By Elizabeth Jane Shelton
Alice had one goal for her final session: to beat her high score.
Dayora Night smiled winningly. Alice crossed her arms.
Game on, Alice thought.
“Tell me more about this Wonderland of yours.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “It’s not my Wonderland. I daresay the Queen of Hearts would order my head on a platter if she heard you suggest such a thing.”
Dayora’s eyes widened slightly, and she began scribbling furiously on her paper. Alice grinned. Point.
Dayora was just like the others.
“The Queen of Hearts, you say?” Dayora finally asked. “Who is she?”
Alice lounged dramatically on the chaise. “She’s the embodiment of all my nightmares, of course,” she whispered in her most haunted voice.
Dayora sat forward. “Is she really?”
Alice snorted and sat back up, crossing her legs. “No. She’s the Queen of Wonderland.”
Dayora sighed. Point. “Alice, please. I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.”
“I don’t want to be helped. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Dayora produced a file at least two centimeters thick. Alice grimaced. That file had been passed around for the last ten years. She was fed up with therapists and doctors who thought they were doing her a favor by unraveling the secrets of her “deranged” mind.
Or, rather, doing her father a favor.
“My childhood imaginary kingdom was colorful, too.” Dayora sighed wistfully as she flipped through the pages, and Alice’s eyes widened. Dayora, a dreamer? “But yours… sweets that make you grow and shrink?”
“Oh, but they are delicious.”
“A smoking caterpillar.”
“He’s a snob, actually.”
“A mad hatter? A disappearing cat?”
“You’ll meet them if you make it to the end of this session.”
Dayora slammed the file shut. “Is that a threat?”
Alice stifled a laugh. Point. “No, ma’am. They’re just my ride.”
Dayora took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Then she placed the file back on her desk. “Let’s try something different, shall we? Alice, why are you here?”
Alice smoothed her skirt. She hadn’t planned it, but it looked much like the one from her first trip to Wonderland. “I’m here as a favor to my father.” She looked up at Dayora. “I’m about to turn eighteen. He wanted to try one more time.”
“Try what?”
Alice shrugged. “To fix me, I suppose.” She leaned back. “He thinks I’m like one of his fancy cars that he can take into the shop and tune up until it sings. But I’m not. I rarely sing.” She grinned. “Although I do like rhyming.”
Dayora scribbled something on her paper. “What else do you enjoy, Alice?”
Finally, something interesting. “I enjoy questions,” Alice mused. “And kettles and conundrums. And things that shouldn’t make sense but do.” She sat forward suddenly. “Tell me, Dayora. Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”
“Why a raven…” Dayora shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”
“Pity.” Alice blew a stray piece of hair out of her face. “No one ever does.”
Dayora looked at Alice for several long seconds. “Tell me. Are you usually disappointed in people?”
“Only the boring ones.”
“What makes them boring?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “The lack of possibilities. No one is curious. No one asks questions. No one wants to know why or how or more.” She eyed Dayora. “No adult ever believes me. And you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because what if it’s true?” Alice whispered. “You’d be forced to rethink every fairy tale. Every ghost story. Your childhood kingdom.” She raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, Dayora. If it were real, what would you do?”
Dayora wrote feverishly as Alice spoke but stopped at that question. For a moment, she seemed to be considering. Perhaps she’s not such a lost cause.
But just as quickly, Dayora rearranged herself into her calm, positive demeanor. “We’re not here to talk about me.”
“I should say not.” Alice sighed and checked her watch. “Ah! Look at that. It’s May. I really must be going.” She stood and collected her bag.
Dayora jumped to her feet. “What does the month have to do with the time?”
Alice gave her a pitying look. “Really, Dayora, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Dayora moved in front of her. “Young lady, we are not finished here.”
“But my ride is waiting for me.”
There was a sudden, violent rap at the door. Dayora flinched, and Alice reached around her to open it. Outside waited the Hatter, holding a splendid top hat.
“Alice! Good to see you.” He glanced at Dayora, who looked like she might faint. “Her hair wants cutting.”
Alice shook her head. “Really, Hatter, we talked about this. That’s not an acceptable greeting for a lady.”
“Ah, my mistake.” The Hatter bowed. “I mistook you for a fish.”
Indeed, Dayora did look a bit like a fish, the way her mouth opened and shut as she struggled for words.
“Is she quite all right?” asked a voice closer to the ground. The three of them looked down at a cat. Well, some of a cat. He hadn’t gotten around to materializing completely.
Dayora stumbled backward into her chair. “I… That is… What on Earth!?”
“Not Earth,” Alice responded, somewhat smugly. “Wonderland.”
“How many points today?” the Hatter whispered loudly.
“Only three before you arrived, I think.”
He patted her shoulder. “Bad luck.” The Cheshire Cat finished becoming visible and wound himself between Alice’s legs, purring.
“I-I—” the poor woman stuttered, staring at them with wide eyes.
“She’ll recover.” Alice sniffed. “She’s a professional.” She hesitated, then took a wrapped box labeled Eat me out of her bag and sat it on Dayora’s desk. “In case you change your mind,” Alice said softly. “It’s all in that file.”
“Oh, come on, Alice,” Hatter said. “We’ll miss tea. And you know how the White Rabbit hates when we’re late.”
Alice glanced back at Dayora Night, whose eyes were locked on the box, before following her friends out of the office.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This is such a fun one! Loved the ending!
Thank you! I had a LOT of fun writing it!
“She’ll recover. She’s a professional.” Poor Dayora DOESN’T know whether it’s day or night and that’s probably good for her! Fun take sending Alice to a shrink. Even better sending the Hatter and Cat as her ride.
Haha thank you! I figured Alice would have to find a way to keep herself entertained while going to counseling appointments. And that the Hatter would probably get a kick out of it as well
Elizabeth, I loved your story! Such whimsical fun! I do hope Dayora Night doesn’t turn out to be one of the boring ones. Cheers!
Thank you! I think there’s hope for her yet ;)
“There was a sudden, violent rap at the door. Dayora flinched”
Well yeah she flinched at hearing rapping on her door. I bet she was like “Oh no. The raven is back!”
Perfect melding of the existing fantasy/fairytale with your own. Love the clean and crisp writing! And of course, the irony.
And who among us would not like to just slightly befuddle a one time teacher, guidance counselor, or therapist?
Ravens and writing desks–fun stuff!
Clever and lively and wonderfully written with great characterizations – just plain fun!
Fun and whimsical! Well written!