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momolady · 4 years

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Uncovered Project: Wonderoz (Chapters 1-3)

Chapter One: Dorothy and Alice

I could speak in rhymes or in cryptic songs sung in high-pitched childish keys, but I won’t. I could smile and tell you this is all a child’s fairytale, only to be taken with a grain of salt and your unprotected imagination. But I won’t. I will smile and through my smile I will tell you that maybe I am lying, or, maybe I am not. Perhaps this is all a little joke. Perhaps it is my own silly imagination. Perhaps this is your imagination. But whatever this and whoever I am are not the real riddles of this story.

I will speak of Alice and Dorothy. Two girls from a world of realism and logic. In their world, two plus two does not equal fish. And certainly animals do not speak, or, think for themselves. There are no singing flowers. There are no witches. It is certainly a dreadfully boring place. But their world is not their own. They were not born in this boring place, nor do they belong there. They belong here with me, with the talking animals, and the witches. It is a wondrous place they belong. It is Wonderoz they belong.

Now, the story of Alice and Dorothy begins, with all things, me. Who am I? Actually, there is no real way to explain who I am. I am neither alive or deceased. I am neither imaginative or, real. I am easily comprehended, but at the same time, it might destroy a mind to try to do so. Oh no, I am by no means a God, or, the God. I am simply Cheshire. What’s a Cheshire? Well, that’s me! And whatever I am that is what I have always been called and I am the very beginning of this story. This story of two girls named Alice and Dorothy.

Now, Dorothy is the eldest in mind, body, and spirit. From a very young age, it was extremely apparent she had an old soul. Her hair grew chestnut brown and uncontrollably wild, coming out several inches from her head in wild ocean waves. Her face was soft and round, covered with ravenous freckles. Her eyes, the color of dark forestry, peered out from behind thick eyelashes that grew like a raven‘s wings. She grew to have long legs and arms, along with big feet and small hands. But she was a strong girl, extremely strong. Alice was younger, but by far her ability to imagine and create was greater than that of her sisters. She had dark, slick hair like that of midnight water. Her hair never seemed to want to grow too long, as if it were afraid of heights, or, falling. Her eyes were like tiny brown orbs set in ivory and surrounded by thick, lush vines. She was short and small, but an extraordinary beauty with perfect skin. Certainly, the girls were a perfect match to be sisters. The adventurer and the dreamer. It is, after all, what stories are made up of.

Now, the people they knew as parents were of course not. They were a couple in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by countryside and spanning boredom. Of course, the girls could easily remedy this. Dorothy created adventures, building forts and digging tunnels. Alice created stories and incantations. And in their young minds, these fantasies became real. The forts Dorothy built were giant castles made of glass. The renovated foxholes were treasure-laden caves filled with dragons who breathed acid and snow. Alice’s stories became their lives, whisking them away from their adoptive parents’ farm and the dull schoolhouse lectures.

What was real for them became real for us. Real for Wonderoz.

Now, for Dorothy, as she grew up her skill for building became a talent. With her father’s help, she built a longstanding fort in an old oak tree just in the trees beyond the house. And it became her constant project of love and care. For years, she continued building and adding to it. The forts came down the trunk, expanded on the roots. She researched and learned how to build houses underground and so the fort went underground.

This little nook became Alice’s favorite room. She would sit and read for hours. She carved into the dirt walls, drawing scenes from their made-up childhood. She painted herself into a corner one day while painting the wooden floorboards. She kept her notebooks and journals down there, sometimes even filling one in a sitting. This behavior, of course, worried her parents. But Dorothy knew what Alice wrote, and she knew that there was no real reason to worry.

Now one day, when the sun was high, sky blue, no clouds at all, the sisters went out to pick berries. Dorothy loved raspberries and blackberries. Alice liked blueberries and strawberries. As such, their mother had given them the chore of getting what they wanted. It was easier for her that way. Less run about while the girls were out, less arguing amongst them and the house was quiet for a spell.

As they walked, Dorothy started talking about music and school, even though it wouldn’t start for another month. All the while Dorothy swung the basket back and forth and Alice listened while her gaze drifted off into the cloudless sky. She hated it there weren’t any clouds. She loved to find pictures in them that she would later draw in her journals. Suddenly, Alice saw something peculiar. The sky was changing colors and twisting.

Alice leaned into Dorothy, stopping her basket swinging. “Dorothy," she gasped in a hushed tone. "Look.” She pointed into the air for Dorothy’s eyes to follow.

Dorothy craned her neck upward, going along the path her sister's finger instructed. Her brown eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. “What is that?”

The sky opened up like a pocket, clouds and wind spilling out from within. The more the pocket opened the more the sky turned black and purple and gray. The clouds and wind made way, parting a path as a funnel came spinning out of control towards them.

“It‘s a twister!” Dorothy pushed against her sister, grabbing her arm and running forward. “Run," she screamed as they held onto one another. Hands clasped so tight, afraid to let the other go that one may be left behind.

Their feet beat against the earth, kicking up grass and dirt in their wake. Alice turned and looked over her shoulder at the enormous thing coming towards them. Whipping, spinning and spitting violently it chased them like a monster.

“Dorothy?” Alice cried as she glanced over her shoulder, for sure she heard the monstrous wind call their names.

“Just keep running!” Dorothy raced forward, but she was suddenly jerked back and down onto the ground. “Alice!” She screamed and clutched onto her sister’s hand. Somehow, Alice had fallen into a hole that hadn’t been there before and Dorothy was her only rope back up to land.

“Don’t let go!” Dorothy grunted as she tugged on Alice, but it was as if something was pulling at Alice’s leg.

“Something’s got me!” Alice cried, her fingers twisting in with Dorothy’s. “It won’t let go!”

Dorothy, so intent on freeing her sister from the hole, didn’t realize she was being lifted up into the air. It was only until she saw the look in Alice’s eyes that she knew something was wrong.

“Don’t let go!” They echoed one another. Dorothy was floating up into the belly of the beast, Alice was in the throat of the monster. Hovering between worlds it seemed.

“My shoes!” Dorothy gasped, feeling the hissing wind nibble at her squeezing toes. The straps of her overalls started to beat against her face. The basket on her forearm struck her side with harsh rhythms.

Out from the front pocket of Dorothy’s overalls fell her pocket watch. The chain spilled out like pouring water, then the face of the watch slapped Alice against her cheek.

“Don’t!” Dorothy cried and was sucked in. The watch had broken them apart.

Alice screamed, trying to grab back onto Dorothy as she slipped into the darkness of the hole. All she had managed to grab was the pocket watch, the chain slithering into the air above her as she was sucked down.

Now what had caused these anomalies, the hole that was never there before, or, the sky monster, was even a mystery to me. But whoever it was wanted the girls in Wonderoz.

I searched the four corners of Wonderoz for answers. I checked the North first, knowing very well it would be the last place I’d find anything suspect. I check in on Glenda and her kindly nature, making sure she knew to watch the skies and to protect anyone who would be falling from them.

I went in the opposite direction to the South where the Animals were the majority. I knew I’d find nothing there. What use did the Animals have with Dorothy and Alice? I looked over Dormie as she studied and healed, forewarning her of what I had already told Glenda.

I went to the East where sharply dressed Monkey’s polluted the sky around the great Looking Glass Palace. I suspected something here, but nothing was to be found. The supposed Queen sat in her room, lounging in furs and oils as a Hare served her luxurious teas.

Finally, I went West, not knowing what I would find there. I never knew what I’d find in the west up in the Winky Mountains and into the highest tower where the Green One herself always knew of my existence. It was no use hiding myself and subliminally warning her like I did with Glenda and Dormie. So I appeared to her.

She stood at her window, overlooking the valley.

“Expecting something?”

She turned, her raven black hair tumbling down her back in heavy curls and ringlets. Her lightening green eyes flashed at me and she smiled with painted lips. Attractive though she were, she was the one person I didn’t know. I couldn’t understand her like I did everything else. She was like me.

“Are you?” She asked.

“The girls.”

“It wasn’t me.”

I nodded. “I just needed to know.”

“Do you know who?”

“Do you?”

All our conversations were like this. Back and forth. Back and forth. We didn’t need explanation, rhyme, or, reason. We just were. That’s all.

She smiles and turns back to her window. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Catillia.” I mouthed.

She didn’t move, but I recognized her response.

“They’re here…for a reason…” I don’t understand myself if I was asking or telling her. I just was.

“Yes,” she whispered, neither answering or questioning. “They are here for a reason.”

I went away then. I went to the center of Wonderoz where the Green City grew into the sky. I went into the highest tower and watched as the Mad Wizard danced around his inventions and greatness. His giant hat fit to burst with all his ideas and magic. I doubt he had anything to do with the girls, let alone even know a thing about them. I warned him as I did with the others whispering into his mind about the angels falling from the sky. Despite how I thought his ego got the best of him, I knew he would be the best man to guard these girls.

And then it happened. I watched with wide-eyed anticipation as the first one came down from the sky. As I suspected, it was Alice, having taken the highway to Wonderoz through the Hole-That-Was-Never-There-Before. Her red jumper flapped up around her then puffed out, parachuting her down to the ground. I could see the watch glinting in her grip. The panic in her wide, green eyes.

That’s when the Queen’s head knight, the Gryphon, sliced through the sky and grabbed Alice up. But how did the Queen know? How could she have possibly gotten the wind of this? It didn’t matter now, I had to protect Dorothy now before the Queen, or worse, got their hands on her. Knowing her sister was in trouble, Dorothy would rescue her. So I had to find someone to rescue Dorothy.

Dorothy, having been brought to Wonderoz via the scenic route, would be due soon. Hopefully Glenda or Dormie, or by a miracle of miracles, the Wizard, would reach out to take the girl.

Shortly after my thoughts raced away from me I saw Dorothy, spinning and spiraling out of the control from the sky. The Sky Monster had spat her out like cold leftovers, not caring how the poor girl fell. Thank goodness she was out cold and couldn't see the ever spiraling predicament that she was in. Still, there was no one to save her. No one reaching out like I had planned.

Just as I was thinking of where to go and who to fetch; Dorothy was gobbled up by a glowing pink bubble. I curled back in relief. Glenda was always reliable. And now she’d know what to do. But poor Alice.

I stare off East and towards the Looking Glass Palace where the wicked Queen of Hearts, the witch, was filling the poor things head with lies. Turning Alice against the good. Against Dorothy.

But Glenda the good thing, took Dorothy to her home in the Gillikins and laid her to rest in a big comfy bed. Ready to greet her with treats, warmth, and songs when Dorothy awoke. And as though sensing her sister’s plight, Dorothy woke sooner than later.

Chapter Two: Dorothy

To Dorothy, Glenda looked like a human cupcake. Her sweetness came out like glittering icing. Her charm like sugar sprinkles. Dorothy felt no fear as Glenda smiled down at her with red velvet lips. Her dress like pink lemonade and glazed donuts.

“Where am I?” Dorothy asked, blinking up into Glenda’s hot chocolate eyes. She rubbed her eyes lazily. “Am I dreaming?” She brushed her wild hair from her face and slowly sat up. “Are you an angel?”

The woman before her giggled happily. “I am Glenda.” The cupcake woman radiated sugary sweetness. “You are in my home, darling. Safe and sound.” Glenda replied. “And I am no angel,” she corrected. “I am a witch.” She almost seemed offended Dorothy thought anything else.

“A witch?” Dorothy murmured dreamily as she rose from the bed. She was tucked lovingly into a bed that smelled like chamomile tea and looked like the pink froth of strawberry icing. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” She asked with a smile of disbelief on her face. “Where am I really? What is all this?”

Glenda brushed Dorothy’s hair with her fingers. “We are in the Gillikins, where the Gillikinese live.”

“Yes but…where is that exactly?” Dorothy asked, rubbing the back of her head. “Are we like, in the south or something?”

“Why,” Glenda said with a soft laugh, “you are in Wonderoz, lovely. And you aren’t in the South! You’re in the North.”

Dorothy’s dreamy smile was smacked from her face and replaced by a wild look of bewilderment. “And what is Wonderoz?”

Glenda smiled again in a sort of sad yet knowing way and it was then Dorothy realized. “I’m not home anymore, am I?” She was knocked breathless.

Glenda shook her head, her ginger snap hair waving welcomingly. “I’m afraid not, my poor thing. You are very far from where you came.”

Dorothy took a deep, waiting breath, crossing her arm across her stomach. “And my sister?” Her eyes darted to the nearest window.

“Far from home,” Glenda hissed through her teeth, “and far from you.” Her voice was sympathetic and soothing. She moved to the tray of tea and treats beside her.

“Where?” Dorothy gasped standing up, remembering her bare feet. “Where is she?”

“In the East,” Glenda and lifted a tray of iced cookies, “cookie?”

Dorothy took the cookie and mindlessly, “Is she okay?” She started chewing on the cookie in her nervousness, barely realizing it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

Glenda handed Dorothy a cup of tea to have with her cookie and eased her back to sitting. “She arrived safely,” she began as she dropped sugar into the tea cup. “Although,” she dumped cream after the sugar and sighed, “I am afraid she, herself, is in a very dangerous situation.”

Dorothy’s eyes grew wide and she choked back the mouthful of cookie. “Dangerous? But you said she arrived safely!”

Glenda touched Dorothy’s cheek. “She will not be harmed. But she will be lied to, and is a lie not extremely dangerous for your sister?”

It was, Dorothy thought and knew, but how did this woman know? Dorothy licked her lips, tasting sugar as if it were in the air. “Who are you?” She asked again, setting everything in her hands aside. “You said you were a witch,” From the sweets and Glenda’s obviously saccrine lifestyle, she was reminded of a witch who lured children to their demise with a candy domicile. Yet, witches didn’t usually look so beautiful and glamorous did they?

“I am Glenda,” she answered simply, “the Witch of the North.”

Dorothy pressed her lips into a firm line. “Yes, you said this before,” she murmured, “That doesn‘t quite answer my question.”

“Oh,” Glenda seemed disappointed. “Well, what is the question?”

“What does witch mean here?” Dorothy asked. “Is it a title? Do you eat children?”

Glenda shook her head as she threw it back with laughter. “I am a good Witch! I most certainly do not eat children!” She pointed at Dorothy’s feet and a pair of clean white socks appeared.

Dorothy gasped, squeezing on the cookie in her hand. Red galoshes blossomed on her feet next and she stared in gaping awe.

“Wow!” She modeled her feet before her and stared up at Glenda in admiring awe. “Are they magic, or, anything?”

Glenda laughed. “No, but I can make magic shoes if you’d prefer them.”

Dorothy dropped her feet and shook her head. “No. These are fine. Thank you.” She looked over Glenda’s face and nodded. “I can trust you, can’t I?” She then hesitated and reworded herself. “I know you somehow, don’t I?”

The sugary witch shrugged. “You’re the only one who knows that. Now eat your treat and I’ll tell you a story.” Dorothy sat back and bit into the cookie. It tasted like raspberries and blackberries.

Glenda started telling Dorothy the story of Wonderoz. How long ago, the rightful queen disappeared leaving the Four Witches of the Corners and the Mad Wizard of the Center to take care of things. The Witch of the South with her ability to heal others and understand the souls of Animals and animals. The Witch of the East who had taken over the Looking Glass Palace and named herself Queen of Hearts and took to tormenting the small people of Munchkinland with her ability to change size. Then there was the mysterious Witch of the West who appeared suddenly in a puff of smoke and fire. There was also the Mad Wizard, a man of immense knowledge and magic who kept the Great Book of Record. She then told Dorothy of the Rightful Queen’s daughters and how they were whisked out of harm’s way in order to wait they day they’d be ready to take over the throne to Wonderoz.

“Princesses?” Dorothy asked, licking her fingers clean. During Glenda’stale she had cleared out the entire tray of cookies and sweets as well as several cups of tea. “Where did they go?” She asked. “In a place with as much magic as this you’d think they would be safest home.” She swiped some powdered sugar from the plated onto her fingertip.

“They were just young things,” Glenda sighed sadly. “Their mother had just vanished, and their father had been mortally wounded and had to go into hiding. Two young girls like that needed to be hidden somewhere out of harm’s reach.” She looked over Dorthy, her bright eyes and freckle spotted cheeks. “Not many people travel between worlds. Its almost impossible.”

Dorothy met her eyes, her chin dropping slightly. “Between worlds…” She hesitated, mind grinding and working away at the information given to her.

She then let out a laugh. “This is all just so...silly!” She stood up and went over to the window, looking out before her at the rolling hills covered with blossoming trees. “It all seems too much like a dream to be anything else. And yet-” she gripped the windowsill hard in her hands. “And yet this is all too real as well.” She pressed her lips into a hard line. “Wonderoz...four witches.” She turned and looked to Glenda. “I need to find my sister.” She stated strongly.

Glenda nodded gently. “That you do.”

“You’re a witch right?” Dorothy asked as she turned back towards her. “You can use your magic to help me right?”

“No,” Glenda said simply, causing Dorothy to deflate considerably. “Magic does not simply work that way,” Glenda explained to her. “Even if someone is truly powerful, magic has limits. It isn’t limitless like in legends and it doesn’t always work.” She looked hard at Dorothy, a dark and serious look crossing through her sweetness. “My magic keeps balance, along with the other witches. I have to keep it in the North, within my boundaries.”

Dorothy swallowed, nerves flapping and hopping about in her belly. “I have to do this on my own then?” She sniffed stiffened her shoulders. “Fine! I can do it. I’m not afraid.”

Glenda stood up, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I’ve gotta go save her.” Dorothy murmured, psyching herself up. “What other options do I have, Ms. Glenda?” She looking up at her. “I’m not gonna sit around and twiddle my thumbs waiting for someone else to fall out of the sky and rescue me.”

Glenda pulled her wand from her sleeve. A long silver stick with pink bubbles and fairy floss all wrapped about it. “I know that.” She put her hand on Dorothy’s shoulder. “But you need to be prepared for her rescue.” She raised her wand above her head and began waving it around. More fairy floss fluttering out and building up into a ball. “You need a change of clothes. And you need some provisions. Your sister is a long ways off from here and you can‘t just go barreling blindly into unfamiliar territory.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Dorothy said in awe as she watched Glenda’s magic work above her head.

Glenda had Dorothy stand back and she pulled a bubble over the top of her. The bubble burst and Dorothy stood there wearing a fresh cotton blouse with no sleeves and ruffles coming up the middle. Over that were blue and white checkered suspenders attached to dark blue pants tucked into the red galoshes. Then, a coat floated down onto her arms and shoulders. The collar bubbled up around her neck and chin and on the lapel a bright emerald glowed.

“That emerald will allow you safe passage into the Green City to see the Mad Wizard. It will also direct you out of harm’s way as well as keep a locked point on your sister’s location.”

Dorothy tapped the brooch and looked up at Glenda again, “why can’t we just contact this Wizard guy? If he’s so amazingly powerful and all that, can’t we just call him or something?”

“There are many eyes and ears all about the Wizard,” Glenda whispered. “Wherever his magic is, there is someone listening. We can’t risk your location getting out, so this is the unfortunate way you must go about.” Glenda explained as she picked up a basket.

“That’s my-” Dorothy gasped, reaching for the one familiar artifact she had left.

“You wouldn’t let go of it when you came through.” She placed it back into Dorothy’s arms. “Everything you need is in here.”

Dorothy opened it up and frowned, “but there isn’t anything in here.” She looked deep inside. “In fact, it looks like it has no bottom either.”

Glenda winked, “anything you need will be there when you call for it.”

Dorothy nodded knowingly and closed it back up. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Glenda said, leading Dorothy out of the room. “In case you should ever need me, you can call me.”

Dorothy nodded. “How?”

Glenda brought her hand up towards her mouth and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger. “Put your fingers to your lips like this and blow.”

Dorothy did so. Mimicking the good witch’s gesture. She blew between the circle and a bubble popped up and floated before her eyes.

“Do this and I will come immediately.” Glenda pulled Dorothy to her and kissed her forehead. The kiss filled Dorothy with a sweet warmth, like a kitchen being filled with the scent of baked sweets. “Now let me show you on your way.”

They walked outside Glenda’s little home into the bright sunlight and into the Gillikins. Dorothy saw high rolling mountains made of colored clay. Trees that dripped with ripe, luscious fruit. And a road that was made of golden-yellow bricks.

Glenda pointed. “That road leads to all corners of Wonderoz.” She tapped the emerald on Dorothy’s lapel and a beam of light shone out, pointing Dorothy down the yellow road. “Your pendant will point you in the right direction you need to go.”

“But-” Dorothy heaved. “What do I do when I get there?”

“Lovely…” Glenda gently touched Dorothy‘s hair. “You are never alone. And right now, your sister needs you. You will find the courage you need along the way. Your heart will be full of love, and you have a sharp brain on you.” She winked at her again, “you know how to call me if things get over your head. And above all else you have the knowledge you need deep inside.”

Dorothy wasn’t quite sure what Glenda was talking about. She felt like she was just getting a swift boot out the door. She took a deep breath and stepped down onto the road, feeling suddenly what Glenda had been talking about. She looked forward, felt a sugar coated breeze brush against her cheek and she ran.

Glenda turned and looked up at me on my perch. “She is strong,” the steadfast belief that she spoke to Dorothy with was gone, replaced by worry.

I smiled, “of course she is,” and then I went off to look after Dorothy a little while longer.

She stopped an hour or two later and came to rest on a mossy hill that was overlooked by a cornfield. She sat down and laid back, looking up at the cloudless sky that seemed to fade from radiant blue to heather purple in rippling waves. She finally sat back up and reached her long arm into the picnic basket. A moment later she produced a white, paper sack with a rather fatty looking lunch inside. She had eaten enough sweets to kill beast back with Glenda, I was quite unsure how she was so hungry again.

In Dorothy’s mind she thought herself strong and mature to be taking on such a task alone. But, in her heart she was crying for her sister, for anyone, to come and share her meager meal with her. Such simplistic wishes from a girl in a very un-simplistic situation. Most would be wondering why this place was called Wonderoz, or, how they arrived in such a strange world. But not Dorothy. No, her worries were focused on eating alone.

She was cracking open a bottle drink when, from within the cornfield, crows screamed and cackled. Dorothy looked up over her shoulder as they dive bombed into the cornstalks. She stared harder, noticing the stalks of corn weave and part and sway as if someone was racing through them in clumsy circles.

Dorothy sat her meal aside and stood up. She took a few steps off the mossy bank and looked up, watching cornstalks sway and crows fly in odd patterns, weaving in and out of the field. She heard laughter and caws, almost as if the crows were talking amongst themselves.

“If there are witches I’m sure animals can talk,” Dorothy murmured to herself.

“Help!” Someone cried out from within the corn. They followed up by yowling and yipping in pain. “Stop pecking me! Ow! You’re being-ow!”

“Hey!” Dorothy yelled into the cornstalks. “Hey, you need help?”

“I dunno!” It was a man inside the corn.

Dorothy jumped over the fence and split the corn so that she could enter. She looked up, watching where the crows soared up and dived back down into the stalks. She finally came upon them. The man was racing in circles as crows dive bombed him in a sort of synchronized dance.

“Get!” Dorothy ran forward waving her arms and shouting at the crows. “Leave him alone! Go on, get!”

“Or what?” One of the crows cackled as he soared before her.

Taken aback by the fact the crow talked to her, Dorothy composed herself and cleared her throat. “You do not want to see me angry!” She roared.

The crows, easily scared, screamed and flapped off, surprised by Dorothy’s loud echoing voice.

“That’s right! Get!” Dorothy barked after them. “Think twice before you pick on people!” She then turned her attention to the young man still running circles in the corn.

“Hey!” Dorothy held her arms out and brought him to a stop. “Its okay! Hey! They’re gone now.”

The man brought his arms away from his face and opened his eyes, showing off the emeralds that sat in the sockets. Dorothy could have been taken in by how handsome the young man was. But Dorothy had never been one to care about appearances, all she saw were the peck marks on his face and neck.

“Oh, are you okay?” She gasped, wiping at the blood with her sleeve.

The man shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Well what were you doing to provoke that?” Dorothy lead him out of the cornfield by his gloved hand.

“I dunno,” the man replied dazedly. “But thank you for helping me!” He said with a blushing smile.

He was dressed in sloppy, oversized clothes that looked like thin quilts and were the color of baked earth. He was a tall, gangly fellow, with a crop of wild, dirty hair that sprang in multiple directions underneath a straw hat.

“Anyone would of done it,” she replied, somewhat relieved to have someone around. She sat him down on the mossy bank. “Are you hungry?” She asked as she reached back inside the basket.

“I dunno,” the man replied, shrugging.

“Is that all you can say?” Dorothy giggled as she produced a first aid kit from inside the magic basket.

“I dunno-” the man caught himself and smiled.

Dorothy opened up the kit and pulled out a cloth and started cleaning the man’s wounds. “Well, what’s your name?” She asked. “I’m Dorothy.”

“I dunno…” he trailed off again. “But it is nice to meet you, Dorothy.”

“Does this hurt?” Dorothy dabbed a cloth to his cheek, cleaning the peck mark there.

He flinched and hissed. “It stings.”

Dorothy looked into the boy’s face to find something of him within that silly grin and somewhat blank eyes. She pulled from him his eagerness to befriend her and his timid fears. He was a lost soul like she was and they both needed someone who would hold their hand.

“That means it working,” Dorothy finished patching him up and handed him water and half of her lunch. She eased back, feeling relaxed that she was no longer lonesome. They ate in silence, the mindless fool had nothing to say and Dorothy had no idea what to say even though she had so much of it to say. She instead enjoyed the warmth beside her and decided it would be best not to burden to poor boy.

“Well, whoever you are I certainly don’t know.” She said. “ But it was very nice to meet you too.” She said and went back down to the road.

The mindless boy stood up following after her. His feet seemingly forgetting how to work and she tripped over nothing, stumbling and diving before her on the yellow brick.

“Oh no! You okay?” She asked as she knelt to help him.

He grinned his big toothy grin at her and laughed. “I fell.”

Dorothy smiled sympathetically at him. “Yeah. You did,” she said as she helped him stand. “But are you okay?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I dunno,” he swallowed. He then perked up, back straight, head high, looking desperately at Dorothy. “Where are you going?”

“To the East,” Dorothy pointed behind her, paralleling the beam of green light from her pen. “I’m trying to find my sister.”

“Can I come with you?” He asked, clasping Dorothy‘s hands in his. “I don’t have anywhere to go and I barely know where I am half the time I do go anywhere. I find, it sure would be awfully nice to have someone around who knows the other half that I don’t. And I don’t think I eat a lot. And I can sure promise that I don’t talk a lot because I don’t know what it is I am talking about.” He hesitated and swallowed his words. “So…”

“So?” Dorothy mimicked his head crook.

He squeezed onto her hand. “Won’t you take me with you?”

Dorothy beamed. She had been too shy to ask what he had just asked. “Why of course I will.” She then pointed. “But what am I supposed to call you?”

He grimaced and shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Alright then,” Dorothy chimed with an instant idea. “I’ll call you, Eye.”

Eye tilted his head onto his shoulder. “Huh?”

“From now on, when someone asks for your name, you’ll reply: Eye Dunno.” Dorothy said, trying to reveal her cleverness to the naive boy before her. “Get it?”

“I dunno.” Eye said, shaking his head.

Dorothy sighed and took Eye by his knobby elbow. “I knew you’d say that.”

I stepped out onto the road behind them and watched as they walked off. I had a feeling from this Eye fellow. He was like some sort of rag doll, a play thing, a puppet. But who was the puppet master behind him? And what made me think that at all? But whatever it was, I sensed no danger from him otherwise and I was at least eased that Dorothy would not be alone. The girl needed people around her. More than needed, deserved people around her.

“Who is it you’re looking for Dorothy?” Eye asked.

“My sister,” Dorothy replied solemnly. “Her name is Alice.”

Eye turned and looked at Dorothy’s strong profile. “Why is she gone? And what has happened that would have you looking for her?”

Dorothy smiled up at Eye. “I dunno,” she said shrugging.

Eye put his hand atop Dorothy’s head. “Me neither.”

I sighed. They were made for each other. Now, I just have to tell you about Alice and her adventures as well. Do I not?

Chapter Three: Alice

Alice simply fell. Unlike Dorothy, she did not have the pleasure of coming through unconscious. Throughout the entire trip through the hole she was horribly lucid. She glided through an experience, watching time reverse, slow, speed up, and ultimately become a confusing mess. For her, once she was spat out into the vast skies of Wonderoz it was a relief to her senses. Unfortunately, the ground was rapidly approaching. The wind was whipping and whirling about her, both pushing and pulling her as she descended.

She wanted to scream but he voice wouldn’t come. The wind took everything away. She closed up, folding herself into a ball and clutching onto the last thing that kept her anchored to earth, the pocket-watch.

“Save me Dorothy. Save me Dorothy. Save me Dorothy.” She repeated over and over in her head like a prayer.

Then she stopped. She gasped and shuddered, stunned by the sensation of moving forward rather than down. She looked up, seeing powerful wings and sharp talons, gripping onto her shoulders. She had never seen such a creature before like the Gryphon and her mind raced to make sense of what it was and what was happening.

He had scooped Alice up from the sky as he would claw his meal from the stream. “Does he plan to eat me?” Alice thought as she tried to calm and collect her thoughts. “What would Dorothy do?”

The Gryphon turned it’s mighty head down at her, sharp gold eyes piercing into her own. She let out a scream and hammered her small fist down on his talon, hitting the exact spot he had injured earlier.

And like that she was falling again, but not for long.

Alice smacked onto a broad, flat leaf and tried desperately to claw herself into stability. Unfortunately, the leaf didn’t hold and it snapped from its branch. A wind caught it and sent Alice and the leaf gliding through the air.

Alice braced herself up, and despite her hammering heart she made herself watch. She stared at the scenery that passed her by, trying to remember it for later. North she saw a lavender sky and sparkling trees. South, she saw a vast jungle dotted by jagged, blue mountains. In the West she saw nothing but a wall of mountains and a gray-green sky. In the East, which was the direction she was heading, she saw a pink and orange sky outlined by what looked like a giant forest.

The leaf began loosing altitude and Alice knew what was coming. She was heading straight for the giant forest. But as she got closer, she noticed something very strange about it. The things she thought were trees weren’t, Alice recognized them as ferns. She also saw giant ivy vines, azalea bushes, and other common garden decorators that were normally no higher than her knees! How had they become so giant?

“Have I shrunk?” Alice thought aloud to herself. She looked below her and saw a vast orange sea, dotted with black. She squinted and stared until it had passed under her.

“Poppies?” She questioned.

Then she plowed into the Giant Garden. Her flying leaf crashed into what looked like a massive foxglove. She was tipped into a lavender-pink cup but the light-weight flower couldn’t hold her and she ripped through to another leaf, sliding from it to another, and from there she free fell.

Alice screamed, fearing the worse. She closed her eyes tight and held her breath.

POOF!

Alice slowly opened her eyes and looked up. Her sight blocked by giant foxgloves and a sunflower. She looked to her side and saw bright yellow. She sat up and stared around her. Half-smiling, half panicked.

“A marigold!” She laughed, hyperventilating.

Elsewhere, just beyond the rim of the Gillikins, Dorothy’s emerald suddenly changed directions.

Alice doubled over, laughing and crying in the joy she was alive from such an event. She finally cried herself to sleep in the marigold, perhaps one of the better beds of her life. She fell asleep this way, convinced it was all a dream and that once she woke up she’d be safe and sound in her underground room with Dorothy calling out her name.

I sat there in the marigold with her for a while. Reflecting on how lucky she was to haven’t of landed in the poppy field but lamenting the fact she would now be hunted no better than a Gump.

I sighed and looked over her tear stained face, pictured her sister halfway across Wonderoz and running around with a nitwit. Alice never needed anybody. She lived in her own dream world, happily fulfilled with her tiny underground room. She would search all of Wonderoz alone if no one offered to help take care of her.

I then heard voices coming from within the Garden. The This Way That Way Cabaret was nearby, another lucky coincidence. Surely a patron or employee would see Alice and help her out. Then, out from behind a fluffing dandelion came the Tweedle Twins.

I had always liked them, their story was just as interesting as this one. Their deformity was enough proof of that. It was also this physical defect that made them such a popular act in the This Way That Way Cabaret. For, from the chest up, they looked like two normal and extremely handsome boys. But, from the waist down, they were conjoined. Forever melted together from some freak fire inside the mother’s womb. Their mother, so disgusted by them at birth, left them to die in the Garden. Luckily they were saved and raised as proper young boys should be. Now women fancy them for their shared loins and long legs.

Dee was the left side, handsome, smart, and always calm. Dum was the right side, beautiful, optimistic, and hilarious. They worked perfectly together as an act and comedy duo like an eternal odd couple. On stage they would perform in outlandish, sometimes revealing costumes. They would serve and host in the Cabaret and they weren’t above earning extra money on the side with shadowy business.

But now that didn’t matter. They had found Alice, and with their giving nature, inherited from their adoptive father, they were taking her in. Dum was the one who noticed Alice. He was ignoring his brother prattering on and his eyes caught the shadow of Alice sleeping above them.

“Where did she come from?” Dee murmured as they looked over her.

Dum looked upward, seeing the wreckage Alice had caused by her fall. “Up,” he murmured softly.

“I heard whispers from the Hare that another girl fell in the North,” Dee checked to make sure Alice was still breathing. “We better take her in.”

“Girls falling from the sky?” Dum asked as they carried Alice down from the marigold. He chuckled, “the witches must be having quite a time with this!”

“You don’t find this extremely odd?” Dee scoffed.

“Cute girls raining down isn’t appealing to you?” Dum stared over Alice, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.

“Dum,” Dee coaxed warningly.

“I ain’t doing any harm just looking at her.” Dum sniffed. “Calm down.” His free arm reached around and stroked the hair from Alice’s face.

Dee, with his spare arm, reached around and boxed Dum’s ear. “Don’t touch her like that while she’s unconscious!”

Dum whipped around and clocked Dee’s nose. “And don’t you dare hit me!”

“Dorothy…” Alice murmured in her sleep. “What’s going on?”

Dee and Dum looked at one another. “Dorothy?”

Dee noticed the pocket watch in Alice’s hand and took it. The chain curled around Alice’s fingers, keeping him from pulling it too far.

Dee flipped the pocket watch open and looked inside where Dorothy had stuck the picture of her and Alice just inside the door. He hummed, smoothing his thumb over the pretty brunette standing beside Alice.

“Must be her sister.” He said, closing the watch and placing it in the pocket of Alice’s jumper.

Dum thought for a moment. “Perhaps she’s the one who fell int he North.” “Dorothy…” Alice’s hand rose and slapped against Dum’s cheek. “Stop trying to scare me.” Her hand seemed to recognize that the contours of Dum’s face weren’t Dorothy’s and Alice shook awake.

“What-” Alice gasped, horror struck.

“Calm down. Calm down.” Dee coaxed. “We’re not going to hurt you.” His and Dum’s arms worked together in sliding Alice to the ground and helping her stand on her feet.

Alice turned and stared at them. First her eyes got wide like saucers, then her mouth pouted and jaw went slack. She stared at the Tweedle twin’s shared waist and legs then up to the fork that allowed them to keep there own chests and set of broad shoulders and arms.

To her, she could see their faces were near identical. But she noticed the finer niches. Dee had smoother cheek bones and a more prominent mouth. Dum was rounded at the corners and had a mole at the right corner of his lip. They both had platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. Their hair style differently and their eyes held different depths.

“What-” It took everything Alice had to keep from pointing. “I beg your pardon,” She continued staring, barely moving save for wringing her hands around the pocket watch. “Can you tell me where I am?”

“The Giant Garden.” Dee replied.

“In Wonderoz.” Grinned Dum.

Alice tilted her head slightly to the side and let the word simply roll over her. Her lips parted slightly. “Wonderoz?”

The twins nodded. “Where did you think you were?”

“No where called Wonderoz that‘s for sure!” Alice gasped. “I…I fell into this hole that wasn’t there before and…and my sister…” She started to feel the panic again. “My sister was eaten by this thing that came from the sky.”

The twins looked at one another again. “The Twister.” Dee mouthed.

“The Rabbit Hole.” Retorted Dum.

Alice wrung her hands, clutching at the watch in her pocket. “I have to find my sister,” she said decisively. “Excuse me,” she tried walking by the Twins but they stopped her.

Dee reached out and took Alice’s elbow. “Come with us. We can help you.”

Dum brushed against her cheek and touched her shoulder. “We know someone who can help you.”

In order to keep from panicking, Alice allowed the conjoined boys to lead her off. She rubbed her thumb back and forth roughly against the glittering gold casing of the pocket watch and flipped it open to study the picture inside.

“Are you worried about her?” Dee asked.

“No.” Alice shook her head. “No. Dorothy is…I know she’s okay. I know she can handle anything. But…” She licked her lips. “I know she’s going to worry about me so I just have to…I just have to let her know I’m okay.”

“So where did you guys come from?” Dee asked. “Why did you come here?”

Alice shook her head. “I don’t know why we’re here.”

Dum squeezed on Alice’s shoulder. “We’re almost there. And don’t worry, Caterpillar will know exactly what to do.”

Alice furrowed her brow. “A caterpillar?”

The cabaret where the twins worked was well known not only for its acts, but for the business that went down there. Many a coup had been planned there. Some even spoke of a resistance that was building to bring back Princess Ozma forming within the walls of the This Way That Way Cabaret. I won’t ruin the surprise by telling if it’s a rumor or truth.

When they arrived, the Cabaret was getting ready for business when it opened at sundown. The lights were dim, but Alice could still see the employees darting around preparing tables, mopping, and cleaning.

The man behind the bar had a horse head. The waitress dressed in the revealing red dress had skin that looked like diamonds.

“What did you find?” She asked as she approached the them.

“This is Alice. The Rabbit Hole got her.” Dee explained. “We need to take her to Caterpillar.”

The girl’s ruby eyes got wide. “The Hole? Really? It hasn‘t done anything in quite sometime!” She gasped and looked at Alice. “How interesting! But I don’t think you’ll be able to get to Caterpillar till after she finishes her act.”

“That late?” Dum whined.

“You two need to get ready.” The girl made of gemstones scolded. “You go on first tonight.”

“Right.” Dee huffed. “Do you mind watching after her for us?”

The girl frowned. “I can’t. I’m too busy right now.” She turned and pointed. “Why not see if the Hare will baby-sit her,” she grimaced. “He’s already here.”

Alice followed her sparkling arm and saw a man sitting at the bar in a burgundy suit and tawny hair seemed to tilt to one side of his head.

“Oh, Snap!” Dum called.

The man turned and Alice saw his ears, long protruding things that stuck out over a foot from his head. Never mind his face. It was always his damned ears.

“Here’s ten oysters.” Dee said, slamming some coins down on the counter before the man. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

Snap took the coinage. “Of course. Now what is the little lady’s name?”

“Uhm,” Alice started. Still the ears. They looked as if someone had taken his ears and pinched them then stretched them out like children’s dough, giving him rabbit’s ears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dee sniffed.

“She had an unpleasant trip,” Dum warned, whispering. “So she’s a little shaken. None of your usual business, alright?”

Snap grinned. “Then all she needs a drink.” He snapped his fingers. “Bartender. Drink me!”

Alice sat down beside Snap and looked up at the Tweedle Twins expectantly.

“We won’t be long.” Dee coaxed, patting her back.

Dum massaged her shoulders gently. “We just gotta do our act and then we’ll be done.” He replied, grinning. “And after Caterpillar is done too, you can ask her to find your sister. Just enjoy the show alright?”

“Okay.” Alice swallowed. “Thank you.” She forced a smile. “You’re very sweet.”

Dum blushed and Dee nodded.

“You’re welcome.” They both replied in their own way and whisked off.

Snap patted Alice’s back. “They said you had a rough trip. What happened to such a pretty thing as you?”

“I had a rather jarring fall,” Alice murmured, fidgeting a bit to try and regain composure.

The Hare eyed her curiously. The pitch black orbs that sat in the socket taking her in, noticing her strange clothing, the way she couldn’t stop staring at everything around her. She didn’t seem quite to fit in.

He looked up as the horse-headed bartender placed a glass bottle and two glasses before them.

“What’s that?” Alice asked pointing to the glass.

“Curiosity.” Snap said uncorking the bottle and pouring the contents into a crystal glass dotted with ruby hearts.

“That kills cats.” Retorted Alice.

Snap grinned. “That it does!” He handed the glass to her. “But none of us are cats here, are we?”

Alice smiled. “Guess not.” She sniffed the glass then took a tentative sip. “Its sweet.”

“It is also safe.” Snap said, pouring himself a glass.

Alice was now able to get passed his ears and she noticed the aquiline features of his face. The curl of his lips. The way his hair shadowed his left eye. The way his eyes were completely dark brown, no whites, with a golden ring circling the pupil should be.

He smiled at her then pinched an earlobe between his fingers. “Ears?”

Alice blushed. “S-sorry. But they are quite…”

“Prominent. Yes.” Snap laughed. “I know.” He drank from his glass. “Tangy.” He smacked his lips and shook the glass. “Curiosity. Its different for everybody.”

Alice took another sip and nodded. “Makes sense.”

Snap hummed. “So, what do you need to see Caterpillar for?”

“I’m not sure who Caterpillar is and what she can do for me. But the twins think she can help me find my sister.” Answered Alice.

Snap licked his lips, his tongue dark purple. “You have a sister!” He exclaimed. “What a lucky world that there are two of you.”

Alice chuckled, blushing softly. “Oh no. Dorothy and I are as different as sisters can possibly be.”

“Dorothy?” Snap oohed. He had one name. “Dorothy and Uhm?” He asked.

Alice blushed more. “Oh, that’s right,” she turned more towards him. “My name is Alice, actually.”

“Alice,” he breathed happily. “It suits you.”

Alice watched him as he elegantly drank his Curiosity and waxed onto her. He was so odd looking. But at the same time he was oddly beautiful to Alice. She could sense the tragedy in him and it intrigued her. This was only heightened by the Curiosity.

Alice cleared her throat to catch his attention. “Do you mind me asking something?”

Snap shrugged. “For you?” He flourished his hand before her. “On the house.”

Alice screwed up in her mouth as she second guessed herself. “What are you exactly?” She finally asked.

Snap pursed his lips and thought. “Good one. Well, I am Snap H. March. I am someone who can be bought. By that I mean whoever has enough money can buy me for any service.” He laughed when he saw the shy and stunned look that crossed her face. “Well, my services vary but I mainly work in information trade.”

Alice squinted her eyes at him. “So you’re a bad guy?”

Snap‘s head tipped back slightly as he laughed. “If someone pays me to do so I will be.”

“Is that why the twins paid you?” She asked.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Alice mocked his quick, jolting nod. “I get it. But what exactly are you? You’re not human are you?” She urged for the answer.

Snap furrowed his brow. “What’s a human?”

Alice was taken aback. “I uh-er um…”

Snap tilted his head towards Alice and his deep, dark eyes became squinting slits. He moved back and took his glass back into his hand. “Human…weird word. Sounds like you’re asking, who man?” He snorted. “Woman.” He mouthed the word, coming up with other homonyms for the mystical little word Alice had spoken. “Hue man. Do these Hue Mans change color? Like a chameleon?”

Alice shook her head. She felt like shrinking away and folding into herself to escape ever saying it. “No. They don’t.”

“Anyway,” Snap sighed, continuing, “whatever this Hue Man thing is, I am certainly not it. I am a Hare.”

Alice went to question him but the doors to the Cabaret opened up and people started filing inside from a line that had formed from the time Alice and the twins had come inside. The lights dimmed and people cooed and cawed in anticipation. Alice looked to Snap who was now staring towards the stage where the curtain’s pulled open. A stage light came down, sprinkling golden glitter with it.

The twins stood there, draped in a long red cape with a high, black collar of fur. But Dee was the only one visible. His face was painted white, his eyelids lined with thick black eyeliner, his lips painted red and in the shape of a heart. His wore what Alice guessed was a wig because it was long, curly and black. She barely recognized him if it weren’t for his exceptional beauty. She could tell it was Dee, because he didn;t have the beauty mark that Dum possessed.

His blue eyes opened up and he turned his face to the audience, his body still and turned in profile. Dum still hidden somewhere amongst the costume.

“Wow!” Alice mouthed.

Snap glanced over at her. “Hmm?”

Alice didn‘t realize her hands were gathering up around her mouth. “He’s beautiful.”

Snap smirked. “Ah, yes. Certainly, there is no creature more beautiful and hypnotizing than the Tweedle Twins. The pride and horror of Wonderoz.”

“Can we get closer to the stage?” Alice asked, already standing.

Snap pursed his lips. “Certainly.” He put his hand on Alice’s back and they walked up to the front of the stage, taking a table away from a woman with ears like a dog and another who had long tentacle hair.

Music started up and Dee’s lips parted. “Twinkle, twinkle little bat.” He lifted his arm up as he sang and a dark cloud of smoke came out, shaped like a bat. “How I wonder what you’re at.” He extended his other hand and a spray of gold glitter came into the crowd. “For how doth a little crocodile improve it’s shining tail? Where do ravens sing? Why does the writing desk cry? I will answer all your riddles while dancing with the fiddles and tea trays in the sky.”

They spun and now Dum was visible. He face was just as white, eyeliner just as thick, lips like a baby doll’s and signed like a sentence with a period. His hair was white, long, and sleek. The collar surrounding him and blocking Dee was also white. His eyes a deep blue.

“Lobster’s dance in quadrille cordials while fake turtles cry. Happy summer days. Happy summer days.” He extended his hand and more glitter came from his fingertips. He tilted his head and continued singing. “Twinkle, twinkle little bat. How I wonder what you’re at.” Another black-smoke bat. “Riddle me this and riddle me that.” The cape came up, showing off the single pair of legs underneath. “Who is afraid of a big, old bat?” The cape dropped to the ground, revealing both brothers attached to the same waist.

The crowd erupted with gasps and applause.

“Riddle me this and riddle me that.” The twins sang in unison. “How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail? I didn’t know that they had glittering scales. Where do ravens sing to make the writing desk cry? What do all these riddles have to do with you and I?” They touched each others faces and Alice thought for sure they were going in to kiss.

They pulled away and lifted their arms in the air. “Riddle me this and riddle me that. How I wonder where I’m at. Up above the world so high. We one or two will get you by.”

Women in the crowd screamed and swooned.

The twins grinned and looked down, seeing Alice for the first time in the crowd. Dum stretched out his arm and pulled Alice up on stage.

“Twinkle, twinkle like girl. Where in this world do you belong?” The cape came up from the stage floor and melted around them. It collapsed and fell again. None of them on stage.

Below the stage, just underneath a trap door, Alice was clutched onto the twin’s shared waist panting heavily. The fall from the stage had terrified her, reminding her of her trip down the Rabbit Hole and on the giant leaf.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Dee reassured.

Dum stroked her hair. “We didn’t mean to scare you!”

Alice shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She quaked. “I’m fine.”

“Okay then. Lets get you ready for Caterpillar.” Dee said as they turned her down a long hallway.

#wonderland #oz #fantasy #original story #long story #my writing #momolady monsters

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pigeonflavouredcake · 5 years

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Cats and Witchcraft (long post)

These are some of my thoughts about the cat's connection to Witchcraft -I have concerns that this will all sound like complete bollocks after I post this but my baby witches might enjoy (taken from my grimoire).

The cat is an animal commonly associated with independence, feminity, mystery, and often magic and the occult.

My personal favourite embodiment of these associations being the Cheshire cat from Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Throughout Chesh's many interpretations the cat is regarded as magical; disappearing and reappearing at will (sometimes only as a head) and grinning from ear to ear. Chesh provided Alice with guidance throughout Wonderland.

In my mind this could suggest that The Cheshire Cat is actually a familiar.

Familiars are seen as the spiritual guides for those of us in the world of witchcraft/wicca/paganism/the occult.

A familiar can have multiple forms (usually two), one for the physical realm and another for the spiritual realm. In the physical realm familiars can take the form of any common animal but show their true form in the spiritual realm (a form not unlike The Cheshire Cat).

But why is the cat often the go-to idea of a familiar? Why is the cat more commonly referred to as "a witch's best friend"?

Generally speaking the two appear to be drawn to eachother. A cat (of any colour mind) may see similar traits in themselves in a solitary witch and find comfort in like-minded company.

However historically speaking, it depends on the culture you look at...

Egypt

The first, and most obvious, is Ancient Egypt. Their deities were often depicted as part human part animal. Egyptians held cats as high as royalty because of the goddess Bastet: goddess of protection and cats.

If the person was rich enough, when they died they had their cats mummified and buried alongside them so they can protect them in the afterlife.

Greece

In Ancient Greece cats were well respected but more often left alone as strays. They were left alone because of their patron goddess Hecate: goddess of death, darkness, and sorcery (all things good people try to avoid).

The playwright Aristophanes (446 -386 BCE) frequently used cats for comedic effect coining the term "The cat did it".

China/Japan

In China and Japan cats were domestic for a practical use, to protect the home from pests and so were very much welcome in homes and villages. The goddess Li Shou: goddess of fertility, often took the form of a cat and tried to rule the cat population though the cats preferred to relax under the trees.

The Maneki Neko (beckoning cat) was also created which became a symbol of good luck.

Europe/Britain

Christianity gave cats the worst of human stupidity. In order to remove any non-catholic association and purify the lands (and protect themselves from the plague) they followed the regular path of demonisation and destruction, the church associated cats with bad luck, witchcraft and were in league with the devil. Cats were killed all across Europe for fear of them being witches in disguise. Which ironically allowed the disease to spread due to the lack of pest control.

With Christianity being so prevalent, the negative associations continued into modern society and spread further to the west though now the negativity is more focused on black cats.

Cats became synonymous with spiritual women who hold and equal amount of mystery.

Witchcraft holds a lot of negative connotation but it does not solely include demons, curses, devil worship, and other spooky things like some fearful Christians are lead to believe. Before it was demonised witchcraft was seen as a 'craft of the wise': healing the sick, farming, midwifery, essentially getting the most out of what nature had to offer.

Sadly cats were tied up in all of the negativity due to them being common companions, turning a furry friend into a frightening familiar.

Modern witches still keep cats (and other pets) both as familiars and for the company regardless of western history.

To answer the question:

Cats and witches find solidarity in the mysterious.

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elencelebrindal · 4 years

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About the line from Niobe opinion “he’s a Gold Saint, it’s obvious something about him leaked” and your complaints about Cheshire’s wasted potential (seconded!): what do you think about the idea that Cheshire (just like the, well, Cheshire cat) could disappear at will and thus could go on recon missions to gather intel? That would actually add some point to his existence. The other Spectres from Minos’ group didn’t listen to him because he’s such a comic relief in the end, but Niobe… Niobe did.

I just stared at what you wrote in pure and disbelieving shock, IT’S PERFECT! Oh my goodness, this never crossed my mind. Never. That he could be exactly like the Cheshire Cat. It makes so much sense, holy shit. So. Much. Sense. I’m just...wow.

I love it. I just love it. Cheshire would be so useful, a spy hidden in plain sight!

Ok, serious talk now.

Let’s take away Cheshire’s comic relief role, and analyze him like a proper Specter. He is the Terrestrial Specter of the Bestial Star, very close to Pandora. This means that, despite his low rank, he could have access to more confidential information. Even if he just so happens to hear said information indirectly.

He has feline-like abilities. Cheshire is quiet, has extraordinary senses of hearing and smell, and can detect movements not only in low light (normal cat-like capability) but also in complete darkness.

Not only that, he can vanish and turn invisible if he wants to, and can teleport. These abilities all can be deducted by looking at his Surplice (and at an amazing ask, my god I am still flabbergasted), which comes from the Cait Sidhe, while the Cheshire Cat part of him is just his name.

The Cait Sidhe is a creature from Celtic mythology, a fairy that takes the form of a black cat; not an evil creature, but probably the reason why it’s said that cats have nine lives, since it’s an ability it has. It also has the power to steal the souls of the dead, and sits behind the tradition of the nightly wake (I hope it’s called like that in English, I relied on a translator).

The Cheshire Cat, a creature inspired by an old figure of speech about... well, cats and farms (they grinned because free milk is free milk, guys, cows are literal gods for tiny felines), comes from “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” and “Thought the Looking Glass”, and is widely known thanks to various adaptations, especially the Disney movie “Alice in Wonderland” and both Tim Burton’s movies “Alice in Wonderland” and “Alice Through The Looking Glass”. It’s a grinning, talking cat able to vanish at will, as mad as one from Wonderland can be. If you haven’t, please read the books. Mental breakdown guaranteed 100% every three pages.

In light of that, as far as I can give him abilities, this Surplice can only be associated with cat-like behavior.

The rest of his abilities... he simply refined them himself. Just like any other warrior under a deity (Saint, Specter, Marina...), Cheshire developed his powers by adapting them to what he knew how to do best. So, they don’t have close associations with the Surplice, but still rely on his feline abilities.

(I had the sudden thought that maybe he was the one who inspired Lewis Carrol to write the Cheshire Cat, because we all know Alice in Wonderland came out kind of a century after the timeline of Lost Canvas. I don’t know how bizarre and/or impossibile that sounds, but I stand for it)

The natural consequence of this is: despite him being a Terrestrial and not a Celestial Specter, having him as a spy, thus making Cheshire one of the most important servants under Hades’ authority. This also helps to explain why he can stay in the castle, without anyone demanding him to be somewhere else to help with the War. Cheshire is too precious to send him on potentially deadly missions, so Pandora keeps him around. He goes out to gather information, and that’s it. Not only that, him being a spy and not a warrior tells us why he doesn’t fight, or doesn’t have that much of a technique. Cheshire is not made to fight out in the open, but to walk around like a cat, putting together pieces of information otherwise impossible to get.

There’s no other explanation on why a Specter with such a low rank would be kept around like that. “He has to avoid any unnecessary risks for the sake of his role” is such a powerful description of what’s never seen, that I just cannot say enough about it.

But there’s more. Taking away the comic relief role he has, there’s no reason for Minos and his Specters to ignore him. Unless he’s a Specter under someone else’s authority (*coff coff* Rhadamanthys *coff coff*). Niobe, opposed to everyone else that was present at the time he appeared, serves under Rhadamanthys. It goes by itself that he listened to Cheshire, maybe because he knew him better.

Maybe Cheshire hangs around with Pandora for a higher reason than just his protection. Maybe, exactly because the other two Judges will not listen to a Specter serving under a rival, his job is to report everything to Pandora, which subsequently would tell this or that information either to Hades, or to other Specters.

I might be looking a little bit too deep inside this character, but I love doing this kind of analysis.

And honestly, it makes too much sense to throw the entire post away.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #cait sith cheshire #cait sidhe #cheshire cat #specters #character analysis #ask me anything

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en241 · 5 years

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Wednesday, 25 March

WEEK 8: COURSE REVIEW & REBOOT: Alice & Narrative Models

OK wow, so it’s hard to review two weeks of classes in one post, so this is just a quick summary. If you need more depth or clarity, you know what to do.

In this post I’m covering Nonsense, the Growing Up story, and Alice as a Nonsense Growing Up story with a Double Perspective.

1. Nonsense

For purposes of this class, I’m dividing things into three basic types of narratives: Nonsense, Realism, and Fantasy. (Fantasy is a hybrid of Nonsense & Realism).

In Alice in Wonderland we are talking Nonsense. I mean, um, we are talking about Nonsense.

As I am using the term, Nonsense does not mean no-sense (or chaos); it means a sense that does not match up with the sense we expect. A work of nonsense takes us to a world with its own logic -- which makes us feel alienated, but not insane. And when you think about it, this happens in real life a lot.

So Nonsense takes a familiar experience and represents it without explaining it. That’s what I call honesty, I think.

Nonsense is common in Children’s Lit; not so much in adult lit. Adults don’t like it because it’s upsetting. Take Spongebob Squarepants for example. Some people go all Squidward when they watch it, if they watch it at all; other people are like Sandy Cheeks and even though they don’t belong there, they move right in.

Nonsense in adult lit is often parody or satire. Parody compares the real world to an imaginary world for amusement (Galaxy Quest); satire does to point out how disgusting and stupid we can be (Animal Farm).

2. The Maturation Plot (the “Growing Up” story)

The maturation plot, or growing up story, (or Bildungsroman) is a familiar type of narrative in both children’s and adult literature.

The idea of narrative as a process of growth and development from one state to another seems universal to us -- almost the basic meaning of narrative.

Obviously since our general sense of maturation, or growing up, goes in a straight line from childhood to adulthood, there are a lot of stories that use this as a basic plot structure.

The most obvious example is a standard fairy tale: young person goes out into the world, has an adventure, solves the puzzle, meets a sweetie, and settles down into a happily-ever-after.

My oversimplified model (home 1 -> wonderland -> home 2) describes this as a change of settings -- but those settings are also psychological states.

(Yes, it’s like the hero’s journey, but that’s a formula and mine is a model. And all of this is part of a different course I teach & so never mind for now.)

home 1 is childhood where the protagonist lacks knowledge and agency; wonderland is an environment where knowledge and agency are gained; home 2 is where knowledge and agency are used to benefit others.

A lot of growing-up stories are didactic AF, and many are dishonest.

A lot of really good growing-up stories are honest and subversive.

Alice is a growing up story, but it’s complicated.

3. Alice as Nonsense Growing Up Story

Simplest way to put this: when you start to grow up you have expectations of what it’s going to be like: orderly, stable, responsible, maybe dull. But when you actually get there, it’s like entering a nonsense world -- grownups act like children, or worse, all the time. Your options? Go Crazy? Settle Down? Run until the Crazies Get You?

4. Double Perspective

Alice is the main character, the protagonist -- but the most important and unseen character is the narrator. Who is Lewis Carroll. Who is an imaginary identity created by Charles Dodgson. Who wrote down the story he made up for a little girl, named Alice Liddell, one afternoon.

So in the story we see things from Alice’s perspective BUT the story is all from the narrator’s perspective.

Alice is a child; the narrator is an adult. So we have a double perspective from two points of view -- that of a child and that of an adult.

then there’s Alice’s sister, who hears Alice’s story, so there’s another perspective buried in there, but she’s really a projection of the author

and the Cheshire Cat . . .

are you dizzy yet?

it’s ok

5. Alice in Wonderland: break it down

we begin in the “real” world -- where a child asks for a story and a grown up makes one up for her

this grownup prefers children to adults, and the story he makes up is full of exaggerated parodies of people and types of people he knows; it’s the truth, but disguised.

the child listening to the story doesn’t give a fork about that -- it’s a funny story and it’s about her, or a her she can imagine being but doesn’t have to be -- so it’s a funny story full of silly and maybe scary things but she isn’t scared because she’s not really in it: it’s make-believe

in the story, Alice goes from one state to another and then on again (home 1, wonderland, home 2) on multiple levels:

bored - adventure & frustration - escape

sleepy - asleep & dreaming - awake

child - adolescent - adult

identity 1 - confusion & loss of identity - identity 2

her dream-adventure takes place in wonderland -- world of nonsense, a disorderly order full of rules and rituals without clear purposes or outcomes (games, songs, poems, parties, trials)

*cough* high school *cough*

the people she meets there are either animals (stable but dim) or humans (confident but unstable) -- different ways of existing in the stable instability of wonderland

it’s interesting and fun for a while, but quickly gets frustrating for Alice, and eventually it’s too much --

Alice would just like some quiet time in a sunny garden, maybe some tea, yes, a nice quiet cup of tea, and perhaps a biscuit to go with it

and she wakes up to go and have one, and then go on to an orderly ordinary life

but Alice’s sister . . . she’s a bit bored with this ordinary life, and wishes you could have it both ways at once

Was Alice in Wonderland didactic? subversive? or both?

I’ve left out all the fun details so as to concentrate on the maturation plot; the details are fun but it would be impossible to go into all of them for you, and I couldn’t possibly choose just one or two. And in a way, they’re all the same; there aren’t any evolving patterns of imagery the way there are in Treasure Island.

Next time, in Treasure Island we’ll explore the maturation plot in a world with real adventures, real challenges, real consequences, (real suffering, real death) and the questions of how to get what you want, and how to choose what you want.

meanwhile, that was a lot of work, so

illustration by Helen Oxenbury

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patronusofthepugs · 5 years

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We Have Our Champions

Imagine this

There is Dorothy, emerald empress of Oz.

There is Peter, brash general of a feral army

There is Alice, Wonderland’s truest knight.

Three children of immortality, the guardians of mystical lands that demands sacrifice.

Oz, Wonderland, and Neverland, three hungry, writhing lands of magic and blood. They howl at their guardians to fight. Every century, one land emerges from the fog. The portal opens to the other world and then it can feed. But there can only be one. Dorothy, Peter and Alice have all paid the price long ago for their adventures. Now they act as ambassadors for their hungry lands and gather their champions. Three kids will fight for the honor of each land.

Dorothy who’s regal air and soft hands are a far cry from the farm girl she used to be. She gathers her emerald gown and emerges from a corn field in Kansas. There she sees her champion.

Ruth Ann, the eldest of ten is weary. Her life is grey, working on the farm, taking care of the babies. Her Pa made her drop out of high school and every time she closes her eyes, all she can see is endless diapers and rough callouses. Her future stretches out before her, flat and steady like a strip of road.

Until one night, winged monkeys sneak into her room and carry her away. They fly into a tornado carrying the screaming Ruth Ann in their hairy arms. When she wakes up All she can see is green. Shining green glass that stains her skin, her world explodes with color. She drinks in the nut brown hair of Dorothy, her ruby smile, and green eyes. Bewitched by a promise that life can be so much more, she pledges to fight for Oz. The emerald Land roars its approval of Ruth Ann and gifts her brawny strength along with a long scythe so she may cut down her enemies like fields of wheat.

Peter Pan has no problem with picking his champion. Ever since he had bewitched Wendy all those years ago, she had devoted her entire lineage to him. Every daughter in the Darling family is raised with stories of Peter. Of how brave he is, how cunning, of how his black eyes shimmer in the moonlight. Each daughter dons that frayed blue dress and wait by the windowsill, dreaming of the day where Peter will come for them. He goes through generations of Darling girls, taking them on adventures and promising to come back for them. Slipping in hints that he likes girls who fight. Girls who have a blood lust to match that pretty face.

The latest Darling girl is a product of generation manipulation and Peter couldn’t be more pleased. Moira Darling is a pale thing with scowl that could frighten a thunderstorm. She is a trained warrior who plans to usurp Peter as the immortal child. She plays the game well enough, simpering and curling her platinum blonde hair. But when Peter flies her to Neverland, she smears mud on her face and howls from the trees. She demands to be the champion and Neverland accepts. She crushes a handful of fairies in her small hands. She gobbles their flesh and drinks their blood. There’s no need to think of happy thoughts, not when she has flight imbued in her. Her weapon is a long jagged tooth that she tore from the mouth of the crocodile.

Wonderland’s champion was found in the sewers. He was rummaging for treasure in the tunnels below the city when he saw a blonde girl smile at him from inside a grimy puddle. He leaned in closer and was dragged in.

His name is Grub and he’s no hero. Just a smelly New Yorker who lived under a bridge and occasionally in an abandoned ice cream truck. However, Grub’s personal motto in life are Nope and Fuck it. It serves him well in Wonderland as he just decides to go along with the batshit insanity that he encounters. Unlike proper Alice all those years ago, he doesn’t question anything. Talking Flowers? Sure why not, let’s get into a Yo Mamma fight with them. A Mad Tea Party? Fuck yeah, it’s his unbirthday, pass the tea. Grub takes to life in Wonderland and agrees to be Wonderland’s champion because why not?

Alice grows fond of the smelly boy who wears flowers in his hair and debates with possums. She trains with him so he can have a fighting chance. She reminds him to paint the roses red with blood. No matter what, just keep swinging that ax and snicker snack those heads will be rolling. Grub is gifted with many weapons from the citizens of Underland. He arrives to the battle with the Mad Hatter’s Hat, the Cheshire Cat’s Smile, and the Queen’s Ax.

First the champions must survive in each other’s land before the final battle.Then they will fight in Avalon, a magical land of neutrality. The waves will foam with blood and the sky will be filled with screams as the champions battle. Neverland. Oz. Wonderland. There can only be one. Who will it be?

#Alice In Wonderland #peter pan #wizard of oz #dorothy oz #Alice Liddell #crossover #modern disney #just an idea #like hunger games #disney

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uon1011yanakaneva · 5 years

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Week 03

Two Directions

Who is the Mad Hatter?

The Hatter is a fictional character in Lewis Carroll's 1865 book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its 1871 sequel Through the Looking-Glass. He is very often referred to as the Mad Hatter, though this term was never used by Carroll. The phrase "mad as a hatter" pre-dates Carroll's works. The Hatter and the March Hare are referred to as "both mad" by the Cheshire Cat, in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in the seventh chapter titled "A Mad Tea-Party".

The Hatter explains to Alice that he and the March Hare are always having tea because when he tried to sing for the foul-tempered Queen of Hearts, she sentenced him to death for "murdering the time", but he escapes decapitation. In retaliation, Time (referred to as a "he" in the novel) halts himself in respect to the Hatter, keeping him and the March Hare stuck at 18:00 (or 6:00 pm) forever.

When Alice arrives at the tea party, the Hatter is characterised by switching places on the table at any given time, making short, personal remarks, asking unanswerable riddles and reciting nonsensical poetry, all of which eventually drives Alice away.

Mercury was used in the manufacturing of felt hats during the 19th century, causing a high rate of mercury poisoning among those working in the hat industry. Mercury poisoning causes neurological damage, including slurred speech, memory loss, and tremors, which led to the phrase "mad as a hatter". In the Victorian age, many workers in the textile industry, including hatters, often suffered from starvation and overwork, and were particularly prone to develop illnesses affecting the nervous system, such as central nervous system (CNS) tuberculosis. Many such workers were sent to Pauper Lunatic Asylums, which were supervised by Lunacy Commissioners. These asylums treated patients with so-called non-restraint methods and occupied them, amongst others, in gardening, farming and hat-making. Besides staging theatre plays, dances and other amusements, such asylums also held tea-parties.

What is the Hatter’s Appearance and Personality?

Despite being named the Hatter, the character in Carroll's original edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is never stated to wear any kind of headgear. The character's signature top hat comes from John Tenniel's illustrations for the first edition, in which the character wears a large top hat with a hatband reading "In this style 10/6".

A conversation between the child protagonist Alice and the Cheshire Cat, in which she asks, "what sort of people live about here?" to which the cat replies "in that direction lives a Hatter, and in that direction, lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad!”

In the chapter "A Mad Tea Party", the Hatter asks a much-noted riddle: "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" When Alice gives up trying to figure out why, the Hatter admits "I haven't the slightest idea!".

1951 Disney Style “Hatter’s” (First 4 screenshots) (draft rational)

For this concept I have taken inspiration from the Disney movie “Alice in Wonderland” (1951), which features bold colours and imagery in a childish cartoony style. Flat colours, cell shading and simple shapes create a familiar stylistic appearance that is easy on the eye as well as exciting and attention grabbing. The contrast between the dark blues and greens, and lighter yellows and reds all throughout the design capture a happy or crazy atmosphere, which is what I am aiming to achieve through this direction for my project. I believe stylistically, the older Disney imagery will allow me to create a design easily recognizable as many of my targeted audience (young adult females) have most likely grown up watching “Alice in Wonderland”, “Snow White”, “Sleeping Beauty” and “Pinocchio”, which all employ a similar style.

My concept is to capture a simple moment between the short, stubby, funny-looking Mad Hatter, wearing a huge hat interacting with his long-term crazy best friend the March Hare. They could be situated near, below or above a huge mushroom as a reference to Alice changing size multiple times by consuming two different sides of a mushroom, as recommended to her by the smoking caterpillar. As a further reference to the sense of happiness brought by the drink itself, as an alcoholic beverage, as well as the caterpillar, a colourful background of smoke might be included. A literal tea party may not be featured in my design, however, due to the iconic characters it would be suggested in the context.

The purpose of this stylistic direction/concept is to create a funny, clever and recognizable scene that brings the buyer into a tea party world where they can feel welcomed by the nostalgic feeling brought by the hatter and hare and create a happy atmosphere for a party. The idea of madness or craziness is also directly symbolic of the act of getting drunk with friends, which brings the drinker into a positive and quite crazy world of spinning and colours flashing.

Vintage Fairy Style “Hatter’s” (Last 5 screenshots) (draft rational)

This direction has a much gentler approach to grabbing the attention. It would incorporate a pastel colour palette and a soft appearing character, which I will design to keep away from plagiarizing an already existing idea. A softer approach could create an aesthetically pleasing scene of a small fairy wearing a funky hat. This design would be successful in capturing the attention of buyers as we are now living in the social media era, which includes a great appreciation for aesthetics and the vintage style. I believe that this direction will allow me to create an eye-catching, interesting and unique design that could be rather successful in engaging and reaching a younger targeted buyer. I gathered inspiration from a fairy-tale sort of vintage fairy imagery I found on Pinterest.

My concept is to illustrate a young boy or girl fairy that is wearing a crazy hat, which would be a direct reference to the name of the drink. The character would be making a silly face, either being cute by mocking whoever is looking at the design, by having their tongue out and hands on the side of the face, or laughing hysterically, or making a ridiculous face, representing madness, or by being overly expressive with their being upset (arms crossed, frown), which could be a play on words with being mad. A mocking of the buyer would be an engaging aspect and appropriate achievement as the character I am planning on creating would be quite cute and forgivable. A further layer to the idea of madness and craziness would be the introduction of a creature never seen in real life before. To be able to see a fairy a person would have to be mad, suggesting the buyers are also ‘mad hatters’.

The purpose of this stylistic direction/concept is to create a cute, aesthetically pleasing, ironic and funny fairy character that would have a joke with the drinker, which creates a warm atmosphere and friendly interaction. A pastel colour palette and soft imagery would be representative of the strength of the drink itself being quite weak and the cheerful context of the design would further illustrate the act of getting together with friends for a drink.

Key Words:

-1951 Disney Style- colourful, recognisable, nostalgic,smoke, mushroom, perspective, sharp, traditional animation (Disney), busy/messy

-Vintage Fairy Style- pastel, cute, funny, soft, charming, vintage, gentle, fairy, watercolour, cheeky

Screenshots from my Pinterest Boards. First collection of imagery for inspiration and a gathering of visual cues for my Moodboards

1. 1951 Disney Style Pinterest Board

https://www.pinterest.com.au/yanakaneva1/1951-disney-style-hatters/

2. Vintage Fairy Style Pinterest Board

https://www.pinterest.com.au/yanakaneva1/vintage-fairy-style-hatters/

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twsted-princess · 7 years

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Wonderland Au Update

Hey everybody! This post is an current update on the Wonderland Au story, the setting, and a who’s who with all the roles that need filling.

*The Story*: In this tale, Wonderland is facing a great evil. The wicked Judge Determinor and his six Dark Sages threatens to wipe Wonderland out of existence. With the four kingdoms in a weaken state, all seems hopeless. That is until a strange young girl falls down that famous rabbit hole and into Wonderland itself. Could this girl be the legendary “Savior of Wonderland” Alice? Could she be the key to stopping this threat? Only the adventure will tell~

*The Setting*: Wonderland is divided up into four kingdoms, all centering around the four card suits. The paths to the kingdoms are dense forests with little villages scattered throughout.

The Kingdom of Hearts- A very quint, middle-class style city-town. Not too rustic but not too glamorous. Very charming with a comfortable feel to it.

The Kingdom of Spades- The most technologically/magically advanced city out of the four. A place where wizards, witches, alchemists, and those with the passion to advance make shop. This city, while seems robotic, beats with a coursing desire to improve and discover the unknown.

The Kingdom of Clovers- Farm lands as far as the eye can see. A rustic town in one with nature in every sense of the word. The most merry of the kingdoms as there’s anyways a celebration to be hold.

The Kingdom of Diamonds- Glitz and glamour at it’s finest. Rococo made modern with all of the ritz to boot. Living here is literally living in the lap of luxury.

*The Characters*: All of the characters listed below are descendants of the cast from the original novel.

* Me as Alice

* @smoochesforseven as The Florist (original character)

* @limey-blue-arty-do as Cheshire Cat

* @shipsational as The White Rabbit

* @emmshipping as The Dormouse

* @musical-selfshipper as The Mad Hatter

* @tarushipping as The Caterpillar

* @pretendroom as The Duchess

*Characters Still Needing Roles*: The March Hare, The Mock Turtle, The Gryphon, The Ruler/s of the Kingdoms of Spades, Clovers, and Diamonds, and any original characters.

Please message me if you are interesting in joining!

#my post #wonderland au #please reblog to spread the word!

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storiesuntoldhq-blog · 5 years

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↳T̷H̷E̷ ̷C̷H̷A̷R̷A̷C̷T̷E̷R̷S̷

🡾 Name: Cash Coleman 🡾 Character: Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland 🡾 Age: 24 🡾 Gender: male 🡾 Pronouns: he/him 🡾 Occupation: owner of a local music venue/club called Wonderland 🡾 Faceclaim: Harry Styles

↳ T̷H̷E̷ ̷S̷E̷C̷R̷E̷T̷

Ever since he was young, he’s had an incredibly vivid imagination. As he grew older, this only amplified and he suffers from visions and hallucinations, seeing things that are not actually there.

↳ T̷H̷E̷ ̷H̷E̷A̷D̷C̷A̷N̷O̷N̷S̷

✦ Every once in a while during a hallucination Cash has turned violent or aggressive. Luckily for him, he’s never been near anyone while it happened. ✦ Cash is still in touch with his creative side having sketched many of his own tattoos, plays music every once in a while and, mostly, writing songs for himself and others. ✦ Cash is an avid believer in weed and psychedelics, but frowns upon other drugs and does his best to keep them out of his club as much as possible.

↳ T̷H̷E̷ ̷H̷I̷S̷T̷O̷R̷Y̷

【Ｔｈｅ　Ｇｏｏｄ】

Growing up in Cheshire, England, Cash was a unique boy. He preferred to stay to himself, opting for quieter and more artistic hobbies like writing, drawing and playing music to himself. He didn’t have many friends that weren’t imaginary, and that was just how he liked it. His parents, well respected and successful cattle farmers, were too busy to pay much mind to the boy and he was too young to work on the farm yet, so they left him to tend to himself. The older he got, though, he more he noticed he seemed to be able to disappear. His parents would forget about him out in the fields, not realizing until he came home long after dark and asked what had happened to dinner. He never got picked on at school or chosen for activities. He simply molded into the background. Because of this, he started spending more time away from his house than at it, running away and getting into adventures. When one of those adventures turned to thieving and he got caught, his parents were humiliated, choosing to send the boy off to live with his aunt and uncle in Chicago, Illinois, all the way across the pond.

【Ｔｈｅ　Ｂａｄ】

As soon as he arrived in America and was greeted by his aunt and uncle, he understood why his parents had sent him there as punishment. Thy were incredibly strict, shrewd people. All of the freedom Cash had grown up loving was stripped away. There were no fields and gardens to explore, he wasn’t allowed to express himself creatively and, worst of all, they’d send him off to a snobby private boarding school come fall. Cash knew he had to escape. Luckily for him, disappearing was his specialty. He started leaving the house at night, running away and staying away until he would get caught. By the third time, his aunt and uncle struck an underground deal with the owner of the orphanage in Shadyville. They would donate a large sum of money to the orphanage every year, if it would keep Cash out of their hair and no one had to tell his parents. They continued to lie to Cash’s parents while he lived in the orphanage that he was there but still behaving badly and wouldn’t be fit to send home. And then when it came his eighteenth birthday, he forged a letter to them from Cash saying that he wished to never see any of them ever again and would be moving to Australia to live out his life. Of course, all of this was a lie. But Cash was content with the life of the orphanage and being able to continue his running away adventures until he grew out of the system and started the club.

【Ｔｈｅ　Ｕｇｌｙ】

Growing up, Cash’s hallucinations were never thought of as anything. For one, no one knew he had them. Spending much of his time alone playing with imaginary friends was not something for his parents or anyone else to question. It wasn’t until he got old enough and far along enough in school to realize that what was happening was not normal. At that point, being that he was already the loner kid and the runaway and he didn’t want to add ‘crazy’ to the list, he didn’t tell anyone.

【Ｔｈｅ　Ｍｕｒｄｅｒ】

To be frank, Cash’s first fear was that he’d somehow done it in one of his hallucinating moments. He’d been known to act strangely or violently when he wasn’t in control of his brain. He’d never hurt anyone yet, but one could never be sure. But once he ruled out it wasn’t him, he didn’t think too much of it. He, of course, felt bad for her and her family and was a little weirded out by living in the vicinity of a murder, but having grew up roaming the streets of Chicago, it wasn’t that unusual.

↳ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 → 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔

CASH IS CURRENTLY TAKEN

#aiw #t

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theygotlost · 7 years

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oh good it’s 5 am nobody will see post oc shit

val’s father charles golding was previously married but his wife and newborn son died during childbirth and he was rlly sad :( but he was head of a newspaper company in london and he and some associates had to travel to india for a business trip. while he was there he fell in love with a local woman rhadika and he said “hey i don’t have a wife or heir so wanna get married and come back to england w me?” she was like shit ok and their daughter was born on valentine’s day so they named her valentine :} she was a very diligent and disciplined child so when she reached adulthood her father retired and made her the ceo!!

cheshire grew up in an rural orphanage that was also a farm and there were only a few books but she learned to read from a copy of alices adventure in wonderland and she was so mesmerized by the cheshire cat that she made it her nickname. nobody adopted her cause she was Strange and Improper so she stayed on the farm until she was an adult and then moved to The Big City.. she got there just after val was made ceo so it was all over the news! and cheshire thought “wow this lady is so pretty and hardworking i Have to meet her”

so she goes to valentines office and at first val is annoyed and confused cause who is this random lady that keeps coming in here without an appointment what does she want but eventually they fall in glove and they can’t get married cause it’s the 40s/50s but they’re life partners!! 💕

#oc #u don't have to read this but lms if you do and tell me what you think!!!

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alicethemasked · 1 year

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Alice’s Adventures on Cheshire farm entry 2

Spring 3rd Year 1

You know, I expected to take a bit to write my next entry given that this is supposed to be a weekly journal, but wow a lot happened in just two days, both of which involved me going to sleep at like 6pm as I was dead tired after all this farm work…

Sometimes I fear that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with jumping into this farming life but too late to back out now, and I already feel myself getting stronger, hopefully that means I’ll be able to deal with this life soon

Anyway, my farm is still a mess of trees, weeds and rocks but I’m getting there! Maybe I should save some of the weeds though… I might get a coop or barn in the future, might be good food for them… anyway future planning aside, Pelican town has been interesting, I learned that the creepy mustache man… uhm… Harvey is the doctor of the town and not going to lie that scares me, guess I’m not getting a checkup until he gets over whatever creepy delusions he has about this past life thing, but his assistant Maru is really nice, she told me about her socially awkward brother named Sebastian and after I met him I decided I would befriend him, he seems really lonely, even if the pretty girl with purple hair Abilgail and the human golden retriever Sam are friends with him.

Speaking of Sam, sometimes I think I catch him staring at me with an intense gaze but right after I notice he’s back to his Cheerful self, I must be imagining things.

Oh yea I met the Town fisherman Willy he’s really nice and gave me a fishing rod, I loved fishing actually when I was young so getting back into that will give me a food source at least, so my poor ass doesn’t starve.

The Jock, whos name i’m willfully pretending I don’t know, asked me if I had a bikini and uhm… can he be more stereotypical I swear, I can just feel his leering gaze everytime we walk past each other, I hope to avoid him, but his grandmother is so nice that we might cross paths more… hopefully there is more to him than just “Jock stereotype”

Baby Alice would be so ashamed of me, but fuck I love rain, I don’t need to kill my arms watering my crops! Still not a fan of myself being watered, but if it cuts back on my work I am more than willing to deal with it, was going to see if I could get more seeds but learned that the local small shop is closed on wednesdays and I am not touching Joja with a five foot pole, so I guess I’m going tomorrow

So yea, this might be a fun start to a mess, I noticed this depressed man every morning who seems to work at Joja, which given how tired he is at all times, I can relate, maybe I can befriend him as well.

- Alice

#Alice's adventures on Cheshire farm #yandere #yandere stardew valley #I promise the yandere will happen soon #the start is just slow #yandere slow burn I guess

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ianfaulkner1-blog · 5 years

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By Roxanne Reid It’s like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole to a wacky world where there’s no front door, walls are made of books, friendly ghosts walk the passages, and you’ll meet a character just as intriguing as the March Hare. Find out why to visit the Royal Hotel, Bethulie, Free State.

Bethulie lies in sheep-and-cattle country in South Africa’s dry heartland. Call it the Free State or even the Upper Karoo, no one will argue. Founded back in the 1830s, it sits on the northern banks of the Orange River about 50km from the massive Gariep Dam. At first sight this dusty little dorp looks like it has little to offer a visitor. You might wonder what the hell you’re doing here and whether you should turn tail and run – especially when you can’t find an entrance to your accommodation at the Royal Hotel. Litter and dry leaves scuttle across the pavement and the midday heat beats down as you walk the length and breadth of the hotel’s facade. Not a door is unlocked. Eventually you’ll go round the back, through an eerily empty parking lot and hear voices through a half-open door.

The hotel faces the street on two sides yet you have to go round the back to find the entrance

Yes, the young woman told me, I was in the right place. If I just went to that door around the back and waited, someone would let me in. I did and before long the hotel’s owner, Anthony Hocking, was beetling his bushy brows at me, smiling a Cheshire Cat welcome and gesturing me in. Down the rabbit hole. One step inside and all you see are narrow wood-floored passages lined with books. More books than you’ve ever seen in one place outside a library. (Probably more books than inside a lot of libraries.) This is the reason I’m here. Because I’ve heard about it. And I love books.

The book passage, your first sight of the Royal Hotel's interior

There’s a rabbit warren of dimly lit reception rooms stuffed with books and vinyls too (or LP records to the oldies among you). You see, Anthony is a bit of a pack rat, but with very specific tastes. He reckons his collection totals about 120 000 books and 80 000 records, but only a fraction of those are on display in the hotel. The rest spill over into his house across the road, and one or two other buildings he owns nearby.

No, it's not wallpaper - books, books, books everywhere

The collection is eclectic. Some of the books may be valuable, others he perhaps used for research when he was writing his own books, a medley of works about the paper and mining industries, the Oppenheimers, a few about Canada. The collection includes history and biography, travel and art, as well as a ton of fiction paperbacks, some of them bought for a pittance as job lots to fill the boundless spaces. The tale of the Royal Hotel Back in the 1860s the building that was to give way to the Royal Hotel was a trading store owned by JB Robinson who later made a big splash in diamonds and gold. The hotel itself was founded in the 1880s and has seen its share of well known people, like the infamous Lord Kitchener and Boer President Marthinus Steyn. Anthony has had a home across the road since 1983 so he watched as the Royal Hotel slid into shabby dilapidation. After it was auctioned and the deal fell through he bought it for song in 2005, not quite sure what he was going to do with it. Luckily, he soon struck a deal to fill the rooms with people manning road works in the area. That brought in some income for about 18 months. Later, a Spanish tour company expressed interest in adding the hotel to their stopover route if he’d restore it. And that’s how the Royal Hotel’s renaissance began.

Just a few of the vinyls in the extensive collection

It makes a good base for visitors who want to explore the historical sites of Bethulie. And although nothing was happening when we stayed there, you might strike it lucky and visit when a music recital, poetry reading, wine weekend or murder mystery weekend is on the go. The rooms are nothing fancy, but they’re clean and have all the bits and bobs you need, including a life-saving portable fan to cope with the summer heat. It’s enough for anyone who’s there chiefly for the deluge of books. Stories, stories, stories A collection that’s more subtle, less in-your-face than the books or vinyls is the anthology of stories that Anthony has on the tip of his tongue. He styles himself a storyteller and raconteur and can certainly spin a good yarn, whether it’s about the town’s history or his own life adventures. Over dinner, as we sat dwarfed by books from floor to ceiling, we discovered he’s a keen Bethulie historian and a bit of an Anglo Boer War buff. He drenched us in stories of the war and of his days as a dishwasher in Montmartre or working on a ship during his university holidays. Over breakfast he told us more about ‘the war’ (which around here always refers to the Anglo Boer War of 1899-1902) and about the hoax debutante ball he and some friends at Oxford threw together for a lark. He tells a ripping ghost story too. Inset into the walls of books are a few panels where paintings hang. Four of them in one of the reception rooms are blank white spaces. Those, he insists, are portraits of ghosts, who he describes in great detail – like war correspondent Edith Dickenson whose ghost helps to keep the others upbeat. Generally, they’re a peaceful lot so there’s no need to be afraid.

Portraits of two of the 'ghosts'

Stories come burbling out non-stop. If you look interested and he’s not busy he might volunteer to take you to see historical sites around the town, all the while relating tales about shenanigans and perhaps some bad behaviour in the old days. His Duracell-bunny energy and tendency to jump from story to story can be exhausting, battering your brain with new information at breakneck speed. But if you can keep up, you’ll learn a lot of fascinating stuff. Things to do in Bethulie Obviously, experiencing the Royal Hotel’s book and vinyl collections and meeting its colourful owner are hefty reasons to stay over in Bethulie. But they’re not the only things to do in this small town. Here are some others. 1. Visit the oldest house in the Free State. Back in 1828 there was a London Missionary Society station here to convert the San, until Jean Pierre Pellissier of the Paris Missionary Society arrived in 1832. The Pellissier House museum dates back to 1834-35 and now has displays that include old furniture, photos, clothes and war relics.

Pellissier House, the oldest house in the Free State

2. See the house where actor and storyteller Patrick Mynhardt lived as a boy. He is most well remembered for his renditions of Herman Charles Bosman’s character Oom Schalk Lourens and for his autobiography The Boy from Bethulie. 3. Visit the Louw Wepener monument on a farm 10km west of Bethulie on the Springfontein road (R715). Wepener led the Free State commandos during the second Basotho War and was killed in 1865 while trying to storm Moshoeshoe’s mountain fortress of Thaba Bosiu.

Louw Wepener monument

4. If you’re interested in San rock art and fossils, you’re in luck. Talk to Anthony or Bethulie Tourism for more info about a guide who can take you to see them. You probably need to arrange this ahead. 5. Pay homage at the Bethulie concentration camp cemetery, Kamp Kerkhof. When it was thought the Gariep Dam was going to flood the original Anglo Boer War concentration camp site, bones were exhumed and reburied on higher ground just out of town in 1966. (Later it was discovered there was too much dolerite rock where they planned to put the dam so it was built in its current position instead.) At one place in the monument it says 1737 people died here during the Anglo Boer War, in another place it says 1714. Either way, it’s a lot. At the back, under lock and key, are some of the original rough gravestones. The monument is made of austere grey stone and when we visited a blistering wind made for an appropriately grim atmosphere.

Kamp Kerkhof, the Bethulie concentration camp cemetery and memorial

We also went to the site of the actual concentration camp with Anthony, finding a desolate piece of veld and some remnants of broken gravestones. As many as 5000 people were interred here at full capacity. It was the worst of all 33 camps around the country – largely because the Brit running it was young and inexperienced. He put the tents too close together so disease spread quickly. Water rations were short and the inmates used stream water that was contaminated by cattle that had died of rinderpest and been buried upstream. Typhoid spread like wildfire in the cramped conditions. At the original site there’s also a strange blockish monument that looks like a ruin but in fact was never finished. British women funded the monument that was started in 1918 in solidarity with Boer women but the Boer women were in no mood to accept the gesture, so it was never finished.

Unfinished monument at the site of the Bethulie concentration camp

6. Take a drive to the Gariep Dam about 50km from Bethulie on the R701. It was completed in 1971 and is the biggest in South Africa, with a surface area of 374 square kilometres and storage capacity of 5,340,000 megalitres. Here you’ll find activities like water sports and game viewing in the adjacent nature reserve, where you might spot wildebeest, eland, kudu, red hartebeest, springbok and other antelope. Word is that the dam is silting up and there’s a plan to raise the dam wall. 7. At sunrise or sunset feast your eyes on the arched sandstone bridge across the Orange River. Known as the Hennie Steyn Bridge, it’s the longest road-rail bridge in South Africa. At 1.2km, it connects the Free State to the Eastern Cape.

Longest road-rail bridge in South Africa

8. If you’re a history buff, there are many more old buildings and monuments to discover in Bethulie, from an ox wagon monument and a monument to honour the role horses have played in South Africa’s history, to the Dutch Reformed church completed in 1887 and now a national monument.

What's left of an old water cooling plant on a hill above Bethulie

9. Visit the old railway station at the edge of town. It’s an atmospheric corrugated iron building dating back to 1894 and painted a sun-bleached red. It has a connection to the Bethulie ‘book hotel’ too. When it was slated for demolition, Royal Hotel owner Anthony Hocking, who loves a bit of history, bought it to save it from destruction. For his efforts in preserving this small piece of heritage, the Federasie van Afrikaanse Kultuurvereniginge (an organisation dedicated to preserving Afrikaans culture and heritage) recently gave Anthony (a dyed-in-the-wool Englishman) an award. He’s understandably chuffed.

The old railway station

10. If you’re looking for something more action-packed, there’s hiking, cycling (on-road and off-road trails), fishing, star-gazing and ghost hunting. If those don’t appeal to you, just sit back and do bugger all – it’s equally exhilarating. Like it? Pin this image!

You may also enjoy 15 things to do in Clarens in the Free State Maliba Lodge: a romantic & honeymoon getaway Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za

#bethulie #RoyalHotel #bookhotel

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pinkguacamole · 7 years

Photo

It’s Impossible to Write About Afrikaburn

But nothing is impossible…

I spent 11 days on the Tankwa Karoo of South Africa, a shale and sandy desert surrounded by flat-topped rocky mountains in the distance. I lived off of museli, peanut butter, apples, and water from a giant jug that tasted of plastic. I slept in a tiny tent, just large enough for my bag and me, and maybe visitors if they liked to be close and cuddly. I sang and I danced and I ran around free as could be. I took it fast and I took it slow and I breathed and I tried new things and I lived in color. I created. I got chapped lips, chaffed thighs, a fever from dehydration (yes, all my fault!), sore feet, broken sandals, and a perspective flipped upside down, then sideways, and maybe it will never be “right-side-up” again.

I wanted to travel the world and explore events. Burning Man has always appealed to me. An event where a society is built and then burnt away, no trace left behind. A place of radical expression and radical self-reliance. In the desert. Why would anyone want to do that?

Even though I am from California, I was never able to attend Burning Man because my university classes began in August and I had to at least pretend I was a good student! So here I was, years later, leaving Madagascar, traveling through Southern Africa, and there was a regional Burning Man event: Afrikaburn. I had to give it a whirl.

When I bought my ticket I decided to join a themed camp. I felt that it would be the best way to feel involved in the community. I would be a part of something. I would volunteer my time and be surrounded by artists and maybe some people who knew what they were doing. I joined the Flow Arts Commune. I did not know what Flow Arts was at the time, but I enjoyed each word individually:

Flow- I was looking for flow. I wanted to relax and go with the flow. I wanted to be in flow.

Arts- I wanted to immerse myself in art and creativity. I wanted to see colors flying in every direction. I wanted to be inspired.

Commune- I wanted community. I wanted to be a part of something.

I asked to join and the amazing organizer, Ryan, took me in and guided me along the way, telling me what I should prepare and do for the event. He was a life saver. I went up a few days early with Ryan and some of his friends so we could set up. This group: J, Ryan, and Monica, all South Africans, became my home at Afrikaburn. We were early to the event so we had a lot of time to bond and watch the city rise as more and more burners arrived each day in another fiery Sunrise and Sunset.

It turns out that Flow Arts are fire arts, poi arts (LED lights on the end of a string), and hula hooping arts. All crucial to an event like Afrikaburn. Flow Arts light up the night.

I was a sham. I was not a Flow Artist. I never even made time to learn how to do any of it in my 11 days. But I got to meet fire dancers and bond with them and learn about their lives and I became somewhat of a groupie. On the vast Playa at night, sparkling party lights and dance floors and colors could be seen for miles. And you can always spot the fire dancers. I followed the fire dancers. They would hop from stage to stage, all night, until the break of dawn, preforming their art. It lit up my life. It made a cold desert night seem warmer. I was in a kaleidoscope of fire.

All night the world was sparkling and we danced. (Like robots, because most of the music was Trance music).

Despite the magnificent glow of fire and el-wired humans bobbing around with their own vivid radiance, bringing a dark desert to life each night in an Alice in Wonderland-scape of caterpillar smoke rings, dancing lights, and Cheshire Cat smiles, daytime was actually my favorite time of Afrikaburn.

Every day was a new adventure. As someone put it, a “choose your own adventure” book.

To set the scene, there were dusty art pieces, some a few stories high: a shell, a baobab tree, a branched platform, shark fins, a temple, boxes, cameras, and hearts- all made of wood and brought to life. Most pieces were so large you could walk up or in them and see the world below, from the eyes of the creation. And they were all burned in the end.

There were “mutant” cars passing around. Funky, creative, clever. Whatever an imagination could bring to the table, it was there. I helped paint a light-up zebra car one day. It would “moo” whenever it passed its friends. There was a Spirit Train: a moving dance floor that would select a new home during the days and nights and showcase a plethora of D.J.s- most were pretty good.

There were colorful bicycles. Kicking up dust as they sped along with their flowers and streamers bopping in the wind.

There were themed camps of galactic colors. Some serving pancakes and others serving wine. Some with coloring books and some with instruments to play. There were swimming pools and orange juice and body artists.

All of this was lit up at night as well.

And the people. The people were their full selves. It seemed that everyone was wearing whatever they would wear if they could wear anything. And sometimes that was nothing at all. There were fairy skirts and top hats and steampunk gowns. There were tutus and dinosaur suits and capes. It was self-expression to the max. And apparently self expression to many men is the uniform of colorful leggings, a cowboy hat, a bandanna (to keep dust from the face), high boots, and they would be either vested or bear-chested. I guess this is the “look of the year.” I met a guy at the beginning of the week who dressed like this, and I was always able to spot him, until the weekend rolled around and it was a sea of skinny men all dressed the same. Sigh, the one that got away.

Each day my outfits slowly melted into nothing. I started off my 11 days in the desert, dressed in my usual clothes. I am traveling, so I didn’t have any of my funky costumes anyways. As the days passed, I got more colorful. I wore a tutu and a bikini. And then I took off my shirt and let a man paint a butterfly on my chest. I spent the rest of that day and night walking around as the butterfly slowly began to fly away and there was nothing there keeping me from the rest of the world. It was liberating.

The next day I just wore a piece of simple fabric. I went to one of the themed camps filled with nudists and it did not take long for the fabric to fall off and for my friends and me to start drawing designs on each other using body paint markers.

One of the principles of a Burn is “gifting.” All participants should try to give something, in some way to contribute to the community. I collected a lot of sweet trinkets and yummy food from people I met along the way because of this. My gifts were the gifts of volunteering and singing. These are both things I use to identify myself. I am literally a professional volunteer (2 years as a Peace Corps Volunteer gave me all I need). I volunteered in “Off Center Camp,” so I could learn more about the ins and outs of the event. I stuffed bags, painted furniture, greeted new arrivals by making them roll in the dirt. Then I hugged them and welcomed them home. I also tried out Rangering: walking around for a shift, making sure everyone and everything was okay. It was mostly just a great time to chat with my ranger partner who was a 67 year old man who has been to Burning Man 8 times and rangers no less than 65 hours each event.

Singing was not a hard gift to give. Everywhere I went I met people who wanted to sing with me, or would just sit back and let me go on my own. There was one theme camp with instruments. One day I went with a few friends. I started singing into the microphone some improvised “Afrikaburn Blues.” Throughout the afternoon musicians of all types stopped by to jam and we made improvisational blues for hours. It was amazing. And exhausting. I had to be really creative on the spot, but I channeled my inner Drunk Judy Garland and I think I gave a pretty entertaining show. People were recognizing me for days after this so I must have done something right.

Each day was a journey. I went to get pancakes at one camp and left with a new friend instead. I met people from all over the world and we talked about life, politics, culture, art- anything. I only had to defend myself against Trump a handful of times. People were sympathetic. We talked about race relations and how most attendees of Afrikaburn are middle-class white South Africans. It was something that bothered us all, especially because the farms surrounding the event were communities of African farmers who would not afford and most likely not even understand an event like this. Ultimately no one had any solutions to this problem. There is a clear cultural divide. It parallels the divide in the States, but it is more prominent and talked about here.

At the end of the event food and left over water from the giant jugs would be donated to local communities, but ultimately, what does that really do? I know my experience at Afrikaburn was not the “Africa” I was used to in Madagascar. But it was still African. White South Africans are just as African as White Americans are American. It is all occupied territory. And like always, I am conflicted as hell.

One of my biggest challenges in life is to live in the moment and let go. I feel like I am always planning the next step. My goal at Afrikaburn was to forget that and live. I think by the end of the week I had it down. Through a smorgasbord of new experiences, I was getting better at not putting pressure on myself and just being. Just doing what I felt like doing. There was no wrong turn to take at Afrikaburn. Every environment was stimulating and inspiring in some way.

I spent most of the time hopping between groups of friends I had made. I liked meeting new people, but I always crave a deeper connection (I am alone a lot!) so when I met people I clicked really well with, I tried to keep them in my peripheral. It worked really well!. I had multiple homes at Afrikaburn. There was so much love. I tried to just be carefree and give all the love I had. And make people feel warm and comfortable around me.

On one of the last nights, I was pooped and I ended up falling asleep early. I think it was my 9th night there and I was starting to get really reflective. It was the Saturday night where weekend partiers had come in and most people would stay up until noon the following day. I went to sleep early and woke up in time for the 5am burning of the Baobab Tree. The Baobab Tree or Tree of Life was a massive tree funded by the Swedish Government. An army of builders came months before the event to create it. The tree had been a wonderful place to hang out throughout the event, to watch the world, to watch the sunset or the sunrise. And it was now time to burn it all away.

At 4:30 am I heard some of my other friends in camp getting up to head to the tree. It was dark and oddly enough I wanted to go alone. So I slipped away before anyone could see I was around. I crossed the desert and sat on the rocky terrain, surrounded by fellow burners -all strangers this time. I did not talk to anyone. I just watched the fire dancers and waited for the Swedes to take their torches to their masterpiece.

Once the tree was aflame, the fire grew into an explosion and lit up the whole Playa. I looked around and could see the expressions on the faces of people near and far. It was hot and I felt my face melting but I couldn’t look away as the embers began to fall all around us.

Eventually I turned around to walk away, hoping to cross back to my tent before the firelight dimmed so I would not have to use a flashlight. I turned around periodically to watch it glow.

As my sore feet crossed the sandy earth, I had an epiphany. I realized I was completely satisfied with my Afrikaburn Experience. I had done all I wanted and hoped to do. My mind had been widened. I was so inspired. Even though I was surrounded by friends, I felt comfortable being alone (in general I do not like being alone). In fact, I realized what a gift it was that I have spent these last three and a half years traveling and living abroad relatively alone. I felt empowered. I felt like I could do anything. I was reinvigorated to write music and perform more. I was reinvigorated to travel alone in other African countries.

The event wound down over the course of the next few days. I saw the people I cared about and made sure to exchange information. There was no internet in the desert. I watched people dismantle their camps, and I felt a tinge of sadness. Something I’d become a part of was going away. It was over.

For my last night, I tied a string I’d been wearing on my wrist since Madagascar inside the Conch Shell. Hours later I watched the shell burn away with a piece of my past sizzling along with it.

There was a rainbow the next morning and I left Afrikaburn with my South African friends. I was still high on life. A phoenix of sorts. I was half-dead but I’d never felt more alive.

#afrikaburn #southafrica #travel #burning man #college2 #art #adventures #travelafrica #events

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