Metafiction: Wonderland (not finished, entire thing will probably be very long, will add on to it bit by bit as I go)

The queen extended one white hand to her interlocutor, rather boredly.

"Is that all?" she said.
"Y-y-yes, Your Majesty," he replied tremulously.
"All right," she leaned her chin against her palm. "Off with his head."
Two guards emerged and dragged away the resigned Hatte, who only sighed and looked at the ground as he headed for his demise.
"Why am I always surrounded by idiots?" The queen, barely 7 years old, rolled her crystal blue eyes.

She heard the thump. The sound of something rolling on the floor. But she didn't care. Of course. She had heard that every day. She just never saw it.
Being only 7 years old, the queen believed that death sentences were the best way to punish a criminal (although it was to be admitted that her notion of 'criminal' was rather ambiguous). Those who stole anything from her domain, from a small cookie to a big boat, had gotten the same punishment: death.

"How many bad guys have we punished today?" asked the queen.
"That would be 32 for today, Your Majesty."
"And how many of them are waiting for tommorrow?"
"Forty-seven, Your Majesty."
"Very well. Now, I fancy a walk around the garden today. Don't forget my Lucy!"
The servant simply bowed. He was the 31st servant in 3 months. If he disobeyed the queen for even a fraction of a second, his head would fall. Hurriedly, he ran to her bedroom and fetched Lucy, a gigantic stuffed rabbit that the queen had recieved from the (now-dead) king.
"Thank you." The queen gave a wide smile to the servant, hugging the rabbit. "Let's go!"

The queen went out to the garden. She walked along the path. Beside the path, the thirty-two dead bodies were hanging in the gallows. Sixteen to the left, sixteen to the right. The faces of the casualties were all terribly distorted, showing the immense pain they must have endured at their last moments. The queen was smiling happily, trotting and hopping along the path.

"I'm expecting a very special guest today, Bernard," she chattered, swinging Lucy by its arm. "A very special one indeed." She skipped in her steps, made a half-turn and faced the servant. She was beaming in the way only children could. "Her name is Alice."
"Alice, Your Majesty?" the servant repeated, puzzled, then, trying his best not to sound disrespectful: "But, if I am not mistaken, Your Majesty, Alice is--"
"My name, I know," said the queen cheerfully, still skipping. "Isn't it splendid? She must be named after me."
The servant sighed imperceptibly. "Yes, Your Majesty..."


Alice giggled and rocked on her seat. "What happened next?"
Her aunt smiled gently. "You'll have to wait until tommorrow to find out." She kissed the tiny girl on her forehead, then tucked her in. "Good night, dear."
As she walked out of Alice's room, the child called. "Auntie?"
"Yes dear?"
"I'm not the Queen Alice, am I?"
The elderly lady could not suppress a smile. "Of course not, dear. You're the heroic Alice, who defeats the Queen and saves Wonderland." She watched her niece snuggle into her pillow, satisfied, Lucy at her headboard.
"Sleep tight, Alice."
"Good night, Auntie."

Rose tenderly shut the door behind her. Violet was waiting for her, irate.
"Rose, what on earth were you thinking? Telling her stories about beheading, evil queens...filling her head with nonsense! How will you ever expect her to grow up?"
"Oh hush, Violet," said Rose. "Every child grew up with stories in their heads. Although I'll admit I did get a bit carried away with the beheadings. But I was only repeating what Charles told me anyway. He wanted to make sure Alice would hear it too."
"I told you not to associate with Dodgeson," snapped Violet. "He should be called Dodgy instead--why is he so infatuated with Alice? I tell you, he's a crazy man. Mathematics may make him smart, but only more insane. Well, it's very late now. I'm off to bed myself." With that she turned around curtly and descended the stairs.
Rose made sure her sister was out of earshot, then muttered, "Well, I'll say. Next thing, she'll be telling me to stop giving Alice sweets. Uptight to the extreme, she is." She shook her head and walked off to her bedroom.


Hey, you there.
Yes, you! You with the big eyes. Right there.
What's that? You don't have big eyes? Don't matter. Looks pretty bleeding big to me.
What do you suppose you are, hmm? A normal person? A respectable member of 'ciety, you say?
I used to be a rather respectable one meself--when I wasn't nipped by the bottle, that is. But a character's got to have something to do when he's not being cast, don't he?
Hang on--how do you know you're not a character too?
Say, ain't that a typewriter hovering over your life right now?
DOn't change the subject! You think you know who you are, do you? Well, I can see you bright and clear from over here--and you look a bleeding lot like me, I say.
What's that? You don't know what I look like? Don't matter a cent. I know perfectly well what I look like, and the writer's getting around to introducing me some time or other.
How can I see you, you ask? Why, you're right in front of me! In front of that giant monitor-thingamajig or whatever you call it. You see me clearly, I see you clearly. Simple as 'at.
Well, I've been around for longer than I should have. The writer's gone to the bathroom or wherever she's gone, and heaven bless her, and little Alice too. Seems like I'm the only bright one in here. I know my God, and I know her well. Do you?


Alice woke to the sound of pansies weeping.
"Hello, miss," she said, cautiously. Then it occured to her that she'd never heard of weeping pansies before; she'd never even heard of them laughing. "And flowers should have much reason to laugh, I believe," thought Alice. "But oh, what nonsense I am thinking!"
Meanwhile the flower had been sobbing away, its tears splashing onto the ground near Alice's feet. "Hello, miss," Alice began again, "you do seem so very upset. Is there anything I can do for you?"
The pansy raised its head. "Anything you can do!" it shrieked, in a shrilly voice that quite pierced Alice's ears. "Why, child, there's nothing you can do! The Queen's been at it again, and when she starts, nothing but the heavens above can stop her!" It resumed its wailing. "We're doomed!"
Alice pondered this very carefully. "The Queen," she thought. "Could it be the same queen I know?"
"Please, ma'am," she said aloud to the pansy, "Is the Queen's name Alice, by any chance?"
"That's the name!" shouted the pansy. "That's it--a lovely name, wasted on such a foul child. Why, I'd tear her out by the roots if I could!" It began to sway in fury.
Poor Alice was quite confused. "But this can't be," she thought. "Queen Alice is a figment of Auntie Rose's imagination. I couldn't possibly be in the story--unless I'm dreaming," she concluded. "Yes, that must be it, and I must wake up." She began to pinch her arm vigorously, to make herself wake, but nothing changed. "Oh dear," thought Alice, "then it isn't a dream after all?" She turned to the pansy, who had calmed itself down considerably at this point. "Please, ma'am," she said politely, "Where is this place?"
"Why, you're in Wonderland," said the pansy curtly. "Any respectable child should know that."
"Wonderland? Why, that's the name of the place in Auntie Rose's story!" exclaimed Alice.
"Auntie Roses I know of none, but there is a respectable rose garden to the north of here," sniffed the pansy. "If you're looking for stories, though, that's not the place to go; the Hatter knows of many. But," it added with a sigh, "I heard he was beheaded. This morning, in fact. It's the cursed queen who did it."
"I wish to return to my bedroom, please," said Alice, even politely still. "I was sleeping just now, when I woke up here."
"Bedrooms? You come from the Asylum, then?" The pansy's voice rose to a hysterical shriek once more. "You're an insane child?!"
"No, no, no, I most certainly am not!" cried poor Alice hurriedly. "I come from no Asylum at all! I only wish to go back home!"
"Well, be off then!" said the pansy shrilly. "If you need directions the Mapmaker is your man! Now shoo!"

"It's so dreadfully confusing here!" thought Alice, frazzled. "Everything seems to be everywhere--the garden, the Queen, the Mapmaker--oh look!" she said aloud, though there was no one to hear her. "A signpost--how convenient."
It was a very tall post, with arrows pointing in every direction Alice could imagine. "It's all I can do to read it," she thought, as she walked around it. "Oh, here it is; the Mapmaker's Lair. It's in the same direction as the Asylum," she thought nervously. "I hope it comes before it, I certainly don't want to pass an Asylum of insane children." And so she set off on the beaten path that lead to the Mapmaker.

The path was downtrodden with a thousand footsteps, and Alice found herself wondering how many had been there before her. "It seems that this man is rather popular," she pondered, "but if you're the man with directions, I suppose everyone wants to know you. Or," she remembered suddenly, "it could be the parents of the insane children coming to visit. That's so very sad," she sighed. Thinking about the Asylum was putting her in a bad mood, so she turned her mind to the little daisies growing along the path. They seemed to be chattering away.
"Beware, beware!" shouted one to Alice.
"Beware of what?" asked Alice, stooping down to hear it better.
"Beware of the children, who roam the darkness of eternity!" it shouted. "Beware of the Warden, who drinks blood as wine! And beware of the Room, where horrors lie unseen!"
"Don't listen to them," said a voice brusquely behind Alice. She wheeled around, alarmed. A short, stout man with a very bushy beard and a hunting hat was standing there. "They're always making up warnings and conspiracies. Amuses them to warn passerbys of them. Really just a load of dung," he said. He then spat, deliberately and carefully, on the grass. "Come on," he told Alice, turning away from her, "if you want directions, follow me." Alice, somewhat wary, started off behind him.

They walked on for a good while, leading deeper and deeper into some kind of forest. Alice was getting very nervous by now, and asked, in a small voice, "Please, sir, is this the way to the Mapmaker?"
"That's me," the man said gruffly. "I'm also the Warden of the Asylum. I live there. Don't worry," he added, after glancing back at Alice's frightened countenance, "it's perfectly safe. I have the discipline thing down pat. The children won't dare hurt you, or I'll skin them alive."

They were now coming to the entrance of a gray-bricked building, perfectly cubic and with perfectly square windows. It was unremarkable in the whole, except for the gigantic golden globe, gleaming and glowing, perched on top of it.
"This way, now," said the Mapmaker, pushing open a steel door and ushering Alice in. She carefully stepped inside, taking care to avoid the pools of urine on the floor. "How dreadfully unpleasant here!" she thought, as she followed the Mapmaker down the dingy coridor. "I can't imagine living here for more than a minute! How terrible it must be for the children!"
The two of them entered the office. The walls were covered with maps, some yellow and fraying, others drawn on sugar-white paper with a soft-leaded pencil. Some were scribbled in crayon, in red and blue and green; on the desk, rolled-up parchment maps were strewn everywhere.

"Now then," said the Mapmaker, sinking into his chair, "let's get down to business." He spread open a map that was longer than his arms were wide, and struggled with it for a bit. "Where do you want to go?"
"Please, I wish to return to my bedroom, sir," Alice said pleadingly. "I was sleeping just now, but all of a sudden I woke up in Wonderland."
"Hmm, strange, strange, very strange," muttered the Mapmaker distractedly, as he fumbled under his desk for a cigar. "Very strange indeed." He pushed a fat, green cigar into his beard (or where his mouth was supposed to be, at any rate) and looked up at Alice. "What was the name of the place you lived in?"
"London, sir," said Alice. "43rd Street, Lingham Avenue, Apple Tree Manors."
"Let's see now, London," said the man, running a pudgy finger over the map. "I don't see it here. It must be somewhere my children haven't visited yet."
"Do you send these children out around the world, sir?" asked Alice.
"I do," said the Mapmaker. "They visit every corner I send them to, and bring back pictures of where they saw. I piece them together to create a giant map like this one."
"But they're insane! They can't possibly take care of themselves!" exclaimed Alice, genuinely shocked.
"Ah, they manage it somehow or other," said the Mapmaker with a shrug. "They have a funny way of coming back, these insane kids. Always smiling, as if they were wanted here. They don't know squat about anything, but if I tell them to make pictures of locations and send them to me they do it just fine. If they don't, I can just flog them." He struck a match against his desk and lit his cigar. "They may be batnuts, but they do reap great profit."
"But how am I to get back, sir?" cried poor distressed Alice. "I don't live here, and I'm not-- I certainly don't know how to get back home!" She was going to say "I'm not insane!" but she didn't quite believe herself.
"Dunno," said the Mapmaker. "If it's not on my map yet, you're lost. Or I suppose, if you got here in a non-traditional manner, then you should leave in a strange way, too."
"But how is that to be managed?" cried Alice.
"Search me," said the Mapmaker. He blew a long cloud of green, foul-smelling smoke into Alice's face, disappearing behind it.

"Oh, he's no help at all!" thought Alice, coughing madly. "I came here because I thought he could help me, but all I see is unmitigated cruelty all around! Oh, those poor children! Those daisies were right after all! Oh, and I do wish he would stop blowing that dreadful smoke into my eyes! It's quite blinding me!" She shut her eyes to keep them from tearing up, and as she did so she felt the smoke solidfy around her into a fluffy mass. She soon found herself surrounded by soft pillows, and opened her eyes to streaming sunlight.
"Well, I'll say! I'm back!" said Alice to herself. "I've finally awoken from that terrible nightmare--if it was a dream at all," she added doubtfully. "I couldn't make myself awake from it, at any rate. Suppose I would never wake up from it? And will I ever see the Queen?" Alice's head was spinning. "I should tell Auntie to stop telling me those stories!"



The queen turned to Bernard. "You know," she said, with a smile, "I do believe I should like to serve my guest some special tea. In the most special china." She cocked her head to one side, eyes shining innocently. "Do you think you can manage that?"
Bernard felt a small, unpleasant thrill up his spine. The word special could only mean one thing to Her Majesty.
"I shall inform the kitchen, Your Majesty," he murmured.


"Alice!" Violet called upstairs. "Alice, dear, are you ready yet?"
"Just a minute, Auntie!" Alice shouted, as her nurse fumbled with her waist-ribbon. "Nurse, don't tighten it so! It makes me choke."
"It's all I can do to hide this little tummy of yours, Miss Alice," grinned the nurse, "what with all the cakes you eat every day."
"Hmph!" said Alice, coquettishly turning her head away, "it's not MY fault Cook makes the best cakes all around!"
She soon descended, her brown, bobbed hair nicely complementing her pale yellow dress. Violet took her by the hand.
"Now, Alice," she said sternly to her niece, "going out to town is not a light business. I want you to be on your best behavior, and that means no pretending games, no make-believe stories, and not dragging your rabbit everywhere you go." She saw the girl pout, and added, "And no making faces at your aunt."