You know those moments where you have no idea what in the world everybody is talking about? Those moments where you feel like you're not part of the gang, team, cliché, club, group, family, or posse just because you don't recognize the jargon? Those horrible times where you don't want to say anything, because you fear it would make you look stupid. Well I'm having one right now.

My parents are talking about…. well oddly enough I have no idea. I'm hearing words like "schizophrenia" and "diagnosis" from where I'm standing in the kitchen. Words that I have never learned in school, or read in any of my picture books, words little girls shouldn't or never learned.

They started saying these alien words, after I told them about my adventure in the magical world of complete nonsense. My adventure in Wonderland.

I told my loving mother and father about my adventure, after my father asked me why I was being so quiet at dinner. I told him I was just thinking. He asked me, what I was thinking. I took this rare opportunity to be heard instead of seen for once, and told them about my adventure.

They didn't ask any questions, while I was telling them about Wonderland. They just looked at me with a serious look, a look I have never seen on their faces before. The look scared me. Maybe, the look should have been a warning sign for me to stop talking, and go back to being seen. But for reason I didn't stop telling them my story. Maybe it was because I'm just a little girl, and I wanted to have somebody listen to me for a change. Or maybe it's because I'm one of those big words, I'm hearing now.

When I was done no words left their lips, for the longest amount of time. Then Father asked me, if I saw the white rabbit often. I told him that the last time I saw the rabbit, with the waistcoat and pocket watch, was in the courtroom. Then he was silent again.

The silence was beginning to scare me. I wondered if I said anything that offended them, or could possibly hurt our family. I was wondering if I did something wrong. Mother and Father kept looking at each other with that serious face. I wonder if they looked at me, the whole time I was starring at the floor out of nervousness.

I probably stared at that floor for the longest time humanly possible. I stared at the juice stain, which was the result of me playing in the parlor with a drink. The stain was still there, because Mother and the maid never noticed it. I never told them about the stain, because I was scared that they would give me a whipping. Why is it that I could tell them about a complete nonsense incident, but I can't tell them about a simple juice stain?

Mother broke the silence by asking me to take the dishes into kitchen to wash. The maid usually takes care of all the dishes, so I knew she only wanted me to leave the parlor for she could talk to father. I didn't quarrel. I left the room with the three little dessert plates, which always looked like flying saucers to me, to take to the kitchen.

From the kitchen I heard Mother say something about worrying. I also heard Father say something about imagination going away at a certain age. Then all the big words started. Maybe I should have just told them about the juice stain, instead of Wonderland.


I started typing and that what came out. I guess I wanted to prove that I could write something other than parodies, and humor. Hit the pretty button at the bottom of the screen to give your valuable feedback.