Room 511, Very Late Thursday Night / The Wee Hours of Friday Morning
November 30th, 1864
Wonderland
"Because it's my unbirthday today," Alice said happily, sitting herself at the table and fluffing her skirts.
"What an amazing coincidence!" cried the March Hare. "Why, today is my unbirthday, as well!"
And the Mad Hatter's, and possibly the Dormouse's, but no one could say for sure, for all the Dormouse would say is "Twinkle, twinkle ..."
It was quite a lovely tea party, as was fitting for so many unbirthdays at once. Until ...
"If you should like," the Mad Hatter said, "I would write all of them down, that you will never -- AHHH!"
He jumped up, suddenly, and began screaming, waving his hands in the air. "Oh dear! Oh dear! FIRE!"
There wasn't any fire at all. Alice clapped her hands excitedly. She very nearly jumped up and began dancing and screaming with him, in case it was a very new dance that he was eager to teach her. One look at the March Hare's face stopped her cold.
He was staring back at her, eyes wide with fear. "Wake up, Alice!" he shouted, grabbing her arm and shaking it vigorously. "You must wake up!"
"You must save Alice!" the Mad Hatter cried. "Wake up, Alice! Wake up!"
But I'm not asl--
Alice sat upright in her bed with a gasp. Smoke filled the room, flames dancing across the floor, oh no, oh no.
She skirted the fire and raced to the door, finding her way down the hallway and pounding on the door to Safety. The door to Security and Love and Trust. They would wake her and tell her it was a horrible nightmare. They would glare at the fire and it would put itself out again. They would hold her close and keep her safe.
"Mum? Dad?"
"Alice?!" her mum shouted. From inside, her father was coughing. The smoke was so thick here.
"Mum?! Father!?" Alice grabbed the door handle and it singed her palm. She was too panicked to care, shaking and rattling it harder. The door had to give way. Open, open, open. They were trapped inside. They were trapped.
"For God's sake," her father shouted. "get out, Alice!"
"Save yourself, Alice!" her mother insisted.
"Get out of the house!" her dad screamed. It was an order.
"Alice!" her mother yelled, once more, and her father only screamed.
A window, a window, a window, there was a window just ten feet away, she would dive through it and land in the snow outside. But that would mean ...
No.
She would save them. She was Alice, a Very Clever Girl, and she would save them. She needed to open the door. An axe. An axe would do it!
It was dark, and Alice kept stumbling. She fell down the last few stairs, a sharp pain in her ankle making her cry out. But she hauled herself to her feet and stood. There. Good enough. Good enough.
She limped into the drawing room. There, next to the fireplace, was her father's axe. It was cold, he'd been chopping firewood, and she was such a clever girl to think of it. Now she only had to hobble back up the stairs and rescue them.
It was slower, walking up the stairs again. The axe was heavy and her ankle ached. She had to stop so many times to cough. Finally. Finally. Finally. The door.
She couldn't hear the screaming any longer. She lifted the axe and slammed it into the door. A seam splintered down, and a blast of burning air caught her in the face. The air inside was so much hotter.
It was so very hot everywhere.
She coughed and choked and raised the axe again.
"Alice," she heard from inside the room. Mum. It was her Mum. She sounded so very weak. "Get out ..."
A few more hits, and it would break down the center. They would come rushing out. A few more hits. She would only rest a moment here, so that she could cough again. She would only close her eyes for a moment. She would only ...
Alice Pleasance Liddell was found in the hallway of her parents' home, stuffed rabbit lying next to her body. She was buried between her sisters, Lorina and Edith. No one survived the fire.
In the dark, Alice stared at the pattern on her bedspread. Set it up again, she thought. The axe had been a mistake. She would find something on the second floor, so as not to risk those stairs in the dark. Perhaps she was taking the wrong tack entirely. She would start next time by going to Ina's room.
She waited for the vision to restart itself, frowning slightly when she realized it wouldn't. Her imagination had never refused to cooperate before.
How many visions do you need, Alice?
The voice in her head sounded very like the Cat's. Strange. He was most likely to show himself when she was missing something. Something staring her right in the face.
How many visions did she need?
There were games that one could play, hooked up to those television sets. Alice had watched someone in a common room one day. He would run down the pathway on the left, pulling out his gun and shooting at zombies, and then one would bite him. So he would start again, remembering not to take that path this time. He would run to the right and sneak up on that zombie.
So long as you had extra lives, it was a very sound strategy.
So long as you had extra lives.
Alice was a very clever girl, but she only had one. There was no button she could press to change the game being over, no last point to run to and wait for the clever device to rewind the scene.
Perhaps there was one magic route that would have allowed her to save everyone. You would need a hundred lives to find it. Alice only had one.
She could never be Alice-Who-Ran-To-Ina's-Room-And-Cleverly-Saved-Her. Nor could she be Alice-Who-Stayed-And-Died. She was only Alice-Who-Jumped. She would only ever be Alice-Who-Jumped.
She was still staring at the bedspread when Dinah hopped onto the bed, sniffing Alice's fingers curiously.
"Happy Christmas, Dinah," Alice said softly, gathering the cat onto her lap. "Happy Christmas."
(for the Wonderful Life plot going round. Establishy, so NFI, but OOC is love.)
Wonderland
"Because it's my unbirthday today," Alice said happily, sitting herself at the table and fluffing her skirts.
"What an amazing coincidence!" cried the March Hare. "Why, today is my unbirthday, as well!"
And the Mad Hatter's, and possibly the Dormouse's, but no one could say for sure, for all the Dormouse would say is "Twinkle, twinkle ..."
It was quite a lovely tea party, as was fitting for so many unbirthdays at once. Until ...
"If you should like," the Mad Hatter said, "I would write all of them down, that you will never -- AHHH!"
He jumped up, suddenly, and began screaming, waving his hands in the air. "Oh dear! Oh dear! FIRE!"
There wasn't any fire at all. Alice clapped her hands excitedly. She very nearly jumped up and began dancing and screaming with him, in case it was a very new dance that he was eager to teach her. One look at the March Hare's face stopped her cold.
He was staring back at her, eyes wide with fear. "Wake up, Alice!" he shouted, grabbing her arm and shaking it vigorously. "You must wake up!"
"You must save Alice!" the Mad Hatter cried. "Wake up, Alice! Wake up!"
But I'm not asl--
Alice sat upright in her bed with a gasp. Smoke filled the room, flames dancing across the floor, oh no, oh no.
She skirted the fire and raced to the door, finding her way down the hallway and pounding on the door to Safety. The door to Security and Love and Trust. They would wake her and tell her it was a horrible nightmare. They would glare at the fire and it would put itself out again. They would hold her close and keep her safe.
"Mum? Dad?"
"Alice?!" her mum shouted. From inside, her father was coughing. The smoke was so thick here.
"Mum?! Father!?" Alice grabbed the door handle and it singed her palm. She was too panicked to care, shaking and rattling it harder. The door had to give way. Open, open, open. They were trapped inside. They were trapped.
"For God's sake," her father shouted. "get out, Alice!"
"Save yourself, Alice!" her mother insisted.
"Get out of the house!" her dad screamed. It was an order.
"Alice!" her mother yelled, once more, and her father only screamed.
A window, a window, a window, there was a window just ten feet away, she would dive through it and land in the snow outside. But that would mean ...
No.
She would save them. She was Alice, a Very Clever Girl, and she would save them. She needed to open the door. An axe. An axe would do it!
It was dark, and Alice kept stumbling. She fell down the last few stairs, a sharp pain in her ankle making her cry out. But she hauled herself to her feet and stood. There. Good enough. Good enough.
She limped into the drawing room. There, next to the fireplace, was her father's axe. It was cold, he'd been chopping firewood, and she was such a clever girl to think of it. Now she only had to hobble back up the stairs and rescue them.
It was slower, walking up the stairs again. The axe was heavy and her ankle ached. She had to stop so many times to cough. Finally. Finally. Finally. The door.
She couldn't hear the screaming any longer. She lifted the axe and slammed it into the door. A seam splintered down, and a blast of burning air caught her in the face. The air inside was so much hotter.
It was so very hot everywhere.
She coughed and choked and raised the axe again.
"Alice," she heard from inside the room. Mum. It was her Mum. She sounded so very weak. "Get out ..."
A few more hits, and it would break down the center. They would come rushing out. A few more hits. She would only rest a moment here, so that she could cough again. She would only close her eyes for a moment. She would only ...
Alice Pleasance Liddell was found in the hallway of her parents' home, stuffed rabbit lying next to her body. She was buried between her sisters, Lorina and Edith. No one survived the fire.
In the dark, Alice stared at the pattern on her bedspread. Set it up again, she thought. The axe had been a mistake. She would find something on the second floor, so as not to risk those stairs in the dark. Perhaps she was taking the wrong tack entirely. She would start next time by going to Ina's room.
She waited for the vision to restart itself, frowning slightly when she realized it wouldn't. Her imagination had never refused to cooperate before.
How many visions do you need, Alice?
The voice in her head sounded very like the Cat's. Strange. He was most likely to show himself when she was missing something. Something staring her right in the face.
How many visions did she need?
There were games that one could play, hooked up to those television sets. Alice had watched someone in a common room one day. He would run down the pathway on the left, pulling out his gun and shooting at zombies, and then one would bite him. So he would start again, remembering not to take that path this time. He would run to the right and sneak up on that zombie.
So long as you had extra lives, it was a very sound strategy.
So long as you had extra lives.
Alice was a very clever girl, but she only had one. There was no button she could press to change the game being over, no last point to run to and wait for the clever device to rewind the scene.
Perhaps there was one magic route that would have allowed her to save everyone. You would need a hundred lives to find it. Alice only had one.
She could never be Alice-Who-Ran-To-Ina's-Room-And-Cleverly-Saved-Her. Nor could she be Alice-Who-Stayed-And-Died. She was only Alice-Who-Jumped. She would only ever be Alice-Who-Jumped.
She was still staring at the bedspread when Dinah hopped onto the bed, sniffing Alice's fingers curiously.
"Happy Christmas, Dinah," Alice said softly, gathering the cat onto her lap. "Happy Christmas."
(for the Wonderful Life plot going round. Establishy, so NFI, but OOC is love.)