Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

by T. T. Sutherland

  “It will,” the Caterpillar said matter-of-factly.

  “So I suggest you keep the Vorpal Sword on hand when the Frabjous Day arrives.”

  Fed up and curious, Alice reached out and poked the Caterpillar’s jiggly blue belly. His eyes nearly popped out with surprise.

  “No touching!” he yelped. “There’s no touching!”

  “You seem so real,” Alice said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I forget that this is all a dream.”

  The Caterpillar blew smoke in her face again, as if he thought that was the only appropriate response to such a remark.

  “Will you stop doing that!” Alice protested, waving the smoke away. Absolem began to chuckle, sending ripples of mirth along his entire round body. She could still hear him chuckling as the smoke enveloped him, hiding him from view, and she turned to walk back into the night.

  Back in the Red Queen’s dungeon, the Hatter was dusting off his hat and trying to get his sad clothes to perk up. He didn’t want to go to his execution looking like a disheveled mess.

  “I’ve always admired that hat,” purred a smooth voice from outside the bars.

  The Hatter looked up and saw the Cheshire Cat lounging against the stone wall. His eyes narrowed. “Hello, Chess.”

  The Cat’s tail whisked back and forth. He stroked one of his long whiskers and studied the Hatter’s efforts to rehabilitate his outfit. “Since you won’t be needing it anymore,” he said after a moment, “would you consider bequeathing it to me?”

  The Hatter touched his beloved hat and raised his chin with dignity. “How dare you! It is a formal execution. I want to look my best, you know.”

  The Cheshire Cat fell silent for another minute. Finally he sighed. “It’s a pity about all this. I was looking forward to seeing you Futterwacken.”

  “I was rather good at it, was I not?” said the Hatter ruefully.

  The Cheshire Cat’s feline eyes glowed intently. “I really do love that hat,” he purred. “I would wear it to all the finest occasions.”

  His eyes met the Hatter’s, and they stared at each other for a long, thoughtful moment.

  Hours later, the Hatter and the Dormouse, their heads bowed in resignation, were marched out of the cell and down the long walk to the executioner’s platform. A crowd was gathered in the outside courtyard to watch them pass, including the White Rabbit and the Tweedles, who stared at the prisoners with glum faces. The Queen watched from a high balcony, ignoring the misery on the faces of the crowd.

  “I love a morning execution. Don’t you?” the Queen said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the courtiers responded all together.

  The Hatter stepped forward first, pushing the Dormouse behind him. The burly executioner loomed over them both, his face hidden by the usual thick executioner’s mask. The Hatter rested his head on the beheading stone. The executioner reached for the Hatter’s tophat, and the Hatter leaned away from him.

  “I’d like to keep it on,” he mumbled.

  The executioner shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “As long as I can get at your neck.” The executioner moved the hat’s ribbons away from the Hatter’s neck.

  “I’m right behind you,” the Dormouse squeaked bravely.

  “Off with his head!” the Red Queen bellowed.

  The White Rabbit covered his eyes. “I can’t watch,” he moaned.

  The executioner raised his sword high into the air. The morning sun gleamed off the sharp edge. A frightened hush fell over the crowd, and in the silence they could all hear the zip of the sword as it flashed down, followed by a CLANG as it hit the stone where the Hatter’s neck had been.

  Everyone gasped, including the Queen and Stayne.

  The Hatter’s head . . .

  . . . had disappeared.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sound of the sword hitting the stone was still reverberating through the courtyard. The executioner stepped back, wincing and touching his muscles where the shock had jarred him.

  The Tweedles stared at each other in disbelief, almost daring one another to disagree about what had just happened.

  Then, the Rabbit looked up. Before him was what looked like a floating head, with no body attached at all. Then it all became clear. It was the Cheshire Cat’s disembodied head wearing the Hatter’s hat! He hovered there before them all and grinned. “Good morning, everyone!”

  “Chess, you dog!” the Dormouse cried in delight.

  He winked at her. The sound of the Hatter’s familiar laugh drifted across the courtyard, and everyone turned to find him perched on a balustrade near the Queen’s courtiers.

  “Madam,” the Hatter called cheerfully. “You are being heinously bamboozled by these lickspittle toadies you surround yourself with!” He reached out and tugged lightly on Lady Long Ears’ nearest ear. It promptly came off in his hand, and Lady Long Ears screamed. The Hatter held up the ear and the Red Queen squinted at it from her balcony.

  “What is that?” she demanded.

  Terrified, Lady Long Ears lashed out to defend herself. “I’m not the only one, Majesty,” she shrieked. “Look!” She grabbed the enormous nose of the woman beside her and pulled. It came off with a noisy squck, revealing her real, ordinary-size nose underneath.

  “A counterfeit nose!” blustered Big Belly Man. “You should be ashamed!”

  “Me?” Lady Large Nose yelled. “What about that big belly you’re so proud of?” Before he could escape her prying hands, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it up to reveal his fake belly. As the Hatter had expected, they were remarkably quick to turn on each other.

  And as he’d also expected, the Red Queen was mightily displeased to find her courtiers were conspiring against her. In fact, she was nearly apoplectic with rage by this point. “Liars! Cheats! Falsifiers! Off with their heads!”

  Pandemonium broke out. The Hatter leaped to a high ledge and called to the creatures below. “To the abused and enslaved of the Red Queen’s court, stand up and fight! Rise up against the bloody Red Queen!”

  Monkeys threw off their tabletops and chair seats, screeching their defiance. A frog holding a tray of tarts tossed them up into the air. Birds dropped their lamps and coasted down to land on their legs, resting their exhausted wings. All across the courtyard and inside the palace, creatures threw off their bonds and took up the battle cry.

  “Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!” they shouted. The phrase echoed off the flagstones and filled the morning air. “Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!”

  Infuriated, the Red Queen clutched the balcony railing and stamped her foot. “RELEASE THE JUBJUB BIRD!” she screamed.

  A bloodcurdling screech cut through the cries of defiance as the JubJub Bird swooped down from his aerie. He clawed and snapped indiscriminately, sowing death through the panicked onlookers below. The Queen watched with a vengeful smile.

  “You’re right, Stayne,” she said fiercely. “It is far better to be feared than loved.”

  But what she did not see in the chaos below was a small crowd, including the Hatter, the Dormouse, the White Rabbit, and the Tweedles, gathering to escape.

  “Come boys, quickly,” the Hatter called.

  “Hatter!” said the Dormouse.

  “Come on, Mally. Quickly! Come on! Come on!” he responded.

  They darted away from the JubJub Bird’s death-dealing talons and made for the drawbridge . . . and freedom.

  “Prepare the Jabberwocky for battle,” the Queen commanded. “We’re going to visit my little sister.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the other side of Underland, Alice stood on the parapet of the White Queen’s castle with Bayard and the White Queen. They were watching the stars come out in the evening sky, each with their own growing sense of unease.

  “I had hoped to have a champion by now,” the White Queen said, a little pointedly.

  “Why don’t you slay the Jabberwocky yourself?” Alice asked. “You must have the power,” she said.

  “In the healing
arts,” said the Queen, shaking her head. “It is against my vows to bring harm to any living creature,” she added with a hint of melodrama in her voice. Alice shrugged and looked back out at the landscape below. The Queen spotted a hideous bug flying near her face, and swiped it away, then pretended to pirouette so as not to be caught breaking her “vow.”

  Then something caught the Queen’s eye in the distance. She lifted her spyglass.

  “We have company,” she said, handing her spyglass to Alice.

  Alice focused the spyglass on the bluffs. Her heart leaped as she saw the Hatter, the Dormouse, and a host of other creatures running over the rise. They were safe! She hadn’t left them to die after all!

  She also spotted something else. “Have a look, Bayard,” she said.

  The bloodhound’s long ears drooped on either side of the instrument as he peered through. It took him a moment, but finally he spotted the female bloodhound and pups who were running with the rest of them.

  “Bielle!” he cried, overwhelmed with joy. He spun around to race down to the entrance courtyard, and Alice followed him, her golden hair flying out behind her as she ran.

  Bayard reached the courtyard first, just as the group came across the drawbridge. He galloped up to his wife and pups, and they all leaped around, whinnying and nuzzling each other joyfully. The White Rabbit pressed his paws together with delight.

  The Tweedles rushed to the White Queen, who was happy to see them. She kissed each of them, leaving lipstick marks on their foreheads.

  Alice’s eyes went straight to the Hatter. His clothes were bright and happy, reflecting the delight on his face. She ran up and threw her arms around him. “I’m so happy to see you!” she cried. “I thought they were going to—”

  “So did I!” he interrupted her enthusiastically. “But they didn’t.” His voice started to speed up again, and he clutched her hands as if he might never let go. “And now, here I am . . . still in one piece . . . and I’m rather glad about that now that I’m seeing you again . . . I would have regretted not seeing you again . . . especially now that you’re you and the proper size . . . and it’s a good size . . . it’s a great size . . . it’s a right-proper Alice size . . .”

  “Hatter,” Alice said kindly. He snapped back into the moment.

  “Size, Fez . . . I’m fine,” he said, blinking strange eyes at her. And it was true, he was fine, even though Alice had been afraid she’d never see him again. She felt too full of happiness to say what she really wanted to.

  “Where’s your hat?” she asked. She curiously touched his curly red hair.

  They both jumped as the top hat suddenly materialized in the air beside them, followed slowly by the head of the Cheshire Cat underneath it, then the rest of him.

  “Chessur?” Alice said.

  “How’s the arm, luv?” the Cat purred.

  “All healed,” she said, showing him how the swelling had gone down. The scratches were already almost entirely gone.

  The Hatter held out his hand for the hat, and the Cheshire Cat reluctantly returned it. “Good-bye, sweet hat,” he murmured.

  As the Hatter replaced it in its rightful place on his head, he glanced at Alice again, and they shared a smile that said more than any words could have.

  Night had fallen again, and the escaped creatures from the Red Queen’s castle were safely tucked away in various corners of the White Queen’s home.

  Up on a high tower, beneath the stars, Alice sat with the Hatter, their legs swinging over a long drop below.

  “Have you any idea why a raven’s like a writing desk?” the Hatter asked dreamily.

  “Let me think about it!” Alice said, smiling.

  He shifted to gaze into her eyes. “You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” he said.

  “Frabjous Day,” Alice said with a sigh. The whole castle had been murmuring and whispering and chattering about it all day. “How could I forget? I wish I’d wake up!”

  The Hatter looked bemused. “You still believe this is a dream? Do you?”

  “Of course. This has all come from my own mind.”

  The Hatter thought about that for a moment. “Which would mean that I’m not real.”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Alice, shaking her head.

  “You’re just a figment of my imagination. I would dream up someone who’s half mad.”

  “Yes, yes. But you would have to be half mad to dream me up,” the Hatter observed.

  “I must be, then,” Alice said.

  Alice laughed.

  “I’ll miss you when I wake up,” she said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, everyone gathered in the White Queen’s courtyard at dawn. A sense of fear and exhilaration filled the air. This was the Frabjous Day. Today everything would change . . . but whether for better or for worse, no one could say.

  The White Rabbit drew out a gleaming gold trumpet and sounded a summoning call that hushed the milling crowd.

  “Who will step forth to be champion for the White Queen?” he cried.

  “That would be I!” said the Mad Hatter, stepping forward valiantly.

  The Cheshire Cat snorted. “You have very poor evaporating skills. I should be the one.”

  “No, me!” cried Tweedledum.

  “No, me!” shouted Tweedledee, pushing his brother behind him.

  The White Rabbit held up the Oraculum and the illustration of Alice slaying the Jabberwocky. Everyone fell quiet.

  “No other slayer, no-how,” murmured Tweedledum.

  “If it ain’t Alice, it ain’t dead,” agreed Tweedledee.

  All the eyes in the courtyard turned to Alice. The weight of their gazes, all their expectations, reminded her of the pressure she felt under the gazebo as Hamish proposed marriage to her with the entire garden party looking on.

  “Alice,” said the White Queen, “you cannot live your life to please others. The choice must be yours because when you step out to face that creature, you will step out alone.”

  Alice stared at the picture of the horrible monster that was winging its way toward them. She saw her golden hair flying as she wielded the Vorpal Sword, but she still couldn’t imagine how it would feel—the thunk of the blade slicing into flesh, the scrape of its long sharp claws against her pale skin. She was not a killer. How could she kill anything . . . let alone Underland’s most dreaded creature?

  Overwhelmed, Alice turned and ran out of the courtyard. She bolted through the castle and out into the gardens until she found the hedge maze, where she threw herself onto a garden bench and wept.

  “Nothing was ever accomplished with tears,” observed a voice. Alice lifted her tear-streaked face and looked around.

  “Absolem?”

  She peered at the nearest hedge and saw him hanging upside down on a leaf, spinning a silvery green web around himself.

  “Why are you upside down?” she asked.

  “I’ve come to the end of this life,” he explained calmly.

  Alice didn’t know why she felt so upset; she barely knew him. “You’re going to die?” she said.

  “Transform,” he answered, although it wasn’t much of an answer. The web already covered half of his body.

  “Don’t go,” Alice pleaded. “I need your help. I don’t know what to do!”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t even know who you are, stupid girl.”

  Now Alice was angry. “I’m not stupid! My name is Alice. I live in London. I have a mother named Helen and a sister named Margaret. My father was Charles Kingsleigh. He had a vision that stretched halfway around the world, and nothing ever stopped him. He probably would have liked it here.” She paused, realizing what she was saying. It felt like an epiphany dawning upon her. All she needed was her father’s strength and vision and faith in himself. Slowly she said, “I’m his daughter. I’m Alice Kingsleigh.”

  “Alice at last!” cried the Caterpillar. “You were just as dim-witted the first time you were here. You called it ‘W
onderland,’ as I recall.”

  “Wonderland . . .” Alice echoed. Her dream came flooding back with all of its details. Young Alice in Wonderland . . . Alice in the room of doors, Alice with the Cheshire Cat, Alice at the mad tea party . . . Alice with the Red Queen and Playing Cards, painting the roses red . . . young Alice with the Caterpillar . . .

  “It wasn’t a dream at all!” Alice burst out. “It was a memory! This place is real! And so are you.” Her heart leaped. “And so is the Hatter.”

  “And the Jabberwocky,” the Caterpillar reminded her. “Remember, the Vorpal Sword knows what it wants. All you have to do is hold on to it. Fairfarren, Alice. Perhaps I will see you in another life.”

  He disappeared inside the green chrysalis, swallowed up even more thoroughly than he’d vanished into his clouds of smoke.

  Alice sat for a moment, thinking. Finally she got to her feet and wiped away the last traces of her tears.

  She knew what she had to do.

  The Red Queen’s army marched steadily across the Crimson Desert, red banners fluttering high over their heads. The Queen rode in the lead on a black charger, the Knave of Hearts at her side. The JubJub Bird flew ahead, and far above them, a monstrous winged shadow soared.

  On they came, unstoppable, formidable, and terrifying.

  The mood in the White Queen’s courtyard was somber. Without Alice, how could they have any chance of winning the coming battle? The Tweedles stood with their arms around each other, heads bowed in despair. The March Hare wrung his paws and ears, his eyes darting nervously from side to side.

  The Mad Hatter leaned against the wall, waiting. He knew Alice. He believed in her. He refused to give up hope.

  Suddenly there was a resounding clatter from inside the castle. The Bandersnatch loped out into the courtyard, drool dripping from its squashed bulldog face. A White Knight rode on his back, and for a moment the eyes of the crowd were dazzled by the sun gleaming off the shiny silver armor.

  Then they saw the blond hair hanging down from the helmet, and the Vorpal Sword raised high in Alice’s hand. A rousing cheer rose from the crowd . . . their champion had arrived.