by Zoe Blake
His trousers were striped in alternating black and white from his hips, over his knobby knees, down to scuffed shoes. On his shoulders and around his waist was a green velvet coat. His shirt and cravat were yellowed, crinkled, and not at all pretty no matter how big the bow he had tied. Atop his head was a hat like my father wore when he went out in the evenings with Mama.
It was black beaver, hinting at a dint if one looked close enough and greyed by dust.
He reached for the teapot and poured, holding out the cup he had filled for me, as if I might creep from the bed to play with him.
This one was new, and I knew better than to trust. I would not move.
Voice dropping impossibly low, he growled, “You don’t need to be afraid of her, you know. She can’t even speak.” Lifting his chin, the man drew his finger across his throat. “Her head was cut clean off. All shhheeee can do is garble. Cracking fun to watch.” He poured more imaginary tea into my cup and held it even farther towards me. “Don’t ever let her touch you though.”
Blinking, feeling the sleepy crust in my eyes, I whispered, “Why?”
“Madder than a march hare, that one. The Red Queen, she’s something special. A true psychopath. Do you know that word, sweet Alice?”
I shook my head no.
“Your skin... she’ll take yours, tie it in knots, and wear it on her head like a hat.” He’d said it in a way that his yellow eyes bugged, his singsong almost silly as he pointed to his head.
Giddy as I was, I giggled.
Looking back now, I see that I should not have done it. All it did was invite more from the monster. “And the boys... they are naughty, naughty boys, aren’t they?”
I nodded frantically, clutching at my bedsheets. My arms were marked with healing reminders of their claws. Under the covers, I had teeth marks on my ankles.
“Don’t whimper, good little girl. Come here and have your tea. I’ll keep the rest away tonight.”
I’d seen a puppet show on the street once on a rare occasion when I’d been allowed to accompany Mama on a special trip outside. The marionettes had been controlled by strings. That was how I felt when my covers peeled back and I dared step a stocking foot out of my bed.
I went to that table and I sat across from the tall, grey-skinned man.
His arm holding out my tiny cup was motionless, abnormally unmoving. Reaching forward, I gingerly took the saucer, the edges of my pinky brushing his grip on the plate.
The man with long sideburns, grinned, he stared, and I cowered.
“What is wrong with your fingers?”
There was a bruise across my knuckles, my palms were blistered. Fat tears collected in my eyes, and my pouted lip began to shake. It had been such a terrible day. When I’d dozed during my lessons, the hag who taught me harp had cracked my hands with her cane again.
I wanted to please my parents. I wanted to be good. But I could not help but fall asleep at my lessons.
Where I held the tea cup, the man in the dirty hat reached forward. His finger caught the end of my pinky and drew it up in mimicry of how fine ladies held their cups. “Your tea will get cold.”
“I don’t like the boys. They get me in so much trouble!”
“They are easy to tame. When they poke at you,” his grin, the edges of his mouth shifted enough to take all mirth from the expression. Instead, he looked utterly scary, “give them each a hard smack in the face.”
They were bigger than me, and so much stronger. When I kicked, they bit. When I clawed, they squeezed.
Before I might complain on the topic, the man poured himself a measure of the invisible tea and held up his cup. I sipped in mirror to his movements. He’d made slurping noises and smacked his lips, declaring the flavor suburb. My frown grew less severe.
At my shy smile, those yellow eyes became alive in a way the rest of him was decidedly not. “Alice, be a good girl and drink all your tea.”
“It’s good tea, sir.”
“I’m the Hatter. No need to call me sir. We are to be very close, you and I.” The curls at his temples as messy as the blunt ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, my latest visitor posed so I might take him in. Again, he grinned, almost handsome. “As I was saying, little dear, the Red Queen that makes you cry and wet the bed. Do not, under any circumstances, let her touch you. She wants you for herself.”
I took another sip, unexpectedly warm and about ready to nod off right before the lanky, strange man. “The man who laughs? Does he want to wear me like a hat?”
“No. That is not what he wants.”
“The boys?”
My visitor smirked. “Want to play.”
The whine in my voice made the complaint pathetic. “Sir, I don’t want to play. I am so tired... I want to sleep”
He reached over the little table and traced my pinky again, following the line of bone from knuckle to nail. “I can give you that.”
“Really? You’ll let me sleep. No laughing? You won’t take my covers, or walk around the bed hissing at me?”
Unfolding like a cricket ready to spring, the man grew tall. “I’ll just stand here and watch.”
I scrambled out of the chair so quickly it fell over. I was up in the bed, the covers tugged to my chin when the grinning monstrosity leaned over me. Yellow eyes unblinking, he looked over the shape of my body under the quilt. “Shall I pat your head, child?”
“Mama gets vexed when I muss my hair.”
The man did not seem at all pleased with my answer. “Are you sure?” He held his hand up, the long fingers hovering over the top of my head. “All little girls like to be tucked in.”
Shrinking into the mattress, I shook my head.
To my ultimate relief he withdrew his hand and did exactly what he’d said he’d do. He stood at the side of my bed and stared down. My eyelids slipped closed, my breath changed, and for the first night in ages, I found sleep.
Chapter Three
“Look, sir.” Mouth open so my playmate might see what all the fuss was about, I used my tongue to wiggle a very loose tooth. “When it falls out, the tooth fairy will visit, and I’ll get a penny under my pillow. The new maid who builds the fires told me so this morning.”
Eyes narrowed so that the yellow glow of my friend’s stare was dimmed, he craned his neck forward and peered into my mouth. “I don’t see anything.”
“What do you mean?” I wiggled the tooth more frantically with my tongue, proud. “It’s going to fall out any moment.”
“What is?”
In a pique, I pointed to my tooth. “This!”
Long fingers released his tea cup and reached over our shared table. Just before reaching my lips, he hesitated. It was not until I opened my mouth wider in invitation that the pad of his pointer depressed my tongue. He grinned, positively gleeful, running a touch that tasted of dust over every last one of my teeth. I wanted to spit him out, anything to get that awful taste from my mouth, but even more, I wanted him to find the tooth and share my joy.
At last, his probe behind my lips found the loose tooth. After a quick pinch, he yanked.
The immediate taste of blood overpowered the flavor of moldy dirt. He had stolen my tooth, right out of my skull.
Already in a state of tears, eyes wet from his betrayal, I cried, “It’s mine. The tooth fairy won’t come if you don’t give it back to me.”
He was holding it up to the sliver of street light that penetrated the curtains, inspecting my tooth like a diamond. Ignoring my protests and weeping, he hummed. “There is no tooth fairy for you. Which one of them do you think would make way for your pathetic apparition? The boys would tear off her wings. The Red Queen would rip out her guts. The Laughing Man... you don’t want to know what he’d do to her.”
I had not cared about the penny, all that my little mind had clung to was that a fairy would come to my room. Fairies were good, she’d let me sleep, keep me safe for one whole night from the others.
From the glint in the Hatter’s eyes,
I could see he knew my thoughts and was offended deeply by them. “I will give you the two pennies in my pocket for the tooth.”
He’d imprisoned my tooth in a tight fist, his other hand delving into his waistcoat.
“No.”
Hissing like a snake, he chastised me roundly. “You bad, thankless, Alice. There will be no more tea for you!”
I could see in him an impatience I had not noticed in our earlier playtime. Had his skin not been grey and dusty, I am sure it would have burned red in anger.
The bloody woman had kept me up all night the previous evening, the laughing man stealing my sleep the night before that. I was tired, and heartbroken there would be no tooth fairy in my future. In a tantrum, I threw my teapot, happy to see it roll and bounce over the floor.
Instantly I sat full of regret.
The handle had broken off. Even with it lying all the way across the room, I could see a great chip in the spout. My tears fell for another reason.
What had I done? My favorite toy was spoiled.
A great roar and the man was standing over me. “Open your mouth, Alice, and I’ll shove your precious tooth back in. I’ll then tell the boys to come. Oh, how they love to play with you.”
“NO!”
He was not done with me, not by a long shot. “The Red Queen then? Is it her company you prefer to mine?”
This night was not going right at all. The Hatter was the funny one who liked to share my tea and stand at the side of my bed as I slept. He was the one who always wanted to pat my curls, and offered over and over to tuck me in. It was not his part to yell and scare me.
That was what the others were for.
“You want the Cheshire, the fat man? He can drive you as mad as he is with that laugh!”
I fell to my knees before my friend. “Please, I just want my tooth back.”
His chin went to his chest, eyes blazing. “I’ve already lost it.”
I pointed to his clenched fist. “Sir, it’s in your hand, there.”
His boney fingers uncurled and it was there, my stolen tooth and a little mark of my blood resting on his cracked palm. “So it is.” His viscous mouth turned into a half-cocked smirk. “I’ll tell you what, child. I’ll trade it to you.”
I nodded, earnest to have my chance at the fairy. “Yes.”
The turbulence was gone from his barking. He’d grown contemplative and sedate. “I want to kiss your cheek.”
That seemed a fair trade, though I was certain if his face was near mine, his dust would settle into my hair. Even so, I turned my head and presented the side of my face.
There was no kiss, not at first. Instead, I heard the clink of my stolen tooth being dropped into my cup. Before I could turn my head to make sure he was not playing some trick on me, the Hatter clicked his tongue. I remained still, my eyes, of course, locked upon the white rabbit.
I jumped at the touch of ice on my face, fingers colder than death tracing the bones of my jaw and eye socket.
“Do you know how many years I’ve been coming to visit, Alice?”
One? Maybe two? It was hard to say. One night bled into the next... an endless loop of sleepless murk.
“An eternity, sweet Alice.” He was utterly indulged, touching my face as I’d never let him before. “Are you not happy to have me?”
I favored him immensely over the others. “You are the only friend I have. I even told Mama and Papa about you.”
“Yessssss, yeeeeesssss, that is what I am. I am your friend.” He stole his kiss, but he missed his mark, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth instead. “And friends give presents to one another, do they not?”
His mouth had been wet and I’d shivered, longing to wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. “They do.”
“Then will you not give me the tooth as a token of our friendship? It would make me very cheerful.”
He had taken his seat again, his knees high and his hat crooked. I turned away from the horrid rabbit and looked to my cup. In the small porcelain bowl laid my bloody tooth.
It was a currency, I could see that. With it, I might buy leniency from the Hatter’s temper. Still I was very unhappy to hand it over, pushing the cup closer to my guest, eyes downcast and voice timid. “You may have it.”
“I will be much better to you than any fairy...”
No, he wouldn’t. I let out a sigh and watched his fingers dart out to pocket my offering. He was grinning again, tapping his toes as he crooked a finger at the broken teapot across the room. It flew to his hand like a darting bird flies to a tree.
Mouth agape, I almost fell out of my chair.
It lacked a handle and he had to hold it with his great long fingers curled around the teapot like a spider. Even so he poured. Steaming tea came out the spout.
“I have made you cold. You need a warm drink.”
What was this magic? First, the tea pot came at his call, and now there was real tea in my cup.
“Take your cup now. Be a good girl.”
I did as I was told, mesmerized and delighted. The tea was at my lips, I sipped daintily, pinky up just like he had taught me.
I knew the flavor, he’d created my favorite variety, and indeed, it did warm me. The fluid mingled with the grit in my mouth, with the blood, and washed both away.
Chapter Four
“You look a mess, Alice.” My mother buttered her toast, angry to see the dark circles under my eyes, made all the worse against my sallow pallor. “It’s positively shameful.”
Dutiful, I smoothed my pinafore and kept my eyes downcast. For years I had heard the same castigation that I had grown less beautiful than before. “I am sorry, Mama.”
She was fresh in peach silk, her golden hair arranged to showcase her glowing health and beauty. “Do you not think you are too old for nightmares and the abuses you heap on your nanny? Most girls your age have outgrown their governess, they speak Latin and French... yet you still wet the bed.”
The shame I felt at her words, if I could have sunk into the fine dining chair and burst into a puff of dust, I would have welcomed it. “I told you, Mama. It wasn’t me who wet the bed. It was the boys. They did it right in front of me.”
My father slammed down his fork, the china on the table clattering. “That is enough!”
“Are you going to tell us these imaginary boys scratched you too?” Eyes the same shade of blue as mine, looked down to where my sleeve showed a hint of my wrist. The edges of a scabbed line of scratches peeked out for my mother to frown at. “That you did not do that to yourself?”
No one ever believed me. “I didn’t.”
“These imaginary friends of yours, at your age, it is an embarrassment to our family!”
I had heard them talking, my parents, the servants, about my oddness. I had heard them call me strange and wicked, and I had cried to the Hatter on the nights he came to see me, and I had tried to be the most obedient student even with my awful harp teacher.
“Please listen to me, Mama.” For a moment, I thought to beg my mother to hear me, and then the sad weight of inevitability sank deep into my belly. They were tired of my stories and excuses. I vexed them, my nanny had grown to hate me, and there was no point in any of it. So I lied, hoping it might make them happy. “There are no boys. I wet the bed.” The lie tasted worse than the Hatter’s dirty fingers. “It was I who cracked the mirror on my bureau, and I who put the frog in Nanny’s chamber pot. I confess.”
My bid for mercy had been for nothing. My mother’s head, her hair piled up and shining, was turned away from me. “Go to your room, girl. I cannot even look upon you anymore.”
Standing, I followed decorum even as I asked a question to which I already knew the answer. “Am I to be excluded from the Christmas party tonight?”
It was the first time I’d been considered old enough to stand and be seen by the guests. I had been coached for months. My mama had even had a dress special made for me. I wanted to eat ice cream and watch the musicians, and be anyw
here other than the nursery.
Papa scoffed. “Acting out as you do, how could you possibly imagine we would allow you to attend?”
The injustice broke my heart.
Resentful of my parents’ scolding, a desire for fairness inspired me to do something truly naughty. After a day of sulking at my mistreatment, I’d stolen into my nanny’s room and scampered off with the fancy dress I was no longer going to be allowed to wear and hid it in my toy box. Before the first guests might arrive, my nanny turned the key and locked me away for the night. No one would look in upon me when more fun could be had elsewhere. So, while the music was jolly downstairs, and the servants were distracted with their own festivities, I pulled glimmering blue silk over my mottled shoulders, arms like a monkey to work all the buttons, so I might spin around and pretend I was a part of it.
Intensely careful, I had made sure not to crease the silk or so much as smudge the lace. I had even wound my hair up as Mama did, pins haphazard and curls falling prettily.
Even with the large crack through my mirror, I could see the fractured image of a beautiful girl—a lady with ruffles and bows, golden ringlets, and sapphire eyes.
The party, my party, I’d have alone. I knew the simple steps of a waltz, I could imagine a prince, a castle, garlands and flowers around me. I could dance in my dress, talk to a string of suitors, and know that everyone loved me.
Distracted in my games, I played too late. I was still in the gown when the grandfather clock ticked, and the noise shook my walls.
Oh no...
My every intention had been to take off the pretty dress and get into bed before the clock sounded, but I’d grown lost in pretend, frolicking around my room as princesses must dance around their castles.
I’d been given less than three ticks before the rabbit turned his head and my visitor appeared.
“How comely you look, sweet Alice. What is the occasion?”
Relief it was not the evil boys was short lived, for the dust on my playmate… if he were to so much as stand close, would spoil the dress.
