Wandering in Wonderland

Prologue

Fickle. That’s what Wonderland was… is .

Fickle with its weather. Fickle with its seasons and tides… And why shouldn’t it be? For all intents and purposes, Wonderland was—is—a living and breathing thing. It’s allowed to change its mind and do whatever it feels is right to protect itself and whomever—or whatever—it deems worthy. However, the list is short: a few animals, a tree, an orphan who is particularly confused and has locked themselves away in their own fit of madness and denial. Then, there was him: Wonderland’s favorite. Nobody, not even the man himself, understood why Wonderland cared so deeply for him, but it did… does.

At first, it happened in small ways. Wonderland let this man explore its woods and forests without falling prey to its maddening twists and turns.

The man was always kind to this world, just as it had been kind to him. He made sure to only take what he was allowed to and murmured sweet thank-yous to the trees and flowers. In turn, Wonderland did what it felt was right to care for him. It showed him the hidden paths of the Tugley Wood and made sure no one would stumble upon his favorite places unless they were deemed worthy of the gentleman.

Above all, Wonderland was able to judge someone and determine whether or not they would hurt the land and its treasured residents.

Deep in the Tugley Wood waited a pond filled with clear water. Surrounded by willow trees and berry bushes, it stayed pure and virgin for only Wonderland’s favorite. He would sit for hours at the water's edge, watching guppies and firebugs dance above and below while the wind whispered to him and the sun warmed his cheeks. A side effect of Wonderland’s love was a touch of fire in his brain—a madness nothing could quell.

Maybe Wonderland knew of its poison and tried to make things right. Afternoons by the water helped the man, just as solitude and wanderings helped the orphan. Unlike the child who walked through mists and called for no one, the man longed for companionship. One day, a mermaid came from the waters of the pool. She was a dark-haired beauty, shy to the air, but warm to the smile of the man. They spent time together, swimming and talking. She would lay her head in his lap as he told her stories of the town and Wonderland’s traditions. In return, she sang to him.

The two became fast friends. Even when he was alone, the man would speak to the willows and the stream feeding the pond of how grateful he was for this friend who never seemed to mind his madness and ramblings.

His happiness was short-lived. Just as soon as the mermaid appeared in his life, she was gone. He lost more and more of his light as the days went on.

That’s when she came along. A young girl close to his age, with fire in her words, fell down the rabbit hole. He was fast to warm to her, as her beauty and wit charmed him and gave him purpose once again. On the other hand, she only saw him as immature and unworthy of her time. This made Wonderland angry.

Why wasn’t its favorite worthy of her time? He was kind, handsome, thoughtful, and never a bore. And she? Wonderland would scoff if it could. She was run of the mill. A tart: sour and cold. The world had half a thought to send her to where the snow would match her disposition. But its favorite was in love, and did it not care for its favorite?

So, Wonderland let her stay, but hate and resentment built slowly within it as the girl continued to reject and ignore the man. One day, the world felt it had no more choice but to suck the girl back up the rabbit hole as easily as she fell down it.

The man was beside himself. He ran through the woods and tore at the mouth of the rabbit hole until his fingers were raw, bloodied, and caked with dirt. The hole refused to allow him entry, but he would not accept defeat. He was certain she was his true love—the only thing that would truly cure the madness within him—and he cursed the world he once loved.

Shouting and swearing, he spat and tore at the flowers and trees, demanding the world give him back his cure, but the world was done with her loathing. Couldn’t the man see she was no good for him? There was no love from her. There was no warmth or future. He stayed vigilant at the mouth of the rabbit hole, and the world did the only thing it knew to do.

Wonderland needed to protect itself in any way it could, so it left the man. The world no longer opened its woods to the pathways he used to explore. He was now only treading the straight path from the rabbit hole to the nearest town. There were no more companions who understood his madness and hurt, only the townspeople who pitied him and busied him with requests from his trade.

The man mourned the loss of his love while Wonderland mourned the loss of its favorite man and slowly let the pond wither away and dry up.

Chapter One

Screeching tires… Lights… Bright lights… A horn… Hurt… Pain… Help… Can’t move… Help… What’s going on…? Ringing… Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow … Man talking… Panic…. Woman screaming… Ringing… Pain… Water in eyes… Ow ... Water in mouth… Drowning… Water hurting… Blood… Help… It’ll be okay… Stinging… I’m so sorry… hear me… It’s okay… Shit, shit, shit… sirens… Light… White light… You’re okay… Pain… pressure… Scream… Hurts… Hard... Can’t… Stop… White light…. Lifting… Don’t… Hurts… Dying… Driving… Ow… Warm… People… Hands… Glove… More lights… Soft… Warm… Pinch… Liquid… Foreign… Empty… Air… Beep beep beep … Crying… Lights… Crying… Pain… Breathe, breathe, breathe… Pain… Pain… Pain… Pain…

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Crumbs cling to lips as a cookie drops to the ground. The dry, sugary treat bounces off a bare foot before finally resting on a pink tiled floor. Eyes blink furiously as though just awakened from a deep sleep. Lights blur together in a dim room reeking of dust and sunflowers. There's a table to the left with a pitcher of the yellow flowers next to a plate of cookies and a cup of red tea. The cookies are frosted with bright colors and poised next to a white place card with the words Eat Me written on it. Fingers touch lips and dust off the remaining crumbs before eyes dart from the table to the ground. Sure enough, a broken cookie matching the ones from the plate is on the floor, and frosting paints a pale foot pink.

Your foot, an unseen voice whispers. Brown hair bounces and clings to a face as it turns from side to side, trying to find the owner of the voice. Nothing. But there is a mirror placed on the wall a few feet behind the table with the flowers and cookies. There is a face. In the reflection, a small, round face with chocolate doe eyes and a small nose with maroon lips: parted and speckled with more white crumbs. Freckles dusted the pale face and were only slightly obscured by the deep, red cheeks. Brown hair, wavy and tangled, fell past shoulders covered by a thin, ugly gown that could hardly be excused as clothing.

Hospital, the voice cooed. Hospital? The gown was open in the back and tied loosely by white strings. Her blush deepened as a cold breeze licked at bare flesh beneath the flimsy fabric. Freckled hands flew to the back of the gown and tied the ribbons tighter, bringing the thin fabric over any and all exposed skin.

Bringing hands back to the front where brown eyes could see, a laminated bracelet was found on the left wrist. Hospital information, came the whisper again. A date of birth, March 18th, weight and eye color, and a name, Jessica Smith. Jessica. A rush of understanding flooded through her veins as her gaze met the eyes in the mirror. Jessica Smith from… She looked at the bracelet again. Eugene, Oregon. Where?

Before she could search her brain for answers, a real voice rang out from across the room. What did you do? The owner of the voice was a boy—around Jessica’s age, in fact, which was… She checked the bracelet again. 18. Oh, her birthday was yesterday. Happy Birthday, the voice sang. She turned her head again, searching for the whispers, but found no one. The boy grabbed her wrist and pulled it close to his face for inspection, to which Jessica scowled at the sudden aggressiveness. Her instinct told her to pull away and distance herself.

These steps back allowed her a better look at the stranger. He had blonde hair, pale skin, beautiful blue eyes, and wore a white suit. His harsh expression quickly turned apologetic as Jessica rubbed her wrist. Just before he could speak, the cookie on the floor grabbed his gaze. He stooped, picked it up, and quirked a concerned brow toward Jessica.

Did you eat this? His accent was vaguely European. Irish. The voice informed.

Stop it! Jessica hissed, and the boy glared toward her.

Who are you speaking to?

You don’t hear it? she whispered, almost as if she was hoping whatever the siren voice was wouldn’t hear.

Did you eat this? the boy asked again, holding the cookie between two fingers and shaking it twice to grab her attention. Jessica licked at the corners of her mouth, wiping away the stray crumbs still clinging to her. The boy sighed, the action being answer enough for him.

What did I tell you about eating the food in here? A pause. "No, of course you don’t remember—that’s what this does to you. He growled at the cookie before tossing it against the wall. It crumbled to the ground, and the boy wiped his hands on a handkerchief he pulled from his waistcoat. Do you even remember my name?"

Jessica shook her head. She didn’t remember what was going on, who she was, or where she was, much less who he was.

Horace, he said as he stuffed the cloth back into the pocket of his waistcoat. My name is Horace, and I’m the one who brought you here.

Where is here? Did you kidnap me? Why can’t I remember anything? And why—She held up her wrist with the hospital bracelet and pinched the side of her hospital gown with her other hand—am I wearing these? Anger and annoyance bubbled inside her, confusing her even further.

Your name is Jessica Smith, and you’re from Oregon, he sighed and gestured to the gown. You were the victim in a car crash—hence the gown and bracelet. She rolled her eyes—she’d figured that much out herself. What she needed were answers as to where she was and why it looked nothing like a hospital.

You’re dead, he said bluntly, and Jessica felt her heart skip. That wasn’t what she was expecting.

Chapter Two

More gently, Horace explained how she died: She’d been hit by a car on a dark road in the rain as she was running from something. The people who hit her stayed with her all the way to the hospital. They told police what happened and stayed with her until the end. From there, Horace guided her here to Wonderland, a place where those who had a tragic life and death could live the peaceful and happy life they deserved.

How was my life bad? I don’t remember anything, Jessica sobbed into her knees. She didn’t know why she was crying; she remembered absolutely nothing. Hopelessness, the voice whispered against her ear. That had to be it. She wasn’t crying for the life she’d lost, but the life she couldn’t remember.

Horace sighed and poked a gloved finger at her shoulder. Because of the cookie you ate. It’s supposed to be a sort of offering to new individuals who come here. He hesitated. I’m supposed to ask if you want to forget or spend the entirety of your time here with the knowledge and memories of your life.

"But, you didn’t, Jessica and the whispers remarked at the same time. She rose her head from her knees and stared at him. Horace blushed and avoided her gaze. Why?"

I find it cruel, he puffed. No one’s life is bad enough to fully forget it.

Jessica became angry at him again. She inhaled sharply and balled her hands into fists. You don’t know that. He looked at her with a quirked brow. You don’t know what someone else experiences and what they might want to forget.

He smirked at her and leaned in close to her face. Neither do you. She blinked and stammered, unable to think of a comeback. He rolled his eyes in response and stood from the grassy patch they had been sitting on.

In this world, he continued, freckles are an indicator as to who chose to forget and who didn’t. Jessica thought back to her reflection in the room they had just exited from. Freckles dotted her face and neck. Like everything else, she couldn’t remember if she had had freckles in life or not. Horace, on the other hand, didn’t have a single blemish or scar on his face, and what she could see of his neck showed no impurities either. No one knows why. It seems like one of the oldest traditions. Over the years, people stopped taking notice, but when I first came here, it seemed like Wonderland was split in two between those with freckles and those without.

Horace continued to ramble on, giving Jessica unnecessary information about the opinions of his side of the argument and why he thought the people who chose to forget their lives were wrong and ultimately: selfish. The talk continued far longer than Jessica would have thought or even preferred, and she found herself tuning out the words entirely. Instead, she looked around for the first time, taking in the world she would be living in.

The room they had just left opened through a large wooden door hidden behind parts of the tapestry and led immediately out into a forest. Turning around, Jessica could see a smaller version of the door hidden amongst the face of a mountain, stretching high above the tree line. Despite the tall mountain and tiny door, everything looked like a normal forest. Well, what Jessica imagined a normal forest would look like, except for the fact there were so many different kinds of trees. There were pines, redwoods, oaks, a sycamore or two scattered around; not to mention willows, acacia, eucalyptus, and Japanese maples. Ferns sprouted on all the different trees; some green, some red and auburn, and others pink, blue, or even turquoise.

On the ground, there were bushes with berries of all different colors and flavors. Flavors, Jessica was told by Horace, would depend on who ate them along with toxicity levels. Toxicity? she’d asked, but Horace had gone back to explaining some other part of Wonderland he’d experienced when he’d first arrived.

Wonderland chooses who it likes and who it doesn’t, the same voice whispered over her shoulder. Jessica turned quickly, but saw no one. Why did she keep hearing it? Who did it belong to?

The