Author: Lewis Carroll PM
Based on Lewis Carroll's 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,' the darkness that is Alice's sanity finally escapes.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Parody - Chapters: 6 - Words: 9,258 - Reviews: 24 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 10-10-07 - Published: 08-04-03 - id: 1461479
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M A L I C E
Based on Lewis Carroll's original Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There, MALICE tells the story 12 years after the conclusion of Through the Looking Glass.
Alice—all grown up and a scholar at St. Agnes' School for Gifted Children—falls back into her childhood fantasies of neverending tea parties and dynamic characters, only to discover what she held dear in her innocence has now become twisted and evil. In this eerie, dark, Victorian tale of imaginary characters becoming real-life killers, Alice becomes destined to protect the oppressed from their oppressors and follow in and out of the two worlds through the windows of her own insanity. Was Wonderland only the imaginary creation of a daydreaming child, or is it the schizophrenic vision of a deluded adolescent?
This is the story of a young girl who never exactly stepped on the thin line separating reality from a world of busy bunnies and talking flowers.
The story begins its tale at St. Agnes, in a classroom of around 10 young girls all in proper uniform, looking gravely at their desks. As they write in their notes the algorithms for functions, finite structures and various geometry, a young girl sitting alone in the back corner is violently scraping 'a l i C e' on her wooden desk with a hand knife. Her name is unknown by all her classmates and even her teacher, and only referred to as, "Miss Liddell" if she were ever to be called by anyone. Her eyes are large and enchantingly dark, with hints of melancholy madness that can only be detected if one actually sets his eyes on hers.
Her elegant and long arms are scarred and scraped, bruised and slightly bloody. The fresh scars glowed like a stream of tiny rubies on porcelain skin, white like fresh milk. She is certainly an eye-catcher, as to think that a once curious little child grew up to be such a distorted young person.
Alice was tortured. Tortured by her own insanity that she never could tell the silly difference between reality and illusion. For instance, what could be that sparkly tower touching the clouds? Could it be the school's bell tower, or a hanging church in the sky, made of gold bricks and black chocolate? She never really knew and was too tormented to find out.
And why was she so tormented? One will never know, because once Alice hit adolescence, it is said she accidentally stumbled upon a man resembling the face of a young vampire, murdering another girl with a kitchen knife in an alley next to the school. She never confirmed it, but if one sit next to her as she sleeps, he can hear her speak (and loudly) about who did what and how he did it. One could sit there and listen as if she was telling a story. Quite dramatic for a story at that.
The horrific image kept popping in and out of her mind off and on again to the point where she tried to constrain herself into not thinking properly. And indeed, so it turns out that not thinking properly gradually became not thinking properly at all, and she very well became only a step apart from intense mental psychosis. And it is said that during that very phrase, the mind can do miraculously wonderful things with numbers and shapes. So dear Alice almost incredibly could visually see numbers like shapes.
As proof of that, if you ask her the ln value of any number from 1 to infinity, she would answer quicker than anyone could add 1 and 1. She very well had an IQ exceeding 170 (as tested by her governess, although during those days there were no IQ tests!), and every school she was sent to all could not accommodate the rapid pace she was advancing at in mathematics. Poor Alice had no medium to express her insane genius, and, because no dean of any university in Britain would ever think of allowing a 10-year-old into their facilities at that time in history (or a girl, for that matter), Alice was stuck at St. Agnes until she turned the proper age of 16.
One afternoon, Alice left her classroom after three rings of the bell, and began walking blankly to the cloakroom to fetch her things. Only, where were her things? They were right next to Clarence Butler's, for sure, because she remembered the funny smell coming out from his coat. Someone stole her belongings! But why—as Alice's coat wasn't any different from any other average girl her age—she had never carried any money in her bookbag other than a simple sixpence. Small things like this made her wonder if perhaps the bookbag and coat just became bored and walked off, leaving poor Alice to carry all her books all the way in the windy weather. And windy it was, for it was almost minus two degrees outside, with the rain and all.
Alice stepped outside feeling rather miserable. It was no different from any other day. She saw girls like Mary Honeydew with curls in her golden hair almost floating down the street holding the arms of other girls like her, smiling as if the weather had no effect on the smile that she gave away so warmly. It made Alice feel slightly better. Slightly. She was on the verge of throwing her hand knife at the pretty Honeydew, because her smiles gave Alice so much of a headache.
Just then, a face out of nowhere popped up, its eyes sharp and very demonic, its grin eerie but strangely alluring. Alice would very well say it would resemble a cat's, except it was not a cat, not the least. It was more of an older boy, looking very charming and even prettier than the sweet classmate Honeydew, with curvy eyelashes and a sweetly shaped nose.
"How do you do," it asked.
"I'm very well, thank you," replied Alice.
There was a silent pause before the head said, "It's not very polite to not return the compliment."
Alice was confused, because as far as she was brought up the question of how someone is doing is not exactly a compliment in any manner whatsoever. So she replied, "I beg your pardon, I don't quite understand."
"Well," said the head, "if I showed enough interest to ask how you are at a time like this, is it not just as equal for yourself to return that interest? And of all creatures, I'd say it's quite safe to assume that it's a very good compliment to show interest in another creature. I certainly think it is."
It suddenly popped out a tail, from several inches from where the head popped from, and it swung it very seductively.
"You look much different from the last time we met," it said. And the head suddenly grew a neck.
"I don't think we've ever met before, lest I can remember. I do recall meeting a cat, if that's what you mean. A cat who appeared and disappeared just like you!" said Alice, pointing.
"How rude of you to point fingers, if we've never met before. That's not very polite," said the head that grew a neck.
'Oh, how it orders one around!' thought Alice. She shivered before walking ahead.
A couple minutes later after some frequent walking and falling into puddles, the head seemed to have disappeared along with its neck and tail.
It was a very odd moment indeed, because Alice felt for certain she was followed. At least she heard the footsteps trailing behind.
It was when she reached the front gates of the Liddell manor that she felt someone physical standing behind her, and why, it was the head she met before, except with a full body and a cat's tail. Its green eyes looked just as fearful, but with an insane twist to it, like a wicked cat gone mad. His hair - his very white hair - looked unstylish and absurd, layered into feathered strips and long at the front while it grew even longer at the back neck area. He even had whiskers! Whiskers indeed, on a human with features like that! Alice would almost describe it as a dark sprite from hell, with a cat's ears, tail and eyes. And oh, his nails! His sharp nails, black as sin and just as deadly. But in a certain, twisted way, he was almost femininely beautiful - yet definite that he is male, as he looked dashing and well refined in his black suit.
"You look almost exactly like a cat, dear sir!" Alice cried in surprise. The stranger only grinned in his usual eerie manner, the ends of his mouth stretching from one ear to the other. Alice thought he must have very stretchy skin, as it hadn't ripped from grinning like that so frequently.
"Do you fancy cats?" asked the stranger.
"Oh, I think they're wonderful creatures. My cat Dinah used to purr heavenly all the time at silly things, it was so pleasant to hear. She passed away quite sadly few years back, God rest her soul," said Alice.
"Correction, if cats have souls. You never know with creatures like them."
"But certainly, all creatures have souls! I asked the minister the other day and I can swear he claimed they did," said Alice.
"Swear indeed! You have such a peculiar way of speaking; I can assure myself that your manner hasn't changed at all."
The cattish man then turned himself around disappeared again for awhile, but then reappeared as a cat - a whole cat this time - carrying the same wicked grin and maniac eyes.
'That explains his odd features,' thought Alice. "You certainly do come and go."
"But you must wonder what I am doing here," said the Cat, "I'm convinced your curiosity died off quite much since then."
"You must mean the cat died. I should think it was Curiousity who killed the cat," said Alice.
The Cat suddenly extended his tail and handed Alice a telegram, sealed with a large red heart which read:
PROPERTY OF HER MAJESTY, THE QUEEN OF HEARTS
"Did the Queen really ask for me?" asked Alice, flattered. The Cat only grinned wider and swung his tail. "What is read only may sound established, but don't believe everything you read," it said.
"I should think so," said Alice, "but I must know, are you the Cheshire Cat I met back many years ago? You certainly do resemble him much, except for your color. If I remember correctly, you were quite brown."
"Things change," said the Cat, "time changes frequently but no one makes note of that. I only changed a simple color once and here you are seemingly discouraging it."
"Oh I needn't mean that! And how cats become so insulted over such petty things! You weren't like this the last time—"
"Time is never last, time is first. Foremost and always," interrupted the Cat. Alice then ripped open the letter, which promptly indicated that she was invited to a game of croquet at the Queen's palace.
Recollecting the memories of her dreadful experience the last time, she said, "I should think I would like to decline her offer. It was difficult the last—," she paused, "—I mean, it was difficult the first time."
"Difficulty is only in the mind. Challenges push one's limits," the Cat said again, "How do you suppose I managed to change from a cat to a person's body?"
"By borrowing it, I suppose?" said Alice.
"I would've done that, but frankly bodies are the most selfish things and decline to be borrowed," said the Cat, "I did push my limits very forcefully, however."
"They must be very tired — your limits, that is," replied Alice.
"From all that pushing I should quite assume they are," cried the Cat.