Malice in Wonderland Bundle 2

by Lotus Rose

“Come, now we shall have some fun,” the Queen of Hearts says, lighting up.

  The Storyteller says, “Yes, I thought you’d like that. So enough dilly dallying, and let’s get to it.” He clears his throat, looks into the book, and orates to the girl, “Once upon a time there was a little girl who could use her magical abilities to open a dream connection with Alice in the outside realm, and one night, this night, she did…” He closes the book, then presses the back of his hand to the girl’s forehead, as if to check for a fever. He presses his palm to her forehead. “I said, this night…she did!”

  A few moments pass. A tiny dot of light appears in the air above the bed, flitting lazily like a firefly. Now the light grows, until it is a big hovering orb of light in which they all can see a blurry view of Alice, the twin of Malice, lying in her bed on her side, fast asleep.

  Yet the Queen of Hearts thinks Alice looks somewhat younger than Malice. It’s all so ludicrous, since only a few weeks ago, Malice was 13, but since messing with the magic time-changing watch, she’d managed to bungle herself to suddenly jump to be 15 years of age. Apparently, her twin, Alice, in the other world, hadn’t experienced the same changes.

  Wilhelm says, “Crikey, how do we wake her?”

  Jacob shrugs, and the Storyteller closes his book and sets it on one of the nightstands. He places his index finger upon the side of his face, thoughtfully, but not helpfully, since he takes way too long, thinking.

  So the Queen of Hearts shrugs and shouts at Alice, “Wake up, you rascal! You’re late for your rounds,” for she remembers fondly when she used to terrorize the child by sending her on daily rounds of humiliation, and if the girl was ever late, well she knew to fear the wrath of her queen, that was for sure.

  And ah, the memory is still within Alice, for she shrieks and hops out of bed like jumping from a pot of hot water. Her frightened eyes look around in her dark room and she says, “I’m sorry, My Queen! I’ll be ready at once! Oh, I’m so sorry for oversleeping!”

  The Queen of Hearts snickers as Alice rummages through a cabinet drawer, then the Queen of Hearts says, “I knew you couldn’t forget about me.”

  Alice strikes a match and lights a candle. “Oh, no no, My Queen, I could never forget you.” Inside the floating orb above the bed, Alice turns to face the Queen of Hearts, a puzzled look on Alice’s face as she says, “I mean, wait, I’m no longer in Wonderland, I mean, I never was.”

  “And the Queen of Hearts is no longer the queen,” Wilhelm says unhelpfully, and the Queen of Hearts turns to snarl at him.

  “Oh!” the Queen of Hearts cries as she is startled by the grinning floating head of that infernal Cheshire Cat staring straight at her, to mock her. “Infernal cat!”

  He chuckles. “Why didn’t you invite me?”

  Alice’s eyes are wide with fear, her fingers are touching her mouth, “Cat?” she whispers. She mumbles to her herself, “No, this must be a dream, or one of the ‘hallucinations’ they spoke of.”

  The Storyteller says, “Well it is a dream, my dear. You are actually still asleep. Greetings, Alice, I’m the Storyteller.”

  With a pleasant little smile upon her face, Alice smiles congenially. She reaches over and pinches her arm.

  The Storyteller says, “That won’t work. We’re locked in. We’re contacting you from the Wonderland Realm concerning a very important matter.”

  A faraway look on Alice’s face. “There is no Wonderland. I realize that now.”

  The Storyteller says, “Well, I beg to differ. I know you’re a girl with a wild imagination, which is why fate chose you to enter Wonderland all those years ago.”

  “Yes, I used to believe in it. But it was what they call a delusion. But the doctors, help me to not think that way.”

  “Then where had you been all those years?”

  Alice answers, “They do not know. I may have been in a fugue state or may have amnesia.”

  The Queen of Hearts butts in, “I must ask you, how old are you, girl?”

  “I’m 14, Your Highness.”

  “Poppycock! Obviously, you must be mistaken. You should still be 13.”

  Alice shakes her head meekly.

  The Queen of Hearts says, “Well, perhaps you are not mistaken, then. Malice must have truly mucked up time by fiddling with that watch of hers.”

  “Oh, Malice!” Alice exclaims. “How is she?”

  “Bleh,” says the Queen of Hearts. “She’s annoying. Still has that ticktock heart of hers that makes her act all righteous and holier than thou.”

  Alice asks, “But what of you? Don’t you have a heart as well, now?”

  “Of course I have a heart. But just because one has a heart, doesn’t mean one’s a good person, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. But I just know that with all the changes before I left, all the Wonderland citizens gained new hearts. Tell me, have their personalities changed? Are they much nicer? But, no…” She bites her lip, shakes her head as if to clear it. “This is all a dream. I mustn’t persist in my delusions. I must wake up!” She shakes her head faster, causing her hair to whip about.

  The view of Alice’s room grows blurry and wavy, like viewing things through hot air.

  The Storyteller says, “We’re losing her. Our connection isn’t strong enough. Please, Alice, stop and just listen for a little bit.”

  Alice stops and peers at him warily. “Okay.”

  “These two young men beside me are the Brothers Grimm.”

  Her eyes widen. “The ones who made the fairy tales?”

  “Yes. I know how much you like stories, and how imaginative you are, and well, we want to bring the fairy tales over into your world, and make them real, not just stories.”

  “Why?” Alice asks.

  “Because my girl, it will be fun and interesting. Don’t you think your real world is boring? I know you do.”

  “I do, but, I mean, what can I do?”

  “You can do so much. You’re very special. You are the legendary Alice, and since you came from Wonderland you’re like an anchor. It must be you who calls the fairy tale beings to your world.”

  “Anchor?” She scrunches her face. “Like on a ship?”

  The Storyteller sighs. “It’s like you’re on one end of the rope, in your world, and you must call the fairy tale beings over—you must pull them through on the rope, using the power of your imagination.”

  “My imagination has gotten me in so much trouble! You can’t be real.”

  “You are still connected to Wonderland, due to parts you’ve left behind, like Malice, for instance. Because of that you should still be able to sense…can’t you feel that we’re real?”

  “Nope, silly dream.” She grins as if she’s not falling for the joke.

  He sighs. “Can’t you just give it a try and just believe?”

  “T’is folly, I now realize.” She shrugs. Grins.

  The Storyteller turns to the Queen of Hearts and Brothers Grimm, says, “We must figure a way to strengthen the connection to her, so she can feel that we’re real.”

  Jacob says, “Perhaps something with a magical aura to it.”

  Wilhelm nods. “Something that was personally connected to her.”

  The Storyteller’s face alights. “Or even something that was an item of clothing she wore, like a hat or scarf, or something once a part of her body like, hair, fingernails.”

  “Or tears?” Alice asks. “Like the Hatter’s special hat, you mean? Is that what you’re hinting at with your ‘accidentally overheard’ conversation?”

  They’re all looking at her.

  “The Hatter’s hat?” the Storyteller asks.

  “Yes, I cried into it. Or I imagined I did. But this has gone on quite long enough, you figments of my imagination. I’m going back to sleep, and I shan’t dream of you anymore!” She covers her eyes with her hands and the floating image of her promptly disappears.

  The Storyteller turns to them. “What do you know of the hat she spoke of?”


  The Queen of Hearts says, “I know he has many of them—the twit is obsessed, I must say. But I don’t know of one Alice cried in, but if she did, it must be magical in some way, since her tears were quite magical things.”

  The brothers are rubbing their chins, going, “Hmmm.”

  “I know the hat,” the Cheshire Cat says. “He keeps it in his workshop.”

  “Well,” says the Storyteller, “perhaps it’s time to have a chat with the Hatter.”

  “Quite,” says the Queen of Hearts. “But he’s been paranoid the past couple of days and has holed himself up in his fort. Well, he calls it his fort, but it’s really just his workshop, all gussied up. He’s quite mad, you know. He’s refused to speak to me for two days, and now that I’m not the official queen, I doubt he’ll listen to me.” She pouts.

  “Send some guard cards?” the Storyteller says.

  “The fort would chew them up, I’m afraid. He’s set up a bunch of challenges to get to his door.”

  “Tell me about the fort, but whisper in my ear, so it won’t be overheard, for the sake of…” He rummages in his pocket and hands her a card. She reads it: Suspense.

  So she walks to him and whispers in his ear the description of the fort and all the challenges he set up.

  The Storyteller’s eyes alight. “Ahah!” he proclaims. “I know the perfect person to storm the Mad Hatter’s little fort.”

  “Oh? Praytell, who?”

  “Cinderella.”

  Chapter 5

  “Who’s Cinderella?” the Queen of Hearts asks.

  The Storyteller answers, “One of the fairy tale beings.”

  Wilhelm says, “We created her.”

  “And I told her story,” says the Storyteller.

  The Queen of Hearts presses her fingertips to her temples and shakes her head. “I must say, this whole business is difficult for me to understand.”

  The Cat clucks his tongue. “I agree, it does all seem a bit hard to swallow.”

  The Queen of Hearts scowls at the Cat. She tends to do that automatically, for she quite despises the beast.

  “Ah, well,” says the Storyteller, “I’m sure I could try more explaining, leading to more confusing, but why don’t we skip that and go to Cinderella at once. She’s in one of the castle’s gardens.”

  “Of course, she is,” the Queen of Hearts mutters.

  “Well, yes, of course. This is the official fairy tale castle. Since so many fairy tales have a castle, why not use the same one? Efficient, you see.”

  Angrily, the Queen of Hearts says, “Well I thought I had put a stop to all the fairy tale business when I cast the spells and put you two in prison.” She’s referring to the Brothers Grimm.

  “You did,” the Storyteller says. “She was one of the only few fairy tale beings let loose in Wonderland before you clamped down. I ended up freezing her. Come, I’ll take you to her.” He begins walking.

  “What do you mean, ‘freezing’?”

  “She’s frozen in place. Come along, I’ll show you.”

  “Certainly,” says the Cat.

  “You’re not invited,” the Queen of Hearts tells him, but he tags along anyway.

  They make their way down several floors and through many hallways until they enter a courtyard. The doors open out into a medium sized garden with sidewalks and neatly trimmed hedges and an array of flowers. A teenage girl in a blue evening gown is sitting like a statue upon a bench in front of a stone fountain.

  “There she is,” the Storyteller says as they approach.

  “Our creation!” Jacob says.

  The girl seems to be pressing a slab of glass which is broken on one end, against her bare wrist. Her other hand is adorned in a long elbow length white glove. The girl’s face seems frozen in mid-crying, but also bears an expression of curiousity. Her head is raised and slightly tilted as if trying to make out something she hears.

  Now that they’re up close, the Queen of Hearts sees that the glass shard is a glass slipper, that has been broken on one end.

  “Oh, my,” the Queen of Hearts says, and wrinkles her nose in a bit of distaste.

  “Oh, how morbid!” the Cat says.

  Wilhelm says, “Oh, please, Storyteller, please release our creation.”

  The Queen of Hearts is still trying to understand all this. “So, you brothers created her, but you can’t release her?”

  “Yes,” the Storyteller says, “the Brothers Grimm create all the fairy tale beings, but it is I who shape their lives, who tells their story, for I…am the Storyteller.”

  The Queen of Hearts struggles not to roll her eyes. “Why yes, I heard. Several times. So why is the poor girl about to slice her wrist?”

  The Storyteller says, “Because once I found out you were destroying the fairy tales, I sought a way to save her. I couldn’t send her off to Fairy Tale Land like the others, since she’d already been unleashed into Wonderland. But I came up with a way to save her—I froze her in place by attributing something to her known as…” He digs in his pockets, hands her a card. “an ambiguous ending.”

  She reads the card that reads, yes, Ambiguous ending. She rolls her eyes. “I say, what is the use of these cards?”

  “Why they’re storytelling tool cards,” the Storyteller says, as if that explains it.

  “Pardon me,” says the Cat. “But may I ask, is the ending going to be that her arterial spray shoots out, because that would be delightfully gory.”

  The Queen of Hearts makes a sound of disgust.

  “Well, it’s ambiguous, Cat,” the Storyteller says, “which means it’s up in the air.”

  “Oh, like her blood soon shall be,” the Cat says delightfully.

  “Oh, I can’t stand him,” the Queen of Hearts mutters to herself.

  “Well, I saved her by using that card, and ending her story, freezing her in place.”

  The Queen of Heart says, “You still haven’t told me why she’s about to slice her wrist with a glass shoe.”

  Jacob says, “She’s the Princess who did woo, with her exhibitionist glass shoe.”

  The Queen of Hearts just stares at him, dumbfounded.

  Wilhelm explains, “We created her. Sometimes there are little rhymes associated with their stories.”

  But the Queen of Hearts doesn’t think that explains much of anything. “It’s a simple question. Yet no one will answer.”

  “Well, my dear Queen,” the Storyteller says, “to do so, I would have to tell her story, which I’m perfectly willing to do, with me being a storyteller and all, but when I get to the point of her ambiguous ending, in order to unfreeze her, I shall have to provide her with a right and proper ending to her tale.”

  The Queen of Hearts regards the girl. “So? Is there any other way? Let’s get to it.”

  “Yes!” the Cat exclaims. “Let’s get the blood flying up in the air!”

  Wilhelm says, with hanged head, “I would hate to see our creation perish.”

  The Storyteller says, “Nonetheless, sometimes a tragic ending is the most fitting. I even have a ‘tragic ending’ card. Would you like to see?” he says with a smirk at the Queen of Hearts.

  “Oh no no no, I shan’t!” the Queen of Hearts exclaims while waving her hands in front of her.

  “I’d like to see,” says the Cat, slyly.

  “We often prefer tragic endings,” Jacob says.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Wilhelm says.

  The Storyteller says, “Well, I shall tell you all her story as I told it before, up until the point she froze, and then…” He reclaims the Ambiguous ending card from the Queen of Heart’s hand. “…I shall provide her tale with an end. So shall I begin?” He motions toward the bench.

  They nod and agree and take seats to either side of Cinderella (All except for the Cheshire Cat, whose grinning head remains floating in the air.)

  The Storyteller begins. “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella, who had two wicked stepsisters and a cruel stepmother. We
ll, there was a prince who was looking for a wife. The stepmother forbid Cinderella from going to the Prince’s ball. And of course, Cinderella was too poor to afford fancy things.

  “But Cinderella called the aid of her fairy godmother who provided a gown and glass slippers and even a stage coach.

  “So Cinderella went to the ball, where everyone’s face was covered. Not even her stepsisters, who were there too, recognized her.

  “Now the Prince was a foot fetishist, so when he saw Cinderella’s toes, he fell in love, but Cinderella had to rush off just before midnight before all her magical things disappeared, and she rushed off before the Prince could find out who she was, but one of her glass slippers fell off.

  “Well, long story short, the Prince went around trying the glass slipper on every girl in the kingdom. At last he tried it on Cinderella, who was barefoot, since her stepsisters had hidden her goody two-shoes, which were the only shoes she owned.

  “Well, the glass slipper fit, the Prince proposed and the two were married. But on the night of their wedding, they were awakened by the arrival of an intruder in their bedroom.

  “There, standing before their bed, was a strikingly beautiful woman, made entirely of glass.

  “She was a powerful sorceress, and she told them she was the original owner of the slippers, and she was furious with Cinderella for stealing them. The vicious glass sorceress wouldn’t believe Cinderella when she said she had no idea where the slippers had come from.

  “Cinderella was very sorry and wanted to give the slippers back.

  “But the sorceress was cruel and wanted to punish Cinderella. She told Cinderella that if she wanted the slippers so bad, she could keep them, and as punishment, the sorceress would take her husband.

  “The sorceress cast an enchantment that caused the prince to fall in love with her, and the prince left with the sorceress back to her realm of glass, leaving poor Cinderella all alone.

  “Well, poor Cinderella was heartbroken, and she missed her prince terribly. She held onto the hope that he would return to her, but for weeks, he didn’t. All the courtesans and servants left the castle to be with a different ruler, and Cinderella roamed its empty halls lost in her misery. She was so distraught, she began to imagine she could hear him calling her, and she would rush over, only to see she’d been imagining.