to get me to kiss you! You want to feel the effects!”

  Froud says, “Because that way, I can bett
er guide your therapy.”

  Malice resists the urge to roll her eyes. “How so?”

  Froud sniffs. “It’s above your level of comprehension. But I am an expert, so—”

  “Are you sure you don’t just wish to experience its intoxication?” Malice asks.

  Froud huffs. “What? No, I— The state it induces is akin to madness and I should like to study it by experiencing it myself. I wish to learn from it, not to take pleasure in it.”

  “Uh huh,” Malice says doubtfully.

  “I shall prove it,” Froud says. “Kiss me...chastely, and I shall help you with your psychological woes.”

  Malice wrinkles her nose. “Eww. I am not kissing you.”

  “There would be absolutely nothing romantic about it, I assure you.”

  “Ugh. No! Where did you even find out about the Black Rose Kiss, anyway? No one I’ve talked to knows very much about it!”

  “It’s a subject that interests me. My studies in psychological matters are why I know it’s so imperative that you kiss me.”

  Malice doesn’t think Froud is making very much sense. She groans. “Crikey, you don’t stop, do you? Now what else do you know about the black rose and its effects?”

  “I won’t tell you unless you—”

  “I shan’t kiss you. So I suppose you shan’t tell?”

  “Off with his head!” the Cat calls from above.

  “No, no,” Malice says. “We’ll have none of that. I’m not like the Queen of Hearts. I’m more benevolent, more...tolerant.”

  Froud says, “Then you shall have to tolerate your lack of knowledge, due to being such a prude.”

  Hatter gasps. “Prude?! I assure you, sir, Queen Malice is most definitely not a prude.” He sees the look she gives him. “I mean to say, she’s not prudish, she’s chaste. I mean to say...”

  “I’m not a nun,” Malice says in a huffy voice.

  “I didn’t mean to imply you were,” says Hatter. “Oh, dash it all! I’m sure I could reason with the good doctor here, in a most convincing manner.” He scowls, and looks menacing, causing Froud to flinch.

  Malice puts up a calming hand. “No, we shall not resort to such coercive means, either. I do still have a heart, albeit, a medicated one. Let’s just move on to the next challenge.” She points at it, and stares.

  In front of the solid metal gate, on the left, rests a badly-rendered replica of a giant slug—to the right of it is a giant snail. Both glisten with a slimey sort of substance coating them.

  Froud intones: “That is your next challenge: the challenge of the slug and snail. In order to—”

  Malice raises a finger. “Hold on. I’m feeling inspired to wax poetic....”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  FROUD NODS, BUT MUTTERS something under his breath that Malice can’t quite make out. If she didn’t know better she would’ve sworn he’d muttered, “Show off.”

  She stares at the slug and snail, getting inspired by their sight, feeling the black rose flowing through her veins. She whispers, “Oh Black Rose, give your poetry unto me...”

  And now she feels the words come up through her body and out through her lips.

  And so she proclaims:

  “A SLUG IS LIKE A LITTLE girl, who’s traveling,

  Within a world that seems unraveling.

  But just like the naked slug shall grow a shell,

  The little girl will wise up as well.”

  SOMETHING ABOUT WHAT Malice said causes Humpty to blurt out, “I don’t think that’s—”

  But Malice ignores him, continuing:

  “SHE GROWS THICK SKIN, just like the shells on slugs,

  And her shell fends off hurt, and patronizing hugs.

  And there, within her cold-but-safe shell she’ll stay,

  As she yearns to be vulnerable once again one day.”

  MALICE STARES AT HER feet, while wallowing in her dark thoughts.

  Meekly, Humpty says, “I really don’t think slugs grow shells. Slugs and snails are different species.”

  Malice barely pays any attention to him. “Such sweet melancholy,” she whispers in wonder, while still looking at the ground.

  “Are you an expert?” the Cat calls down to Humpty.

  “No, of course not,” Humpty says. “And I mean no offense.” He murmurs, “It’s just not factual, is all.”

  Hatter says, “Perhaps she was being metaphorical. I fancy a good metaphor. In fact, she has inspired me!” He looks at Malice. “Are you alright, love?”

  Malice says, “Just wondering if I am perhaps like a snail who’s pulled its head and tail inside its shell, and if I shall ever come out again.”

  “Like a turtle,” Humpty says.

  Malice says, “So now I’m a turtle. Perhaps I should snap at you.” And she clacks her teeth, causing Humpty to startle.

  “Perhaps,” says Hatter, “she was being poetic. As a fellow poet, I can relate.”

  Malice says, “You said that you were inspired. Could you possible recite some poetry to mark the occasion?”

  “The pleasure would be mine, milady. I mean, My Queen.” He bows. While he’s still bowing, he sweeps his arm to point toward Malice, and as he rises back up, he proclaims:

  “AND SO THE NEXT FULL trial is shown,

  To Malice, a slug who shall become a snail,

  She’ll show the world she’s fully grown,

  And will rebuke false hugs with her big-girl shell.

  SHE REBUKES THE MUD, fire, and soon, slime!

  And will be the greatest snail of all time!

  “THAT’S A LOT OF REBUKING,” snides the Cat.

  Hatter places his hand beside his mouth and stage-whispers, “Metaphor.”

  Malice claps softly. “What a lovely poem. And in keeping with the metaphor, I shall defeat this challenge and become a snail with the most marvelous, hardest, biggest shell!”

  Hatter looks at her and says quite earnestly, “Do you mean that literally or metaphorically?”

  Froud mutters, “He can only make such poems because of the Black Rose Kiss. But what has he done to deserve the divine— Oh, never mind. So you’re going to tackle the challenge of the slug and snail, are ya?”

  “Yes,” Malice says. “What does that entail? And what was that you were saying about the divine whatnot?”

  “What?” Froud says, and thinks for a bit. “Oh, I meant what has Hatter done to deserve your loyalty? He’s lucky. But enough of that. I shall now explain the challenge of the slug and snail to you.”

  “You were speaking of ‘divine loyalty’?” Malice says. “That doesn’t sound right...”

  “Never you mind that,” Froud says. “For the next challenge, you must climb atop the slug and the snail, then acquire the object that’s resting atop the gate. Then, once you use the object according to instruction, the Knight will open the gate.”

  Malice looks at the slug and snail. Now she understands why they’re next to each other. The slug is less tall than the snail—she’ll have to climb the slug first so that she can reach the top of the snail—only by standing on the snail’s head will she be able to reach the top of the gate. “I’m not looking forward to doing that. Must it be me?”

  “I’ll do it,” says Humpty.

  The Cat says, “I could do it, but I can’t interfere.”

  Froud says, “I’m afraid it must be the Queen. You see, the Knight believes that no little girl would be able to stand having to put her hands on the creepy, slimy slug and snail. Unlike a little boy, who might relish the idea, a little girl wouldn’t be able to do it, even knowing the gastropods aren’t real.”

  “The what?” Malice says.

  “Scientific name for slugs and snails,” Hatter says.

  She looks at him in amazement and says, “How did you know that?” as Froud continues, “And the Knight further believes that anyone who still has even a little bit of little girl inside her won’t be able to go through with it.”

  Malice stares at the ugly amateur p
ortrayals of slug and snail, covered in their icky slime, and she feels like even a grown adult woman wouldn’t want to climb those horrendous things. She looks at Hatty and Humpty to gauge their reactions. They’re both looking at the slug and snail as well, and both the lads bear troubled, close-to-wincing expressions. Humpty’s shoulders are scrunched particularly high, she notices.

  Even a bloke is likely not to want to get up on those things.

  She crinkles her nose and takes a deep breath. “Well I question the contention that big girls and boys wouldn’t be repulsed by the slimy slug and snail, as well.”

  The Cat interrupts, “Try saying that three times in a row!”

  “Nevertheless,” Malice continues, “I’ve come this far, and despite my better judgment, I’m determined to prove myself. So what’s the object atop the wall, then?”

  Froud says, “You shall have to climb the snail to see.”

  “Didn’t think you’d tell me. Well...tally-ho...”

  “Tally-ho!” Hatter shouts.

  It takes Malice a few moments to steel herself. She hops up on top of the slug’s tail and pulls herself up. “Yuck!” she exclaims. “This little sluggy is all slimy. What is this?” She stares at the clear gooeyness on her hands.

  Froud says, “Don’t worry. It’s harmless. It’s actually used in a recipe for food, so you could even eat it if you want.”

  “Eww! I shall decline! I’m just glad I’m wearing this ugly dress, rather than my good one.” She rises to her feet. “A bit slippery up here, but I’m sure I can manage. Nope, no little girl am I.” She steps forward toward the slug’s head, which is a little bit higher than its back. She climbs atop it. “There we are. Now I’ll climb atop the shell, then the snail’s head, and bob’s-your-uncle, I’ll be able to reach the object and see what all the fuss is about.”