Alice touched her fingers to the mirror, not at all shocked to find the digits slip through with hardly any resistance. Like quick silver the mirror rippled in reply and she smiled back. "Why is a Raven like a writing desk?"

Some say that little Alice was Mad as a Hatter. Always alone when she took her tea beneath the wilted willow tree. She would wave to you and smile from time to time, but not just any smile. One cannot describe the other wordiness of such a look. For when one looked into her once gentle and innocent blue eyes, one would feel as if she looked straight through their fleshy prison and ready to devour what one would hold most precious to them: their heart.

Her cup would always be empty but still she would proceed to refill her glass and daintily sip her tea; before standing in a sudden rage and crushing the porcelain against the trunk of the tree. "Who are you?" She would say before ranting away: "All are welcomed in Wonderland, until the Red Queen screams OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" "See the white rabbit and run! Run, run, run, run, run,..." Then she'll turn when you see her and laugh. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh. If one looked, you could still see the shards of glass embedded deeply within the willow's bark.

"If trees could talk, I wonder what nightmarish tales this dear weeping willow would tell."

The finest doctors from around the world did try ever so hard to help poor Alice. Dementia, it was. Incurable, therefore the poor dear would be forever lost. No longer sane, they put her away. There was one fool soul, I must say, who tried to help her. He had his heart in the right place but Alice did not.

"What do you see Alice?"

Her head fell to the side, tufts of silky blond hair falling over her eyes. "I see, a white Rabbit." Her medically induced calm stripped her eyes of their liveliness, locking away the doors to her labyrinth mind. So dull she seemed, standing in the foolish doctor's office.

"What do you feel Alice?"

She turned ever so slowly, and smiled.

The doctor gripped the arm of his chair.

"I am so very, very late. It is quiet rude to leave one's host waiting for too long." She chuckled, the eerie sound echoing off the near bare walls of the room. "If I should be any later, then..." She swiped her finger across the hallow of her throat, tilting her head back and allowing her long and luxurious hair tumble back. "...It will be off with my head!"

Then she laughed, and laughed, and laughed.