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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A Prompt Response - 5. Prompt 285

Tag - Wonderland

Not Exactly Wonderland

By RL Hunter

 

“What the hell?”

Rising up from the ground, where I lay splayed out like my dog, Rufus on the checkered tile floor of the bathroom when it’s hot, I find that I am not in Kansas anymore.

“I must have hit my head. Hard. I remember following that cute blonde guy dressed in white with the neat bunny t-shirt into a shop. I’m sure I fell, in fact, I’m positive. The memory is clear. And why am I standing here talking to myself.”

And why am I in color when the rest of the world is gray. Yep, the rest of the world. As far as I can see… World. Looking back, there is no door behind me, only more gray world.

“I’m dead. Right.”

Can’t be, I’m breathing. Yep, pinches hurt, must still be alive. But where the hell am I? And what the hell am I going to do?

“Might as well move forward. Of course, behind me could be forward as well I suppose.”

After giving myself several spins around and around, I open my eyes and that is the way forward. I’ve decided. But lately, deciding hasn’t been so good for me. As a matter of fact, my decisions have left me rather friendless and sad. Maybe, this is a chance at something new. I turn myself around and go the other way.

“A plan. I should have a plan in this gray and colorless world. A door. Yes, a door would be good. Doors get you home.”

I should be getting back home, there’s no telling how long I've been away. Rufus will starve and dead dogs are good for no one. Just where will I find a door? Off I go in search of a door to get back home.

“A-achoo! Achoo! What the… Achoo! Hell.”

Spores. The trees are small but these dried up, shriveled up old mushrooms I stumbled into are smaller still. I feel like a giant among men. I wonder if they taste good.

“Whoa! I've never known a mushroom to work that fast.”

Cool, they have a really neat pattern on their stems. Ha ha, I'm eyeballin’ em right now. Crazy. Taste like shit though. I wonder if it works the other way. Not a question. Really.

“Pthu, blech! Just awful. And...There they go. Man, what a trip. You never know, you might come in handy later little shrooms.”

No doors down there. Onward, forward, gayly ahead. Moving on to my next adventure… Ha, ha. Yeah, right.

“Anyone for tea? And the resounding answer? No. Apparently not! Hmm, can't even read the damn tea leaves. Dust! Like the mushrooms. And I am definitely not trying the leaves. Nope. No way.”

Big table though, lots of room. Pity, I like tea. Wait a minute that table looks like a door. Can it be? Nope, nada and somebody isn’t going to like that mess on the ground later. If there is a somebody, that is.

“Great garden. It would be if it weren’t all gray and dusty, I suppose. And look, a croquet court. Fancy! But what the hell is that?”

There is a plug in the middle of the court. A dull gray plug. What else? Ha! Should I pull it? It won’t come out. Well, screw you plug. Hey, that’s an idea.

“Eeuw, that stinks. I don't care how pretty you are. Huh? Color!”

That’s right. A big stinky blob of color just popped out of the hole. And it’s lying there, pulsing, like its breathing. Yuck.

“You better hurry. You won't have much time now.”

What? There he is, my guy in white. I wonder where he’s been.

“What do you mean, I don't have much time? Just where the hell did you come from?”

Whoops! He’s gone. I don't mean gone, gone but he’s definitely not there anymore. One second - white guy, five seconds later - white rabbit. Time flies. He doesn’t look happy either. Ever see an impatient angry white rabbit holding up a too big pocket watch? Not pretty! I have to squint my eyes to see it.

“Not. Much. Time.”

I've never heard of a pocket watch telling time like that. Of course, not too many people carrying around pocket watches these days.

“Well, the audacity! Thump your hind leg at me, will ya. And stop pointing at my feet!”

Pointing at my feet. Oh! The color, and more of it. There is a big ring of it around the drain hole now. And it looks like a finger of it is reaching towards my foot. Yikes! I can hear that rabbit thumping again.

“What the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm busy here?”

Talk about your angry rabbit. Man. You want me to what? Hey! There’s a door at the edge of court. A tiny door. I hightail it over to the door and look back. The color is coming after me like a pissed off rabbit!

“Oh, Shit. The mushroom!”

There he is. My blonde savior in white. Comfortable lap too. Nice hands. Where have you been all of my life?

♪♪ "and he just may be the lunatic you're looking for" ♪♪

Billy Joel is standing there, singing to me. *Blink*

“Billy Joel?”

“No, honey. I’m Beth Martin.”

No wonder the lap is so comfortable. My head is lying in the lap of a still attractive much older women. Must have been a real looker in her day. Still. Where’s Blondie?

“No, on the radio. I saw him once. Not too long ago.”

I don't feel feverish but the back of her hand feels good on my forehead. She looks at me funny like.

“Where am I?”

I let my eyes roam around the room. I see fancy mirrors and all kinds of kid stuff. The place is packed.

“You're in my store, The Looking Glass. Are you okay, sweetie? My grandson went to get a wet cloth, he should be here soon.”

That makes things clearer, doesn’t it? Lots of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ shit lying about.

“The Looking Glass? Well, that explains a lot. You see, there was this rab…”

I hate getting interrupted.

“Oh, Thomas. There you are, so always on time.”

This interruption, I don't mind. Such a handsome face. Intense blue eyes. Never had eyes focused on me like this before. He gives me a smile and a sudden triple tap of his right shoe against the floor tile. A wink. There’s my life in those eyes.

“Never late!”

I hope you liked my response to prompt 285. Please consider leaving a review.
2013 R.L. Hunter; All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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