Mirror, Mirror

By Lisa Timpf

“It’s for your own good.” Though Alice’s back was toward her, Edith Liddell could see her sister’s stormy expression in the mirror. She closed the door to Alice’s room and held it shut.

Edith bit her lower lip. Surely she was doing the right thing, trying to convince Alice to give up this Wonderland nonsense?

“I could get past you, you know.”

Edith sighed. “I don’t think that’s for the best.”

“I’m sorry I got so angry.” A pause. “It’s just . . . you never listen.”

“That’s because I’m tired of you talking nonsense.”

There was silence, for a time. Perhaps Alice had fallen asleep?

But then Edith saw a flash of light under the door. What was Alice up to?

Edith flung the door open. “I’m not sure what you think—”

She stopped abruptly. Same blue dress, same white pinafore apron over it. Only—

“You’re pale.” Edith took a step forward. “Are you feeling all right, Alice?”

“My name is Alyssa.” This proclamation was followed by a defiant chin-tilt Edith knew only too well.

Edith swallowed hard. Instead of giving up on her fantasies, Alice had taken another step down the rabbit-hole. But Alice did look unwell.

I’d better go easy on her.

***

For the next two hours, Alice—Alyssa—seemed fine, aside from insisting on the name change. And it wasn’t that odd for her sister to decline a game of Crazy Eights, usually one of her favorites. But her reply was stranger still: “It’s not nice to call them crazy. They’re just a   little eccentric. Besides, you should see the nines, when they get going.”

While she was carrying the tea-tray into the living room, Edith saw Alyssa whispering to the chess set.

Edith cleared her throat. “What was that about?”

Alyssa spun around, her eyes darting about the room as though seeking an escape route. Her shoulders sagged. “I was chatting with the queens, if you must know.”

“About?” Edith crossed her arms, unsure how much more of this she could bear.

“I asked them why they wouldn’t talk to me. I know they can.”

“This isn’t Wonderland.” It came out more sharply than Edith intended, and the irony wasn’t lost on her—after hoping she wouldn’t hear the W word, Edith had said it herself. But she couldn’t help it. Her sister’s behavior scared her.  Edith feared the repercussions if she couldn’t get Alice to shake this Wonderland obsession.

“Not in Wonderland?” Alyssa’s eyes widened. “That explains a lot.” She lowered her gaze. “I didn’t ask to come here.”

“Come where?”

“Here. To this world.”

Edith shook her head. I can’t take any more of this. She took a step toward the door.

Running away won’t solve anything.

Repressing the urge to flee this sister who seemed like a stranger, Edith sat in an armchair. “I’m listening.”

“I was minding my business, having tea with the Hare and the Hatter, you know?”

Edith tensed. She forced herself to nod encouragingly. “Go on.”

“The dormouse was drowsing, like usual. I reached for my teacup, and then—I was here. It must be because she came. We can’t both be in the same place at the same time. It wouldn’t make sense, you know.”

Nothing about this makes sense. Edith crossed her arms. What if Alyssa really isn’t Alice?

Edith jumped out of the chair and stood behind it, putting that slim barrier between her and this stranger who looked so much like her sister.

Edith frowned. Seeing a flaw in Alyssa’s logic, she pounced. “I didn’t see Alice come out of her room. How did she get to Wonderland?”

“There’s a mirror in there, right?”

“A looking glass? Yes.”

Alyssa shot her a meaningful look.

Edith sighed. Whenever Alice started prattling about mirrors, she’d tuned her out.

Maybe I should have paid more attention.

***

Edith stood beside Alyssa, the two of them peering into the mirror together. Now that Edith had overcome the shock of Alyssa’s revelations, she chided herself for not noticing sooner. Alyssa used her left hand predominantly, not her right like Alice. Plus, the kittens avoided her, hissing when she walked past.

I want my sister back.

As though reading Edith’s mind, Alyssa spoke. “If I go through, your Alice should return.”

“Let’s try it.”

“Don’t watch. You’ll make me nervous.”

“Fine.” Edith turned her back. “How will I know—”

A burst of light illuminated the room. Edith saw her shadow, stark against the wall. Then it disappeared.

She spun around.

A little white kitten rubbed against Alice’s legs, purring.

Edith ran over to hug her sister.

After returning the embrace, Alice turned a tear-streaked face toward Edith. “I so wanted to bring back a token from Wonderland, to prove to you that it existed. But I ate the mushroom—I was so hungry!—and the flamingo refused to come through, and the Queen of Hearts—

Edith held up a hand. “Hush, now. I believe you.”

“You do? You’re not just saying that?”

Edith sat on the edge of Alice’s bed. “I think I always did believe. Maybe I denied it because I was jealous, you know? Of you, having all those adventures.”

“I’m not sure you’d like it in Wonderland.” Alice wrinkled her nose. “But you’re welcome to come along next time.”

For a moment, Edith heard the siren call of temptation. But she knew, deep down, that she’d only see the annoyances, not the magic, in the upside-down world Alice loved so much. “It’s your world, not mine.”

“Maybe there’s a special place for you somewhere.” Her tears forgotten, Alice turned sparkling blue eyes on her sister. “A world of order and angles, where logic rules the day.”

“Where chess pieces stay sensibly silent,” Edith added.

“Where playing cards don’t demand one’s head be lopped off.”

Edith grinned as a realization hit her. “I already have that world, right here. Maybe you’d be willing to stay awhile?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Timpf lives in Simcoe, Ontario, where she writes poetry, book reviews, short stories, and creative nonfiction. Lisa’s speculative poetry collections Cats and Dogs in Space (2025) and In Days to Come (2022) are available from Hiraeth Publishing. Lisa is a member of SF Canada and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association.

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