Alex in Wonderland

Book One: A Raven and a Writing Desk

I do not own Alice in Wonderland- just my OC's, and this story. POSTING ANY PARTS OF THIS STORY ANYWHERE FOR ANY REASON WITHOUT MY PERMISSION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED! IF YOU WANT TO SHARE THIS STORY WITH PEOPLE, POST A LINK TO IT!

Plagiarism makes Jade very, VERY angry. :(

CHAPTER ONE: And so it begins

Rain.

It poured down the window in silky sheets, distorting the view of the houses outside. There was something magical about rain, Alice mused- everything from the fresh, clean smell it left on everything to the way it pitter-pattered on the roof was wonderful. The sound was everywhere at once, enveloping the little house in a rush of dancing drops. Alice ran her hand across the cold glass for a moment, gazing at her reflection. She had never considered herself especially beautiful- her nose was too long and her pale, heart-shaped face was sprinkled with freckles. Straight, sand-colored hair tumbled down her shoulders and framed her clear blue eyes. Her eyes were the only part of her face she liked- they were striated like cut crystal and seemed to glitter when she smiled. But she had not smiled often lately- not even today, her eleventh birthday. Eleventh- such a coy, silky word that flowed off of her tongue. She had repeated it several times since that morning, adding it to her mental list of interesting words.

"HURRY UP!" screeched a voice from downstairs.

She groaned- her mother, or "Macbeth" as she preferred to call her, had once been perfectly amiable, perfectly sane. But ever since she and Alice's biological father had divorced, Alice had suffered through increasingly worse renditions of "Mummy's boyfriend." Macbeth had even married this one- a a thickset, beer-bellied brute Alice had christened "Goliath." He needed a good stone between the eyes. As of late, he had taken to drinking in the basement with his equally repulsive "friends," and picking fights with Macbeth. They had gone back and forth about everything- wearing Macbeth's already-frayed nerves to the breaking point.

"ALICE! DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!" she shrieked. Alice rolled her eyes. "Coming!"

She snatched her leather suitcase off of the bed and dashed downstairs, but she hadn't even reached the bottom when Amelia stopped her.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you." her half-sister warned. She was nearly fifteen, and took after Macbeth's first husband, Alan, with dark hair and eyes, a high-forehead, and a no-nonsense attitude. Her sister had never been much of a visionary- preferring to study and avoid stepping on Goliath's toes, but she, at least, could be trusted.

Alice sighed. "Are they arguing again?"

"Unfortunately."

The first strains of it were echoing through the stairwell from the foyer as the intensity of the row increased- Alice could hear Macbeth's voice reaching it's familiar glass-breaking screech.

She narrowed her eyes impatiently. "We're gonna be late to Grandma's at this rate. Why can't the two of them just stow it so we can leave?"

"Alice, that's no way to talk about Mom and Dad- that's what caused the last argument. There's nothing we can do."

"Watch me."

"Alice, don't!"

But she disregarded her sister's pleas, promptly picking up her suitcase and marching to the door.

She walked into the small, dusty foyer, it's buttercup-yellow walls and hardwood floor bare save for a threadbare rug and doors to the kitchen and living room. Alice's house was old, for sure- the dated furniture and peeling wallpaper were a testament to that- but there was something fascinating about living in a place that was over a hundred years old. Just the number gave the place an air of mystery, like an Agatha Christie novel. She wondered if one day, she would open a closet and discover a secret passage or the gateway to Narnia. Either would have been helpful at the moment- Macbeth and Goliath were toe-to-toe, hurling accusations at each other.

"I told you, Gina, I'm not letting you drive. You don't do it right!"

"I can never do anything right with you, Tom! Always it's 'where's dinner?' and 'why do I have to pick up the kids?' and this and that- why can't you just be grateful, for once?"

"Grateful? There's nothing to be grateful for, you old witch! And do I ever get a thank you for working dawn until dusk, paying for your clothes? What about bringing home the bacon, eh? What about appreciating the men in your life, huh?"

"I would if there was anything to appreciate, you fat piece of-"

Alice cleared her throat loudly and the two of them froze, accusing fingers stopped in midair.

"I'm ready." said Alice simply, eyeing the astonished looks on their faces with amusement. But Macbeth soon donned her customary frown, which, to Alice's dismay, was all too like her own. But they were not quite identical in appearance. Macbeth's hair was lank and frizzy, her face more heavily wrinkled and her build scrawny and tall. Her eyes were a dull hazel. Goliath's piggy eyes were a dull brown and weighed down by his bushy eyebrows. He definitely had the look of a giant- a large nose, square jaw, and a pat of balding black hair.

"Took you long enough." he mumbled. "I'm starting the car." With that, he marched out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Macbeth snorted, glancing at Alice's shorts and t-shirt with disapproval.

"What are you, a little boy? Change your clothes."

"Grandma lives on a farm-I don't want my nice things to get dirty."

Macbeth threw her hands into the air. "Never mind. But at least fix your hair- it's a mess."

she tossed Alice her light blue windbreaker, and none too gently, either.

"Oh, there's no time- just get in the car! AMELIA!" she called. Amelia appeared almost instantly, trunk in hand and hair perfectly intact.

Macbeth muttered something like "...thinks I can't take care of my own children..." as Alice and her sister hurriedly trundled out the door and into the pouring rain. She held the hood of her jacket close to her head, and the two of them piled into the humming, mud-colored car. Goliath began pulling out of the driveway almost before Macbeth had slammed the car door shut- likely the cause of the muttered curses under her breath. Her parents' row had boiled down to a terse silence- one that, by now, everyone knew not to break. Alice occupied herself by staring out the window. The rain was just as thick as it ever had been, but she could still make out the long, narrow brick houses and cracked sidewalks of Pembrooke Way. Some had rusty, wrought-iron gates, others were nearly overgrown with ivy. The houses were packed together- as if two blocks had folded inwards like a great accordion, squeezing into one dilapidated street. But there was a homeyness to it, too, and Alice kept her eyes on it until they had turned the corner and vanished out of sight.

They drove on in strained silence for nearly an hour, weaving through the suburbs and finally emerging into the countryside, where fields of sprouting corn and flashing bolts of lightning were testament to the rainy beginnings of summer. For as long as Alice could remember, summer had been a lifesaver- eight weeks totally free of Macbeth and Goliath spent at her grandmother's old farm. There were only chickens on it now, but the buildings still stood, and an old, dense wood grew around it. It was the magical kind of forest that blocked the sounds of the outside, making time itself seemed to freeze. And then there was grandmother herself- a tired, but kindly old woman. How she had managed to produce a demon like Macbeth, no one was quite sure, but she didn't often talk about her daughter.

"Blasted rain. I can barely see through the windshield!"

Everyone jumped at the sudden noise- silence had reigned for so long. But Macbeth did not challenge Goliath's complaint, and the tension in the car relaxed a bit. Alice dared to venture a whisper to Amelia, "How long until we reach the farm?"

Amelia sighed, though she had to bite her lip to disguise a smile. "You ask that every year. You know that we won't get there for at least another half hour yet. Oh- and happy birthday." she added.

"You're about the only person who thinks so."

"Cheer up, Alice. I'm sure Grandmother will remember."

Alice had no response to that, so she returned her gaze to the window. There was so much out there- so many rolling fields to walk and trees to climb. She wanted to reach out and touch them, but the car continued to whisk them away, and Alice only beheld fleeting images of the outside world.

At last, they reached the long, winding road to the farmhouse. Long ago, the pastures might have held sheep and cows, but now only brittle grass and dilapidated fences remained. The fields around the farm had been rented to other, more able farmers- and all Grandmother had left were the farmhouse, barn, and pastures. But they were still beautiful, in a way- the farmhouse was tidy and whitewashed, nestled right up against the surrounding woods, and the flowerbeds were filled with bright blooms. Alice loved summers here. Grandmother was always eager for company, and just as willing to let her explore the surrounding woods and pastures- provided she didn't wander too far. Grandmother- one of the few sane members of her family, and, save for Amelia, the only one she called by her real name. She was already on the porch, grinning from ear to ear as the four of them trundled out of the car. Grandmother's smile was warm and friendly, deepening the wrinkles on her round face and lighting up her blue eyes, which were so like Alice's. Her silver hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and she wore simple, flower-printed clothes.

Alice threw her arms around her the moment she'd reached the porch. Amelia followed more slowly, though, giving Grandmother a shy smile. Macbeth didn't even bother to hide her contempt.

"When am I supposed to take them back?" she growled in a low voice, as if every word hurt.

Grandmother's eyes were soft but firm when she said, "I believe we agreed on August fourteenth."

Macbeth gave a curt nod, and stalked back to the car without so much as a goodbye. Alice glared at her until the car vanished out of sight.

"Come now, Alice- no sour faces." Grandmother chided, gently pulling out of the hug. "We've got to get the two of you dried off." she gestured to the wet patch Alice's coat had left on her blouse.

"Sorry-"

"Oh, don't be." said Grandmother dismissively, waving a hand at her. "A little rainwater never hurt anything. Now come in, come in!"

And the two of them stepped into the old house, breathing in the sweet smell of old wood and baking bread. The house was a cozy one- old photos lined the wallpapered walls, and all of the floors were hardwood. Her grandmother's house was as dated as her own, but in a rustic, charming way, instead of looking like a musty old mess.

"You can put your things in the spare bedroom- there's spare towels in the bathroom where you can dry off, and supper's nearly ready. Make yourself at home!"

Grandma looked just as excited as Alice felt- it looked like the poor woman didn't often get company. Alice took the stairs two at a time. "Race you to the top, Amelia!"

But Amelia only gave her a severe look, "Alice, you know you shouldn't run in the house!"

She rolled her eyes. That was Amelia, all right. But she ran to the spare bedroom anyway, dropping her trunk on the bed by the window- her favorite of the two. She'd used this bed every summer for the past four years. It allowed her to look at the thousands of stars in the country every night before she drifted off to sleep- stars as numerous as the dancing raindrops. Amelia soon strode into the room, wasting no time in unpacking her things and laying them neatly into the old dresser.

"Aren't you going to unpack?"

Alice shrugged. "I can do that later. Right now, I'm just glad to be away from Goliath and Macbeth."

"Alice! You know mother doesn't like that name."

Alice could care less what Macbeth liked or disliked. But she only sighed, hanging her wet coat on the bedpost. She had intended to dry herself off, but there was very little drying to do.

"Amelia, how can you put up with them? They're just..." she grappled for a word, but found none worthy of her parents. "It's like they don't even care. About us... about anything."

Amelia looked up from her packing, her deep brown eyes filled with sorrow.

"Things aren't always what they seem, Alice."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Fixed the author's notes in the story. XD Left those "GAAAH THIS SUCKS" comments in there by accident. I put those in my rough drafts to mark the places I need to fix NOW. Please read and review? I respond to all reviews, and love my reviewers dearly. And I do not own Alice in Wonderland- just my OC's, and this story.