Malice in Wonderland Bundle 2 Page 7
“Oh yes,” he says. “I haven’t forgotten about you. As soon as I evoke the rose’s power, Cinderella will release you two.”
Cinderella lifts some keys on a key ring and jiggle clanks them.
“And then we’re free to go?” Malice asks. “You aren’t gonna kill us or anything?”
“No, my dear. I intend to keep my word. Of course you could always stay and join our malevolent gang of supervillains as we take over both worlds.”
The Queen of Hearts grunts. “But we’re supposed to be enemies. Archrivals even!”
“Teams can change when one wishes to conquer worlds,” the Storyteller admonishes.
But Malice confides, “So long as my heart still ticks, I shall not join you fiends.”
The Hatter nods. “I as well, so long as mine ticks… I mean, beats. I’m with Malice, always.”
“Why don’t you marry her?” Cinderella mutters sarcastically.
The Storyteller merely shrugs. “Let us now initiate…the dark twisting powers of the Black Rose.” He sets the snowglobe on the floor next to the Black Rose, which he now lifts up. “When Sleeping Beauty inhales its scent, it will directly affect the dream energy that’s keeping Fairy Tale Land going. Each fairy tale being has his or her own story, but because of the rose, each of their stories will change, will become twisted.”
“Even mine?” Cinderella says. “Even though I’m outside the snowglobe?”
“Well, yes, of course. I mean I’m fairly certain. Well, the ways of the Black Rose are not entirely known to me, but we shall soon see, won’t we?”
Malice says, “And you intend to unleash these dark twisted fairy tales into Wonderland?”
“Yes, as soon as Alice gets to believing enough.”
Malice sighs. “Oh, bother.”
“Well if it makes you feel better, after that, we’ll try to figure out how to get the fairy tale beings through the looking glass into the outside world so they can be a bother to them.”
“Well at least they might leave us alone, then,” Malice mutters.
“Quite,” the Storyteller says. “Now let’s get to twisting that whole miniature realm up, shall we?”
“Yes yes,” Jacob says, while the Hatter makes a worried, fearful kind of humming sound to himself.
And Malice watches on silently, with dread, as the Storyteller lifts the pot close to the sleeping girl’s face. He tilts the pot, presses down on the stem so that the petals are under her nose. “Inhale the corruption, my dear. Let its influence twist your thoughts and dreams.”
Several moments pass. Malice isn’t sure what’s supposed to happen. Perhaps it’s all happening, unseen, within that snowglobe, she thinks to herself.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Cinderella says, but now she gives out a yelp.
“What is it?” the Storyteller says.
“The Fairy Tale Realm!” Cinderella points at the snowglobe on the floor. “It’s like it’s calling me back… I can feel it pulling at me. It’s going to pull me inside the snowglobe!” She starts glowing with a soft white light while her body seems to make crackling sounds as if she is abuzz with electricity.
“Hmm,” the Storyteller says. “Wasn’t expecting that. But it makes sense. Maybe the rose needs you to be in the Fairy Tale Realm in order to twist you.”
Cinderella looks as if someone is tugging on her arm to pull her into the snowglobe. She pouts. “But I want to stay out here, with the stud.”
“Oh, gosh, you think I’m a stud?” the Hatter says.
And now Cinderella is glowing brighter, her feet are being dragged along the floor toward the snowglobe. “Oh, no!” She jumps at the Hatter, wraps her arms around his neck. “Let me stay with you!” she cries.
The Hatter wraps his free arm around her waist and hugs her to him. The Hatter begins to glow too and now Malice watches as the two begin shrinking.
And my wrist is chained to his, she thinks as she looks at her wrist to see she’s glowing as well.
I’m shrinking as well.
The Hatter says to Malice, “My apologies.” He wraps his other hand around her waist and pulls her closer.
They are half the size they were, now, being pulled toward the snowglobe.
“Stop!” she calls out. “You’ll pull me in too!”
But it’s too late, they’re flying through the air toward the glass orb. It seems to grow in size before Malice’s eyes, becoming like a huge structure.
She winces and covers her face with her free arm as she crashes into the glass.
But there was no crash of glass, as now, she lands upon grass-covered ground.
“Oomph!” Her arm chained to the Hatter is pulled to the side as she lays face down on the ground.
Malice struggles to reorient herself.
Next to her, she hears the Hatter say, “Sorry, Miss Cinderella.”
To which the muffled voice of Cinderella says, “Oof. Just get off me so I can breathe!”
And now Malice feels a few sharp tugs of the chain on her wrist. She strains her neck to see the Hatter fumbling to get off atop of Cinderella.
She watches Cinderella triumphantly scooch out from under him. “That would have been more delightful under more pleasant circumstances,” Cinderella says.
Malice manages to rise up on her knees.
They are on a well-trodden dirt path, on both sides of which is dense forest.
Cinderella stands.
The Mad Hatter looks up at her. “I apologize if I offended your sensibilities, madame.”
Cinderella waves her hand. “That is of no consequence, my darling. In fact, it is I who should apologize to you. I thought I could prevent myself being sucked in here by grabbing ahold of you, but that it seems, was not the case.”
The Mad Hatter, who is sitting up now, turns to Malice. “And I didn’t want you to get jealous, so I grabbed you too.”
Malice is sitting up now too. “Why should I be jealous? You’re a grown man, and I’m only 15. Too young for you, and besides, even if you hadn’t manhandled me, it wouldn’t have made much difference, since we’re chained together. I suspect I would have been dragged down here, regardless.”
Cinderella says, “My apologies. I didn’t realize that you would be carried here as well. But I didn’t have time to think.”
“So are we—” Malice attempts to stand, and has to tug at the Hatter so he’ll stand too. “So are we truly inside the snowglobe?”
“Yes,” Cinderella says. “When Sleeping Beauty inhaled, the Black Rose called me back here amongst all the other fairy tales, in order to twist us all about.” She grins in an intimidating manner.
Malice eyes her warily. She can see nothing different in her outward appearance—there’s the same blue ball gown, white elbow-length gloves, golden necklace, glass slippers. “So have you become twisted?”
“Not yet, but I can feel it beginning. I can feel my story changing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The origin of me, how I came to be the legendary Cinderella, my past is changing, I’m becoming a darker character.”
“Well that’s frankly unsettling,” the Hatter contributes.
“Yes,” Malice says. “We need to get out of here before you become some sort of evil character! Could you please unlock us?”
Cinderella brings out the key and dangles it in the air. “You heard the Storyteller. As soon as Alice gets to believing enough, all the fairy tale beings will be unleashed into Wonderland.”
Malice holds her hand out for Cinderella to unlock it (pulling at Hatter’s arm as well).
The Hatter mutters, “But all the fairy tale beings will be twisted? It seems they might be a bunch of hooligans running amok!”
“Yes,” Cinderella says, “but that is not my concern right now, since now I feel compelled to move toward my destiny with my sister, according to the prophesy.”
“What prophesy?” Malice asks.
“Of that, I don’t know. That part of my new s
tory hasn’t been formed yet.”
“Then there is no prophesy yet. You make no sense.”
“Nonetheless, I must go, and fulfill my destiny. I wish you good luck.”
“Hey!” Malice calls. “You’re leaving us? You’re going to unlock us, right? You told the Storyteller you would!”
Cinderella twerks her mouth while thinking. “So I did. Unfortunately, I’m not yet twisted, so I still have a sense of duty. Yet I don’t want you following too closely and mucking up my destiny and whatnot.”
“Oh, please, just release us, we won’t follow you!”
Cinderella says, “I admit that in my rushed thinking, I thought to have the Hatter accompany me, but I doubt he’ll appreciate the new version of me once I twist about. Ahah! I have an idea!” She unclasps the necklace from around her neck. “I shall put the key on this necklace around one of your necks. I’m sure if you travel the path you can find a helpful fairy tale being to unlock you. And by that time, I’ll be far ahead, if you choose to follow me.”
“How clever,” the Hatter encourages.
“Thank you.”
Malice says, “But we wouldn’t follow you,” but is ignored.
And Cinderella slips the necklace around the Hatter’s neck. It fits him tightly enough so as to be near impossible to grab or manipulate with their hands bound as they are.
Cinderella kisses the Hatter on the cheek. “Goodbye, you rake. Once I twist, if you’re ever in the mood for a bad girl, hit me up.”
“If I do, I shall,” he says, starting to blush.
“Oh, just go already,” Malice growls.
And Cinderella hurries down the dirt path, leaving them behind.
Chapter 11
Malice and the Hatter decide to travel down the trail looking for someone to unlock them.
Soon they come upon five wooden signs where the path splits off in five different directions. The signs read:
Hansel & Gretel
Tom Thumb
Jack Sprat
Goldilocks
Little Miss Muffet
They look further down the different paths to try to see what lies ahead, but see nothing—which is not surprising since they are in a magical fantasy realm.
“What do you think?” Malice says. “Which path do you think Cinderella took?”
The Hatter says, “Of that I am uncertain, but I do know I’m hungry, so why not visit Jack Sprat?” His stomach growls.
“Why do you say that?”
The Hatter points to an area of the sign where are written the words:
Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.
And so between the two of them,
They licked the platter clean.
“Seems as good a choice as any,” Malice says, and so they walk down that fork of the trail.
After a bit of walking, the scene suddenly, magically changes around them. Now, up ahead they see a small village of quaint wooden buildings, with the trail running through it.
The aroma of cooking meat fills their nostrils, causing both their stomachs to growl loudly, but as they enter the village, they are unable to tell where the smell is coming from. They see none of the villagers bustling about, nor do they see any signs of activity other than smoke coming from the chimney of one of the buildings.
So Malice shouts out, “Hello! Anybody home!”
The door of the building with the smoking chimney creaks open and someone peers at them from behind the door. “Who are you?” a male voice calls out suspiciously.
“I’m Malice, and this is the Mad Hatter.”
“You’re not from our village?”
“No sir,” Malice calls. “We’ve come to ask you a favor, as we’re inconveniently chained up. We have the key, but can’t reach it and we were wondering if you’d be so kind as to unlock us.”
“Chained up?” the man says. He pokes his face out and peers at them. Now he opens the door and grins big at them. He steps out, a very thin, partially bald man in brown pants and a brown coat. “Oh my lad and lass! For a moment, I thought you were from our village here.” He raises his arms to indicate it. “But we knew everyone who lived here. About fifty people.” Another face pokes out from the door and he turns. “Ah, honey, come on out. It’s only a young lad and a wee girl.”
A large overweight woman in a blue dress and white bonnet steps out.
The man says, “I’m Jack Sprat, and this is my wife.”
They all say their greetings.
Jack says to his wife, “These two unfortunate souls are chained up and would like us to release them.”
The wife crinkles her eyes at them. “Well how the heavens did that happen? They look lean…” She looks Malice and Hatter up and down.
Malice says, “Well, err, it’s a strange story, but long story short, there are some real wicked people who want to twist all the fairy tales, who captured us. We need to be freed to keep a girl known as Cinderella from doing horrible things in the name of some sort of prophesy. And um, we’re gonna try to prevent the fairy tales being twisted—but okay, we’re not quite sure on all the details. But please free us?”
“Cinderella is a very talented dancer,” the Hatter offers.
Malice says, “That’s the Mad Hatter. He’s mad, obviously. Says the most unanticipated things.”
Jack says, “We know what you mean though, about the fairy tales twisting.”
“Oh?” Malice says. “Did Cinderella come through here? She’s a girl with glass shoes, blue ball gown?”
“No, haven’t seen her,” Jack says.
“Well, we need to find her if we want to put a stop to all the fairy tale twisting.” Malice is not sure if what she’s saying is true, but it might be, and sometimes it’s best to fake your certainty for a good cause, she thinks. “The Cinderella girl put the key on a necklace around his neck.” She tilts her head over to indicate. “We’d appreciate it ever-so-greatly if you could unclasp the necklace and free us with the key.”
“Of course my dear!” He beckons, “Come closer.”
As Malice and the Hatter walk closer, the aroma from the open door of roasting meat becomes intense, causing Malice to salivate. She hears the Hatter’s stomach grumble next to her.
“I say!” Hatter says. “It smells as if you are having dinner. My Queen and I are truly famished. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?…”
Malice scowls at him for his forwardness, but inwardly, she is quite pleased he has the audacity enough to impose.
But Jack Sprat chortles. “Of course, my boy!” he says. “We hope that once your hands are freed, you shall thoroughly engage them in participating in our feast! It is our village’s greatest feast that only comes around once per year! An annual tradition, starting today!”
“A feast!” the Hatter says and giggles.
Malice nudges her chin at the building. “Is that where all the villagers are?”
Jack says, “Yes, they’re all inside the great dining hall waiting for the feast. My wife and I have been cooking the villagers their own meat—because ours must be specially prepared for I, Jack Sprat, can eat no fat.”
“And I can eat no lean,” his wife says.
“You say the key is around your neck?” He begins walking behind the Hatter.
“Yes,” the Hatter says. “Cinderella put it on the chain because I suppose she wanted us to get free eventually.”
“We’re thinking of following her,” Malice says. “Do you know where she might have gone?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Jack lifts the necklace’s clasp. He presses at it. “Fiddle sticks!” he says. “My fingers are too skinny to open it!” He starts tugging on the chain, causing the Mad Hatter to make choking noises. “Ack! Stop!” the Hatter proclaims.
“Sorry, my lad. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut it off of you. But we have just the tools to do it! We’re butchers and have powerful tools. We’ll just go fetch one!” He slaps the Hatter reassuringly on the back.
The Mad Hatter says, “I’m looking forward to eating some of that scrumptious meat!” His tummy rumbles.
“Stop that,” Malice growls. “We can’t stay long. We must be chasing Cinderella.”
“Well we should eat to keep our strength up. And why do we have to chase Cinderella anyhow?”
“To stop the prophesy… Or to make it happen.”
“Or both?”
“I don’t know, alright? But what else are we supposed to do? I know nothing about this Fairy Tale Land. All I know is Cinderella is on some mission about some sort of prophesy or the other and something or another must be done.”
The Hatter inhales deeply. “What sort of meat is it, do you think? Did they say?”
“I don’t believe they did.”
The voice of Jack Sprat calls out from the open doorway. “Here I am again! I’m back!”
The thin man walks out holding huge curved shears. The size of the tool causes Malice to wince and draw back.
“Yikes,” the Hatter says. “Be careful you don’t accidentally lop off my head!” He begins giggling uproariously.
Jack Sprat chuckles too. “Don’t worry. I shan’t make any mistakes!” He moves the cutting tool ever closer to the Hatter’s neck, to whom he says, “Now stay very still, young man. I want to cut through in a single snip.”
“Yes, quite,” Hatter says.
Jack opens the cutting tool wide, much too wide, Malice thinks as she begins to worry.
From inside the building, Malice hears Jack’s wife call out, “Stop, thief!”
From the door, out bolts a young man in a tunic and knee high boots, holding a gold plated and jewel encrusted stick in his hand.
As he runs off to the left, the wife comes out, huffing and puffing and holding a bloody cleaver in her hand. “Jack! He tried to steal our meat!”
“That rascal!” Jack shouts.
His wife says, “He almost untied some of the live ones…” She snarls at the young man. “I’m gonna cut you up and my husband’ll eat you, since I can eat no lean. No lean!” She lets out a roar as she rushes at the young man with her cleaver raised, but she is not very fast at all, since she is so heavy.