Alice’s porcelain-white fingers,
stark against the chestnut wood of the door,
trembled
as they touched (ever so lightly, everything she did was full of graceful caution, the result of too long spent
falling)
the silvery doorknob
and turned it,
revealing the hallway.
–screaming, running
through these very doors–
The corridor was carpeted in crimson,
the walls cherry wood
draped with family tapestries,
moth-eaten and so dusty
the names could’ve been anyone’s.
–chasing, being chased,
a white rabbit in a waistcoat,
a tall man with a taller hat and eyes
that were too many years older than they should be–
Alice’s knees locked in place
as her left foot
very, very slowly
slid forward.
Soon her eyes were clenched shut
and her feet
(suddenly remembering the path they had worn into the floor
so many years ago)
carried her, obediently trudging
through the thick carpeting;
looking around, were those walls surging toward Alice,
were they expanding, pushing, leaving her no room to breathe?
she had no clue –
but judging by the tightness in her chest, they might have been.
–woman with a heart-shaped face,
yet a rock in the left side of her chest,
screaming, voice echoing
down this very hallway,
demanding blood, tears, heads,
sacrifice,
and her order is not obeyed–
Alice’s blue dress, fluttering under her now-steady hands,
has been ripped, bitten, wrinkled
by her time in Wonder,
for it wasn’t all that wonderful,
but today she finally puts it
and
herself
to rest.
–the vorpal sword (encrusted with rubies and garnets
that match its…other…decoration) swinging,
flying through the air,
no, ripping through the air, tearing through the very void
between the wonder and the real,
so close to Alice’s grand house she can smell the flowers in the front garden,
so close, so she must choose–
On the very same glass table
that once told Alice to drink, to eat, to turn the key
and discover Wonderland,
there now lies
a dagger,
its hilt strangely curved;
Alice rubs the shining metal
and discovers that the curve fits perfectly into her hand.
–girl dressed in blue with golden hair and eyes
still unchanged, un-tormented by the world around her,
leaping delicately through the terrible rip between dimensions,
shouting after herself,
promising
to return, to always return,
to fulfill the duty demanded of her–
Alice’s porcelain-white fingers
not trembling anymore,
no, they are ready now, as ready as they could ever be,
grip the perfect dagger
and thrust
into
her
chest,
and Alice falls.
Memories of sacrifices never made,
rabbits and hares and queens never seen again,
promises kept
fade away as Alice sinks to the crimson carpeting
so cleverly colored
to hide her blood.
Her final breath is one with words.
Wonderland,
I’m coming home.
Posted in response to the challenge Flashback.
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