One turn it will take

To change our fate;

But you have to play along.

If one won’t trust their heart,

Our world shall fall apart.

For if you shall fail,

The cards will scatter,

The pieces will shatter,

And the Game begins anew.

The key was set on top of the box to which it belonged; a faded gold, the head a hollow heart with wings. In its center was a gear that ticked silently away, seemingly powered by nothing at all. The key and the box were to be put away under a loose floorboard in the attic of a house soon to be demolished. Doomed to be beside them was a worn hat with faded ribbons that was once the most vibrant of colors- it’s significance only that of its sentimental value of a time long since abandoned.

The owner of these artifacts, an aging woman with soft blue eyes and a head of blonde hair that was turning silver, was aware that the box could not be opened unless the key was turned at the same moment the secret catch was released. It was a trick of sorts, crafted by a genius she once knew, and as the tumblers would click, it sounded like the tick of a clock as time wound down. Unable to resist one final look at the inside, she turned the key in its hole.

Slowly, the tumblers go about their job and the gears slide into place. The woman opens the lid to see the satin lining of the inside. In its center sits a stack of aging photos bound by an equally aged ribbon. They lean against a delicate teacup with a chip on its rim and a charm bracelet. Each charm on the woven band represented someone dear to her, and she had taken time to collect them all over her life as a sort of memoriam. A gathering of other simple items rests on the bottom of the box; a set of dice, a deck of cards, sketches whose papers were turning yellow, and the red king of a chess set- the location of its queen no longer known.

The owner of this box slowly closes the lid once again and placed the key by its side, then slides the floor plank back into place. As she stands, her eyes sweep across the attic and fall on the antique floor length mirror, half covered by a dusty sheet. As it leans against a wall, she stared for a moment at the golden frame, worn with age. She thought fondly of the memories it held, almost seeing her younger self dancing beyond the mirror. And perhaps, too, a girl she had once met- but with a shake of her head, the woman decided that couldn’t be.

With a chill, she threw the sheet back over the mirror, taking a second to contemplate smashing the old antique. But something caused her to ignore this urge, and she covers the mirror once more. She isn’t sure if she was unable to break something so sentimental to her- or if some force kept her from doing so. After turning off the light of the attic and locking the door, she descends the stairs quietly and steps into the now empty living room. She approaches a man who smiles softly, his deep green eyes shining.

 “You're sure you want to do this?” He asked the woman, whose pale blue eyes met his.

“I can’t go back anymore.” She closes her eyes, silent tears falling, “It's time I let go.”

“And what of the girl…?” He asks, voice low.

“My only hope is that when this home is torn down, that thing,” her voice shook, “Is destroyed before it can find her.”

The man asked his next question carefully. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

With an aching chest, she thought of the suffering that befell everyone dear to her. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Doing this won’t allow for that. It will accomplish nothing.” His eyes show his pain as he recalls his own past. She kisses his lips reassuringly.

“The next will be stronger than I.” As she stares up at the attic, he heads towards the door, calling to her with light amusement in his tone, as if telling an old joke;

 “Come now Alice, we musn’t be late.”

I drop my bag at the front door as I kick it closed behind me, calling out half-heartedly even though I know I won’t get a response. “I'm home!” There wasn’t anyone home to respond to me; my parents too busy with other things to be home when I arrived, or even be aware I was here when they were around. I didn’t necessarily mind the solitude, but it would be nice to have someone around at some point.

Shrugging off my slight disappointment, I go about my chores to keep my mother off my back when she does get home, and then I sit down at the dining room table with my art. With the largest paper before me and all my half filled sketchbooks and reference books at my elbows, I work on my latest project. I had started it a week ago and today would be the homestretch to finishing. It was a whole world in itself, landscapes flowing from one to the other, twisting and turning with shadows and creatures made of ink and graphite. It was a world ruled not by logic, but by a sort of twisted creation of its inhabitants. Maybe it would be this piece that would make my parents see that my art could take me places.

I stop, putting down my utensils to stretch and relieve my cramping hands. Satisfied with the progress I had made, I stand and wash the black smudges from my arms in the kitchen sink. As I do so, a car door slams and I hastily finish, tossing the towel onto the counter as I go to gather my things.

My mother barges in quite suddenly, catching me in the act and clucks her tongue in disgust. The first words out of her mouth, “Alyce, you have no time for such silly things as that. Put those away and help your father and me.”

“Hello! Good to see you too, mother. Welcome home,” I grumble under my breath, carefully taking my work and transporting it to my desk. Wiping residue from my hands onto my jacket, I become startled by a cat sitting on my windowsill. I wave my arms at it to get it to go, “Shoo, cat! My parents don't like pets; you can’t be here.” In response it begins cleaning itself. Not wanting to deal with it now, I grunt and close my door behind me so my mother doesn’t see in passing. In the living room, she has been joined by men carrying in various furniture items.

“What's all this?” I ask, standing by my mother’s side. 

She turns to me with an enthusiastic smile- an expression I wasn’t used to seeing- and clasps her hands together. “Your father picked up some new items from an auction today! Isn’t it delightful?” My parents had become a sort of ‘antique flippers’, and took any number of items that were consider unfashionable and turned them into something modern that people would want to buy. I pick up a vase from one of the boxes that was brought in. Sometimes my father would buy an entire auction house just for one item and then scrap the rest. The vase would probably wind up at the dump in about a week.

“Where did the auction house get them?”

She waves her hand impatiently. “Oh, I don’t know. Empty homes or museums- who cares? Look at this darling painting.” She stares at it with wonder, and then directs the movers to take everything of a certain size out to the garage, and the others to the basement. I walk away from her to get a look at everything in the truck before the fate of it was decided. My father stands off to the side, arms crossed with a pleased expression, as he watches the men unload his new treasures.

“Oh Alyce, there you are.” He turns to me with a slight grin, “What do you think?”

I shrug, running a hand over a dresser made of a smooth black wood. “I think you’ll probably end up scrapping most of it.”

“Well of course!” He scoffs. “Most of this is junk; it’ll be cleaned up and sold, or brought to the dump.”

Knowing that would be his response, I leave him to climb into the truck with a sigh. I usually do like the things my father brings home, but he always changes them, and then they’re sold off for a cheap buck. The truck is still crowded, but with a thin aisle cleared down the middle. I walk slowly to the back of the truck, interest caught by something at the very back covered with a sheet.

Pulling the sheet down, I cough as dust rushes around me- the sudden movement having created a burst of air in the truck. A thin sheet of dirt lies on the glass of the full length mirror the sheet had covered, reflecting the light that shines into the truck about the dark space like a prism. The worn golden frame, with such intricate detailing, amazes me- raised and carved flowing designs of animals and nature.

“Wow....” A whisper escapes my lips as I reach out and gently trace a rabbit, even the smallest of details in its texture spectacular, like its fur was real. In the mirror, my reflection even seems somewhat magnified, like it was highlighting every one of my details. My loose white jacket splashed with paint and smudged with ink is vibrant, falling to my thighs and almost completely covering my jean shorts. My dark hair held up by a clip, and more ink smudges were still visible on my face, but the sunlight bouncing off the glass gave me a soft look that I didn’t normally find in my features. I think it was my eyes that caught my attention most; the mirror makes them appear so unnaturally blue that they surprised me. It’s funny, but the mirror puts me in a sort of daze, and the longer I stare, the more I feel like the truck has faded from the reflection and something more lies behind me. And then, something behind my reflection seems to be illuminated and I pull my eyes away from the trance the mirror had created.

I turn around to inspect the object, wondering how it may have generated a light- it’s a sort of small chest, carelessly thrown onto a pile of boxes beyond by a table. Standing on my toes and reaching out my arm I grab the small chest, but my weight against the table causes it to slide from its position. Losing my balance, I stumble and something slips off the top of the box, clinking as it falls onto the floor of the truck. 

I catch myself and step backwards, clutching the small box against my chest. Setting it down a moment, I kneel to look down through the boxes and table to see what had fallen. Something shines and I stretch out my arm to grab it, but it sits just out of my reach. Blowing my bangs from my face, I look around to find something to grab it, eyes falling on a faded old hat with ribbons tied around the rim. Grabbing it, I lay flat on my stomach and use it to cover the small object, pulling it towards me. A triumphant cry escapes my lips.

Sitting back, I cross my legs and set the hat on my own head, then examine the object I had retrieved. In my hand I hold a slender and intricate key, golden like the mirror. The head is in the shape of a heart wings encasing it and a small gear silently clicking in the center.

But it’s suddenly plucked out of my hand, and I look up to see my father standing before me. I stand abruptly, holding the box behind my back.

“What's this?” He asks, rotating it in his hand.

“A key I found. It’s strange that the gear in the center is moving, isn’t it?”

He strokes his chin. “Alyce, your imagination really does get away from you. It's not moving.”

My eyes widen. “What? No, it was just moving, I saw it!” I take the key from him and point to the gear I had seen moving. “Here, look!” But it was as he said; it was no longer moving. 

He tuts in disapproval. “It's just a worthless key. Stop making things more than they appear.” He begins to walk away but I call him back. 

“Um, father? Actually, I was wondering if I could have this mirror.”

He looks at it a moment before scoffing, “Sure, sure. I don't care for it anyways.” He pauses, looking at me. “And take that ridiculous hat off your head.” As he steps down off the truck, I ask a passing worker to help bring the mirror down to my room, and within minutes, I’ve left behind my father’s ridiculous truck of purchases.

As I close the door to my room, I’m dismayed to find the cat, still sitting on my window. I step into the room and it stops what it is doing to leap onto the floor. “No! What are you doing, stupid cat?” It rushes to the mirror and I try to grab it around its stomach, but I miss it. The cat meows with a pleasant expression as it begins to rub against the glass. I crouch down in front of it, halting my attempts to get it to leave for the moment. The cat appears to be smiling and I reach out cautiously with my hand to pat its head. “I didn't know cats could smile,” He rubs his face against my hand, and then arches his back against my stroke.

“At least you're friendly.” The cat’s a dark purple in color, with odd stripes here and there of black, sort of like a tiger pattern. “What a peculiar coloring. Has your fur been stained?” I mutter to myself, and he purrs as he pushes himself against my hand, tail flicking in the air. A small pendant is pierced to it- a round cats head with lime green eyes and smile, matching the vibrant green eyes of the cat- and a pink collar with a golden pendant clinks against his throat. I take it between my fingers, only to find the initials CG engraved onto it and nothing else.

“Well that’s not going to help me find your owner, now will it?” With a huff, I stand and leave the cat to himself. Removing my jacket, I try to find something to clean the mirror with.

After washing it and wiping down both the glass and the frame, I’m satisfied to have restored it to near perfect condition, despite the tarnish of old age that I couldn't wash away.

“How does that look, CG?” I put my hands on my hips, admiring my new piece of furniture. He seems to nod in agreement, padding around my room before hopping up onto my bed where I had set the box and key and knocking them off. With a sound of annoyance, I bend over and pick up the key, turning it in my hand.

I was thinking that maybe I had imagined the gear moving, only to be proven wrong. Just as before the gear was silently rotating away. “Would you look at that?” I mumble, sitting down.

Taking the box in my lap, I wipe off the dust from it as well. It’s a beautiful black wood box, with carvings of hearts on the top and side, with a heart shaped lock latch. I put the key in the hole and turn it, only to find it stuck. Perplexed, I remove the key and try again, finding the same result. I slide my fingers over the sides of the box, along the heart impressions push against each until I feel one that gives way like a button. Curious, I place the key in once again and push the button. I'm rewarded with a click, followed by a clocks’ ticking as the lid opens slowly. I grin and bite my lip to contain the buds of excitement in my gut.

I had first thought it might have been a music box, and even though I was wrong, I was not disappointed. Instead, I held a keepsake box. A stack of old black and white photos, a chipped teacup, and small sketch papers that could have been taken from a field journal sit in the center. I take those out first, examining the exotic and mysterious flowers that grace their pages, not recognizing any of them.

Gently, I set those back down and see other small items- a pair of dice, an intricately carved chess piece, and a bracelet with assorted charms on it- but push those aside and pick up the photos, tied together with a blue ribbon. I flip through them slowly, intrigued by the images on them. The people are in old fashioned clothes that are extravagantly styled, in front of odd looking buildings- almost like they were at an amusement park. It had to be something like that, because a number of the people had animal ears or features. Most of the pictures contain the same people- mainly a happy looking girl about my age and a man in a top hat- the same hat I now sat beside. They seemed to attend tea parties quite often with a man who had a mask of a rabbit’s face, and a mischievous looking boy with cat ears and tail. The second half of photos contain what appears to be a grand palace, at a grand ball or in a large garden.

The last in the stack was different though; not only was it even older than the rest, but it wasn’t even the same girl. She was rather angry looking person, sitting in a chair beside a menacing looking young man wearing the strange cat ears that others were wearing. Behind them though was another man, hiding in the shadows, who had such a terrifying expression in his eyes that when a knock sounds at my door, I become startled and drop the photo. Another knock comes, and I hurry to wrap the ribbon back around the fragile photos and close the lid, dropping the key in my pocket and pushing the box under a pillow.

“Alyce? Open the door.” My mother’s impatient voice calls from the other side. I pick up the cat, who hisses as I put him back on the windowsill. I push him gently to get him off the sill and he lands on the ground with a disgruntled noise. I close it quickly before he can get back in.

 My mother opens the door just as I turn away from the window, trying to act casual. She gives me a look and adjusts her shirt. My mother Annabeth was a practical woman, and I got my dark hair from her- hers was currently held away from her face in a tight bun. Her eyes were tiny and dark with thin black glasses and a beaded eyeglass chain, her lips pursed with bright red lipstick that compliments her dark pantsuit.

“I see you took something from your fathers’ collection.” She says, referring to the mirror as she walks towards it. “Not exactly my taste.”

“Did you need something mother?” I ask defensively.

She sniffs, running a finger over the gold of the mirror. “I'm going back to work, but your father is still here, organizing his new purchases in the garage. I want you to focus on your lessons while I'm gone. And I don't want you wasting time on that silly art of yours- it’s not worth your time. Maybe if you had only taken up painting and would create something useful.”

I sigh. “Yes, I know mother.” After a moment’s hesitation, she clicks her red painted nails and leaves with a forced smile.

I hear a noise at my window when she leaves, and I walk towards it, wondering if that cat had come back. But as I throw it open, I find nothing waiting for me on the other side, wondering what could have made the nose if it wasn’t the cat. Sticking my head out the window to look around, I see something moving near the fence at the other end of the garden, but can't tell what it is because by now it’s dark out. I rummage around in a drawer and pull out a flashlight, and then pull on my jacket to run outside to see what it is.

As I step out onto the back patio, the night is cool, with a bright moon and empty sky. I shine the light on the yard, walking to where I had seen movement. Something rustles in a bush as I approach, and then jumps out, startling me. A small white rabbit sits in front of me, pink nose twitching and ears standing alert. It stares at me for some time before the ears fold back against its head. 

“I've never seen a white rabbit around here before,” I say, and this startles the animal. It hops back into the bush, and, with curiosity satisfied, I begin to walk back towards the house. 

I had gotten to the door when I hear a voice ask, “Are you an Alice?”

“Who's there?” I call, waving the flashlight about. The light shines a boy sitting on the fence that surrounds my yard.

“I asked if you were an Alice.” He says, tilting his head.

I answer cautiously. “My name is Alyce, if that's what you're asking.” He doesn't respond. “I’m not sure who you are, but you can't just go sitting on fences in the middle of the night. If you wanted to talk you could have gone to the front door,”

He responds with an urgent tone, tripping over his own tongue, “Did you purchase a mirror today?”

“Wha-,” I take a step back, looking at him suspiciously, “How did you know that?”

“It’s my job to know, I guess.” He looks down. I hold the light on this strange boy, in his white jacket with the hood covering his face, and cautiously take a step forward.

“You guess?”

“Well, I mean, there are a lot of confusing things.” He replies defensively, a huff in his voice. “It’s not my fault that you’ve stumbled into something you have no part in.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means now things are complicated!” He pushes himself up suddenly, somehow balancing on the thin wooden fence, and then jumps down on the other side.

“Wait!” I blurt out, “I’m sorry, come back!” I run around to my front yard, trying to catch him on the other side of the fence before he can get out, but I don't see him. 

Frustrated, I direct my flashlight around the yard. “Where'd you go?” I whisper. Movement in the corner of my eye directs my attention to the street, with the boy standing in the middle. He stands there, and we look at each other for some time, neither saying a word. I can see more of his face now- it’s almost as pale as his jacket- in the glow from the streetlight, and he has glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He seems to twitch nervously, just as the rabbit had, before turning away and running down the street.

I dash after, not bothering to think of what I’m doing, and follow him all the way to the thin forest on the end of town. He nimbly slides between the trees, and I struggle to keep up, losing my breath in the crisp fall air as the leaves crunch under our feet. His white jacket catches my light every few paces and flashes brightly in the dark wood, before it’s been snuffed out as his form takes a dive into the bushes. Panting, I trample towards the area, searching desperately for any sign of him, but it’s as if he was never there at all. Where his feet hit the ground there was no disturbance, and as I rustle through the bush I find there’s no way that a person could have hidden in it.

A sudden disturbance –a small creature jumping out at me- results in my squeal, and I fall onto my butt ungracefully. From a small rabbit’s den tucked at the base of the bush hops another white rabbit, and as my heart beats rapidly with the scare it had given me, it sticks its nose in the air- almost smugly- and then leaves me to myself. Scrambling to pick up the flashlight that I had dropped a few feet away, I make one last desperate attempt to find the boy, but I know it’s helpless. I thought I saw a glimpse of white behind the bush, but as I narrowed my eyes and took a step towards it, a twig snapped beneath my feet and it jerked away. Shaking my head, I decide it’s just another rabbit and make my way back home, trying to wipe off the dirt that had gotten on my jacket when I fell.

It was a rare occurrence to eat an actual sit down dinner with my parents- which is why I was slightly suspicious the next evening. I sat silently, watching my mother and father as they ate their meal, wondering what spurred them into insisting on a sit down dinner. 

My father Charles, a stern man with blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes, broke the silence. “Alyce, how are your studies going?”

I shrug and chew on a piece of broccoli. They were always only concerned with my grades and appearance. My fingers toy with the charm bracelet I now wore that I had recovered from the box.

“Alyce, don't slouch at the table.” My mother advises, sitting straight as a pin in her own seat, “And answer your father with words.”

I clear my throat and sit straight with a reserved expression. “My studies are fine, father. I haven't allowed my grades to drop.”

He gives a smile. Out of both of my parents, at least he attempted to be civil. Charles travelled on business often- yet another source for his ever growing collection of furniture- which left him with a detached connection to me. His job required him to be a business man through and through, allowing little room for his fun side to flourish. I've been told that before he and my mother were married, he was a free spirited young man that loved adventure. But I guess that died when Annabeth’s cold hearted beauty entered his life and he quickly climbed the ladder of success in his job.

“Good; we want you to have a nice career like your sister.” He says pleasantly. Ah yes, the perfect daughter Elizabeth. I grip my fork tightly, biting my tongue. As if seeing them so little wasn’t enough- I was constantly in my sister’s shadow. She, who graduated at the top of her class, perfectly talented in every way, engaged to the eldest son of the most respected family in the area, who was the perfect model of class and grace. Lizzie and I were close at one point, when I was younger. But she went on to become so practical, while I really hadn’t changed much at all. She had once told me that if I were to go anywhere in life that I had to put away my toys and stop acting like a child- I believe I was only ten when that occurred.

I smile, an expression I’m sure came to appear as more of a grimace.

“What did you do with that old mirror you took a liking to?” He asks next.

“I cleaned it and have it next to my dresser.” I reply.

“And what of that key,” he laughs, “That you so foolishly thought was moving?”

“I still have that as well.” I pause. “It went to a box that I found with it.”

“Oh?” He raises and eyebrow. “And what was in this box?”

“It seemed to be some sort of keepsake box. There were old photographs and sentimental items in it.”

My mother scoffs. “What value does that hold for you? It’s probably just a bunch of junk.” My father laughs with her and the small flame of excitement that had formed, thinking they may have been taking interest, dies quickly.

I hold my tongue for a moment, “I saw a white rabbit last night.” They stop and look at me quizzically for a moment.

“Why does that matter, Alyce?” My father asks, brow furrowed.

“It’s just… I’ve never seen a white rabbit around here before.” I respond rather sheepishly.

“Rabbits are everywhere, Alyce. No need to get so excited over one small creature.”

“But that’s not all I saw; there was a boy outside last night. I actually think he might have been the rabbit.” I say it casually, yet when I do, I wish I hadn’t. I had almost forgotten that jokes were lost on them most times. They pause again, before laughing loudly. My mother looks to me with an amused face.

“Oh, Alyce, you truly need to stop making such ridiculous things up.”

“But I didn’t make this up; I did see a boy. I chased him down the street, but then he disappeared.” I try to convince them I wasn’t making it up. Just this once, I want them to believe me and not mock me.

“Alyce, stop this nonsense now.” All humor is gone from my mother’s face. “Your sister would never make such ridiculous accusations.”

I stand up, suddenly furious. “Well I’m not Lizzie!”

“You sit down right now, Alyce! I don’t want to hear anymore of this ridiculousness about strange boys and rabbits!” My father’s face becomes almost red in anger as he hits his fist on the table. “I’ve had enough of your recent outbursts- a young girl your age should no longer be captivated by childish fantasies!”

“You never listen to me! All you can do is compare me to perfect Elizabeth! All you do is force your stupid standards on me and shut me down. I wish I could just leave this awful place forever!” I turn and run to my room, slamming my door, tears hot in my eyes.

Breathing heavily, I swipe the objects off of my dresser onto the floor in an angered tantrum. Why would they mock me for what I said? What harm does it do to point out a rabbit in the yard, or even seeing a stranger by the house- I hadn’t been lying. I don’t know what they want from me! I do as I’m told, and I keep good grades in school; sure I can be a little over zealous and imaginative, but there’s nothing wrong with being creative! I wasn’t the one at fault here; they should know that they can’t mold a child into a robotic version of themselves. I sit with a huff onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. Do they not care about me at all?

With sniffle, I look up to a sound at my window and see the cat there once more, staring at me with its tail flicking in the air. I rub my eyes dry open the window to allow the cat to leap into my room. It rubs against my leg with a purr. He moves on to sit in front of the mirror, watching me as I pick up the box from the floor and then sit across from him. His tail twitches and those almost human green eyes stare back at mine.

 “I don't know what to do, kitty.” The cat looks at me, deciding to approach me, and I stroke its head, “Is there truly something wrong with me? Is it bad to have a bit of imagination?” I sigh, knowing it’s not understanding what I say to it. “Did you see the boy last night? I'm sure you were somewhere around the house.”

In response it looks back towards the window and I follow its gaze. Front where I sit, I can see the boy, once again sitting on the fence, eyes directed towards my room. Slowly, I stand and move towards the window, not trusting my own eyes. If only my parents could see him, then they’d know I wasn’t making it up- no; I don’t care about them.

Flinging myself across the room, I grab the first jacket I find and struggle to pull on my boots, hopping about as I try not to lose my balance. I swing my legs over the window sill and slide out until my feet touch the grass. The cat leaps onto the sill but doesn't follow me outside.

“Did you decide if you were an Alice?” The boy asks as I approach.

“I still don't know what you mean. How do you know me- and how did you know about the mirror?”

“I don't.” Is his response.

“You don’t know me?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t.”

“Then who are you?”

There’s a hesitation, “Nobody..?” He says it almost like a question.

I humor him with a laugh, “Stop speaking in riddles and just give me a straight answer.”

“I am someone who you’re supposed to follow. If you are an Alice, then it is my job to show you the way.”

Exasperated I throw my arms up. “Fine, then what am I supposed to do?”

He shifts in his spot uncomfortably, “Umm…”

With annoyance, “Don’t you know? You’re the one who had me chase you all the way to the forest.”

“You have to follow the rabbit.”

I shake my head, “What does that even mean?”

“If you’re not on time then I’ll be late and nothing good will come of it,” His words are rushed again and I can’t think of a valid response. He goes on, reassuring himself somehow, nervously wringing his hands, “I can’t be late or then nothing will work,” He mutters to himself, “That’s how it goes, isn’t it?” And then he drops onto the other side of the fence and I watch him go, not bothering to follow him this time. Follow the rabbit? But he had said that he was someone for me to follow.

“What rabbit?” I finally respond, gesturing to the empty, moonlit yard. “There's no rabbit to follow! Is it like a metaphor or something? ‘Cuz if it is- it’s not a very good one!”

When I’m certain he’s not coming back, I pull myself back up into my room with frustration. As I wonder what to do next, the cat arches himself against the mirror, standing on hind legs and stretching up it, meowing at me. I sigh, “What is it with you and this mirror? And that boy never answered how he knew that I had the mirror.” I crouch down, watching where his paws stroke the golden frame when I notice something odd.

At first I thought maybe my eyes had become blurry, and I rub at them in disbelief. But when my eyes are clear, there’s no doubt that there’s a rabbit hopping along a path, not just sitting stationary. The small rabbit is wearing a waistcoat and the longer I stare at it, the more it appears that it's real. It bounces in place repeatedly, as if waiting for something. It’s such a subtle movement that I could most likely convince myself that it wasn’t happening at all.

 “Follow the rabbit...” I reach out and stroke the rabbit with a finger, when suddenly it's as if the mirror is alive; the rabbit moving from its place on the frame.

It moves up the length of the mirror, the other patterns woven in the gold shifting to make way for it. It stops at the base of a tree at the center of the right hand side of the frame, thumping its foot impatiently as a tiny latch pops open, in the appearance of a rabbit’s burrow. A small key hole was covered by that latch, and with wide eyes I pat my pockets, frantically searching for the key. Licking my lips nervously, I place the key in the hole with shaking hands, and then take a step away when the glass seems to resonate with a feint light in response. I touch the glass with a finger, surprised when it feels like water. The surface breaks into small waves at my touch that bounce from my finger, making my reflection blur.

I yank the key from the hole, startled, and move further away from the mirror. After a few moments, the light fades and the mirror hardens to show only what it reflects. I watch myself as I breathe heavily, and then look to the cat as it paws at the glass more fervently than before. I look down at the key, the small gear now spinning more rapidly, and laugh breathlessly, unable to comprehend what it is that I just discovered. The cat runs over to me, and then back to the mirror, almost desperately. Hesitantly, I put the key back into the hole, the small rabbit pounding his foot even more impatiently than before.

“Now just where does this lead? And did that boy know about it?” I muse out loud; tracing my fingers lightly over the liquid like surface of the glass, wondering just what would happen if I stuck a hand through it. What was on the other side?

Unintentionally, my hand goes through the surface as I'm startled by a sudden pounding on my door. “Alyce, you've had this temper tantrum long enough. Come out right this second and stop this foolish behavior.” My mother’s cold voice calls from the other side. Frantic, I run and twist the lock on the handle before she can open it. “Really, you childish girl! Unlock this door this minute!” The handle jiggles as she pulls against it.

“I’m not taking back what I said!” I call out, “It’s not fair of you to constantly compare me to Lizzie! I am my own person,” I run back towards the mirror, taken by surprise once more, gasping aloud as a sudden gust of wind blows through the still open window. It picks my art in one sweep, and the pages flit about the room as I watch, frozen in place. The papers phase right through the surface of the glass, including the large canvas I had put all of my soul into creating. My eyes widen in wonder, but not for long as my mother continues to bang against the door. It's a surprise she's even put this much effort into it.

Breaking from my suspended motion, I try desperately to snag the page from the glass before it’s gone forever. My heart races in my chest, clutching it in my hands as my mother’s pounding on the door becomes even more frantic; the noise and commotion overwhelming my mind as it fills my head. The clamor seems to be so much louder than it actually is and my mother’s furious voice booms in my ears, even though we’re so far apart;

“I'll unlock it myself, I will! When I get in there you will lose your head, Alyce! This behavior won’t go unpunished. Stop being such a child, running off to live in your imaginary world. You’ll have to face reality someday!”

Silence follows and the air stops as if its hit a wall, papers falling flat to the floor and leaving my hair mussed and my jacket hanging off my shoulder as I clutch the canvas to my chest with wide eyes, all but forgetting about the odd mirror, still in that liquid glass state. I look down, my body not feeling like my own, at the cat weaving itself between my legs. I try to speak, but my throat is dry and all that comes out is a weak croak.

The handle begins to turn, causing me to jump in surprise. Suddenly the thought of Annabeth charging in and seeing the state of things terrifies me, and I scramble to pick up what remains of my papers, before finally recalling the mirror itself. I dive across the room, the sounds of the my door handle being unlocked ringing in my ears. The key is yanked from its hole, but not before I could regain my footing. The cat pushes itself firmly against my legs and I try to catch myself on the frame, but there was no stopping the force of my body as I fell through the liquid like glass, only able to guess at what my mother saw as the door finally flew open.

I fall fast- to where, I don't know- twisting in the air as I scream, terrified. I seem to be spit out from some sort of vortex, able to see a glimpse of blue sky and trees before suddenly plunging into a pool of water, the cold shocking my body. Unable to breathe, I struggle as I try to flail around in the strangling water, kicking with my feet to find air. I gasp as I break the surface, lungs aching, and I swim towards a stretch of grass.

Choking on air, I spit out water as I collapse onto the bank, soaking wet. I look around frantically, finding myself on the edge of a large lake with crystal clear water, surrounded by a meadow of gentle grass and wild flowers on the outskirts of a thick forest. Flowers of colors and shapes I've never seen before fill the meadow, swaying in a gentle breeze. Falling on the air and floating on the surface of the water around me, I notice, are pages of my art that had passed through the mirror before I had.

In sudden panic I look down at the page that had somehow survived my thrashing about in the water. Even though it was sopping wet, it showed no evidence of ever having been drawn on, the thick paper soggy and tearing. All of my hard work was gone. Throwing it to the ground with frustration, I stand and gather the pages that I can, finding the same result- no smudged ink on any of the pages at all, like they had fallen through blank.

Shielding my eyes, I look up at the sky- perfect blue with no clouds in sight, and a few odd looking birds here and there. Wherever I had fallen from no longer remained hovering in the air. I shiver in my wet clothes and shrug off my jacket, leaving me in only my white shorts and a loose tank top with a black heart in its center. The striped tights I wore beneath my shorts clung to my legs uncomfortably, and my already faded black boots are sopping wet, gushing out water with each step. I ring out my hair, not even trying to think of how I got here- the thought too confusing to consider. I work my fingers through my hair but give up, declaring that it’s worthless to bother with the tangled mess.

After sitting for quite some time, taking in the surroundings, I begin gathering whatever papers I could that hadn't flown out of sight. After gathered, I hold them all in my hand, confused as to how they were all blank. “Maybe this is just a dream...” I muse, putting the papers in order. “I probably just fell into a vivid dream after I stormed from dinner. That must be it.”

Shivering once more- colder now than before- I notice a break in the trees with a rugged path leading through it, and head in that direction. I take the papers with me for the sake of not littering, although at this point I highly doubt it matters.

The trees here are vibrant with life, flowers seeming to dance on the wind, and I decide that the path is the best way to go. I have no other choice what with the expansive lake behind me. Hugging the papers close, I follow the tiny path, wondering just where I am. The path is lined by wildflowers I’ve never seen before, large mushrooms of varying colors scattered everywhere. The trees are thick; a canopy forming overhead allowing only beams of golden light to stream in through the coverage, halos shining on the flowers. As I narrow my eyes and look up through the glare, I don’t see leaves at the top of the trunks- but instead the heads of mushrooms. Shaking my head, I direct my sight back to the ground, and breathe deeply. Even the air smells wonderful- a fresh aroma one can only get when there’s nothing but nature surrounding them.

Everything seems to grow in size as I roam deeper and deeper into the forest. The sunlight is now almost completely shrouded, only breaking through here and there which makes the forest dark and chilled. Above my head those abnormally large mushrooms stretch towards the sky, and the flowers down below have grown to the oddest proportions, some being quite larger than my body, as if I had shrunk as I walked. My fingers ache for a pencil as I hold the now blank pages in my arms, but I find no sort of art tool in my pockets upon searching. I do however find the key, the gear spinning quietly as it was before. Placing it back in the pocket, I fold the jacket over my arm once more and move further down the path.

I don’t know how long I’ve walked, but I become exhausted and want to take a break. It seemed as if the longer I had walked, the denser and larger the forest became, but the path continued on, thinly making its way between the foliage. There were a few moments when it broke off into two or more sections, but I tried to remain as straight as I could. With no signs at the forks, I didn’t want to become confused if I had to backtrack. Deciding to rest, I climb onto a toadstool large enough to take the place of a child’s bed. I set the papers beside me, as well as my jacket and stretch out my legs.

My eyes lazily slide over the forest around me; watching a brightly colored group of hummingbirds dart around at the flowers around the base of the mushroom. The cracking of sticks draws my direction to a deer like creature of maybe twice the size of any I’d seen before. Its antlers form a thin and graceful lattice, with vines tangled within them and glorious birds with long and curling feathers sitting on top. I take a silent breath as it grazes, but as it looks up and turns towards me, a terror rattles through me when I see it has no face. Calmly, the deer turns and retreats into the forest, taking slow steps, and I pull my legs up to my chest, shaken by what I’ve seen.

Trying to forget about the faceless deer, I focus on other things. My clothes are mostly dry now, and I try to manage my hair situation once more- still a tangled mess from my fall into the lake. I give up shortly after, not able to control it without a hairbrush, hoping maybe I’ll come to a town soon. Someone should be kind enough to give me a pace to stay, and direct me back home, right?

The forest has become much darker, and I don’t know what to do- I’m terribly lost, and I’m hungry due to my skipping of dinner in addition to the walking. A chill runs through me as the breeze is no longer warm, but rather chilly. I pull my jacket back on, rubbing my arms as I slide off the mushroom, and gather my papers to start off again.

I walk down the path hoping that it comes to an end soon, and also hoping that the forest doesn’t house any creatures that could cause me harm. I am quickly reassured soon after I restart my walk, when the path breaks into two. A single sign sits in between the fork, one arrow pointing towards the left reading Clockworks and the other pointing to the right, reading Spades Country. Upon consideration, I take the path to the left, because just a bit further ahead I can see it opens into something more than just forest. Picking up my pace, I run to where the woods break suddenly and open to reveal another small meadow.

It’s small and circular, only a few yards in perimeter before being closed off by more trees. In the center sits a door; nothing more and nothing less. It wasn’t connected to anything- it was simply a wooden door with an antique look to it, although it was taller than most and slanted to the side at the top. Amused, I walk around the door, lined by flowers with a welcome mat before it, a glass knob and a bell like stores have. Beyond it stood nothing, and the only path connecting to the circular meadow was the one from which I had come.

Feeling rather silly, I stand on the welcome mat and turn the knob, stepping through the doorframe as the bell chimes. In my pocket the key glows a faint gold, yet that’s not where I point my attention. My heart jolts, and my vision blurs before I’m no longer standing in a small meadow. Instead, I stand in a white room that appears to have no end and no beginning, stretching onwards into oblivion.

I twist around, looking through the door to see the meadow and the lines of trees, the path stretching out of view. Confused, I turn back towards the room, releasing the door and allowing it to close. Objects float into the space, fazing through a white haze and entering the room, bookshelves and desks taking shape and materializing from nowhere.

I clutch my papers with a gasp, watching wide eyed as things move about with no master, a table floating above the floor and a tea set setting itself, books organizing themselves on the shelves, clocks- an absurd number of clocks of all kinds- ticking at all different times moving about the room. I turn to open the door again, confused by this odd room, only to find the door vanishing before my eyes.

“No!” I cry out, reaching for the handle as it turns to mist in my grasp.

“Tah! Are my portals malfunctioning again?” I turn with a gasp at the sudden voice, stumbling backwards and hitting a passing table, knocking it off its course. The man- who appeared to be hovering- hops down, closing a book and releasing it to float towards a bookshelf.

He’s tall with long legs and arms, and is rather thin. His hair- long and black held back by ribbon- floats on the air weightlessly, with bangs in his face and one eccentric strand curling up from the center of his head. He wears a grey long sleeve shirt with coattails, a purple vest over it with black pants tucked into large black boots. There’s scar on his cheek under his eyes- which were thin and purple in color- in the shape of a cross. Feathers were beaded in his hair, one purple and one blue, and as he moves they sway weightlessly.

“Who are you?” I ask, taken back.

He gives me a strange look and then grins widely, teeth sharp. “Should I not be asking you that, as it is you who is in my room?”

“Well I…” I look about the space, clearing my throat. “I suppose you’re right. My name is Alyce. Can you tell me where I am?”

The man becomes elated, breaking into a wide smile and floating away from me as he talks aloud to himself. “Oh my! The Alice? An Alice in my home? Oh it truly is too lucky to have an Alice appear on accident!”

“Excuse me,” I interrupt, “What are you talking about?”

He looks to me with surprise, “My dear, do you not know how you have come to be here? Shouldn’t the rabbit have told you? Oh how troublesome, yet so thrilling!” He glides to a bookshelf, pulling books at rapid pace, then dropping them onto a table and flipping through them.

“Please, I haven’t a clue of what you’re talking about.” I say, my patience for this man disappearing quickly.

“You will soon enough,” He turns to me with a smile, and then tilts his head curiously. “How peculiar for you to be here now of all times. There are so many things to happen, yet why now?” Musing, he taps his chin, “It has been years. How you’ve changed…” He turns back to his books, and then cries out in triumph. “Here we are!” He approaches me and I move away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, but turns the book towards me. It shows an intricately drawn illustration of a mirror, one that I could identify as the one in my room.

“How do you have a picture of that?” I ask, moving closer to the large book, taking it in my hands.

“You’ve seen this?” He crows in delight. “Oh, how long I’ve been searching. How very long.” There’s a glint in his eyes that give me a chill, and I hand the book back. That particular expression strikes a chord in me that makes this man familiar, like I had seen his face before. Yet for the life of me, I can’t recall from where.

“Could you please stop this and answer my questions?” I ask him, “Where am I? Who are you?”

He sets the book aside, a hand on his heart. “Oh, my dear, please forgive me. You see, I’m easily excited and not so easily calmed down when I become enthralled with things.” Setting the book on the table, he spreads his arms in an elegant bow. “My name is Akumu Yume. But you may call me Nightmare for short.”

“And where am I?” I eye the strange man, Nightmare, as he taps his chin yet again.

“Mmh… Alice… How do you spell that?” He turns to rummage through more books.

I huff and spell it aloud for him. “A- L- Y- C- E.” Stepping after him as he pulls a rather large book from a shelf, “Please, can you just answer my question?”

“Ah, what a wonderful spelling.” He chuckles to himself, ignoring me as he pulls out a smaller book concealed within the larger one. “We had an A-L-Y-S-S once; what a peculiar girl, she was. I’ll tell you, once she tried to eat a-,”

“Oh, you are a frustrating man!” I stomp my foot, interrupting him, and he turns with a surprised face.

“I’m sorry dear Alyce. What was the question?”

“I want to know where I am and how I got here!” I cry; my last ounce of patience gone.

He smiles, pulling a quill from its inkwell on a desk, tapping it against the page of the book in his hands, scribbling in it as he talks. “You’re in Wonderland; it’s as simple as that. How you got here, well I’m not aware of the details, but from what I gather- you fell through the lost Looking Glass.”

“May I sit please?” I ask quietly. Nightmare waves a hand, a chair floating up behind me, and I sit in it carefully. “So this really is a dream. I had to have fallen asleep.”

The man laughs, stopping his urgent writing. “This is as real as anything, Alyce. You are just awake as I am.”

“But this makes no sense,” I say, “You’re floating on nothing but air, this room has no end and no beginning, and when I stepped through that door there was nothing behind it but more forest. I should have never ended up in another place.”

He nods, “Yes, that does seem perplexing, but that’s just how Wonderland works. You merely stepped through a Portal- that’s all. It was supposed to take you to town square, but its course was diverted and brought you to my home instead.” He smiles kindly. “If you wish to go you may, but I feel you may become even more lost with no guide. It’s quite obvious you’re an Outlander, and that could draw unwanted attention.”

In a tired voice, I ask, “What’s an Outlander?”

“Someone not from Wonderland. Really, Alyce, even you must have realized that.” Nightmare shakes his head with a laugh.

I put my hand against my forehead. “I’m going crazy. This really is too much.” Looking up at him, I give up trying to rationalize it, “How do I get home?”

“I’m afraid you can’t.” He looks sad. “Or more appropriately, I personally cannot guide you on your journey home. It is not for me to decide when the Alice comes and when the Alice goes.” It’s almost as if this fact angers him somehow, his brow furrowing slightly and lip curling momentarily.

“Then who can get me home?”

His apparent anger is gone, “Only you can get yourself home. There once were many Looking Glasses which could take you back to your own, but they have been gone for quite some time now.” He slaps the book closed and returns the quill to his desk, and then he puts it back in the large volume and slips it back onto the shelf.

I cover my face with my hands, feeling lost. “This is a dream, it has to be. None of this is real.”

“It's not hopeless, Alyce.” Nightmare says; voice soft. “I too know what it is like to not be able to return home. Have some tea to calm yourself.”

I sniff and uncover my eyes to see the table that was being set earlier place itself in front of me. A teapot pours a green liquid into a cup and floats to me, next to a large slice of red velvet cake. Nightmare smiles, crossing his legs as if he weren’t sitting on air and drinks his own cup of tea.

Hesitantly, I take the teacup and inhale before sipping. It tastes of sweetness and sugar, and warmth blossoms in my stomach, igniting the hunger that had formed from my long walk. The red velvet cake is irresistible to try, and upon the first bite I decide it’s better than any cake I’ve tasted before.

“Why do you wish to return home so soon anyways?” Akumu asks curiously, eyes half closed as he drinks his own tea.

I chew my lip as I push the cake with my fork, not entirely sure. Wasn’t it just before I arrived here that I had proclaimed I wished I could leave home forever? “I feel so lost here, and I still have little idea of how I arrived. My disorientation is making me want to return to something that is comfortable and familiar.” He doesn’t reply and my hand falls to my pocket, where I feel the outline of the key. I hold it out to him, “Akumu, do you know what this is?”

He drops his cup- although it catches itself in the air before it smashes- choking suddenly as his eyes widen. He reaches out as if to grab the key, but restrains himself. “I do indeed know what that is.” Nightmare’s voice trembles, “I thought it had gone missing; where did you get it?”

“It was with the mirror. My father bought them from an auction.” I reply, wondering why his reaction was so odd.

“I've spent years looking for it. It's been at least half a century. I thought it had finally gone,” Shaking his head, he scolds himself. “But of course, you are the Alice- it would have found its way to you once you were brought into the Game.” He hisses something under his breath, standing suddenly to turn away as he clears his throat.

“What does it go to?” I ask him, examining the key with interest. Why had it made him act like he had seen a ghost? “Besides the box that is.”

“It's... Well it's like a skeleton key. It works for any Portal or Looking Glass.” Previously distracted by his own thoughts, he now turns back with a smile, “Ah; so that's why you wound up here; my Portal was not broken.”

“You lost me again,” I tilt my head, confused. 

“Because you're an Outlander you don't know where a Portal should take you. With no definite destination to go, the key brought you here. Being the skeleton key, it was able to open a Portal here in particular because this is the center of all the Portals.” He spreads out his hands, pleased with himself.

“So... Since I walked through the Portal to ‘Clockworks’, but I don't know what Clockworks is, it sent me here? Like a default setting?”

“That's the basic idea.” He smiles widely.

I think it over a moment, “Then what of the lake that I fell into? Why didn’t the Looking Glass or whatever take me here the first time?”

“Ah, you mean the Pool of Tears.” He waves his hand in dismissal, sipping his tea- now returned to his hand. “Looking Glasses have a different programming than Portals. A Looking Glass will take you from point A to Point B- from Wonderland to the Outland- no matter what. Unfortunately for you, since Looking Glasses no longer exist here, you were dropped into the Pool of Tears because it’s the thinnest barrier between the two.”

I put my head in my hands. “All this talk of Portals and Looking Glasses is confusing.”

“It always has been the most difficult thing for an Outlander to adjust to. Would you like some more tea to clear your head?” He holds the teapot out to me but I shake my head. With a shrug he pours himself a cup and floats away, inhaling deeply. “I’d be careful with that key though, my dear. It is not something to be taken lightly.” I start to ask him what that means when he tilts his head with a quizzical expression. “Now that I have thought, you should have come through with the white rabbit. The Alice normally comes to us with his guidance.”

I put aside my first question to reply, “Actually, I fell into the mirror with a cat.” I think on that, “Or at least, I think the cat fell with me. It wasn’t in the lake, so I don’t know what happened to it.”

Nightmare nearly drops his cup again, “Oh really?” His voice is terse. “I wasn't aware the cat had left. I'll have to have a discussion with him. Of course, how the rabbit would have gotten out is just as equally mind baffling- with no Looking Glasses there should be no way…” He snarls suddenly and whispers a name under his breath while clenching a fist. After a moment, Nightmare shakes his head as I try to work around his confusing dialogue to himself.

“So the cat was yours? And I suppose there was a rabbit,” I change my mind, “No, there was a boy telling me to follow a rabbit. Well I mean, there was a rabbit too, but I don’t think it had any importance. The boy was definitely more important,”

“The boy was the rabbit in this case. And that's much more expected than the cat getting out.” Nightmare rubs his forehead with a sigh. “I suppose I'll have to gain contact with one of them to come get you..." He floats to the desk and I follow, slightly confused. 

“Wait, how can you contact them? Weren’t they in my world- er, the Outland?”

“They were- although I’m unsure they came to be there. No matter; I intend to find out.”

“So you know the cat and the boy?”

“What?” He’s distracted, chewing the nail of his thumb as he scribbles something down with the quill pen, “Oh yes... Zane and Chez; two young and rather annoying boys in my opinion.” He moves towards me holding a piece of parchment that turns into a puff of smoke and vanishes. Before saying anything, he looks me over and taps his chin. “Hmm. We'll have to get you a new wardrobe; you look too much like an Outlander.”

I self consciously pull on my jacket, biting my cheek. “I don't want to plan on staying here long, so why should I need a new wardrobe?”

“For the sake of having fantastic clothes, dear.” He steps through a door that appears from the white haze beside us. Out of curiosity, I try to follow, but he returns almost as quickly as he entered and the door goes away. With a smile, Nightmare hands me a neatly folded bundle of clothing. “I feel as if this will work best for you. Now, I'm afraid I'm rather busy and you must go; but I shall talk to you later. I've sent word to the cat to come and collect you since he's being such a bothersome creature lately- vanishing suddenly and whatnot.”

“But where am I to go? How long will I have to stay here?” I contemplate the length of my stay in my head; even if I don’t return home swiftly, I will have to go home at some point right? All dreams must come to an end, and this is a dream. “And how will I return home when the time comes?”

Nightmare tuts in disapproval. “Really, Alyce, I already explained it’s difficult to get you home and will take time. Go enjoy yourself in Wonderland and meet everyone.” He pushes me towards a door I hadn't noticed was there before- dark wood with a lantern on a pole standing beside it.

“This will lead you to my cottage, which is outside of Clockworks. When the cat arrives you yourself can decide what to do next.” Nightmare opens the door for me and I hold the bundle of clothes closely, as I look desperately to him. 

“This is crazy,” I complain as he motions for me to go down a dark, winding staircase beyond the door. The lantern moves suddenly and bounces down a few steps, lighting the way. 

He pushes me so I stumble onto the landing and then winks. “Ah, but what fun would it be if it weren't? Good luck Alyce, I'll see you soon!” And with that he closes the door. 

Frantic, I turn the handle and open it once more, only to release a small yelp when I almost fall into a dark and empty space- as if the light from the white room were suddenly extinguished. I turn down the steps with no other way to go, more than a little frustrated.

I follow the moving lamp silently as it leads me down a suffocatingly small staircase as it twists in turns in all directions, until finally it comes to an end. The room it opens to is much more normal than the empty white space. The lamp fixes itself against the wall by the doorframe, becoming a lifeless piece of metal.

The floor is hardwood, a dining room and kitchen set to the left and a living room with stone fireplace to the right, parted by a wall. Beyond the dining table is a set of sliding doors, the light curtains tied back to show the backyard of the home- a simple field. The hum of the fridge beckons me towards it; the cake not quite sustaining me, yet when I open the door, there’s no food on its shelves. The kitchen is more modern than I thought it would be, with a working stove and fridge, a running sink, and an island dividing the kitchen area from the dining table with a pot rack hanging above it.

The living room is a small space; one wall covered by a bookshelf of large volumes, two very large armchairs, and a couch matching neither that looks like it could swallow whoever sits on it. An elegant rug lies out between them and the fireplace- flames burning steadily in its hearth. One hallway extends from the dining room, and I pass what appears to be a laundry room before finding a large master bedroom. Another set of glass doors looks out onto the yard, and there’s a large four poster bed in the middle of the room with two bedside tables and a large dresser against is opposite wall. A bathroom of white and gold branches off of this and I take the liberty of treating myself to its amenities.

After showering and finally controlling my hair situation, I take the time to examine the clothes Nightmare had given me. Wrapping myself in a fluffy white towel, I spread them out on the bed. There was a blue dress with a pattern of card suits lining the bottom of the skirt, a heart in the chest and slit sleeves with laces on the end.

It came with tooling and a pair of striped stockings, a large black and white checkered bow, a white apron- once more with card suits- and a new pair of black boots similar to my own- currently soaked- pair. Indulging myself, I put the dress on and tie my hair up with a thin blue ribbon that was included with the outfit. I return to the bathroom, tying the large bow about my waist and letting the white apron fall down the front of the skirt, to see how it looks on.

Turning about to see it from all angles, a small smile forms on my lips as I decide that I like it. There’s something about the style and the look of it that just seems right, and I wonder how Nightmare had known it would be the perfect fit for me.

I return to the sitting room and sit heavily on the couch, staring at the fire that was previously lit. I'm not sure what to do; I don't even know how I got here- I hardly even know what here is- and I don't know how to get home. There's no other explanation than for this to be a dream, what with floating men and portals taking me from one place to the next. And what nonsense was he spewing about calling the cat to come get me? Do I look mad enough to be following a cat around like a person? 

A grandfather clock at the dividing wall between the sitting room and kitchen ticks away and suddenly chimes loudly; a deep bellowing gong that sounds seven times. I lie down, the large couch seeming to swallow me in its comfort, and I watch the flames as I disappear into my own piteous thoughts. There are just so many questions I have that haven't been answered- questions I'm not quite sure even could be answered.